Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a shitty morning. The worst Max had experienced in a long time. First, her pager went off at about four and woke her up--which was a pretty difficult feat considering she hardly ever slept. So feeling groggy, but unable to fall back asleep, she decided to head out of her motorcycle for a couple of hours, only to have her baby break down on her halfway through sector eleven.

To add insult to injury, while she was walking her bike toward the offices of Jam Pony in the early morning, the heavens opened up drenching her with a steady freezing rain. By the time she got to work, she was soaking wet, tired and cranky.

There were eight more pages from the same number before lunchtime. Each time the unfamiliar number popped up, she cursed the caller. The ninth time the pager buzzed, Original Cindy looked at her in exasperation. “So which boy fell under the spell of Max last night? You gonna call the poor man back?”

Max’s eyes flashed. “I don’t know who it is, but this freak has been paging me non-stop.”

“Hate to see you so down. Here I thought you got lucky last night. Off with some guy and leaving Original Cindy alone with herself. You seemed so happy when you got that call. What went sideways?”

Max paused, pursed her lips. “I-,” she stopped, paused, started again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I had to go to the doc’s yesterday for a shot of tryptophan. Then I went back home and crashed. I always get sleepy when I have the shakes. I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“Today marks the three year anniversary of Eyes Only’s final broadcast,” the television blared in the background. The news anchor was backed by a familiar pair of green-blue eyes. For some reason, Max couldn’t focus on Original Cindy’s voice. “The self proclaimed voice of the downtrodden disappeared without a trace following a cable hack on millionaire businessman Edgar Sonrisa spurring talk about exactly what may have happened to the city’s protector. The years since his disappearance have marked a 57 increase in crime.”

“Max!” Original Cindy snapped. “Did you even hear a word Original Cindy just said?”

“Sorry,” Max said quickly but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the TV. After a long pause she asked, “What do you think happened to him? Eyes Only I mean?”

“Since when do you care?” Original Cindy asked. “As long as I’ve know you you’ve figured he was just some bored rich guy stirring up trouble for the rest of us?”

“Although no group has directly claimed responsibly, most speculate that Eyes Only met a brutal end…”

“Yeah,” Max mumbled. “Guy got what he deserved. Should have kept out of everyone’s business.” She let out a short snort of laughter. “Got to give him credit though. Anything that keeps transgenic out of the news is good news by me.”

“You said it, sister.”

Curiosity got the better of her around lunch time. The bizarre collection of repeat pages had stopped rather abruptly. Despite herself, Max wanted to know why they’d just given up. She blamed her cat DNA. So between runs, she walked up to the pay-phone, whacked the side of it and dialed the number and waited.

"The number you have dialed is no longer in service," an impersonal voice informed her. Max slammed the phone down in irritation.

Whoever had the nerve to blow up her pager all morning should at least have the courtesy to be there when she called back. Idiot.

“Max!” Normal hollered. “Hot run, sector nine. Bip!”

She caught the package and left without protest.

The rain had let up by the time she had reached the high-rise district, but it was still heavy enough to be a nuisance. The weather certainly hadn’t done wonders for her mood. The delivery was to a place called Fogle towers, a Mrs. Moreno in one of the penthouse apartments. An armed guard stepped forwards to block her entrance. “What’s you’re dealio?” Max grumbled, flashing her ID. “Jam Pony messenger. I’ve got a package to deliver to a Mrs. Moreno.”

The security guard, a large black guy with a shaved head glared down his nose at her. “I can’t let you come in, ma’am.”

“Look, I’m a working girl, just like you. Trying to get paid.”

“A few men broke into a penthouse apartment a year ago. It was unoccupied at the time, but it gave all our residents quite a scare. Security protocol dictates only authorized personnel enter.”

“But I need a signature!”

“You’re welcome to wait.”

She shoved the package at his chest and stalked back to her bike. But before turning to the street, she gazed up at the building, eyes automatically drifting to the penthouse. There was something familiar about all this, but the exact situation eluded her memory.

A few hours later, as she was winding down with Original Cindy and Sketchy, she placed it. The penthouse, the statue of Bast, the blue eyes of Logan Cale.

The memories of the penthouse played at the edges of her consciousness for the rest of the night. Cale’s touch against her neck, the gun pointed directly at her, his calm confident voice as he confronted her about Manticore. When she got to Crash that night it was still fresh on her mind.

She had walked away. Cale had offered her a way to find Zack and the other escapees and she’d ignored him. Hell, she’d barely spared a thought to Logan Cale in years, but something about the visit to Fogle Towers combined with the news report on Eyes Only brought the entire encounter back into razor sharp focus.

Max didn’t know why it bothered her. Cale had been a manipulative self-surviving bastard. He’d dangled her family in front of her—bait for doing some Eyes Only work. She’d told him to go to hell. It was a decision that had caused her absolutely no grief in the end. The guy was a whack job. He’d gotten himself shot up a day later and Max couldn’t help but think he’d had it coming. She had no idea where Cale was now.

Absently, she wondered if Cale had anything to the sudden barrage of pages. She doubted it. The guy hadn’t tried to contact her for three years. He’d probably given up all hope of her joining his little crusade long ago.

Only there hadn’t even been a cable hack for three years. Not since the one she'd seen him recording the expose on Sonrisa. If his persistence with her was any indication, Logan Cale wasn't the type to give up. Yet he had. Eyes Only had been missing in action for years.

He was probably dead. She didn’t know why that possibility disturbed her so much. She didn’t even know the man. When she’d met him, she definitely hadn’t liked him.

“Seriously, Sugar,” Original Cindy said with evident exasperation. “What’s got you down? Or is this one of those strange heterosexual things I don’t want to know about?”

“Sort of,” Max muttered. “Do you remember Logan Cale? I know this is really out of the blue, but he was this guy I met almost three years ago. Haven’t seen him since.”

“So what’s with the sudden brooding?” Cindy asked. “You saying it’s this Logan guy who’s got you angsting up your own personal storm cloud.”

“There’s no angst,” Max snapped immediately. “It’s just…I don’t know. I had a run out by the place he used to live today and something about just got me thinking.” She took sip of her beer. “I wonder what happened to him.”

“This sounds an awful lot like heterosexual angst to Original Cindy.” She shot her friend a searching glance. “Why don’t you just do some digging. Find out what happened to him, maybe scratch that itch if you feel the need. It wouldn’t be hard. And besides.” Original Cindy drew herself up and adjusted her shirt. “anything’s better that you in this sort of mood.”

Breaking into the penthouse was disturbingly familiar. Like she’d done this more than once. Like she used to drop in through the skylight of Fogle Towers just to say hello to Logan Cale. The whole situation unnerved her.

She didn’t know what she expected to find, but it definitely wasn’t the scene that greeted her. The computers were still on his desk, surrounded by expensive looking electronics equipment she could only assume facilitated the hacks. But every piece of equipment was in shatters. Monitors spilled broken glass to the floor, computers were sporting fatal bullet wounds. The dinner table was overturned, all of its contents spilled to the floor. The ground was littered with shattered silverware and broken chess pieces. But the entire apartment was coated in a thick layer of dust like no one had been here for a while.

And then there was Logan Cale in the middle of the wreckage, sitting, waiting, smiling, hands on the rims on his wheelchair. “Max,” he said calmly, completely unaware of the destruction around him. “I’ve been paging you all morning, I was starting to think you’d never stop by."

Chapter Text

“You hungry?” Logan asked, apparently oblivious to the wreckage of his penthouse. “I might have some leftover in the fridge if you’re interested.”

“What are you doing?” Max asked, anger welling up in her. “Are you insane?”

Logan rolled himself back, cornering the wheelchair with a practice ease and heading for the kitchen. “Insane? I’m just trying to feed my favorite transgenic cat-burglar. Come on, Max. We do this all the time.”

“No,” Max said slowly, “we don’t.” The scene felt slightly surreal. Cale had familiar air about him he’d complete lacked the first time they’d met. Back then it was obvious he’d had an agenda. This was something different. Something genuine. If Max let herself drift, she could picture the penthouse completely intact, the two of them sitting down for dinner. Candles…

She blinked herself back into reality. Only…

She was alone in the penthouse. Logan was nowhere to be seen.

“Logan,” she called, moving towards the kitchen. Her feet crunched on broken glass. “Logan, seriously, I’m not in the mood for hide and seek.”

Shadows played against the wall of the kitchen. The fridge was upturned, all appliances had been destroyed. Max shivered as fragments of distant memories echoed tales of happier times.

***

She must have been hallucinating. A quick once over of the ruined penthouse had revealed nothing and no one. A thick coat of dust told her the place hadn’t been touched in months, much less occupied. But she knew what she’d seen: Logan Cale sitting in the wreckage and smiling like nothing was wrong.

But something was definitely wrong. For one, Max shouldn’t be spending this much thought on a guy she’d ever only seen three times. Once when she’d broken into his apartment, once at crash and once when he’d lure her back to his place and…

She paused, blinked. Those were the three times. She hadn’t seen him after that. But… for a moment she’d had a hazy picture in her mind of sitting at the foot of a hospital bed next to a battered and unconscious Cale. The more she tried to conjuror up the details of the encounter, the less she could actually see.

Frustration mounting, she started making her way to Terminal City.

Although things had died down significantly as the initial wave of anti-transgenic sentiment faded, a large number of the city’s transgenics had still elected to remain inside Terminal City. The place was for all intents and purposes a fully functional community. There was always something to do. Whether it was weapons detailing or sorting out fights or working at the computers, Max would be able to make herself useful and get her mind off of the Penthouse.

Today, she ended up cleaning handguns with Alec. It only took him a few minutes to notice something was off. “What did I do this time?” he asked, snatching up another gun. “Come on Maxie, at least tell a guy his crime.”

“It’s nothing,” Max said quickly.

Alec shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes. Before Alec finally blurted, “If you’ve told another guy we’re dating, can you at least let me know so I can at least explain to Asha before it becomes a big thing.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Max mumbled. She stared at the gun in her hands. She hated guns, hated the feel of the cold hard metal, hated the loud bang of the trigger. Yet here she was, mechanically cleaning weapons with the clone of her dead brother. She can’t help thinking of a bullet slamming into someone’s back, tearing through a spinal chord until there’s nothing left but shredded misfiring synapses. “You ever head of a guy named Logan Cale?”

Something flashed in Alec’s eyes. Max wanted to think it was a flicker of recognition but then he blinked and it was gone. “Don’t think so. Why? Is he transgenic? Another one of our Manticore brethren in dire need of rescuing?”

