Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel so don't sue me. Thanks. :-)

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and put up with this extended absence of story. I didn't mean to wait this long before updating again, and because I did, I'm going to update two chapters back-to-back. A special thank you to peculiarxemma for getting me to wake up and update this again! ^_^

Ex Multus Familia

2

Chapter 11

Sidda had gone as far as she could go. The Outer Banks of North Carolina. Sidda had laid a false trail for quite a ways toward Georgia; she was hoping that would throw Alec off since he knew that she'd had a mission there before.

It wasn't that she didn't love him anymore. She just didn't want Alec to find her, find out about the kid, and then insist on doing the right thing and take care of her and the baby. If she just had the time to prove that she was perfectly fine raising the child on her own, well, then Alec wouldn't need to feel obligated to help her out when she went back to Terminal City. Hopefully he'd want to though, without the obligated part…

The Atlantic Ocean was very different from the Pacific. She'd already been in the ocean; she hadn't been able to resist when she caught sight of it. It was dark and chilly, but it felt good to her. She'd spent several hours just floating in the water, enjoying how relaxed it made her feel. She hadn't realized how tense she was until she tried to relax.

She missed Alec.

A cheap hotel had sustained her for a couple nights, but tonight she was moving into a small house she'd managed to rent from some islander. It was really cheap since it was a fixer-upper, but she didn't mind. She didn't need a lot of space, and she'd certainly have time to fix the place up. It wasn't too terrible-looking; as Robin would say, the place had potential.

Sidda also had decided to go to the marina later to try and get a job. She'd looked around a bit, and she just didn't feel like taking a job at the usual tourist shops and restaurants. If she worked for the marina, she might get to go out on one of the boats, and maybe the job wouldn't be deadly boring the way a shop job was guaranteed to be.

Maybe she didn't necessarily need a job, but she couldn't very well live off of stolen credit cards and wallets forever, especially if she was settling. It was a little too risky if she planned on staying at Hatteras until the baby was born. If she was desperate, she could always steal from some of the vacation homes, but she would still need something to do during the day. Sidda liked to be active and working, and she didn't have the temperament to become a beach bum for eight months. Besides, when she went back, she didn't want Alec…everyone thinking she had run away from all the responsibilities of Terminal City.

Sidda parked her car at the marina, officially called Teach's Lair Marina, but she personally thought that was a bit of a mouthful. It was a very clean marina, unlike the one Sidda remembered from her time in Georgia. The buildings had been freshly painted and looked striking against the blue water and sky.

A few vacationers were milling about, going into the store or waiting to go onto the boats they'd chartered. Other people who were either locals or had a bit more water experience were taking their own boats out onto the water or bringing them back in. The marina obviously hadn't suffered much when the economy went haywire after the Pulse.

The store was pretty typical; bait and tackle shop, tourist items, an area where tours could be chartered, and a small restaurant in the back. Sidda sighed and went up to the desk. It had been a while since she'd actually applied for a job without already knowing someone working at the job or being handed off to a Manticore insider who worked there. She wasn't sure she really wanted to give any references either. It was just entirely too possible that someone would give away her location to Alec or even a Familiar for that matter.

"Excuse me," Sidda said to the 20-something-year-old behind the desk. She smiled at him as he looked up; he was actually kind of cute. If this had been before Alec, she might have been interested in him. He had light brown hair, blue eyes, a nice amount of scruff, and of course, the requisite muscles and tan that came with working at a marina.

The man grinned back at her. "Hey, can I help you?"

"I was wondering if I could apply to work here, possibly on one of your charter boats." She put a hand on her hip as the guy unobtrusively gave her a doubting look. "I know I don't look like much, but I'm tougher than you would think. I've also had experience working with boats before."

The guy laughed and held his hands up. "I'm sorry. We just don't have many women apply for jobs that don't involve the restaurant or the shop."

"Well, I can warn you right now, I don't really care much about being like other women." Manticore didn't exactly allow her to be like everyone else.

"Somehow, I find that easy to believe." The man pulled out an application from a drawer behind the desk and handed it to her. "Name's Jim, by the way."

Sidda shook his hand. "I'm Sidda." She had thought about using aliases, but if Alec got this far, she would have to confront him anyway, and she didn't feel like choosing another name. She had this one, and she wasn't switching anymore.

"So what brought you to the Outer Banks? You don't exactly look like a local."

Yeah, Sidda would probably have to give up her city wear for some island clothes. Less grunge and more practical for the seaside. She shrugged. "I just needed a change of scenery, needed to get away from home."

Jim nodded. "There are always some who need that. The sea is a popular place to run away to."

