Author's Notes: Chapter Four, guys, whee! It would've been finished quicker, but... I'll blame the holidays. Hee. I hope you like it. Adjustments will be made when the ever lovely Rose finishes beta reading this. Everyone knows I severely suck at using beta readers, so this is the full on raw chapter. No revisions whatsoever.

Anyways, yes. If you would like to see the covers, director's cuts, first drafts of any of my Dark Angel stories, head to Written-Word dot Org. My writing domain. Love and cookies and Chapter Five is coming.

There is some Russian in this. But you don't need to know it; it's just there for ambience. ('Nyet' translates to 'No', though.)

"I look fat."

"You look beautiful, Maxie," Tinga said soothingly.

We'd gone shopping for the charity ball thing Margot Cale was holding. Logan had very generously handed over his gold credit cards to Max, and insisted we all go crazy; I think because the dinner was a charity, all costs were tax deductible. Or something; everyone creates a loop hole in laws with today's economy. Skipping out on taxes is hardly the government's biggest issue.

Of course, I hadn't told Zack that, and had accepted his Visa card with an innocent smile and a promise I wouldn't run it up to its limit.

Max – as Mrs Max Guevara-Cale – is pretty damn powerful in Seattle society. The sight of Max is enough to make sales assistants start salivating. But Max coupled with Logan's credit card?

Today, we were in the VIP dressing room, trying on evening dresses. Or, at least Max was at the moment. She was draped in a silky peach coloured dress and looking distinctively unhappy. I guess she had a reason to look unhappy. The colour did absolutely nothing for her, and did draw attention to her pregnant stomach.

"Maybe in blue?" Syl suggested. "You always looked great in blue."

Max nodded, looking tired, and slipped into the changing stall to pull of the peach dress. Brin and I were slumped on a little satin covered seat against the wall, waiting for our turn to drag on overpriced silk and satin combinations and decide which one made our waists looks tiny and our assets look really, really big.

God, I love shopping.

"Rain, can you grab the Valentino in blue?" Tinga called out, sorting out the other dresses we'd brought into the change room. The change room we were using was octagonal; all the walls were draped in cream coloured satin material and mirrors at every angle. There was a small circular stage in the middle of the room, where you could stand and have adjustments to the dress made. The changing stall itself was an alcove behind some of the fabric.

A shop assistant had brought us champagne – and soft drink for Rain and Evie – and offered to run and match shoes or jewellery to whatever we picked out, before vanishing. The alcohol had finally run dry, and I was wishing I'd asked for the bottle. Shopping is one thing. Shopping as a group is a completely obnoxious experience.

"I'm not your damn servant," Rain snapped right back, from where she was slouched against the wall.

Tinga gave Rain a sharp, yet calculating, look. "Get the dress for Max, and you and Evie can go and see a movie or whatever, I guess. We can find you two dresses later on."

Rain grudgingly slunk back out into the shop, only to return minutes later with the offending blue dress, which she handed to Tinga silently. The she came and sat by me.

"Jon," she said in a low voice, as Brin played a game on her cell phone, and Syl and Tinga helped Max do up the back of the dress. "There's a dress out there I really like."

"Yeah?" I said, looking up. "What's it like?"

"It's black, a Zac Posen dress," Rain looked at the ground. "It's really expensive and Zane can't afford it."

"You know Logan's sponsoring this trip," I pointed out.

"There's no way anyone will let me where that thing, it's too…"

"Sexy?"

"Yeah. Zane and Tinga are still trying to dress me like a little kid, like Evie," Rain's shoulders slumped. "It's a really nice dress."

I nodded, and stood up. "Hey, Max, I'm taking Evie and Rain to get a drink, and pick out some dresses to try on."

"Okay," Max looked up, from where she was examining the blue Valentino. It was a pale blue, which set off Max's darker colouring. And the cut was slightly different to the previous dress, and definitely more flattering. "Nothing too outrageous, okay Jon?"

"I swear both girls will look respectable and gorgeous," I said with an innocent look on my face. "I'll do my dress when we get back. Come on guys."

Evie got up from her position on the floor, dropped the book she'd brought into Max's handbag. "I am starving," she announced as we left the evening dress section. "Can we get food before we do the dress thing, please?"