Max allowed herself to smile. “Nothing like that.”

“Is he another guy you want me to scare off? You do know you could just show him your barcode and have him screaming in the other direction without bringing me into the equation.”

“We’re not like that,” Max said quickly, almost automatically. “It’s just--there’s something weird about him.”

“So get someone to look him up for you. That Dalton kid’s not bad at the computers and I think he’d getting kind of bored.” Alec shook his head and laughed. “Things were a lot more interesting around here when we were under siege.”

***

She got the shakes halfway back to the apartment. Nothing serious at first, just slight tremors in her left hand, no worse than what an average human got when they were nervous or upset. But by the time she was back to her apartment, the shakes had progressed to full out spasms.

Which was impossible.

The shots of liquid tryptophan usually kept her seizure free for about a week, but the last shot hadn’t lasted more than two days. Something must be seriously wrong.

It felt like the old days, back when she was still rooming with Kendra. When she would grab her bottle of pills, curl up in the bathroom and succumb to the tremors. Scenes of Manticore played in her head in all of their cold hard grandeur, Lydecker’s gruff voice whispering in her ear, the rhythmic beat of a heart monitor.

And under it, something different, something softer lying just out of reach.

***

Even Normal noticed Max’s exhaustion the next morning. He’d taken in her gaunt frame and sunken eyes and actually had the gall to tell her to go back home. Original Cindy knew better than to say anything to her but Sketchy took a double take and said, “Max, you look like shit.”

“I always look like this,” she spat through clenched teeth. “I didn’t put on my make-up this morning. Where’s the law saying a girl can’t have an off day?”

It wasn’t just an off day. Save the occasional rough patch with her seizures, Max didn’t get sick. Unfortunately someone had neglected to inform her body of that little fact. Her first run took her twice as long as normal as she had to pull her bike over to throw up twice on the way to drop and on the way back she decided to swing by Sam Carr’s office.

By some twist of fate, she’d met Sam Carr when she’d been shot last year. Someone had brought her to Harbor Lights and the CDC had been brought in after they’d found one of Manticore’s designer viruses in her system. Max had escaped--not without difficulties--and Sam, hearing whispers about a young lady with a barcode had quickly and quietly removed her records from the system. When she’d pressed him for his reasons, he’d muttered something indistinct about a patient asking for a favor and never mentioned it again. He’d demanded nothing from her and offered her any help he could give.

Since then he’d been smuggling regular shipments of tryptophan out to Terminal City. He’d become one of the very few people Max actually trusted.

He made time to see her between a few patients, calling out her name as Linda Eastman. Max slipped quietly into the back room and Sam closed the door behind her. “Max,” he said. “Wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon. Any problem?”

“Yeah,” Max snapped, sound harsher then she intended. “I’ve had the shakes all week. Thought the tryptophan should have taken care of it.”

“Max,” Sam folded his arms and stared at her. “I didn’t give you any tryptophan the last time you were here. I gave you the vaccine to that virus of yours, remember? The one that got the CDC so interested.”

“This vaccine have anything to do with why I’m feeling punk?”

“Probably. It was one of the possible side-effects. Vomiting, nausea… I explained this all to you before I gave you the injection. You were the one who wanted to go ahead with it.”

“If it keeps the CDC off my back, it’s worth it,” Max said distantly. Her brain was lagging four steps behind the conversation. There was something important about the virus, something she’d forgotten. “Is there any way we can sort out the seizures?”

“Sure thing. Your normal shot of tryptophan should do it. And if you’re people are running low on it, I can get some more to send to Terminal City.”

“You’re a saint, Sam,” she said and meant it. “Not many people are willing to help out me and mine.”

“I’m a doctor, Max,” he said, swabbing a spot on her arm. “I help people. Your friends may be a little unusual, but…”

He gave her the shot of tryptophan. “Take care, Max. Stay out of the news.”

She rolled the sleeve of her shirt back down and offered him a quick smile. “I try.”

***

The faint hints of nausea faded as the day wore on. When work was over, Max was feeling good enough to head for Crash and unwind. A band was actually playing tonight and there were more than a few new faces. Alec was taking advantage of that fact. The clueless newcomers paraded up to the pool table one by one only to leave in disgrace a few minutes later. Sketchy was hovering by Alec’s shoulder and Original Cindy was at her girl’s crib so and Max had claimed a table for herself and watched Alec work.

A few years ago, she would have probably told him off for taking money from the mere mortals. But the mortals had done a lot to make her life hell in the past year and this bunch seemed like they deserved it.

“Max,” a voice said from the side and there was so much emotion laced in the single word a chill ran down her spine. Déjà vu.

“You know, I pushed the chair away because I didn’t want company.” Max said without looking at him.

Cale let out a short, humorless laugh. “Haven’t needed a seat of my own for a while now.” Alec banked the two ball into the corner pocket. Sketchy cheered.“You left before I could tell you,” his voice lowered. “White’s back in town.”

Max blanched. She only just managing to keep from spitting out her beer out onto the table. “White’s dead,” she croaked. “He fell off the space needle.”

“You know those cult-types.” Cale’s voice was infuriatingly even. “Can’t count on them actually staying dead.”

She would have loved to write off her shaking hands as a seizure, but a wave of terror had her in its grips. “How’s a girl supposed to win a fight when the other guy won’t stay dead?” Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears, too calm, too smooth.

“You’ll beat this,” he said and there was too much intimacy in his voice. “You always to.”

“You don’t know me,” she spat, turning to face him. But when she actually saw him, the anger flushed out of her. His glasses were cracked and there was a large, fresh bruise on his left cheekbone. “What happened to you?” she asked, trying to keep the surprise from her voice. “Did you pick a fight or something? Stupid thing for a guy on wheels to do.”

He started at her intently through the cracked glasses, expression not changing. “Alec’s going to need back-up.”

“What?” She glanced over her shoulder and sure enough, a fight had broken out around the pool table, two of the guys advancing on Alec menacingly.

“I think they saw his barcode,” Cale commented dryly. “You might want to give him a hand.”

“And risk exposure for myself?”

Cale’s eyes bored into her own. The left one was threatening to swell shut. “It’s the right thing to do.”

Max let out a snort of laughter. “And if you’re any indication of where the right thing gets you, I think I’ll pass.”

It wasn’t like Alec couldn’t take the two guys down without breaking a sweat.

“He’s not going to do it,” Cale commented as if reading her mind. “Somewhere in the midst of all those peaceful protest talks of yours something got through.”

Alec blocked several blows in rapid succession.

“How the hell would you know what I said?”

“Max, I was there.” His battered face was so sincere that, for a second, she believed him.

But he hadn’t been there. He’d never been there. She’d cut him out of her life before he had the chance…

Alec and company had somehow ended up directly in front of her. She could hear the grunts of the attackers and see the transgenic’s cocky grin as he blocked blow after blow. “Gonna give me a hand, Maxie?”

She shook her head and smiled. “Just enjoying the show here, Alec.”

It was a good show. Alec moved like a dancer, blocking left and slipping between the two of them, grinning like it was a grand old time. If she didn’t know better she might think Alec enjoyed dodging blows just as much as throwing them himself. The second guy lunged at him, but Alec nimbly eluded his grasp. His momentum carried him forward and he crashed into the table where Max had sat sending her beer to the ground and the table along with it.

“OK,” she grumbled, “now it’s on.”

Alec rolled his eyes in her direction but before Max could throw herself into the fray, the club’s manager was in the middle of the fight, breaking up the fight and sending the two instigators out the door.

“I like this non-violence stuff,” Alec commented wryly. “Keeps you quick.”

“The whole point of it is supposed to be lying low,” Max hissed, “you know, not letting your barcode get seen by a couple of punks with something to prove.”

“Cool it, Max. It’s all good. No harm, no foul. The only one who got hurt was that table. Poor, poor table.”

Belatedly, Max remembered Logan, but a quick glance around the club told her that he had gone and disappeared.

Chapter Text

“Did you see him?” Max croaked. “Alec? Did you see where he went?”

“Max who are you talking about?” Alec laid a hand on her shoulder. The weight of it settling very nearly sent her into a panic. Something about her world was wrong and every extraneous motion sent waves of confusion crashing down upon here.

“Logan Cale,” she croaked. “I know the guy can’t make a quick escape. He’s in a wheelchair for Christ’s sake. How far could he get?”

“Logan, huh?” Alec said slowly. “Mr. Mystery. He was here?”

She shrugged the comforting hand off her shoulder and gestured to the upturned table. “Who do you think I was talking to?”

“Max,” Alec started and there was something his tone, the complete lack of sarcasm, the slight hint of worry that told her everything she needed to know. “There was no one at the table.”

She had to fight to keep her face void of emotion, but inside everything she knew shattered. “Alec,” she said with forced calm, “this isn’t funny. I know you’ve cased the place.”

“I did not.”

“How many people in here are packing?”

“Seventeen,” he replied immediately and then stopped and shook his head. “Well, I stepped right into that one.”

“I know you cased the place,” Max repeated. “You must have seen him.”

“Max,” there was that tone again, soft, worried… “I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this. I must have missed him.”

They both heard the rest of his thoughts echoing in his spoken words, the thoughts neither was willing to say aloud. Because either Alec had missed him, or he had never been there to begin with.

***

Max spent the next hour filtering through the crowd looking for any sign of Cale and came to a conclusion: either she’d gone insane or everyone else had. Alec hung by her side the entire time, never saying a word, but silently grounding her to reality, ensuring she didn’t cause a scene.

About an hour before the club closed for the night, Alec finally tapped her on the arm and said, “Max, no one saw him.”

“I know he was here.”

“I believe you,” Alec said and a wave of relief washed over her. “It’s just some of us transgenics actually do need sleep. We can get Dalton to check the nets tomorrow, dig something up on this Logan guy. If we figure out who he is, we can find out what’s got him interested in you.”

Max, hesitated, weighed her options and decided to tell him the truth, because after everything he’d been through, Alec deserved to hear it. “He says White’s back in town. We definitely need to follow up on this.”

“White’s dead,” Alec said. All sign of the happy-go-lucky transgenic suddenly vanished from his features. Out of everyone Alec had gotten the worst of White’s torture, captured twice in his short time on the outside. Max had thought the first time, the debacle with the explosive by his brain stem, was bad enough, but she couldn’t even think of the second time without chills. Nearly six months after it all, even with transgenic healing, the scars were still there, coating his skin, peaking out from under his long-sleeved shirt every time he moved. “Max, we made sure.”