Sidda frowned; she didn't like the implication he made that she was running away. But Jim was already going through some log books so Sidda left and went to sit at a table in the corner of the store to fill out her application. No need to leave and come back later. Everything she needed to know was in her head.

Plus, if Sidda sat around long enough, the manager would have to come in at some point or another. She knew that that was the person she really needed to talk to if she wanted a job.

Unless Jim was a manager? Sidda glanced at him again. He was humming while writing in the log books, looking utterly happy and carefree despite the fact that he was working behind the counter. No, he really didn't look like someone who had to make weighty decisions daily. And he was rather young, around her own age. Probably manager one day if he stayed around long enough but not yet.

While Sidda was scribbling her information down at a slow, humanish pace, she heard the door to the shop open and close a few times as people came and went. Smells drifted in, mostly from the marina, so they were fish and salt water smells, thick and cool. Each time the door opened, Sidda glanced out of the corner of her eye to see who it was. It was always some tourist heading out on his charter or a local coming by to get bait, but Sidda always half-expected to see Alec in the doorway, wind-tossed from having ridden that motorcycle of his all the way to North Carolina.

Why didn't he just go back home? The last time she had called Robin her friend had said that Alec was still stubbornly on the chase. What did she have to do to the guy, kick him? This was for his own good, didn't her know that? She wished she could believe her own lies. It would've made things that much easier.

Sidda was mostly done with the paperwork when the door opened again. The sea-salt smell was strong and mixed with sweat, and when Sidda looked up, there was a man walking toward the counter, a smile on his face. Around six foot tall, he was wearing a ragged white t-shirt with the marina's logo on the back and an old, tattered baseball cap was sitting comfortably on his head. He had a white beard that contrasted greatly with his brown, leathery skin. He looked weather-worn but not weather-beaten; he was much too hardy-looking for that, especially with his round, taut belly.

"Jim! Jim, where's that Peterson group?" the man asked in a voice that fit his girth. He threw a wink in Sidda's direction. "You been distractin' him from his work, missy?"

Ah, so this was the manager. In charge, at ease, demanding, and slightly harassed-looking, the man just seemed to fit the bill for the manager of a marina.

"No, sir," Sidda replied as she stood up, picking the papers off the table. "I've been filling out my application, like I was told."

"An application?" The man turned toward Jim, one eyebrow raised. "Didn't know we needed anyone in the store or the restaurant."

Jim held up his hands. "We don't, but that's not what she's applying for."

"I'd rather work on one of the boats," Sidda said, sparing Jim from having to explain the situation. "I worked on a few ships before, down in Georgia, and I thought I'd give it a try here."

The manager looked her up and down, already starting to shake his head. Sidda sighed. Why did they always assume that short meant weak? "I can haul rope, work a motor, fix an engine and lift a lot more than you think I can." She rolled her eyes and gave a big, Southern smile. "I can even toss a fisherman overboard, if you need me to."

"Is that so?" he asked, reaching up to rub his scruffy white beard.

"It's so," Sidda replied.

"Well, you certainly got some fire in you." He looked over her application as she handed it to him. A few minutes later, he looked back to Jim. "What do you think, boy? Should we give her a try?"

"I think it might be an idea," Jim said, grinning at Sidda.

The manager nodded. "Yeah, that may be an idea. I think there's an opening on Roger Collins rig, the Dixon Dare. He needs a new deck hand. You like the sound of that?"

"Sounds like an idea to me," Sidda said. She smiled at both of them, laying in a little borrowed Southern charm.

The manager smiled and stuck his hand out to her. "Pete Henderson. Welcome aboard."

-------------------------------

Everett moved along the back wall of the small, cramped room. It seemed like this rally of mutant-haters was finally coming to a close. If he could just make it a few more minutes without taking this whole crowd out…

Of course, that was why he had been sent. Max had called him out as a level-headed, rational X5, one who wouldn't fly into combat if a few racist things were said about transgenics. Technically speaking, any of the Manticore-trained transgenics should have been able to handle this mission, but ever since they had gotten out of Manticore, it seemed like most of the transgenics had given themselves over to their emotions instead of trying to think coolly.

Fights brought out more often in Terminal City than they ever had back in Manticore, but Everett believed part of that was because of a lack of things to do in T.C. and the extra freedom. Everett never participated in these fights; actually, he was the one who usually broke them up. Maybe that's why Max thought he would be good in this situation; he didn't lose his head when he was mad.

But that didn't mean he didn't have limits. When the humans had been talking about how the transgenics had been "spawning every day like slimy rabbits" and had muttering about exterminating the women first, Everett had almost jumped out of his seat and gutted the men who had mentioned it right there. For a moment all he could think about Mona's safety and the safety of their baby, but he had gotten himself under control, especially after Emma had shot him a split-second glance of concern from across the room where she was sitting with the other teenagers.

