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

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews, Deanna, Sandra, Alexa, Stargate fan, 452max, x5, and Marcus Sylenus! I appreciate you all SO much!

Ex Multus Familia

Chapter 9

When Mole showed up at her door to tell her that Sandeman had been murdered, Max didn't say anything. She just got dressed, put her hair up in a ponytail and went straight to HQ where she locked herself into her office, or at least that was what Mole told the others.

At first, while everyone was still in shock, they had left her alone, but now, a couple hours later, they were starting to worry about her. Shouldn't she be out there, talking about it with the rest of them? If nothing else, Joshua, who was an inconsolable, destructive wreck, needed her badly. Alec was doing his best to calm the big guy down, but Joshua had already shredded half his art work and the prospect for the rest of it wasn't good.

Mole had tried first to get Max to come out, if you could call growling and banging on the door giving it a try. Gem had given it her best shot, and so had Dalton, Luke, Rhiannon, Everett, Tristan, and Maize after her. Even Sibil had been called away from the infirmary to knock on her door and say a few coaxing words. Now they had Syl and Krit tag-teaming at the door.

"Max, get out of there," Syl demanded, her hands on her hips. Twenty minutes of trying to get her possibly catatonic sister to come out of her office on top of finding out her…engineer? was dead was giving her a massive headache. She kicked the door. It also wasn't doing much for her patience. "Sulking isn't going to do you any good."

"Gee, Syl, you're such a kind, understanding person." Krit leaned against the wall beside of the door and smiled softly at Syl who glared back at him. "I just don't get why she doesn't want to come out here and hang out with you. Right, Maxie?"

"Get spun," Syl snapped, but Krit knew she didn't mean it. Syl lived to insult him and not mean it.

"Hear how she treats me, Max?" He dodged when Syl tried to punch him.

Giving up on attacking Krit, Syl decided to switch her persuading tactics. Leaning against the door, she changed her tone from commanding to pleading. "Come on, Max, we'll get some coffee, talk it over." She knocked lightly on the office door, and Krit snorted. As if Max didn't already know they were there. "This isn't the end of the world, you know, not really."

"I don't think she wants to come out," Krit sighed. He flicked his dark brown gaze to Syl's hunter green eyes and snickered. "Max is smart enough to know that she doesn't want to deal with you."

"Shut up, Krit," Syl said, her scowl ferocious. She paced in front of the door and chewed on her cuticles. Whipping around, she pounded on the door. "Max, come out right now, or I'll…I'll kick down this door!"

"Somehow, sweetheart," he drawled out the endearment until it was almost ironic, "I don't think you're handling this situation appropriately."

Syl whirled on him, her long blond hair flying. "I said shut UP, Krit!" She raised a hand to hit him again, but he caught her by the wrist and rolled his eyes. She always had such a temper when she was upset.

"You know, baby, you've got a head as hard as a titanium wall," he said, yanking her to him. She popped him in the nose and wrenched her arm away when he yelped.

"And you're about as smooth as a pine cone," she growled. She crossed her arms over her chest like a petulant child and jerked her head to the door. "You talk to her."

"I am talking to her," he said, rubbing his nose. He wished that Syl didn't just assume that he was indestructible. "She's just choosing not to talk back. Or come out. So you keep up with whatever you're doing, maybe it'll start working."

"Krit, if you don't-"

Loud, clunky footsteps combined with an electronic whirrr rounded the corner, silencing Syl and Krit's argument. Logan put a hand on the wall and looked at Max's siblings, his blue eyes determined and unwavering as they both stared at him. "How about I talk to her."

Krit and Syl looked at each other, easily speaking with their eyes. They trusted Logan, but it was more because Max vouched for him than they actually believed the guy was on their side. Ordinaries were untrustworthy; it was a lesson that they had learned in childhood that had been reinforced in them as adults.

"You think you've got a better chance than us?" Syl asked.