She’d watched White fall. Alec’s face had been coated in blood.

“We need to find Cale.”

***

They swung by Terminal City before the sun made its way back over the horizon. Dalton was more than willing to help with the search. The young X-6, despite being trained for combat had really taken to computers. Max suspected someone was teaching him hacking techniques but no one had taken credit for it.

“Logan Cale, huh?” the kid asked, leaning back in his chair. “I think I’ve heard the name before. Why are you looking?”

Max exchanged a glance with Alec who leveled his glare on Dalton and snapped, “Classified.”

The X-6 nodded, curtly and Max could see that his soldier’s training was the only thing holding back his curiosity. “I can have something for you by tonight.”

“Thanks,” Max said simply and pulled Alec away so the kid could actually focus.

When they were a safe distance away, she turned to look at him. “Alec, I need to know if you’re alright?”

“When we find this guy,” Alec gritted. “I’m going to kill him. He’s got no business bringing this up...”

“Alec…” There was something inherently disconcerting about the man in front of her now. After all that they’d been through together, she liked to think of Alec as a friend or even a brother. But sometimes she looked at him and had to wondered if she knew the real Alec at all. The one who lurked under all the quips and false bravado…

“He had me for two weeks, Max,” Alec whispered. “Fourteen days. You have,” his voice actually cracked, “you have no idea of how bad it got. And now some guy’s out saying that psychopath’s back? Forgive me for wanting results.”

Max didn’t want to look at him, but she felt she owed him that much at least. After all, Alec had been captured because of her, captured because White needed to get to her. “I’m sorry, Alec,” she muttered.

“You saved the world and nobody died,” he said and one of his trademark grins was back on his features. But the smile was transparent, plastic. Fake. “You know me, I’m always alright.”

***

Another day, another package, another pick-up, another drops. Another eight hours of Normal bip-bip-bip-ing away. Max kept expecting to round a corner and find Logan Cale standing there, but nothing of the sort actually happened. She was ashamed to say she was a little disappointed. She told herself that it was because she needed answers, but that was a lie. There had been something comforting about Cale’s presence, calming and Max had to struggle not to surrender to the familiarity of it.

She tried to stick close to Alec. The transgenic was not at all his usual self. The confident swagger had been replaced by shifty eyes and a sickly paler. He looked like he was ready to snap and if Ben was any indication, Alec snapping could get messy. The end of the work day didn’t come soon enough.

For once, Normal let them off work on time and Max grabbed her things from her locker and turned straight into Alec.

“Max,” he said quickly. “You ready to go?”

“Where you going sugar?” Original Cindy asked from behind them. “I was hoping we could hang tonight.”

Max sighed. “I’ll catch up with you at Crash. I’ve got some transgenic type stuff to take care of.”

“Let’s go,” Alec insisted, agitation etched into his features.

She leveled her gaze onto him. “I’m doing this alone, Alec.” At his look of suppressed outrage, she added, “You’re too close to this. Go find Asha. Unwind, go steal something, I don’t care, just… just go be Alec. I promise, I’m not going to move on this without you.”

“Max…”

“That’s an order, soldier,” Max said softly. Alec’s mouth shut with a snap.

***

“Dalton?” Max snapped as she entered Terminal City’s computer room. “You have anything for me?”

The kid’s head whipped around and, not for the first time, Max realized just how young her really was. The X-6 generation ranged from fifteen to nineteen years old, but most of them seemed far younger. Dalton was no exception. He was one of the younger X-6s, only sixteen. He wore army surplus clothing that hung limply off his slight frame and made him seem even smaller. When he turned around, he had such a huge grin on his face that Max had problems seeing him as anything but a little kid.

“It took a while,” Dalton allowed, turning back to the computer screen, “but I did turn something up.”

“You gonna tell me or you just gonna sit there?”

“I didn’t turn up anything on my first few searches, I was looking at recent things mostly. Trying to find out something about his present whereabouts, but there was nothing. And then I broadened the parameters.” He flipped through several screens before settling on one with a photograph. Logan Cale’s picture smiled out at her. “This is your guy right?” He grinned again, obviously proud of his efforts. “Logan Cale.”

“You always talk this much at Manticore?” Max joked, “Things must have changed after I left.” She watched the blush creep down his cheek and immediately regretted her words. “Yeah, that’s Cale.”

Dalton scrolled down and pushed his chair back so Max could see the screen. The headline practically leaped off the page screaming Two Die in Shootout.

“Logan Cale,” explained Dalton slowly, “the one you’re looking for…” He swallowed audibly. “He died in that shootout more than three years ago.”

Chapter Text

Max could feel her insides freeze, every organ suddenly brittle and filled with ice. One touch would do her in now; shatter her into a thousand tiny pieces that no one would ever be able to reassemble. “Logan’s dead?” Her voice sounded far away like it was someone else speaking entirely. There was no way she could be that calm, that distant.

“It took me by surprise too,” Dalton said quickly. “But it seems like that’s the truth. I managed to track down some footage of the shooting.” He reached past Max’s shoulder to grab a DVD casing. “I asked Stat to take a look at it and he says he’s ninety-six percent certain that the video hasn’t been altered and you know how accurate those probability guys are.”

Before she could stop him, he’d put the video into the disc drive and the footage of the shooting suddenly appeared on the monitor. To her shock she recognized it. Hell, she’d seen the original broadcast. The scene had practically been seared into her brain. The witness, Lauren, fleeing the scene… Cale’s body guard shot down… Cale pulling, the kid out of the backseat before getting shot in the process... The kid pried from his limp fingers. She’d watched it in Jam Pony, half a step away from heading to the hospital herself. Telling Cale off for playing the hero but…

The whole time she’d been sure Cale had survived. The fact that he might have laid there bleeding until there was nothing left hadn’t even crossed her mind.

“Take a header into the deep end when the pool's empty, you're going to go splat.”

“Dalton,” her voice said, her mouth on autopilot while her brain figured out how to cope. “Is there any possibility that Cale could have faked his death?”

“Thought you might ask,” he replied, though he had the good sense to tone down his excitement at his find. “But if he faked it the guy’s either a shape shifter or a genius. Obit said he made it to the hospital, died in surgery. The doctor, Samuel Carr, was quoted saying he’d just been too far gone. He was buried…”

Max’s mental functions came to a screeching halt upon hearing the name. “Sam Carr?”

“Yeah,” Dalton said sounding confused. “You’ve heard of him?”

His questions fell on deaf ears as Max began moving away at a nearly superhuman speed. She bumped into Alec as she was leaving but didn’t stop to talk.

“Max?” Alec called after her. “What happened with Logan?”

She didn’t turn around. “Logan’s dead.”

She was going to get some answers.

***

When the shock seeped out of her bones the rage crept in to replace it, white hot and all-consuming. She was angry with Dalton for his cavalier attitude, his eager to please smile and also a little bit because it was easier to kill the messenger. She was angry with Alec for having the gall not to be alright, for each and every one of his stupid issues that kept him from being the confidant she so desperately needed. Most of all she was angry with Logan Cale for getting his scrawny ass shot up in the first place and then dying on her. Not to mention he’d had the nerve to hang after he’d kicked it. What she didn’t understand was why he’d felt the need to hang around someone he’d barely known.

Slowly, she forced herself out of her mental snag and looked up to realize her feet had brought her to Sam Carr’s office. She had no idea exactly when that had happened.

“Mrs. Eastman,” the receptionist said amiably and, not for the first time, Max wondered why her alias was a married woman. “What brings you here?”

She blew past the receptionist and into the hallway running into Sam as he left a patient’s room.

“Max?” he said in surprise. “Is everything alright? I just saw you yesterday.”

Her fingers twitched. She stared at his neck. She restrained herself. “Sam, we need to talk.”

“Of course,” Sam said calmly, gesturing towards an unoccupied room. “Let’s go somewhere with a little more privacy.”

She followed him to a room as Sam checked the hallway to see if anyone had noticed the exchange and shut the door. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Tell me about Logan Cale.”

Sam blinked. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard that name. What do you need to know?”

“You were his surgeon.” It sounded like an accusation even to her own ears. When she thought about it, it was an accusation. “They brought him for you to fix.”

“And Logan died on my operating table,” Sam said openly though his voice was tinged with detached regret. “Not everyone has your recuperative powers, Max. When a normal human is shot, nothing is ever routine. Even if he had survived it’s likely he would have suffered from paralysis…”

Logan looked up at her, voice guarded. “Not in any pain...the good and bad news of a blown-out spinal cord.”

“By the time he got to me he was just too far gone. One bullet punctured a lung, a second hit an artery and the third had lodged itself in his spine.”

Max felt her eyes slide out of focus. She could have sworn he’d been wearing a vest. It should have caught most of it… “You’re sure he died?”

“You can never quite forget the ones you lose. I’m a neuro-surgeon, but I wasn’t equipped to handle the other injuries. The hospital just couldn’t spare the extra staff.”

“But you’re sure?”

He leveled his gaze on her. “Yes Max, I’m sure. Do you have any particular reason for asking? Why now? This happened years ago.”

“I…” The room twisted before her, Sam’s face distorted. Gotta pull yourself together, Max, you’re better than this. “I’ve been seeing him.”

Sam looked genuinely confused. “Seeing him as in…”

“I talked with him yesterday at Crash,” she admitted softly. “Is that even possible?”

“I’m inclined to say no,” Sam allowed, “but then again I did meet your clone last year so I don’t doubt it’s possible. Could it be Manticore related? A… what did they call it in those old movies, a doppelganger?”

The idea grounded her. Clones, she could deal with but ghosts and insanity were completely out of her league. “Thanks Sam,” she choked. “This has helped a lot.”

“There must be a reason you’re seeing this guy. You’ll figure it out.” He let out a light laugh. “And if not, there are some decent psychologists around here I could put you in touch with.”

Max gave him a sickly sweet smile. “I think I can figure this out on my own.”

***

Max went to Crash with the full intention of getting completely plastered. She had no idea just how much alcohol it would take but she was prepared to find out. It didn’t even matter if an ordinary saw her chugging a bottle of vodka. But instead she saw Original Cindy as she entered the bar and they wound up at the foosball table. Max won game after game. Sketchy bought the first round. And for a while, things were great, things were normal.

Sketchy ruined it halfway through their second pitcher of beer. “So anyone know what’s going on with Alec? He’s seems off, lately.”

“Off? Try a different planet.” Original Cindy added.