Besides himself, Max had sent along Twizzler and Emma to act as his brother and sister. The three of them had similar features, brown hair and dark eyes, so it was easy to pass as sibs, and who knows, they might have actually shared DNA. Everett trusted his partners; Twizzler was calm in every situation, and Emma was steady, not at all flighty like a lot of the X6 girls. He was glad he had these two on his mission; he was confident that neither of them was going to bust out into attack mode.

Someone patted him on the back as the speaker made another jarring remark about the disgusting disease that was the transgenic population. Everett ignored him and did another headcount of the room, just to be sure the numbers were right. There were almost two hundred humans in this room, which happened to be the basement of some burned out business office a few blocks from T.C. They wanted to be near the enemy, or that was their excuse.

Everett didn't understand these people. All night he had roamed around the room and heard about the dirty, nasty transgenics who were trying to take over the world with their superpowers. Supposedly transgenics could start fires with their mind and shoot lasers out of their eyes and, who knows, maybe they could fart out nuclear explosions. Idiots. These people knew absolutely nothing about transgenics. The dangerous thing was that the people around him were buying into this diatribe. There had been five speakers so far, and the only really intelligent one was talking right now. He knew how to whip up the crowd, get them shouting, work their emotions and even their logic. This man, this Jones guy, he was the real dangerous one around here.

"You won't know who they are," Jones said, his voice dropping to a low, soft tone. His eyes were deadly serious as he scanned the crowd, and if Everett was any judge of character, the man was finally coming to a close.

"They walk among us, concealing their true identities. They creep into your lives, they take your jobs, they steal your sons and daughters' hearts and lives. They mate and they create sick monstrosities whose sole purpose is to kill." Jones paused for dramatic effect. "And you will never know who they are."

He walked off the small, collapsible stage to stunned silence, moving slowly, meeting the eyes of many in the room, nodding his head as he and the other person acknowledged the seriousness of the situation. It was ridiculous. He looked at Everett, and Everett forced himself to smile and nod like everyone else. Good thing he had lots of Manticore Training behind him.

A slow murmur of conversation started up after he passed by, and no one really paid attention to the man who stood up to close the meeting with a remark or two and an offer to meet and talk with the speakers in the back of the room. As soon as it was over, Twizzler and Emma came over to Everett.

"Can we please go?" Twizzler said, his eyes flashing for a moment with annoyance. He glanced over at Jones, who was already talking to a few men in the back of the room. He was every inch the politician; wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and an easy smile. Someone that could appeal to everyone. But his eyes were cold.

"No," Everett said shortly. "We need to learn as much as we can about these people." He glanced at Twizzler and Emma. "You can go hang out with the other kids if you want."

Emma snorted. "I don't know, we may give ourselves away with our high intelligence level."

"She does have a point," Twizzler grinned. 'We don't exactly know a whole lot about being kids."

"Then be shy kids," Everett rolled his eyes. "I know you're trained to observe and pick up on mannerisms within moments. I'm sure you'll do fine." Everett frowned as he noticed a group of Ordinaries lurking nearby. "Now stop dropping character."

"Ok, big bro, we'll see you in a bit then." Twizzler grabbed Emma's hand and grinned as she flashed him an annoyed look.

"I'm not five," she yanked her hand out of his. "It's just creepy if you hold my hand."

"Look at that, you're doing such a good job of acting already."

Everett shook his head as the two headed off toward the other groups of kids. Sometimes kids, and especially teenagers, talked about things adults talked about, so it would actually be useful to have those two listening in. That was half the reason they'd been sent along.

Everett walked up to the group around Jones and slowly made his way in toward the guy until he was in shaking hands distance. He stood there for a moment, and that was all that took for Jones to notice him.

"Ah, hello, I don't believe we've met before."

"No, we haven't. My name is Mark," Everett said. It seemed like a nice, generic name.

"Jones," the man said in reply. The guy really did go by just his last name. How weird. "I hope you found encouragement and solidarity with others like yourself in this meeting."

Everett nodded and stuck his hands in his jacket to hide his clenched fists. "I did." He gave a curt nod. "In fact, I was hoping there was something more I could do to help the effort." The only way to find out what this dangerous man was really up to was to become a part of the inner circles.

The man studied him for a moment and then clasped his shoulder. "Stay after for a little bit and we'll talk to you."

Everett nodded and looked over at Twizzler and Emma. "Should I send my little brother and sister home?"

