Disclaimer: All of the characters that appeared in the TV show Dark Angel (Max, Zack, Logan, etc.) belong to their respective owners, not to me. No money is being made off of this fic. I only own the original characters (Becky/X6-405, etc.).

Notes: Takes place immediately following chapter 40 of "Dysfunctional."

Becky was quiet as she stood watching the two X5s face off in front of her during her edge weapons training class. Since her final return to Seattle from Russia almost two months ago, she'd been trying to keep an eye out for as much information as she could find about Zack and Max, though with no luck so far.

"Something going on in that pretty head of yours, 405?"

Becky mentally rolled her eyes and glanced out of the corner of her eye at the man standing next to her on her right. "Nothing that involves you, 494."

"Oh, come on, you can tell me," X5-494 said. "After class, tonight during rec time, we could meet back here and..."

"If it means dropping you on your butt in two minutes again, then sure," Becky said.

"Lucky move," 494 grumbled, but he shut up. Becky hid a smile and focused her attention as the last pair finished and put their weapons back on the rack and moved back into line with the others.

"Good work today, soldiers," the trainer said. "See you all here again Friday at 1400 hours. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir," they chorused. They all saluted him and headed out the door.

"Damn 224," Becky muttered as she wiped the blood on her right cheek.

"Hey, he did get sent to the brig for that move after the trainer said no moves with intent to injure," 941, who was also in the class, said helpfully.

"I know," Becky said. "He thinks he's hot shit because he's the C.O. of you Seattle X6s. How have you put up with him all these years, 941?"

"Very carefully," 941 said. "He's damn good, almost as good as you are, and he's unfortunately got the ego to match."

"Like 494," Becky said.

"494's not nearly as arrogant as 224, plus he's usually pretty funny," 941 said.

Becky shrugged. "I should get to the infirmary to get this stitched up before I meet up with my unit at the rifle range. I'll catch you later, 941."

"Same here, 405," 941 said.

Becky walked into the infirmary and up to a nurse. "X6-405. I got cut in edge weapons training and need this stitched up."

"Of course, 405," the nurse said. "Have a seat while I get a suture kit and some gauze."

Becky nodded and sat down on the exam table and sighed. She started to pick at the edge of the table when she heard some voices coming from the other side of the infirmary. She turned her head and listened.

"Fucking bitch," a male voice said.

"That's what you get when you deal with a pissed X5 chick, Jim," another male voice said. "They're worse than regular women."

"No shit," Jim said. "It's gonna take awhile before Psy Ops is done with her. She's definitely a feisty one. You'd never know she'd had a heart transplant three months ago."

"I heard they're also having a hard time with that other one," the other man said.

"Didn't he try to shoot himself so he could be her donor?" Jim asked.

"Yeah," the other man said. "Fortunately, 734 had gotten herself free by that time and had dragged herself to the infirmary to be treated for her own injuries. She shot 599 in his other shoulder before 599 could shoot himself."

"And she grew up with him and 452. Nice," Jim said, chuckling.

"It's a good thing Director Renfro's keeping them isolated from each other in opposite wings and from the other soldiers until Psy Ops says they're ready," the other man said. "Can you imagine how they'd be if they let 'em loose into the general population right now?"

"There'd be a lot more of us in here," Jim agreed.

"There ya go, all patched up," the other man said. "I'd take it easy with those ribs, though. No heavy lifting for at least a week."

"Thanks, man," Jim said. "Gotta get back to D wing. They've got me assigned to guard 452 for the foreseeable future, so I probably will see you soon."

"There you go, 405, all done," the nurse said.

Becky blinked. She'd been so focused on that conversation that she hadn't noticed the nurse stitching up the gash on her cheek. "Thank you." She jumped down from the table and walked towards the rifle range, lost in thought. At least I know where Max is, and it probably won't be too hard now to figure out where Zack is. I might be stuck here, but I'll be damned if those two will be.

TBC