“He’s got problems,” Max snapped. She wasn’t nearly drunk enough to get into this. “He’ll get over it in a few days. He always does.”

Sketchy opened his mouth to say something but seemed to change his mind. “This wouldn’t be one of those; I grew up in a test tube things, would it?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Max ground out, “I’m not his mother.”

Sketchy’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Ya know what, I’m gonna go get us another round.” He grabbed the empty pitcher and started making his way to the bar.

Cindy gave her a look. “I know Sketchy’s a dumbass and all, but you don’t have to take the boy’s head off.”

“I know,” Max said, chagrined. “I’m sorry. It’s just that all of a sudden there’s a lot of stuff going on and I’m not sure on how to deal.”

“You want to talk about it, boo?” When Max evaded her friend’s eyes and Original Cindy let out an irritated sigh. “Looks like Alec ain’t the only one with issues. If you feel like having a good time, Original Cindy will be around, but if you want to wallow in your issues, feel free to spare me your savage mood swings.”

“Cindy…” Max pleaded but her friend had walked away.

“Did I miss something?” A voice asked from her side and she didn’t even have to turn around to recognize the speaker.

“Cale,” she said curtly.

“Max,” he replied the vague hint of a smile in his voice.

“Go away.”

“Max,” he persisted. “We need to talk.”

She turned around to look at him and for a moment, was struck speechless. Logan fixed her with what under normal circumstances would have been a charming smiled, but he was missing a tooth, maybe a molar somewhere in back. At least, she hoped the blood filling his mouth was from a missing tooth and not something more serious. She’d thought he looked bad the last time she’d seen him but this time he looked even worse.

She was suddenly overcome with the urge to touch him, make sure he was still there, make sure he existed. But when she reached for him, he deftly rolled himself a back and out of her reach, an unreadable expression on his face. “Don’t worry, Max. I forget sometimes too.” The way he said it spoke of a past history, something hovering at the edge of reality that didn’t exist, but maybe, just maybe should have.

“Logan Cale’s dead,” she told him flatly. “It happened three years ago. A shooting in the street.”

Had she ever seen Cale in a wheelchair before? Her brain suddenly snagged on that fact. Hadn’t he been walking? Why…

“You’d know if I was dead.” He said and gave her another one of those blood filled smiles.

“Why? How would I possibly be able to tell if you were dead or not?”

He looked like he’d be better off dead, she mused, she hadn’t seen anyone look that bad since a Manticore interrogation.

His right eye gleamed strangely from behind his cracked glasses. The left was swollen shut. His voice was low and filled with a raw emotion that made Max’s heart lurch. “Because I knew when you weren’t.”

Chapter Text

“Who are you talking to?” Alec’s voice broke Max’s spell, words slamming into her brain like a physical blow.

“Alec,” she said amiably. “Didn’t know you were coming to Crash tonight.”

Logan’s mouth twitched, Max thought she saw a flash of jealousy in his face. That was ridiculous, of course, she and Alec were friends, nothing more. Going out with the replica of her dead brother would have brought too much baggage and she had more then enough to begin with. Add that to the fact that after too long in the same room the two of them would still on occasion, resort to blows….

“Don’t dodge the question,” Alec snapped. “Who are you talking to?”

“Nice to see you again too, Alec,” Logan said dryly. “It’s been a while.”

Alec must have heard him. He was standing directly behind Logan, and it wasn’t like he’d had bothered to keep his voice low. Which meant Alec was ignoring him. He had to be.

“Max,” Alec tried again. “Look, either tell me what’s wrong or tell me to beat it. The bug-eyed silence is creeping me out.”

Max blinked twice and looked from Alec to Logan. Alec glanced side to side, almost conspiratorially, and then leaned in towards her with both hands on the table. “Max, is this about White? ‘Cause you can’t keep me out of something like that. I deserve to know.”

She stared at him, eyes widening even farther as she looked at the bizarre form in front of her. Alec was leaning forward, straight through Logan and what Max saw was a hodgepodge of mismatched appendages with Alec’s face, carefully blank, hovering in front of her.

Logan cursed loudly, and for a moment, Max was sure she hear the screech of tires on the floor as he propelled him self out of Alec’s vicinity. She would have started laughing if the situation hadn’t been so serious.

“That,” Logan said in a sort of shock, “just wasn’t natural.”

“Max!” Alec snapped. “Listen to me! Whatever trouble’s going around, you’re obviously not in the shape to deal with it alone. You’ll need my help.”

Max blinked, forcing herself to focus on Alec. “Outside. I’ll try to explain.”

The alleyway was silent for a full minute after Max finished talking. No sound save the light pattering of rain in the distance. Alec crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Max with open skepticism. Logan watched the exchange so silently Max almost forgot he was there.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Alec said finally.

She didn’t know what she had expected from him, but she’d hoped for something more than this. Despite how ridiculous it all sounded, she’d been counting on some sort of support. She needed someone to tell her she wasn’t crazy.

“I wish I had that kind of imagination.”

“So what, you’ve gone insane?”

“What? No!” Probably, she thought to herself, but there was no way she’d ever admit it.

“Fine,” Alec allowed. “Is your imaginary friend here?”

She could see Logan out of the corner of her eye sitting in that damn wheelchair with his cracked glasses and bruised face. His mouth worked as if deciding whether or not to break into the conversation. “I resent being called imaginary,” he muttered.

Max smiled despite herself. Alec’s face twisted. “If this is a practical joke, I swear to God…”

“Since when do you believe in God?” Logan asked. “I’m right here.”

Alec kept talking, plowing on like ahead like he hadn’t heard a thing. Which of course, was probably the case. Max could see the realization creeping across Logan’s face, followed closely by shock. Did a ghost ever realize he was dead? “Come on,” Max told him softly, “you have to have noticed something when he stepped through you. Or maybe the fact the no one sees you but me.”

“You’re the only one that mattered,” Logan admitted softly, his words pulling at some unknown part of her.

“You’re starting to scare me, Maxie,” Alec said, “Talking to this imaginary friend of yours might not be a good thing to do in public.”

“Logan’s pretty sure he’s not imaginary.”

“Max,” Alec said earnestly, “Logan’s dead. You’re the one who said you saw the obituary. All signs are pointing towards a ghost or insanity.”

It was and always had been hard to deny what she saw with her own eyes. But since her last stay at Manticore she had trained herself to look at the world differently. Forced herself to question what she saw, question any facet of reality that seemed wrong, out of place.

But the strange thing was Logan didn’t seem out of place at all. Not really. He fit into everything naturally with complete ease. Almost as if he had been there all along, lurking on the edges of her life without interfering.

Alec watched her face, his own expression studiously blank. “So how often have you been seeing this guy’s ghost?”

“I’m not a ghost,” Logan muttered but he didn’t sound like he believed it himself.

“First time was the day before yesterday,” Max recounted, closing her eyes. “I had a run to sector 9. Came back later that night, there was this abandoned penthouse… I’d been there before. I ran into Cale three years back, I think it was a couple days before he got shot.”

Got shot, she mentally berated herself for the minor omission, He got killed.

Alec nodded taking it all in, weighing his options. “Why you, Max? Out of everyone this guy had ever met, why would he possibly pick you to haunt? Didn’t he have any friends? A girlfriend? None of this makes a whole lot of sense.”

Except, Max realized, they were connected somehow. Something in the twenty minutes she’d known him had bound them inexorably. Enough so that the thought of Logan being dead burned with an uncanny, foreign intensity.

Alec was still watching her carefully. “Forget it, Max. Whatever went on between the two of you, I don’t want to know.”

“We were never like that. I just knew him in passing.”

“In passing?” Alec smirked.

Belatedly, it occurred to Max that in passing, for the transgenic community, had evolved to mean in heat. Her cheeks colored. “Not that kind of passing, Alec. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

She didn’t chance a glance at Logan. Something told her he’d be able to read her embarrassment.

Alec didn’t push past that, didn’t giver her that knowing leer she’d seen just after the escape. He just nodded, accepting it at face value and stood there silently. It was a sign of just how much he had changed in the past year. How little was left of the brash, annoying, devil-may-care persona that had been so fundamentally Alec for so long. It had been ripped down suddenly and violently, and not even Alec had known what was underneath.

She saw the next question coming before he even asked it. “So what does he know about White?”

She looked towards Logan who was wearing an almost stoic expression, mouth set and eyes resolute. “Don’t go looking for him, Max. That’s what he wants.”

“White’s dead,” Max said and the words echoed off the alley’s walls, losing their clarity with each reverberation. “Took a dive off the Space Needle. Went splat.”

Alec relaxed.

Logan tensed.

“I don’t know how he made it out alive,” Logan said slowly, clearly, “but he’s looking for you and he’s not going to stop until he f…” And mid-word it happened, there was no flash of light, no flicker, just sudden nothing where Logan had sat a split-second before.

Max blinked twice suddenly sure that she’d missed something, because no matter what they showed in those pre-pulse horror movies, people didn’t just disappear in real life. They stayed where they were, something solid and firm that you could lean on, that you could trust.

“Max?” It was Alec, voice shaky, afraid.

Alec never used to get afraid.

“He’s gone,” Max said and kept her voice steady. One of them had to hold themselves together even if the other was falling apart. If they ever broke down at the same time, everything would fall apart. “Alec, we’ve got to figure this out.” She swallowed her pride and forced the words past her lips. “I need your help.”

The rain began to fall in earnest.

Alec insisted on tagging along when she went to Terminal City, but she suspected it was more for his benefit than hers. Max knew that he wouldn’t be going home tonight, that he’d stay up for the remainder of the night, making himself useful because anything less would leave him stewing in memories better left forgotten.

Dalton had nothing more for them, but then again she hadn’t expected anything. Logan Cale was, at least officially, dead. What more was there to see?

Alec on the other hand, had made Dalton go through the facts again, pulling up the video of the shooting and watching it over and over. Max left the third time he played it, unwilling to watch Logan die again.

When she got back to her apartment, Original Cindy was just about to head off to sleep. Max only glanced at her before heading towards the bathroom.

“You know what?” Original Cindy’s voice followed her, soft, but demanding. “Original Cindy has been through a lot with you, boo. And you trusted her enough to let her in on that Manticore dealio of yours and she’s down with that all. But lately, you been pushing me away like we’re back to the secrets and mistakenly flushed pills all over again.”

Max froze; something in her mind catching. “OC,” she said slowly, “Where were we when I told you about Manticore?”

“See this is what Original Cindy was talking about, boo. You stopped making sense!”