"I don't know, but I'd like to try," Logan replied. Through the door, Syl heard Max move, her clothing scraping against the concrete ground. That simple movement, the first anyone had heard for the past few hours, was enough for her. Syl lowered her arms and stepped to Krit's side, leaving Logan an open path to the doorway.

Logan nodded at both of them and walked over to the door. He knocked three times and then leaned against the door. "Hey you," he said gently, "Open the door when you feel like it."

"See," Krit said to Syl, nudging her, "He knows what he's doing."

Syl responded grabbing his arm and dragging him down the hallway. "We'll be in the common room," she told Logan over her shoulder, "If she needs us." He nodded and smiled to himself as they left, Krit complaining that Syl was manhandling him.

Logan sighed and turned around, resting his back against the door. "Your brother and sister really care about you, Max. They all do," he said, still quiet. He slid down the door and sat against it. He knew this was going to take a while. "And so do I."

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

Headquarters was packed with every transgenic in T.C. beside the scant few that had to continue on the constant guard duty. It seemed like the barriers and prejudices between the different species were broken by the unexpected event that no one could quite decide on how they were supposed to approach. Nomalies sat and talked with the older X series while transhumans consoled confused X8s and X9s who didn't know why the adults were fighting or why everyone was watching the dead guy on the TV.

HQ was not enormous, so transgenics had crammed themselves into every free corner of the space, some of them retreating into newly renovated offices or backrooms. They were all trying to figure out what Sandeman's death meant for their little community and for the world as a whole since he was the only one who knew Max's, and the whole transgenic race's, true purpose. Since the kitchen and mess hall were some of the largest places in HQ and it was around lunch time, a lot of people had migrated to those rooms.

"Why was he here, anyways?" Dalton asked. He was sitting at a round table in the back of the room, leaning back in his chair with his tongue set against his clenched teeth. Every now and then he would spit out a question, expecting the older ones to reply.

Seth looked up at the boy, wishing he could answer the question. Instead, he just put his head back into his hands and glared at his cup of water. The question he kept asking himself and rationalizing over and over again was why he hadn't stopped and tried to help like Robin had suggested. If they had just checked on the situation, just for a moment, maybe Sandeman would still be alive.

But, then again, if they had stopped and if Sandeman had been killed anyway, the death would have been blamed on transgenics. Or he and Robin could have been killed too if it was Familiars, and the media would have still blamed the death on them and negative attention would be on T.C. There was no easy answer to his question, but when he got a glimpse of rational thought, he knew they had made the right decision when they chose to drive away.

"No one knows, Dalton," Gem said. She was sitting beside him, cradling a sleeping Crystal against her chest. "But we can guess that he was coming to talk to us. Or to Max."

"I just wish we had done something," Robin groaned. She had nearly had a panic attack when she found out that it had been Sandeman that had been taken out at the hotel last night. Poor Max! From what Seth and Dalton had said the other day while they were touring T.C., Max had really been relying on Sandeman to tell her why he had created her the way he had, and there was also the chance that Sandeman could have figured out the virus and fixed it. Now both those opportunities were gone, and Robin knew that it was all her fault. If she had just convinced Seth that they should have stopped those people... She laid her cheek against Taylor's head and sighed. Was life never going to be fair to them?

Perched backwards in a computer chair across the table, Sidda made a face at Robin. She knew from the pained look on Robin's face that her best friend was blaming herself. "Stop that. You probably couldn't have done anything, not really. And especially if those guys were Familiars. You would have been killed."

Beside Robin, Sampson rumbled deep in his expansive chest and patted her arm. "That would not have helped anyone."

Robin couldn't even smile at him. "I know, but I keep thinking that we could have changed it. Maybe if we had come back and told someone..."

"I don't think anyone would have thought it was important enough to go back," said Gem. She cuddled Crystal to her and stroked the baby's cheek even while giving Seth and Robin a serious look. "We're basically behind enemy lines anyway, even in T.C.. Going out into the city is like going into no man's land and entering that hotel would have been suicide."