"Probably best," Jones agreed. Then he turned to another man, effectively dismissing Everett. Everett felt another surge of dislike but carefully schooled his expression to a blank look. Perhaps it would be dangerous to stay around alone with a bunch of transgenic haters, but he was pretty sure he was ok; there was no reason for his cover to be blown. He would just have to be careful to appear normal with everything he said and did.

"Hey, you two," he called out Emma and Twizzler. They came over to him, both making faces.

"Thank goodness," Emma said.

"I'm going to stay here a while; you two leave when the other kids do, ok?" It actually looked like most of the people were making their way out anyways. They wouldn't be able to talk freely in a moment or two. It would be too easy for someone to listen in on them.

Twizzler crossed his arms. "We're a team."

Everett crossed his as well. "And we're also individuals with individual strengths. I can stay and learn more. You can't."

Twizzler and Emma both glanced at each other. "Fine, but we're hanging around outside," Emma said stubbornly. "We can't just leave you in this nest of crazies." Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper at the end.

"We'll stay hidden," Twizzler added before Everett could object. Everett sighed; he knew that there was going to be convincing the two not to stay. They weren't normal kids. And Twizzler wasn't really a kid at all, he just looked the part.

"Fine," Everett muttered, "But stay—"

"Out of sight, we know," Twizzler said, waving a hand at Everett's over-protective nature. He slung an arm around Emma's shoulders. "I'll keep an eye on the squirt."

Emma shrugged him off. "You're a jerk."

He grinned at her. "Aw, come on, Em, at least I'm cute."

"As if."

"Go on, both of you," Everett said, nodding toward the other teenagers who were milling around the doorway, waiting for the two newcomers, "I'll be home later, all right?"

He watched as Twizzler and Emma left with the rest of the teenagers. They would eventually break off from the others and stay around the building, hiding in the shadows while they waited for him. He wished they would both just go back to Terminal City and wait where it was safer, but he was also comforted by their presence. Still, he didn't want them around these men; he would rather face them alone than put Twizzler and Emma in danger.

---------------------

"How's translating coming?"

Logan glanced up from his paper as Max draped her arms over his shoulder, her hands running down the front of his shirt as she pressed her cheek against his. He smiled. Damn, but life was good now that they had the Cure.

"Fine, I guess," he said, shrugging his shoulder, "There're just a few words that I can't find in any of the books." He sighed as she reached forward and grabbed at the papers. He was trying to translate the Minoan symbols that had appeared on Max a few months ago, but the going was slow.

"The second, something, is the hope of all, a child in light sings for the one, the one reads and acts, knows, something something?" She put the paper back on the desk and snorted. "Wow, Logan, that was very enlightening."

Logan rolled his eyes as she pulled away from him, her lips brushing for a moment against his cheek. "I'm trying, but for some reason, I skipped Minoan 101 back in college. Can't imagine why."

"Sounds like you made a bad decision," Max said. There was worry mingled with the laughter in her eyes, and Logan could guess the reason for the negative emotion.

"Bad news from Everett?" he asked. While he had been here, trying to figure out what the hell Max's tattoos meant in plain English, Max had been at headquarters, waiting for the small, secret away team to come back and report. Since Max was here and not looking extremely upset or dismayed, nothing terrible had happened; no one was dead or in the infirmary.

"Nothing worse than the usual," Max said, "Just people wanting to exterminate the transgenic population. No big."

"Ah. Glad to know that's all."

A half-smile darted across her face. Logan could always say the right thing to make her feel better. She walked over to their small kitchen table and fingered the small wooden bowl that was currently their center piece. A vase of fresh flowers would be preferable, but since the transgenics were supposed to be staying safely within the gates until the Familiar problem was dealt with…Yeah, like the government was actually going to be able to handle the Familiars. Most of the suits were unwilling to even admit that the government could have been infiltrated by the psycho crazy group of eugenic-pushing nutcases, and that left them open to any inside manipulation. Dealing with the government sucked.

"I just don't get why they think we're such a threat, you know?" Max said, trying to keep her anger in check. "We're just people."

Logan put down his pen and turned his chair toward her. "Max, that's not all you are."

She growled under her breath as if to support what he said. "I know, but that doesn't mean we're just going to go around offing babies and eating people and whatever else they say we're going to do." She threw a long, hard glare at the window. "They don't even know us."

"They're just afraid," Logan said slowly, trying to calm her down, "They don't understand—"

"We don't understand either," Max snapped back. There was a moment of silence as Logan watched Max try to contain her frustration. Eventually, he stood up and walked over to her. He put his arms around her and held her against him, wishing he could do more than offer physical comfort. There was nothing he could say to make it better, though, and he wasn't going to lie to her, so he just held her.