“Cindy,” she pleaded. Something wasn’t right. She remembered the scene clearly, remembered the words, but there was a hole where the setting should be.

“I don’t remember,” her friend said stubbornly. “Original Cindy was pretty damn mess up with her best friend lying to her, that much she remembers. Who cares where it was? I was more worried about that bitch in your neck. Damn near frying her friend was definitely not the highlight of Original Cindy’s week.”

“We had to short it out,” Max said, picking up speed. “You had to short it out. Put a thousand volts into the base of my neck. How did you know what to do?”

“What’s with the interrogation, Max? You know what happened.”

But she didn’t know, there was a hole where that knowledge should had been. The omission laid there, blindingly obvious when she examined it in the light of day. She thought of Logan and the familiarities that accompanied him and couldn’t help but wonder if they were connected.

You’d know if I was dead.

“I called Sebastian, Max. You know this.”

How the hell had she meet Sebastian? What could have possibly brought Original Cindy into contact with him? They certainly didn’t run in the same circles, and it wasn’t like Sebastian was mobile.

“What does Sebastian look like?” Max pressed, unsure herself of what she was she hoped to gain by the question.

She had a picture of him in her head clear as day. Dark hair, dark eyes, a quadriplegic…

Except, she couldn’t remember having met the man. When the Reds came after her, she had fought them alone…

“Original Cindy doesn’t have a clue,” her friend said slowly. “Max, what the hell is going on?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I find out.”

Chapter Text

Max stopped in front of Sandeman’s house for the first time in months. She avoided the house if at all possible. It held far too many unpleasant memories. She couldn’t pass it without looking to the doorstep and seeing Joshua’s body lying there prone and beaten. There had been so much blood; she’d thrown up right there next to her friend’s corpse. The she pasta she’d had for lunch that day came back up in all its former glory. She started at the vomit for a long time because it was better than looking at Joshua, lying there with his splintered left arm jutting out at an unnatural angle and his head lolling limply off a broken neck.

She probably would have stayed there, curled in a ball on the porch if it hadn’t been for the sudden realization that Alec had been there too. He’d been in some trouble and had needed a place to lie low. Terminal City had been too obvious but Sandeman’s had been the perfect solution. Simple, out of the way. It was all supposed to blow over.

Inside, the place had been a wreck. Not that Sandeman’s hadn’t always been a wreck--paint peeling, shingles falling off, papers strewn all around, front steps broken and misaligned. But this was past the normal disarray.

There had been a fight; that much she could tell. They must have caught Joshua by surprise and dispatched him quickly and efficiently. Alec, on the other hand had fought them tooth and nail.

But it hadn’t helped. They’d overpowered him, taken him. The only evidence she’d found was her barcode number, 452, scrawled on the wall in Joshua’s blood, White signing his work, making it clear that this was about Max. Joshua and Alec were just unfortunate bystanders, collateral damage. The thought made her stomach roll.

She stared at the old house stared for a long time. She hadn’t come back here since they’d got Alec back, a little worse for the wear. But Normal had sent her for a pick-up in the area and the only one around to trade with had been Alec himself.

It was a sunny day. But the memories colored the aura of the house turning every beam of light into twisted shadows. The place was a symbol of everything that had gone wrong in the past year.

Only today it wasn’t Joshua’s image burned into the front porch of Sandeman’s house, it was Logan’s broken body lying there on the steps. The color quickly drained from Max’s face and for a minute, she must have looked as pale as he was. As she watched, he struggled to push himself upright, but his ineffectual legs would not allow it. He collapsed back onto the porch and, on impact, disappeared from sight.

And all that left was the house, standing malignant on its rotting foundation shrouded in its own private cloud of despair.

Nothing on Earth would get her back inside.

When she returned to Jam Pony, she tossed her pick-up in Normal’s direction and ignored a couple dozen bip-bip-bips.

Alec grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and pulled her aside. “I found something,” he whispered, voice low and urgent like it never used to be. “About that imaginary friend of yours.”

“Spit it out already,” Max hissed.

Alec made a show of swallowing and she could see the deepening dark circles around her friend’s eyes. He was not one of the transgenics built for insomnia and the past night of sleeplessness was far more harmful for him than it had been for her. “It’s about Cale’s penthouse.”

“The penthouse was trashed,” Max muttered, ignoring that twinge of regret in the pit of her stomach. “The security guy said it happened a year or so ago.”

“There haven’t been any new residents since Logan Cale and he diedthree years ago.” there was a spark of life in that deadened gaze now, the thrill of discovery. “Why the hell would anyone call attention to themselves by trashing a place where the owner where the owners was deceased?”

“You’re right.” Max hadn’t considered that, hadn’t even noticed that fact. “If they were only looking for something, they would have wanted to keep it quiet but that kind of destruction is for sending a message. It makes sense.”

“Except the part where the message is going out to a dead guy,” Alec said, voice neutral. “Something sure as hell doesn’t add up.”

Logan’s face flickered in her memory just for a second, perfectly clear, perfectly formed. She would have thought that his face would have faded after time, that she wouldn’t recognize Logan clean shaven, without a face caked in blood, but there it was, clear as a photograph.

None of this fucking added up.

“The answer has got to be there, Maxie. Something in the penthouse, something you missed.”

“It’s a long shot, Alec,” Max replied irritably. “It happened more than a year ago. Anything that was there would be gone by now.”

“Maybe they haven’t touched a thing because it was haunted,” Alec said, exasperated. He wanted answers just as bad as she did but they were both grasping at straws. “Max, you asked for my help.”

“Alec…”

“And this is the only lead we’ve got.”

Max shook her head slowly. “Let’s go,” she muttered and then turned to Normal. “Me and Alec are taking off.”

“Slow down there, Missy-Miss,” Normal replied immediately. “You’re not going anywhere. We’re understaffed as it is.”

Max could hear the words he didn’t add. They lingered in the silence after his words: They were understaffed because still, after everything, no one was wanted to work with transgenics. She should be more appreciative. Normal for all his flaws, was on their side.

Alec approached Normal and smiled, cajoling like he always had, and two minutes later he turned back to Max smile fading from his face like it had never been there and said, “Come on, let’s go.”

Normal’s empty threat trailed them out the door, “If you two don’t come back after your lunch break, good luck finding a new job!”

“So, does Asha know about this thing of yours with Normal?” Max asked as they pedaled their way down to sector nine.

“What thing?” Alec asked, honestly confused.

“You expect me to believe you’ve got Normal wrapped around your finger without doing a thing?”

Alec let out a genuine laugh and it was one of the most welcome sounds Max had heard in ages. It had been too long since she’d seen a real smile on her friend’s face. It was so much brighter than the fake one that had lurked there for the past six months. There was such a difference that Max had to wonder how he fooled anyone. “I’m a persuasive guy,” Alec said. “All men do my bidding.”

They both started laughing, their bicycles weaving slightly as they moved. For a moment Max forgot it all, forgot about White and Joshua and the specter of Logan Cale and for a moment, she could just pretend…

The moment of peace was over far too quickly and by the time they reached the penthouse, reality had settle back in, its harsh oppressive weight, smothering the moment of lightheartedness.

They broke in through the skylight. The same way Max had on her first and only visit to Cale’s penthouse. In a way, it was a relief that there was something about this whole ordeal that was solid memory rather than the haunting ever-present déjà vu.

The penthouse hadn’t changed since the last time she’d been there, but somehow the sight of it still made her heart clench. She heard Alec take a sharp breath and was relieved to know she hadn’t overreacted.

“What the hell did this guy get mixed up in?”

Max shrugged, non-committal. “Just… Look for clues, Alec.”

“Clues?” Alec parroted. “Tell me what this guy was doing that earned him a firing squad?”

“A firing squad?”

“The electronics were definitely shot up,” Alec observed, moving through the room, feet crunching on the broken glass. “There are bullet holes in the walls…” He glanced to Max, expression changing to one of mild shock. “You mean you didn’t already know that?”

Max folded her arms across her chest and struggled to keep her face blank.

Alec turned back away from her. “What, did you sleep through crime scene training at Manticore?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but couldn’t come up with a suitable reply. She was too close to this. Too close to Logan. Alec on the other hand could take a step back and look at it all objectively, see the bigger picture.

Alec froze where he stood, something washing over his face, surprise, followed quickly by confusion.

“Alec!” she hissed. “Alec, what’s wrong?”

“I…” he started, stopped, swallowed. “I’ve been here before.”

“What? When? Was it a Manticore thing?” Her questions echoed across the dead apartment and Max half-expected to see Logan coming out of the shadows to offer his help. But it didn’t happen. All she could hear was Alec’s slightly erratic breathing.

“I don’t know when, but I’ve been here before.”

Max grinned humorlessly. “Déjà vu goes around.”

Alec shook himself and resumed his examination of the apartment, he moved slower this time, infinitely more careful. He’s realized this isn’t a joke, Max noticed with surprise, he’s taking it seriously, looking at every angle.

Alec cracked open the door to the bedroom and peered inside. “Doesn’t look like the firing squad came through the bedroom.” He slipped through the crack in the doorway and out of sight.

Max hesitated before following him in. It felt like an invasion of privacy. Like she should wait for Logan’s invitation before even thinking of going inside…

“What the hell are you waiting for, Max?” Alec called and she forced herself into motion.

The bedroom was plain and unexpectedly simple. There was a queen size bed with a dark quilt, reddish carpet, a night stand, a dresser. Sunlight was streaming in through the window but the dust that coated the entire room muted the colors almost beyond recognition.

“I don’t think anyone’s been here for a while,” Alec said.

“This doesn’t feel right,” Max whispered, keeping her voice low as if too much sound would strum up any ghosts that still lurked in this place.

“Look for clues, Max,” Alec ordered dryly, barely concealing a smile as he pushed open the door to the bathroom.

The wood panel walls were bare, empty. No posters, no art, no personality. She moved towards the dresser, pulling out the drawers in a haphazard fashion. There were varying amounts of clothes in each of them, shirts, pants… enough missing to suggest that someone had packed the bare minimum and left in a hurry.

Or maybe, she told herself sternly, he was doing a load of laundry when he got himself killed.

She pulled open another drawer. This one had socks, black, brown, gray, white, even a pair of bright red ones with Santa Claus on the sides that someone must have given him as a joke. They stuck out vividly against the other drab colors and Max reached almost unconsciously for them. But as she did, her hand brushing against a piece of paper.

