Max wasn't sure how to react when they made it back. Things were hectic in TC—gearing up for another mission after the last one went so horribly wrong. But Alec got back late. And Max, with her inability to sleep more than five hours a week, was more prepared than the rest of TC—most of whom were already settled down in their own way.
Alec's apartment was no more than a redone office, or maybe a testing facility. It was two rooms and a tiny bathroom, the main space situated to be almost like a waiting room. But Alec had cleared out all the old furniture and papers, swept the floor. He even went so far as to rip up the tile floor in his 'bedroom,' leaving rough concrete behind. Max never asked, but she knew Alec had a distaste of smooth linoleum. Especially when it ran up half the wall.
It was still makeshift, and it was a 'work in progress,' but it was undeniably Alec's. A dining table sat in the corner, two chairs shoved up underneath it, and an old cabinet that held his own small stash of supplies. He even had an old reading chair and a small stack of books beside it that doubled as a library and a stand for an old lamp.
As someone who had been to his apartment several times over the course of the past year, Max knew that the books were a recent addition that came with the appearance of a wide-eyed not-clone.
She also noticed that the cot that had formerly been out in the main room had been moved inside Alec's bedroom. Now it was shoved in the corner across from Alec's full-sized, rickety bed.
Max chose to sit in the reading chair in the corner as she waited, leaving the lights off. Not that she needed them. She could see almost as well without.
Two windows were set in the wall across from the door. Both were partially boarded up, but light still made it through. An orange, flickering glow from firepits on a neighboring roof cast fragmented triangles of light that warped to the shape of the room. She could see more of the orange patches through the open doorway that led into Alec's bedroom, covering the entirety of Alec's militarily made bed.
Some habits died harder than others.
Max curled up a little further on the reading chair, letting the quiet wash over her. Alec had picked an apartment on the outer rim of TC, the stillest part of the Lazarus city. Far enough away that Max couldn't even hear HQ if she strained her ears. The loudest sound to be heard was the sirens passing outside their little city-state. But Max? She was wrapped in the quiet, the smell of Alec with hints of something distinctly Dean thick on the air. Her thoughts centered on what an idiot the other transgenic was.
He could have picked a damn right better time to not answer his phone.
Ever since Rory went missing, things had been stagnated at TC. The female transgenic had gotten lost to the system, dragged off to who-knows-where before they could stage any kind of rescue. All off of a botched mission.
Which was one of the reasons why they didn't want to make that extraction mission with the trafficking ring. The main reason why Alec and Max had to fight tooth and nail to be the ones who actually went in—because none of the other transgenics wanted to risk their two alphas.
Now she didn't know where Alec was. It shouldn't matter. He was a big boy who could take care of himself, as she had so flippantly said to OC during the days of regular visits to Crash and shared beers between them. But now…
Now, a year had a passed. A year of fighting tooth and nail, almost starving to death, before the siege on TC reached some semblance of a stalemate. When the transgenics were finally left alone. Oh, they couldn't do anything. And they were sure to meet a firing squad if they were ever caught outside. But they were surviving. And for the first time, there looked like there could be an end in sight.
A year had passed, and throughout all of it, Alec hadn't taken off. She had thought he would—she had thought he would duck out the moment it got too hard. But she quickly realized she underestimated him; When he stayed through the whole year. When he fought right next to her in the negotiations with the government. When they were finally able to get a commission on the down-low. When they got their first bout of rations in six months. When the rations stopped becoming rations, started becoming meals.
He even took the time to tear up the tile in his bedroom.
He even took the time to take in a damn kid.
And Max didn't know where the asshole was. He could damn well have picked up his phone.
She was momentarily distracted, when a hissing screech sounded outside one of the windows. The apartment was on the second story, but that didn't stop her from being able to hear the banging trashcans and feral snarls of two alley cats going at it. Or maybe an alley cat and a racoon…
The noise almost made her miss the sound of the doorknob turning. Almost.
Max didn't make a sound as the entrance creaked open, already catching the scent of both Alec and Dean.
At least that was something to be thankful for.
—
Dean had yet to say a word or give a response by the time Alec made it back to his apartment. Not that the transgenic had tried to push very much. The kid was probably too stubborn to respond if he had tried.
Talking about whatever Dean was looking for at the warehouse would be hell. It almost made Alec wonder if it would be easier to just roll over and shut his eyes—ignore it. Then again, he had used that tactic for years, and it had gotten the worst of him in the end.
"Street trash."
He would have to ask around. Maybe Mole or one of the more street-wandering X5's would know what that warehouse was, since Alec hadn't exactly had a golden opportunity to stick around to find out. The transgenic had been too busy himself the past year to stay overly-active in Seattle's rougher business.
But then again… the transgenics at TC weren't exactly kosher with the idea of Dean in the first place. Maybe it would be best if all of it was kept on the down-low. God forbid Alec spend any of his time chasing a pointless lead for the kid.
Tomorrow.
He'd deal with all this shit tomorrow. Tonight he was going to crash.
Which was what he kept telling himself, right up until the point where he slid Dean off his shoulders and to the floor outside his apartment, and froze with his hand on the knob.
Max.
He sighed, his shoulders slumping. The stubborn woman's scent was unmistakable. They were really going to deal with this now.