I shrugged. "I guess. Food court?"

Rain trailed after me. "Definitely," she said, giving me a small smile. "I've been dying for the last hour."

I laughed. "You lasted longer than I did. Twenty minutes into it, I was ready to leave. Can't blame Max though, must be hard to be pregnant and emotional and have to pick out an evening dress that the cream of Seattle society will judge you on."

"Yeah," Rain eyed Evie as Evie raced towards the escalator. Since Evie was kidnapped a few months ago, Rain's apparently been extra protective. It's sweet, I guess.

We made it down to the food court, and much to the chagrin of Max (if she found out), we indulged in a total junk food blow out – burgers, fries and sodas. Greasy, yet delicious. Max never lets Evie do stuff like this, so Evie was excited. I knew everything Max had gotten up to as a kid, yet she was surprisingly strict with Evie. Maybe because Max knew the damage a little kid with X5 abilities could accomplish.

I dragged them around everywhere; I took Evie to the pet shop to pet all the baby animals. Rain dragged us both into a CD shop that specialised in angry music for teenagers, and I just felt old, watching all the teenagers in there, with their concert t shirts, their pleather halter tops and matching mini skirts. It had been a very – a very – long time since I had worn a halter top and a not-quite-plastic mini skirt. I looked down at my fairly respectable outfit – black jeans, black top with this loose net top over it. And black boots. Syl had cut my hair for me again, so I had thought I looked great.

But I couldn't help eyeing that girl's mini skirt with envy. I didn't even know if I could fit into those sorts of clothes anymore.

I took the girls to an arcade for a while – not many of those left, I can tell you. And it's a few bucks to walk through the door, let alone play any of the games. But Evie was happy playing air hockey with me and Rain messed around with a pin ball machine.

"We should probably head back soon," Rain said as Evie beat me. Again. Air hockey wasn't exactly a skill Manticore promoted.

"Yeah. Get you two some dresses and jewellery and shoes," I said, unenthusiastically. The idea of shrugging on dress after dress just didn't really appeal to me, after all. I'm sure I could have unearthed something from my wardrobe but no one deserves to walk into my wardrobe.

"It'll be fun," Evie beamed. And proceeded to drag Rain and I back to the department store; physically gripping our hands.

It took me fifteen minutes to sort out Evie. She knew what she liked and she knew what Max would refuse to buy her. I helped her pick out some nice dresses and she took an armload into the change rooms – the ones for the common people. Rain slunk away and came back with only two dresses, both of the black nature.

I didn't even bother looking for myself until Rain and Evie had made their choices. I would also have to check with the others to make sure we didn't pick the same dress. Syl and I had done that before and only our physical differences – and Syl's fast work with a pen knife – had saved us from humiliation.

Evie was only nine years old, so even though she knew what her mother would let her wear. Of course, that didn't mean she hadn't smuggled in one or two dresses that were pushing it. She was trying to grow up so fast; I guess one of the repercussions of being the only X5 child (Maxa and Case had spent no significant time with their cousin) and having spent so much time with Rain.

Rain and I spent twenty full minutes vetoing Evie's choices. According to Max – and Logan – Evie was not allowed to wear black. Or anything that was too short. I guess I could understand; she was still a kid. In the end, she picked out this pink-gold dress that ended at her knees and had this lace hem and a sash. Evie looked like a little doll in it; and even though I thought Max would prefer Evie in a longer dress Rain pointed out that Evie was getting older, and Evie could move around more easily in it.

Then Rain started trying on clothes. Rain really was gorgeous – especially before she dyed her hair. The current mud-brown look is unflattering, it washes her out. But with her red hair, she was beautiful. And when you got her out of her jeans and concert t shirts, she really was lovely.

The first dress she tried on was a strapless black one with purple underlay. It was a heavy fabric and sort of dragged Rain down. She was too dainty to wear such a heavy looking dress. It was a gratuitous second choice on Rain's behalf.

She left her first choice to last intentionally. She's damn good at tactics. The second dress was breath taking on her. A black and purple corset dress with a wispy skirt – it was very avant-garde. It was very sexy, and if I had had the bone structure that Rain did, I would have lived in that dress.