Curiously, she drew it out. There was writing on it, a scrawling cursive script. After a moment she was able to discern the words:

That one’s a keeper, cuz. Thanks for coming. --Bennet

She flipped the paper over curiously and the sight of it took her breath away. It was a photograph of herself with Logan Cale, both dressed in nicer clothes than Max had ever seen. Her arm was resting comfortably on the back of his wheelchair, and they were both smiling and laughing. She almost didn’t recognize herself in the photograph, she seemed so happy, carefree… a perfect moment frozen on film.

Only, Max could swear it never happened.

Chapter Text

Max didn’t notice she was shaking until the picture in her hand started to blur, Logan’s smiling face suddenly trembling. She didn’t remember the day, didn’t remember the photograph and certainly didn’t remember ever smiling like that.

“You’re guy’s got handles and stools all over his bathroom,” Alec said, sliding back into the bedroom.

“I guess it’s a side effect from shooting,” Max said distractedly. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from the picture. “You know with the wheelchair and all.”

“Wheelchair?” Alec parroted. “Wait, I went through this guy’s file and there was nothing about a wheelchair. For an ordinary, the guy was as healthy as you got.”

Max’s grip on the photograph reflexively tightened. She could feel the emulsion bending beneath her fingers, marring the faces with their foreign, too happy smiles.

“You find anything?” Alec asked, leaning back against the doorframe. “I’m guessing this day can’t get much weirder.”

Wordlessly, Max handed him the photograph and Alec accepted it. He kept his face carefully neutral as he examined it.

“Well,” Max prompted, “What do you think?”

“You win, Maxie. The guy was in a wheelchair. I guess they never updated his records. I’ve heard the Pulse made that kind of tough.” He paused for a second and then grinned. “You clean up pretty well. Still have the dress?”

Max didn’t smile back at him, just folded her arms, demeanor suddenly cold. “Alec, I don’t know where or when that picture was taken. It never happened.”

“Well, the fact that we have photographic evidence…”

“Alec.” She cut him short. “Alec, I don’t remember that picture. I’ve never seen that dress. Something’s wrong here.”

The smile faded from Alec’s face. “Okay, that is weird.”

“I don’t know if it’s real,” Max whispered, for the first time realizing just how close she was to the abyss. “I don’t know I if should trust this or what I remember.” She took a deep breath. “If this is real, that means… that means I can’t trust myself anymore. For all I know, I could still be back in Manticore.”

“Calm down, Max,” Alec said, alarmed. “We’ll sort this out. I promise…” There was a long pause before he added, “This isn’t Manticore. Come on, psy-ops can cook up some pretty weird shit, but they generally want to keep you trusting the illusion.”

“Alec…”

“You’re not at Manticore,” he repeated firmly and handed the photograph back to her. “And, I’m willing to bet you haven’t gone crazy.”

She searched his face for any sign that he might be lying or trying to make her feel better. But Alec didn’t do bullshit and he never had.

“I’m thinking,” Alec continued, slinging a comforting arm over her shoulder, “we drop this photograph of yours off with our psy-op friends in Terminal City and let them do their thing. Stat’s good with stuff like this and if you’re really freaking out, you could try and talk with one of the Probers…”

He trailed off as he realized Max wasn’t really listening, but his words had a calming effect on her even if they hadn’t registered. The panic slowly eased off her chest. She took two deep breaths and composed herself. “Well, let’s get moving.”

It was as close to a thank you that she would ever give.

Max never liked the Psy-Ops section of Terminal City. Most transgenics had migrated into groups during this past year; X-series staying with X-series, Nomilies banding together and the group from psy-ops cordoned off in their little corner, communicating with their mind or some screwball shit like that. Whenever she passed them, Max could feel their eyes on her back, probing into her consciousness, stirring up secrets and memories that were better left buried.

She let Alec take the lead, since he seemed far more comfortable than she was. Zack had once told her that the only people comfortable with psy-ops are the ones with nothing to hide. Sometimes she thought the only people who could understand anything that happened in the last two years were set up on the main street, south of the cat people and north of the X-6s. They could find anything if they wanted, tilting their heads to the side and before you knew it, you were spilling secrets so deeply buried you didn’t even know you were carrying them.

“You’re looking for Stat?” a soft voice came from their left making them both jump.

“You knew that already,” Alec said, eyeing the girl carefully. She was a little slip of a thing, barely into puberty with short cropped dark hair and probing, ice blue eyes that Max had trouble meeting for more than a moment at a time. It felt like she was staring straight through her skin to see the true person who laid beneath.

Alec on the other hand, stared her down. Max couldn’t tell what the difference was, why he could hold the gaze of a psychic so much long than he could hold the gaze of a friend. She suspected that it had something to do with his time with White where the familiar had bleed not only his blood, but his secrets…

“You don’t want to see Stat,” the girl said coyly. “I mean, he’ll figure the photo out for you, but you’re going to want to talk to Cy.”

“Why the hell would I want to talk to Cy?” Max asked. “We don’t get along so well.”

The girl smiled and all at once Max was struck by her youth, she was missing a pair of front teeth, the standard second grader smile. If things were right, she’d be in one of the schools right now instead of Terminal City. If things were right, she wouldn’t be an outcast with the strange mental powers no human should ever have.

“You’ll be back,” she said finally, “when you find your questions.”

“You could save us a lot of time you know,” Alec prodded, “if you just told us the right questions.”

She smiled that gap toothed smile again, pushing a lock of her too-short hair out of her eyes as she turned to walk away. “That’s not how it works.”

They watched her leave. “This,” Alec muttered under his breath, “is why I hate Psy-Ops.”

“You know,” a voice said from behind them, “you shouldn’t say that too loud. People could get offended.”

“Stat.” It always took Max a second to recognize the voice. Much like Brain, Stat was built to be forgotten. No matter how hard she focused, Max could always feel her eyes sliding over his features. Oddly, he was forgettable in the exact opposite way than Brain, average height, scrawny rather than borderline obese. If you asked Max what color his eyes were or how he wore his hair she wouldn’t be able to tell you a thing. And that bothered her more than she’d like to admit. These days, it seemed like there were far too many holes in her memory.

“We’ve got something we’d like you to check out,” Alec said, nudging Max gently.

“Was ninety-eight percent certain you did,” Stat said with a shrug. “Let’s see it.”

Max pulled the photograph out of her backpack, trying not to look at it as she passed it to Stat. Every time she got a glimpse of the smiling faces, her insides twisted themselves into knots.

“What am I looking for?” Stat asked glancing down at the photo. “Great picture by the way. You still have the dress?”

She gave him a blank look. “I just want to know if it was doctored.”

Stat nodded and looked back to the photograph, tracing the edges with his fingers.

“I always expect a puff of smoke or something when he does this,” Alec commented wryly. “The whole thing seems like voodoo.”

“Far as I can tell, it’s real,” Stat announced suddenly. “Can’t say for certain, but likelihood’s up in the nineties.” He paused to let that sink in, Max found his face sliding out of focus.

She wanted to believe it was only because he wasn’t supposed to be remembered.

“Does this have anything to do with the video Dalton had me look at? I can say with ninety-nine percent certainty that this guy was the one getting shot.”

“His name is Logan Cale,” Alec added. The name hung in the room, an almost tangible presence. His name is Logan Cale. Not his name was Logan Cale. That was a distinction Max needed to make.

Stat shrugged and handed Max the picture. “I don’t know what else to tell you. I’m just the number cruncher.”

“We should go back to work,” Alec said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Normal sounded serious this time. We can obsess about this after we earn our paycheck.”

“You go.” Max said distractedly, “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Max…”

“I’m not going to have a nervous breakdown just because you leave, Alec. I’m fine.” Even as she said it, she was reminded of Alec’s broken mantra, I’m always alright.

Alec studied her for a moment and the shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Fine. I’ll see you later.”

She started to follow him out but an unearthly silence had engulfed the room. She could feel goosebumps snaking up her arms.

“Max,” Stat said, voice wavering. “Chances of success are falling.

Max turned over her shoulder to look at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Stat shrugged helplessly. “You tell me.”

It was another hour before Max made it back to Jam Pony though Alec had returned earlier. She had stopped by to talk to Dalton, giving the young X-6 the task of tracing all mentions of Logan Cale that had occurred after his death. She doubted anything would come of it, but she didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

“It’s kind of you to join us, Princess,” Normal chastised. “Did you extend the lunch break to include dinner?”

“Just give me a package, Normal. I’m not having a good day.”

“Unless I’m mistaken bad days aren’t reasons to highjack my best employee and disappear for hours. This is a place of business. Here, hot run, bip, bip, bip!”

She snatched the package out of his hands. “Look Normal, I’m sorry. I’ll go overtime make up for this when it’s all over.”

The irritation on Normal’s face melted away. “Overtime?” he repeated dumbly. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m good.” Max said, “Where’s this run headed?”

Normal told her the address with the same mildly worried expression and when he finished Max nodded and took a deep steadying breath. “When Alec gets back could you tell him something for me?”

“Sure,” Normal agreed readily. “I am after all in the messenger business.”

“Tell him…” She hesitated for a moment, licked her lips. “Tell him to go to Parkwood Cemetery around midnight. He’ll know what it’s about.”

She turned and left, trying not to squirm under the weight of Normal’s gaze.

Max hovered at the gates of the cemetery. It was ten past midnight and the night seemed darker than it ever had before. There was no moon tonight and the light cover of clouds strangled any light the stars could hope to give. Every so often a gust of wind would rattle the dry, dead leaves coating the barren ground. It was going to be winter soon, the very thought chilled her to the bone and left her teeth chattering. Winter brought unwanted memories of that first escape and the blind terror that accompanied it.

Alec was late. Then again, she wasn’t surprised. He probably wouldn’t show up. It was one thing to steal, but loitering outside a cemetery with a shovel like a grave robber was something completely different.

Max had done it before. She didn’t know why or when, but she wasn’t a stranger to digging up graves. The omission throbbed in her mind, like a scab that could never heal. She absently spun the shovel in her hands, trying to distract from the holes in her memory.

She was seconds away from doing this alone when she spotted Alec making his way across the street swinging a spade of his own as he walked. He looked slightly punch-drunk, like he’d been in a fight before he got here. A thin stream of blood trailed out of the corner of his mouth and there was bruising around his eyes. Nothing too bad. With transgenic healing, it would be gone before morning.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” she said finally. “Someone knock you out or something?”

“Got held up,” he grunted. “Couple people in sector twelve aren’t so hot on transgenics. Cornered me and got a couple shots in before I gave them the slip.”