Sidda gave Gem a smirk. "Thanks for putting it in Manticore terms." She leveled her hazel eyes with Robin's blue ones. "Maybe that'll knock some sense into her head."

"That's all Manticore was useful for," Dalton said. When the others stared at him, he gave a hard smile and explained, "Knocking things into your head."

"Good old Manticore," Sidda said, lifting her glass of water into the air in a mock toast, "Oh, how we miss your cold, metal hallways and brainwashing ways." Setting the glass down without drinking, she spun around in the computer chair, her arms folded on the back of it.

Seth snorted and lifted his head from his hands. He looked at Robin, who had ended up in-between Sampson and Gem somehow, and saw his guiltiness lining her face. Trying to catch her gaze proved futile since she was staring blankly into the space in front of her. Sighing, he pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. "Robin, let's go for a walk."

"I don't really feel like it," Robin said, huddling further into her chair. She breathed in Taylor's comforting baby scent and tried to tell herself that it wasn't her fault, but there was a pervading sense that she had failed an extremely important mission.

Seth walked up behind her chair and carefully yanked it backward with enough force to pull her with it but not take it out from under her. Sliding his hands under her arms, he lifted her to her feet before she could protest. Fighting back was out of the question when she had Taylor in her arms but that didn't stop her from glaring at him and stepping back from him.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. Taylor, on the other hand, cooed and waved her arms.

"Just come with me," Seth said, "I need to talk to you."

"I think we talked enough last night," Robin replied, moving back towards her seat. Although she wasn't blaming him, Seth had been the one that had told her they shouldn't go in. She should have argued with him instead of just agreeing. She saw Sidda watching her and immediately the shorter woman mouthed, 'Go!' Robin scowled back at her and shook her head. She didn't really feel like doing anything right now except holding Taylor and humming to her. Of course, Seth had other ideas.

"Don't be that way," he said, cupping his hand around her elbow. "It's too crowded in here for me."

"Then you go for a walk," Robin said, frowning. "I like being around people."

He gently drew her toward him. "Robin, just come with me. Taylor might like some fresh air."

"It's raining," Robin complained, but she slowly stepped closer to him. "We'd have to stay inside."

"We can walk around the parking garage, then," he replied, giving her elbow a squeeze. She hesitated, and he sighed. "Please?"

"Don't make the boy beg," Gem said, shaking her head, "He makes the most pathetic face."

"We'll keep the mood sober and dreary while you're gone," Sidda said, a half-smile on her face. Robin threw her a glare, but Sidda only smiled in return. Robin looked back at Seth's hopeful blue-green eyes and lowered her chin, a subtle nod of acquiescence. Without any more argument, they walked out of the room, Seth's hand still on Robin's elbow as they navigated the crowded room.

When they were gone, Dalton turned to Gem and jerked his thumb toward the door. "Dude, what was that about?"

Gem reached over and squeezed his cheek playfully. "Maybe I'll tell you when you're older." Dalton groaned in irritation and pulled away from her.

In the hallway, Seth led Robin away from the renovated parts of HQ. They walked out through a door that led to the parking deck that most of the transgenics once lived in before they had cleaned out the apartments and fixed up HQ and Terminal City as a whole. Robin was silent, refusing to talk to Seth, but Taylor gurgled and smiled, not caring that her mother was in a bad mood.

They walked through the parking deck, passing by burnt out trash barrels and cardboard boxes. It was awful to think that transgenics had once lived here in this squalor. At the back of her mind, an impossible to kill voice insisted that Manticore would never have let them live like this. She beat it back with images of Isolation and Psy-Ops, and the voice shut up with a hiss and retreated to the dark corner it clung to.

"Robin, are you upset that we didn't help last night?" Seth asked bluntly.

"Yes...no." Robin stopped and looked at Seth. "I just think that if we had done something, we might have saved him." Her gaze drifted to the floor and her shoulders slumped in defeat. She hadn't realized she had been so tense. "I just feel so bad for Max."