"You look breathtaking, Rain," I said to her. Rain flushed and looked down. "But…" I continued.

"I knew it! I knew you wouldn't let me wear anything even slightly sexy!" Rain threw up her hands, anger written across her face. "None of you X5s ever let me do anything I want! I'm not a little kid anym…!"

"Rain!" I snapped at her. "I was just going to say, it'd look even more beautiful if you washed the hair dye out of your hair. You're a prettier redhead."

"Oh." Rain looked sheepish. "Yeah, I guess I'll go buy some red dye."

"Or, just go and see a proper hair dresser and have them fix it properly," I suggested.

"I guess. Zane's not exactly into handing out cash for someone to take a pair of scissors to my hair," Rain shrugged.

"My treat," I offered. "I need to get mine done."

It took me about twenty minutes to convince Rain I would pay for her to fix her hair, convince her that the dress wasn't something Zane would disown her over and then stick her in a pair of heels. Evie was much easier to sort out – tights and standard kid's party shoes – before we headed back to find Max and the others.

"Jondy!" Max was sitting on the satin covered seat, watching Brin – who was trying on the cutest pistachio coloured dress ever. "You've been gone for ages."

"Evie and Rain wanted lunch," I shrugged, slinging myself into the seat next to her. "They picked out their dresses; the shop assistant took them."

"Great," Max smiled. "I hope Evie's isn't too…"

"It's really nice," I reassured her. Brin was now wearing a rose coloured strapless dress. "Brinny, that one is perfect."

"Yeah," Brin smoothed the skirt fabric out. "Do you think Alec will like it?"

I exchanged a grin with Syl who was trying to smother her giggles. We'd all been like that at the beginning of our relationships. To a slightly different degree; Syl, Tinga and I had never ever considered if our respective others would like how we looked in designer dresses.

"You look gorgeous, Brinny," Max said with a smile. "You gonna go with that dress?"

"Yeah, this one," Brin grinned, stepping down and walking towards the dressing room. "You're up, Jondy. Tinga went and grabbed a few dresses for you earlier."

We got away an hour later. Max was complaining of a sore back; and Max never complains about anything. Syl and Brin went to pay for everything with Logan's card, and I offered to take Max and Evie home.

"Just let me go to the bathroom, Jon," Max said, making a face as she rubbed her back.

"Okay. I'm just going to look in the clothes section," I said, slinging my messenger bag across my chest.

Rain was examining a red pleather skirt with lacing up the side when I got to women's clothing. Tinga was behind her, chatting animatedly on her mobile. On my way over to them, I paused by a rack of fringed dresses. Which is when the shit hit the fan.

I'd never really seen Tinga and Rain interact now that Tinga and Zane were something of an item. There was definitely some animosity there, though. But as I checked the sizes of the dress (they were beautiful), Rain was matching up the skirt – which I had to admit, was very skimpy – with a black pleather corset with zippers all over it. I guess Nice Rain had vanished, and now Angry Teenage Rain had replaced her once again.

"You are not buying that outfit," Tinga said with authority, switching her phone off and jamming it in the pocket of her jeans.

"I so am," Rain said with a grin, holding it up against her self. "It's awesome."

"You'll look like a stripper, Rain," Tinga took the skirt from her and hung it back up on the rack. "Come on, we're meeting Zane for lunch."

"I've got money, Tinga. And I really like this outfit," Rain snatched the skirt back off the rack. "You don't have to pay for it or anything."

"I don't want you looking cheap, Rain," Tinga said more forcibly. "I won't let you."

"You won't let me?" Rain's face was flushed with anger. "You won't let me? News flash, 656, you aren't my mother or my sister or anything like that. You have no authority over me whatsoever. Just because you and Zane have decided to try sex on for size doesn't mean you suddenly get to play disciplinarian. It doesn't mean you and I are ever going to be friends."

And Rain threw the skirt and top to the floor, stalking off. Tinga stood there, her hand hovering at her throat, and an annoyed expression on her face. I slid my fringed dress back onto the rack and went over to my big sister. I rested a hand on her shoulder, watching her face carefully.