“You alright?”

His blood filled smile reminded her only of Logan. “You’re the one who’s looking to dig up a grave,” he said lightly. “I’m always alright.”

It took almost an hour to actually find the grave. It was nestled in the older part of the cemetery next to two weather worn tombstones that Max could barely read.

“A Cale family reunion,” Alec said quietly. “It doesn’t look like these get a whole lot of upkeep.”

Logan’s tombstone was the only one that was still legible, but even so, the more recent headstone was chipped and busted around the edges.

“You sure you want to go through with this?” Alec asked, “Because digging up some guy’s grave is resorting to pretty drastic measures.”

“Alec, if you want to back out of this, just go ahead and leave.”

He responded by slamming his spade into the ground at the foot of the grave and starting to shovel. Max took a deep breath and joined him in his work.

They shoveled for what seemed like years, neither speaking a word. The scene felt foreign, as if this whole thing was a dream and Max was really curled up in her apartment, asleep. Not that she ever actually slept…

Somewhere around two o’clock, Max drove her shovel into something wooden. They both stopped for a moment before bending over to frantically uncover the remainder of the coffin. When they could see the entirety of the wooden box they both leaned back, breathing hard.

Alec stared at Max intently. “Max, what do you even want to find in there?”

He was giving her an out, a reason to bury this coffin and erase Logan Cale from her life for good. But for whatever reason, Max that was something she just couldn’t do. “I want to find answers.”

With that, she pried open the lid from the coffin.

No one was inside.

Chapter Text

“Empty,” Alec breathed and the word echoed, impossibly loud through the cemetery’s stale air.

The interior of the coffin seemed pristine and almost blinding white, no dirt, no body, no sign that there ever had been a body inside. Empty, Max’s brain repeated, Empty.

She had wanted verification, closure. She’d half hoped to end this whole mess right here with the solid proof of a rotting corpse, but an empty coffin she belatedly realized, could mean anything. It could mean Logan Cale was still alive, still out there or it could mean the body had been tossed into the river or encased in concrete.

Alec gently reached back and closed the casket. “We’ve got to get this covered back up before someone shows up crying grave robbers.”

Where was Logan Cale if not lying six-feet under? She mechanically began to refill the grave.

“So, do you think we’re looking at a zombie uprising?” Alec joked lightly.

Max whacked him with her shovel. “That’s not funny.”

“Come on,” Alec gripped as he rubbed his arm. “It was at least a little funny.”

The coffin was empty. Logan himself could be anywhere.

When she got back to her apartment that night she took a long, cold shower. The icy water slid across her grimly skin and the water circling down the drain was tinged brown by grave dirt. The freezing shower hadn’t brought her the sense of clarity she so desperately needed. When she finally stepped out, she felt even less composed than she had been in the graveyard.

She was suddenly exhausted. A sort of bone-deep tired that was completely foreign to her. She barely had the energy to say hello to Original Cindy before collapsing into bed.

She dreamed she was watching a pair of dancers, the two of them spinning around the room surround by swirling orange and yellow lights.

“I should have died that night,” a voice from her side. “But then again. I should have died during the shooting, too. I guess my luck has to run out sometime.”

She recognized the dancers now: Logan and herself, twirling, spinning, completely at ease.

“I don’t think I would have minded.” Logan continued, as if talking to himself. “I mean, I’ve gotten more miracles that I deserve. I dodged more than a few bullets in Eyes Only’s early days and even the one I didn’t dodge…” He gestured absently towards the wheelchair. “Well, it wasn’t half as bad as it could have been.”

“That’s a pretty optimistic outlook, all things considered.”

“I had you,” Logan said staring out at the dancers. “It took me a long time to realize it, but that’s all I ever needed.”

“I don’t remember,” Max admitted softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Logan replied, turning his gaze towards her. There was steely resolve in his blue-green eyes. “It’s better this way.”

“I wish you’d stop disappearing on me.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“But this is a dream,” Max explained, exasperated. “It doesn’t count.”

“Ah.” His eyes glinted from behind his glasses. “But who’s dream is it? Yours or mine?”

“We’ve done this before, haven’t we?” Max asked.

“Happier times,” Logan confirmed. “I wish you could remember.”

“I thought you said it was better this way.”

Logan shrugged. “What can I say, I’m selfish.”

“I want to remember,” Max repeated. “But there’s just nothing there.”

“There’s still something there, Max.” Logan said evenly. “They can’t take it away even if they wanted to.”

“Who the hell are they?”

“I think...” Logan frowned, and Max saw something flicker across his face and his glasses suddenly cracked. The smooth, clean lines of his face suddenly a mess of bruises, cuts and blood. Red seeped out of his mouth. “I think.” He coughed explosively, spraying Max’s face with flecks of blood. “I think I’m wak…”

“Logan!” Max jerked awaked with a start. Sunshine seeped through the open window. “Logan,” she called again, but knew there would be no answer.

“Now who in the hell is this Logan character?” Original Cindy said, peering into Max’s bedroom. “Crying out his name in your sleep. Why hasn’t Original Cindy heard of your new man?”

“What?” Max mumbled, blinking the remnants of the dream from her eyes.

“You said, Logan.” Original Cindy informed her, crossing her arms. “I asked for details.”

“What?” Max repeated dumbly.

“You must have it all kinds of bad if you’re calling out this, Logan’s, name in your sleep.” Her friends smirked. “Original Cindy can read the heterosexual angst all over your face. Now, you gonna to tell me who this Logan guy is or are you going to keep your home girl guessing?”

“You ever wake up and feel like something was missing?” Max asked suddenly.

Original Cindy blinked and shook her head. “What the hell is your dealio, Boo? Sometimes, Original Cindy don’t even want to know what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Max stared out the open window at the harsh sunlight outside. She could see the omissions clearly now. It was like something had been cut from the scope of her past, leaving thousands of holes that pockmarked her every memory.

Why had she rushed back to Seattle when Zack ordered her to leave?

Why had she asked Alec to pretend to go out with her?

Why had she let Lydecker run the operation when they’d gone to take down Manticore?

Why…

There was some key figure missing from the past two years. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized that Logan Cale might very well be the person who filled those holes. But it seemed like all her essential memories of him had been removed with a careful, almost surgical precision.

The question, as always, was why?

“Max? Are you even with me today, girl?”

“I’m sorry,” she said absently. “I’m feeling kinda punk. You think you could tell Normal I’m down for the day.”

“Is this one of them top-secret transgenic meetings you and Alec have been taking without informing your ordinary friends?”

“Will you just tell him for me?” Max pleaded. “I promise, it’s important.”

“Original Cindy’s got your back,” her friend promised grudgingly. “But only if you promise to tell her what’s up with her boo.”

“You’ll know as soon as I find out myself.”

“Where’s Cy?” Max asked loudly as she burst into the Psy-Ops building of Terminal City .

“Told you she’d come back today,” a little girl’s voice sang from her left.

“Guess you win, Dee,” Stat said softly and then raised his voice. “It’s the second door on the left, Max. Try not to take the guy’s head off. He means well.”

He means well? Max was seeing red. She didn’t want to hear that Cy meant well. If it hadn’t been for Alec’s intervention, she would have killed Cy months ago in the wake of her friends kidnapping. Though he wasn’t a part of White’s plot, what Cy had done was unforgivable.

“She won’t forgive,” Dee said softly. Max could feel the young girl’s eyes on her back. “She didn’t want to forget.”

Cy’s room was the second door on the left. If she kept this simple, maybe she could keep herself calm.

The entire building was run down, as most of Terminal City was, but inside most of the dilapidated buildings, the transgenics, unused to living in the filth of the outside world, had taken great efforts to clean and in many cases repair the damages. Cy was the exception to the rule. The door to his room was old and termite ridden. Max briefly considered knocking the off it’s hinges, and probably would have if Cy had been the type to care.

She didn’t knock, just tapped the rickety door a few inches forward and slipped nimbly through the crack. Cy was waiting for her, sitting cross-legged on his dusty, unmade bed. “Dee told me you were coming,” he said softly. “I was hoping it’d be later rather than sooner.”

Cy wasn’t much to look at. If you stared too long, you always got the impression of a ghost from him. He had fair skin, pale hair and pale green eyes and everything about him seemed washed out and faded. He had long, almost gangly limbs and lacked the grace of the usual Manticore soldier. If Max had to guess, she’d say Manticore had cooked him up at about the same time as the X-5s, one of their earliest ventures into psy-ops.

There were few people Max detested more.

“What do you need?” he asked even though he could probably just pry into Max’s mind and find out for himself.

“Have you ever heard the name, Logan Cale?” she demanded.

“Name’s new to me.” Cy flinched as Max advanced, suddenly squeamish. She was surprised Lydecker hadn’t killed him for his weakness. It would have saved everyone a lot of pain.

“All the records say he’s dead.” Max forced herself to breathe. “He’s got a coffin and everything.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t see what this has to do with me,” Cy said defensively. “Unless you came looking for a scapegoat again.”

Max clenched her teeth and balled her fists. “Thing is, I dug up his grave and this guy isn’t dead, not really.” They were dancing. “I’ve been seeing him. Maybe it’s just his ghost or something but I think I used to know him.”

“You’re not making a whole lot of sense,” Cy said calmly.

“It’s like someone erased him,” Max explained. “Sliced any memory of him clean out of the timeline.”

“And why,” Cy said, pulling himself up to his feet, “would you ever ask for my help?”

Max swallowed.

Chances of success are falling

“I’m desperate.”

Cy nodded slowly and turned away. “Well, asides from insanity, my best guess would be an extraction.”

“Extraction?”

“You know,” he waved a careless hand, “mission goes bad and someone wants to take their men out quickly and cleanly. An extraction.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Cy,” Max spat, “but extractions don’t take memories with their operatives.”

“But,” Cy said, pale eyes gleaming, “that would be ideal wouldn’t it? The best case scenario. Imagine, being able to extract your undercover operatives and leave absolutely no memory of their treachery and deceit. It’s perfect.” He met her eyes and quickly glanced away. “Well, perfect if you’re Manticore at least."

“So Manticore found a way to extract memories along with people?”

Cy shook his head. “Manticore had a theory as to how it might work.” He fixed his stare on Max. “Say your brain is a radio. Each person emits a certain a frequency, unique as DNA, that you have to pick up to commit a person’s face to memory. Manticore found a way to scramble an individual’s frequency it makes them hard to remember, hard to notice. It’s why no one in this city can tell you what Stat actually looks like. But that’s as far as they got. Erasing someone completely would involve turning this frequency off altogether.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “From what I know, when Manticore went up in smoke, they were nowhere close to figuring out how.”