Grimacing, Seth grabbed an exposed pipe and turned around to lean against it. "I know," he said, "But you know we couldn't have done anything. Or at least we wouldn't have done anything helpful."

She frowned at him even though she knew he was right. "You don't know that for sure."

"Robin, there were fifteen people working that assassination," he said, "And then there's the added threat of them probably being Familiars. We would have been killed, and transgenics as a whole would be thrown into the spotlight and painted as murderers and assassins, even more so than we already are."

"But we didn't do anything at all!" she exclaimed, guilt pouring out of her, "We just drove by and went raiding for home decorations and building supplies." She hugged Taylor tighter as the baby started to whimper, responding to Robin's distress.

Pushing away from the pipe, Seth walked over to Robin, closing the distance between the two of them. With surprising tenderness, he put one hand on the top of Taylor's head and hesitantly reached out to cup Robin's face with the other. She pulled away at first but eventually let her chin drop, exhausted by emotions that had always been denied to her by Manticore. They were so tiring, but it was hard to think about life without them anymore.

"I'm sorry, Robin," Seth said, his voice rough with sincerity, "If we could have done something to logically improved the condition of affairs, I would have been fine with engaging the situation." His thumb moved back and forth across her face in a reassuring gesture as his eyes stayed locked with hers. "But if we had gone in there, I truly doubt that Taylor would have had her mother today."

After a moment, Robin said in an almost silent whisper, "She wouldn't have her father, either."

Instead of replying, Seth only nodded and put his arms around both Robin and Taylor in a simple hug, pulling them both close to him.

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

Sidda moved carefully and quickly through HQ, trying to make sure no one jostled her and the plates she was carrying as she made her way to Joshua's studio. As far as she or anyone else knew, Joshua and Alec hadn't surfaced for lunch or breakfast. Gem insisted that they eat, and Sidda quietly volunteered when everyone else had looked away, not wanting to face Joshua's raw sorrow when they could only conjure up annoyance that Sandeman had died before any of them could get their hands of him. Sidda didn't know Joshua, but she thought that may be to her advantage, though she wasn't entirely certain on how that would be a good thing.

No one was sitting in the area outside of Joshua's studio, and a shiver ran down Sidda's back. Everywhere else in HQ was packed with transgenics and it was impossible to escape the noise. Here, it was quiet besides the hum of distant voices. Trying not to step on any of the pieces, she walked through artwork that had been decimated and thrown from the studio.

There was even more destruction when she walked into the studio. Canvases had been ripped, crushed paint cans were slowly leaking puddles of color on the floor, and she could make out the remains of an easel or two. Abstract art work littered the room like someone had tossed it in the air like confetti. She imagined that hours and days of hard work had been annihilated in a matter of minutes. So much time to create, so little to destroy. Just like taking a life.

At first she didn't see anyone in the small side room that served as Joshua's studio, but she could smell Alec's distinct scent and another scent, this one with an earthy undertone to it. She put the plates and bottles of water down on a table that was covered with surviving art supplies. Something shuffled to her right and the hair on the back of her neck rose as she stopped herself from outright attacking whoever it was.

Turning to the right, she saw Alec sitting on the ground beside a massive, dark shape in the corner. Long, straggly brown hair shielded Joshua's face, but she saw the huge hands that he had pressed to his head, pointed, claw-like fingernails resting in his hair.

Alec's hand was on Joshua's shoulder, a gesture of brotherly affection, and he looked up at her with tired eyes. "Hey, Sidda."

"Hey," she said. She pointed at the two plates table. "Gem didn't want you guys to starve, so she sent me down here with food and some drinks." She smiled apologetically. "We've run out of everything besides water. Hope you don't mind."

"Water's fine with me, and Josh'll drink anything," he said. He squeezed the transhuman's shoulder, and Joshua responded by pulling his arms tighter around his knees.