"She's…" Tinga breathed. "Un-god damned- believable."

"She's eighteen years old, Tinga," I soothed. "It's a prerequisite to be snarky."

"Snarky?" Tinga swung around to face me. "She's making me and Zane miserable. Zane and I are trying to make this work. I haven't had a relationship since Charlie and Zane's been dealing with Miranda's death… I can't fight with Rain, Jondy. Zane adores that girl. I know he's always saying that she's not his daughter or anything, but he loves her like she is, Jondy. I don't want it to come down to her or me. Because I know Zane won't pick me."

Okay, so I probably wasn't the best person to handle this sort of crisis. I mean, yeah, after Zack left me the first time I was bitter. But there's never really been a third person to consider in our relationship. We don't even have a cat.

"It'll be okay, Tinga," I said, totally at a loss at what to say. "Rain's just finished high school and stuff. She's probably scared about college and stuff, and she's taking it out on you. Everything will calm down soon. If any two people ever deserved happiness, it's you and Zane."

Tinga smiled weakly at me. "God, I hope you're right, Jondy."

"I'm always right… except when I'm wrong."

"People generally are, Jon."

I dropped Max and Evie off at the penthouse and decided to go and get coffee and silver dollar pancakes from a diner on the corner – near Jam Pony. Zack wouldn't be home yet and I still hadn't gotten around to deciding upon my next place of employment. So, pancakes.

After I ordered, I sat in a window booth and fixed my hair. I'd gotten my barcode removed a few weeks ago, so it just looked like a dark smudge on the back of my neck. I pulled my hair back into a high ponytail and redid my lip glass (way better than lip gloss because it has more colour but also way better than lipstick because it's not quite so heavy) when the waitress served me.

I didn't pay any attention to any of the other customers as I nibbled on my pancakes and sent text messages to Zack to see what time he got off (at work, damnit! Not like that.)

Z. See you 6. Love you – J.

I jammed my phone back in my bag, and finished my coffee. I was going to do some groceries; as delicious as take out was, I was going to cook dinner tonight. I could cook... I counted out money to pay for the food and tucked it under my plate before stepping out of the diner.

I remember the new few minutes with crystal clarity, like I was watching it on the television. I saw Sketchy and Original Cindy across the street, and I called out and waved at them. "Sketchy! OC!"

"Hey, boo!" OC waved back. "Kickin' it at Crash tonight?"

"I'll try and be there!" I called back, rifling in my bag for my mobile phone as I heard it chime.

And then the glass door behind me exploded. I jerked around, my hands covering my face as I heard people inside the diner screaming. A second later the windows exploded and I felt a shard of glass cut my cheek as I dropped to the pavement, my hands over my head, as a spray of bullets continued above my head. I could hear people screaming and I wanted to look up and make sure Sketchy and Original Cindy were okay.

And then silence. I could hear children crying and people calling out for help, for someone to dial 911. I could almost hear the sniper reloading the gun and I reached to my waist, pulling a handgun from underneath my jacket. And I was on my feet, scanning the surrounding area with my transgenic sight. These random sniper attacks happened all the time in Seattle. Two might happen on the same day, and the next might be eight weeks later.

I saw him before I realised what he was doing. It was the warm red dot in the middle of my forehead that tipped me off that maybe - just maybe – our alliance with Lydecker was a very bad thing indeed.

I'm sure if I had hesitated a second, my brains would have been nothing more than a smear on the streets of Seattle. I just collapsed to the ground as the bullet was fired. And my hand was in the air, my gun firing recklessly in the direction the sniper had been in.

"Nyet!"

I saw him crumple and he fell from his hiding place – a second story balcony in an abandoned building – to the pavement below. I was back on my feet, my bag's contents spilling over the pavement as I hurried to the man who had tried to kill me.

Dramatic, I know.

He was about thirty, with a crew cut and bright blue eyes. Slavic, or of Slavic descent, I knew immediately. I had shot him in the stomach, which would ultimately lead to a drawn out and painful death. His hands covered the wound, but blood oozed between his fingers, so red it looked black. He lay on the pavement, blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. He had been lucky he had survived his fall. He wouldn't live much longer.