Alec let the door creak open on its own, reaching behind him to grab Dean's shoulder. He could practically feel the hesitancy radiating off the kid, fear simmering low in the silence that shrouded him. The transgenic was just as quiet when he urged the boy forward with him.
The female transgenic was sitting in the reading chair, legs half-sprawled over the arms and dusty boots tucked into each other. Brown eyes boring a hole into his.
If Alec had any real energy he might have pointed out that the woman was getting dust on his non-existent expensive rug, but he was well and truly drained.
Either that, or maybe the kid was rubbing off on him.
"Go on, Dean, go wash up and get into some dry clothes," Alec urged, nodding towards the bedroom.
The boy looked up at him, green eyes sharp and his eyebrows furrowing. His gaze switched from him to Max, and even though Alec's senses weren't quite so enhanced to take in every emotion rolling off the boy, he definitely saw the fear.
He nudged Dean to get him moving. "Go."
His voice must have been too close to a snap, or maybe his nudge was too sharp. But the small flinch was unmistakable, and the boy hurried out of the room so fast it looked like he was tamping down on the urge to run.
Alec sighed, running his hand through his hair. Max still stared at him, like a silent judge.
"Y'know, Max, there's a lamp right next to you. You don't have to sit so ominous in the dark," he said as he shucked out of his leather jacket. He would have to oil it soon if he didn't want it to dry out. "You could give a guy a little more warning."
Max hummed, and he'd be damned if the single elongated syllable didn't make her sound pissed. "Well, y'know Alec—" yep. Her syllables were very enunciated. She was pissed. "—what would make it so much easier to 'give you a little more warning?'"
Alec raised his eyebrows, holding out his arms in surrender.
"If you picked up the damn phone."
He scoffed, "Yeah, kinda had my hands full, Maxie."
"You promised Joshua you would!" she snapped, throwing her feet to the floor. But she wasn't quite so ticked off that she stood up. Yet. "He was worried!"
"Come on," he made his way over to the makeshift cabinet—his bottle of scotch was still three-fourths full. "Don't make this about Josh, okay? Forgive me for having a shift of priorities as soon as I found the kid."
"Oh, and what? Will the kid become a second priority as soon as something else comes along?"
He chuckled mirthlessly, forcing himself to set the glasses down carefully on top of the cabinet. "I'm really not in the mood for this right now, Max. Besides, that's not what this is about. Not really."
"Okay, what do you think it's really about then?" she grated out, warning leaking into the words.
He shrugged as he turned around, a little smirk tugging on the edge of the mouth made all the sharper by the two fingers of hard liquor he was holding. Max looked about ready to wipe the expression off with a crowbar. "You're worried about me."
She growled. "If you think I give a dime cent about your sorry ass—"
"Aw, Max. You wound me, deeply," he drawled, one hand coming up to clutch at his heart. "You shouldn't bring a man's ass into the equation. That's really going too far."
Silence. Alec felt a vague sense of triumph, watching the color in Max's face turn in the dim light as she watched him, mouth pressed together. Trying to contain her reaction because she knew that was just what he was going for.
What could he say? She made it so damn easy to push all of her buttons.
"If you think this is such a joke—with what's going on out there—how're you gonna handle it when he takes off again?"
The words were biting. Sharp. Aimed high and hitting with accurate precision.
His knuckles whitened around his glass. He forced his expression blank, taking a sharp sip of the scotch like she hadn't spoken a word.
"What makes you think there's going to be a next time?"
"Oh," her voice was calmer now. It somehow made it worse. "Just that I have eyes. You took the kid from an operation that specialized in selling him off to the highest bidder, Alec. Right now you're the highest bidder. Even if you took the five fingered discount. It's the only way he's gonna see it."
His eyes narrowed on her. "What're you suggesting, Max?"
"Just stating facts. Several of which you seem to be studiously ignoring."
"Like what?"
"Like the fact that this kid can't be your highest priority, Alec. And maybe that's a good thing."
He had been trained for years. Decades, to pull off the emotional detachment shtick. But this? This was Max. Talking about Dean. And he couldn't even try to ignore the burning stab the words brought.
"You don't think I can handle him?"
Max's eyes softened. "Alec… I don't think you've figured out how to handle yourself."
And the burning widened, engulfing his entire ribcage with its sting. He nodded, dropping his gaze to the floor.
"I'll be back tomorrow. After what happened with Rory I want to make sure you look over everything on the new job," she said, straightening from the chair. Max paused on her way past him, her short stature in comparison to him making it easy for her to catch his gaze. "For whatever it's worth… I'm glad you're okay."
He could only smirk, the expression a shadow of its former self. Max didn't wait for him to say anything else, easing the door shut behind her.
Alec stared at the glass in his hand for a long moment. The amber liquid trembled softly to the vibrations running through his frame.
Stillness stretched over the apartment. Outside noise sounded far away—like Alec was ensconced in his own bubble of reality. Alone in the quiet, with a glass of liquor and a kid that felt too far away to call.
He snatched the bottle from behind him, spilling only a few drops when he poured his glass back inside the narrow neck.
His eyes slid shut when he shoved both back inside the cupboard, steadfastly ignoring the slight tremor in his hands when he closed the door. Containing the burning web that was roiling inside him, feeling like it would burst at any second.
A beat.
"Fuck."