Sidda's heart hurt as she looked at Joshua. His pain reminded of her own agony when Maria Clare had died. Sighing, she turned her gaze back to Alec. She didn't want to intrude on Joshua's grieving. "I'll go tell Gem I've fed you."

"Wait," Alec said.

"Oh, sorry, did you need something else?" she asked, a bit embarrassed that she hadn't asked before. Simple manners that she had learned at the convent were sometimes overridden by Manticore efficiency, to her own shame. "I should've asked..."

Alec shook his head, almost smirking at her. "No, I just..." His voice trailed off, and he glanced at Joshua. "Joshua hasn't met you yet. Josh, this is Sidda. Sidda, Joshua." Joshua didn't look up at her.

Sidda bit her lip as she looked at Joshua. It didn't look like he was in the mood to meet anyone, but then again, Alec was probably just trying to bring him out of his shell, force him to speak again. Sidda took a step closer to them. "Yeah, that's right. I think we accidentally skipped the studio the other day."

"He almost never leaves," Alec said, smiling as he looked at Joshua. "And now he's going to have to stay in here even more since he recently took a dislike to his current collection..." He picked up a piece of a painting and looked at it ruefully before tossing it to the side and lifting his gaze up at Sidda. He wanted her to stay; her neutral presence in the face of Joshua's smothering sorrow was refreshing, and though he didn't want to admit it just yet, he liked being around her.

"I can see that," Sidda said. She bent down and picked up half of a canvas, careful to keep hold on both sides of the ruined work. It was a landscape of the skyline of Seattle as it would have been seen from the top of HQ. The T.C. flag waved in the foreground, and behind it, the city was lit by purple, pinks, grays, and blues, reveling in one of its rare bright dawns. It was beyond beautiful, crafted with tiny, accurate brushstrokes. Art wasn't really her thing, but this piece was amazing. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked down at Joshua. Beauty and the beast, all wrapped into one huge package. "It's so beautiful, Joshua..."

"Doesn't matter," a shattered voice rattled from behind the veil of silky brown hair. "Nothing matters."

Alec looked up at her, and she saw pleading in his normally bright eyes, wanting her help with what seemed like a lost cause. Sidda kneeled down, her knees hitting the concrete. With a careful touch, she shifted the damaged canvases and paintings around until she found the matching piece to the painting she had found. Steeling herself, she crawled over and sat cross-legged beside Joshua but didn't touch him. Some people didn't like strangers touching them, especially when they were emotional.

"I think we could fix some of it," she said, putting both of the pieces in her lap. Turning them around, she fit them together and held them in place at the edges where they had been ripped apart. She lifted it in the air to scrutinize it. "There's a seam down the middle of it, but with a little touch up, it should be perfect again." She put the pieces back down and looked at them, remembering her year in Italy. "When something is broken, there is the possibility for it to be remade even better than before." Maria Clare's voice was warm in her ears, and she could feel the soft hand patting her arm.

"Manticore teach Sidda?" Joshua's voice was dull but there was a subtle edge of sarcasm to his statement. Alec sighed in relief. At least the big fella was talking again. It seemed like all Joshua had done for the past few hours was sob, break things, scream and finally hunch over in silence. Talking was a big improvement.

Sidda looked over at Alec and gave a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "My mother taught me that," she said, answering in what she thought was the most appropriate way to answer Joshua's sorrow.

Joshua lifted his head to look at her, confusion and pain darkening his startling blue gaze. "Sidda not have mother. Not at Manticore."

"I found one, on a mission," she said. Something about being around all these other transgenics was making her soft. "She liked poppies and fresh bread, and she smelled like peppermints." She shook her head and looked back at him. "What was your dad like?"

Joshua stared at her for a moment, and both Alec and Sidda thought he was going to hide in himself again. Quietly, he started to talk. "Father liked to read. Paint. Father smelled like...pipe smoke." Slowly, with Alec and Sidda sitting on either side of him, he told them about Sandeman. They silently listened to him talk about a man they had never met but who had a hand deep in their existence, clamped around their genetic makeup.