I steeled myself and aimed my gun at his head. "Who are you?" I demanded.

"Nyet," he spat, blood dribbling down his chin.

"Who do you work for?" I tried again.

He babbled something at me, choking on the blood in his mouth.

"Russian," I said grimly, sliding my gun back into its holster. "Вы работаете для Donald Lydecker?" Do you work for Donald Lydecker? My childhood Russian had been terrible at best. If I had been taken hostage by Russians, they would have shot me just to shut me up.

"Da."

Even I could recall what meant.

"He's in Seattle," I said softly to no one in particular.

"Da," the soldier coughed again, spitting the blood onto the pavement. His eyes were glassy and I knew he wouldn't live much longer. It's very hard to remember that he's one of the bad guys when he's lying in a pool of his own blood, staring up at you with eyes that have already begun to congeal. I bit my lip. It had been a long time since I killed a man. Not long enough, I suppose. I brushed my hair from my eyes and looked down at the soldier…

I strode out from behind the hiding place, looking around for Original Cindy and Sketchy. And was met by a few police cars and an ambulance or nine.

"Jondy!" It was Sketchy who raced over to me. "You find the prick that did this?"

"Dead," I said softer than I intended, wiping some blood off my face.

"You look like you need to see a paramedic," Sketchy said suddenly, taking me by the arm and dragged me towards an ambulance.

"Sketch, I'm fine," I said, trying to pull away. Sketch pulled me aside.

"Look, Jondy, the cops are everywhere. Just go with the paramedics," he mumbled and shoved me towards a waiting medic.

Maybe it's because I am a doctor myself, but I hate being patched up. He sloppily stitched the cut along my cheek and the one across my temple, and the one that run up my forearm. They were all surface wounds that would have healed in a week without stitches; with stitches, the scars would be gone by Wednesday. As I sat there, with scratchy gauze covering my cheek and a young guy practicing embroidery on my face and arm, I saw the other medics in the diner.

They carried a little girl out and I had to turn my head. The bullet that had been intended to smear my brains across the pavement had hit her in the back of the head. A woman who could only be her mother was carried out next, a bullet wound to the arm, and she was crying in a high keening tone that I had never heard an Ordinary make.

Blood was smeared everywhere. I sat in the back of the ambulance, watching the surrounding scene, with police questioning everyone. Original Cindy came over once she'd spoken to a police officer, carrying my bag.

"Someone got to your wallet, boo," she said grimly. "And your cell phone's gone."

I nodded, taking my bag from her. There was a streak of blood across it as I held it in my lap. "Thanks, OC."

"You okay, boo?" Original Cindy looked at me with a funny look on her face. "Hey, is she gonna be okay?"

"Just shock," the ambo smiled, handing me a Styrofoam cup of very sweet tea. "We'll take her to Metro Medical to sign some release documents and she'll be fine after a shower and a night's sleep."

The ambulances couldn't leave without clearing with Sector check points, so we had to wait. Original Cindy and I sat silently in the back of the ambulance as I went over exactly what had happened in my mind. I watched the diner make coffees and teas for everyone, sweep up the glass and mop up the blood.

"Is it shock, Jondy?" I turned to look at Cindy. She rarely called me by my name unless she was serious. Her brown eyes looked for my reassurance.

She was right, though. It wasn't shock. It was fear. If Lydecker had Russian snipers going after me; not just to capture but to kill, he meant business. He'd never intended to harm us like that before.

But if the soldier had not radioed in to declare his mission a success, if Lydecker couldn't see my body in the body bag, someone would still come after me. Because I was the closet to Zack, physically. If you're going to take down a target, you eliminate all other civilians in close proximity. Tactics 101. Until I was eliminated, they wouldn't make a move on Zack.

"Cindy," I said, turning towards her. "I need you to tell Logan what happened. Tell him the sniper was a Russian. And to keep Zack at his place tonight, okay?"

"Boo," Original Cindy said, looking confused.

"Someone's after Zack, and I'm the closest to him," I said hurriedly. "Just get out of here, okay? Go straight to Logan's."

With any luck, I'd have Russians waiting for me at the hospital.

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