“So that means…?”

“It means what you want it to mean.” Cy shrugged, dismissively, running a hand through his pale blonde hair. “I’m just saying, it might be possible. Just because Manticore couldn’t do it doesn’t mean someone else hasn’t figured it out.”

Max could feel the pieces of the puzzle sliding into place. “Someone like White and the familiars.”

“If it is White and the familiars,” Cy said firmly, “you should let it go. It isn’t worth it. You don’t even know this guy.” He paused for a beat, two. “Anyway, I thought White was dead. Something about a taking nose dive off the Space Needle.”

Max couldn’t stop herself from biting out, “No thanks to you.”

Cy stared at her, un-phased. “I’d do it again,” he said quietly.

“Alec could have died because of you,” Max hissed. “If I’d gotten there a second later, he wouldn’t still be breathing. You cost him six extra days of torture and now you tell me you’d do it again.”

“I don’t think you realize just how important you are,” Cy said slowly. “White, his breeding cult, what they’re planning… for whatever reason, you’re the only one that can stop it. If you get killed, we all die.”

The door behind her creaked open and Max was too angry to even recognize Stat for a moment. “Dee said there was going to be bloodshed back here,” he said amiably. “I just wanted to make sure no one was killing anyone back here.”

Max stared venomously at Cy. Cy stared back, resolute and unperturbed. Her hands hand clenched into fists. She wanted to beat this idiot into submission. Wanted to watch him bleed.

“Max,” Stat said, appearing beside her and grabbing her shoulder, “that’s it. Let’s get you out of here. This isn’t worth it.”

“You don’t know anything,” Max spat at Cy. “You may be a goddamn psychic, but you don’t know anything about real life.”

Cy kept staring, his poker face firm as Stat dragged Max out of the room.

Dee approached her tentatively moving with a grace unnatural for a child of her young age. “Sandeman’s,” the girl said offering Max a gap-toothed smile.

“What?”

“Sandeman’s house,” Dee confirmed, brow furrowed in concentration. “You’ll find it there.”

She thought of the house with Joshua dead on the front porch. She thought of the signs of Alec’s struggle littering the room. She thought of her barcode number painted on the wall in her friend’s blood.

“Sandeman’s house,” Max repeated dumbly.

Chances of success are falling.

She was getting desperate.

Chapter Text

Max stormed out of the Psy-Ops building, breathing heavily. Sandeman’s house; the very thought of the place made her stomach heave and churn. She found herself detouring into one of Terminal City’s back alleys, grasping at the grubby brick wall for support.

“Max,” a soft voice called, “Max, are you all right?”

“Logan,” she choked and turned around with a strangled half-sob to see him sitting there, as always, a little worse for the wear. She wondered how he managed to do it, managed to sit there, calm and serene even as his blood pooled underneath him. Even Alec, with his heightened pain threshold had been near tears after that sustaining that much damage. Yet there Logan sat, face twisted not with pain but worry.

“What’s wrong, Max?”

What wasn’t wrong? Her carefully constructed life was falling apart at her feet. Her memory failed her at every turn, the ultimate betrayal. “I want to know why,” she whispered. “Out of all the people in this broken world, why am I the only one who can see you? I met you once. And then you got shot.” She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to summon the memories lying just out of reach. “Only that’s not all is it? That’s not what really happened.”

His swollen eyes widened slightly and Max could see hints of blue through the bruises. “You came back,” he confirmed nostalgically. “You came to the hospital. Save my life more than once.” He gave her a sheepish look. “We worked together. You know, quid pro quo.”

“Worked together,” Max echoed, but the words sounded foreign to her lips. “That’s all?”

“It never was enough,” Logan said softly. “We were friends, about as close as you can get. We pissed away too much time to ever be much more. Every time we got close…” He looked to the ground and swallowed hard. “Doesn’t matter much now does it? You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. No matter what happened, no matter how bad things got, you always came back...”

There was something in his voice, a quiet sort of desperation that caught her attention and held it fast. She believed him, despite the sheer madness of the situation, she couldn’t help but trust him.

She remembered the photograph. She wished she remembered what it stood for.

“This is my fault, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have let them get to you.”

“It’s never been your fault,” Logan replied instantly. He started to reach a hand towards her, but he withdrew it quickly before it got too close.

“Talking to invis-o-boy again?” A voice called from behind her and Max turned to find Alec smirking at her. “I mean when I hear Original Cindy reporting your unfortunate illness I figured it was related to all this.” He turned to stare a few feet to the left of where Logan sat. “How’s it going, Cale?”

“I’ve had better days,” Logan replied, “but I’m doing fine.”

There was a long silence before Max abruptly remembered that Alec couldn’t hear Logan’s words. “He says he’s fine,” Max relayed, eyes fixed on Logan, “but he’s lying.”

Logan’s mouth split into a grin, bruised face twisting painfully. “Worst of it’s over anyway.”

“Did you kill Cy?” Alec asked, completely unaware of the other conversation taking place right in front of him. “I was really hoping I’d get here before you had a go at him.”

“I don’t see why you’re still defending him.”

Alec sidestepped her question. “Whatever he said, it obviously got you worked up. Are there bad-guys to vanquish? Where do we look?”

“Cy says we shouldn’t bother looking.” She didn’t have the energy to spare him the shock. “Dee says the answer’s are at Sandeman’s house.”

All color suddenly vanished from Alec’s face. It happened with such an astonishing speed that Max couldn’t even see the transition between normal and white. “Sandeman’s,” he choked, “Max, that’s …”

“Yeah,” she said abruptly. “I know. Me too.”

“Max,” Logan said behind her, “it’s not worth it.”

He said it like he wasn’t worth it either.

She reached out to touch him impulsively, to offer him some small measure of comfort. It belatedly occurred to her that it wouldn’t work. That whatever force had brought Logan to her hadn’t been strong enough to keep him tangible.

But unexpectedly, her hand hit flesh. Solid, warm and there.

Logan looked up at her, shock crossing his broken face. Max couldn’t move for a moment, she just stared, transfixed at her hand touching his. Suddenly, Logan started to laugh, softly at first and then escalating in volume. Max’s hand slipped off, no through, his arm and Logan just kept laughing.

“That just figures, doesn’t it?” Logan hooted and laughed some more. “Irony’s a bitch.”

“Max,” Alec said from behind her. “Max!”

Logan tried to restrain himself, forcing the huge heaves of laughter to a relatively sober expression. “Every touch, Max. It’s always been worth it.”

Max stared at him, her gut clenching as he dissolved back into those hysterical giggles. He was on his last thread, Max realized, only inches away from having his mind shattered completely. There was only so long someone could wait for rescue before losing all hope of survival and Logan was teetering dangerously on that line.

“Max,” Alec said again, roughly grabbing her wrist and spinning her around.

“What!?”

He forced open her hand that she hadn’t even realized she’d clenched. “Where did that blood come from?”

She looked down at her hand in surprise. Blood was smeared all across her palm. Logan’s blood. She didn’t know why she hadn’t noticed before. She looked towards Logan who met her gaze and held it for the barest moment before flickering out of existence.

“I think we’re running out of time,” Max said, eyes focused on empty spot where Logan had been just seconds before. She got the feeling that one of these days, he was going to disappear and never come back. And with Logan gone, there’d be no way to fill the gaping holes inside of her.

“I know. I get it,” Alec placated. “Calm down a second. We’ve got to figure this out.”

“He’s out there somewhere,” Max said desperately. “We’ve got to find him.”

“We will,” Alec assured her. But his face was still the same sheet white as it had been when she’d first mentioned Sandeman’s house. “I guess we don’t have much choice in this do we?”

“I’d never ask you to come,” Max said softly. “I’m perfectly capable of doing this on my own.”

“Yeah I know,” Alec allowed, looking slightly ill. “But I’ve got to face my demons sometimes. And besides, you’ll need backup.”

“I’ll only end up having to save your ass,” she said lightly.

Alec let out a strangled laugh. “Then at least something in this mess would be normal.”

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

“You sure Dee said Sandeman’s?” Alec asked. “Not Sandman’s or Sandmen’s or Sanderhamns?”

Max forced a laugh. “Let’s just get this bitch over with.”

Max could see Joshua’s body burned into the rickety stairs of Sandeman’s house. Her legs felt like lead as she approached. The stairs groaned their protest under her feet. Alec was a step in front of her, moving with a steely resolve.

They paused at the door both unwilling to go inside. “It’s just a house,” Alec muttered under his breath. “It’s just a house.”

Max knew he was right, but in the end, it was Alec who overcome his fear and pushed the door open.

“Don’t do this, Max.”

She didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Logan, back from the abyss again, though who knew for how long. She got the feeling that she was running out of time.

She followed Alec inside.

The air didn’t have the stale musty smell of disuse she’d expected. Just because she hadn’t set foot in this place for months, she realized with a start, didn’t mean everyone else would have avoided it as well. In the time since the pulse, there were few livable buildings left unoccupied. It was just means of survival.

The living room was exactly how she remembered which was the scariest part of this whole thing because all she remembered of Sandeman’s was destruction.

And when she enter the house, destruction was all she saw.

Alec shook his head. “I thought you would have cleaned up this mess.”

That was just the thing. They had cleaned it up. When they’d been looking for Alec, Sandeman’s house had been the default base of operations. One the first day, they had picked out anything and everything helpful from the crime scene and then they’d cleaned it up with the thorough efficiency native to Manticore’s soldiers. The last time Max had been inside that place, the day she’d finally tracked Alec down, the house had been nearly spotless. Not that she’d really noticed. No matter how much the house changed, she would never be able to erase the trashed house from her mind.

She realized Alec had begun moving around the place with the same detached focus he’d shown back at the penthouse. It bothered her that he seemed so much better adjusted to the house and the memories. It was Alec, not her who had been abducted here, Alec who had been out manned and outnumbered and in the end, overtaken.

Yet it was Max who balked at the very sight of the place.

She could see her barcode number scrawled on the far wall. She closed her eyes and prayed that she was seeing things.

“Blood.” Alec announced suddenly. “Dried, but fairly recent if I had to guess.”

Max’s eyes snapped open.

Her barcode was still there.

She had hoped the image was just a mirage, an echo of the distant past just like Joshua’s crumpled body etched into the front steps.

“Whoever was here put up a fight,” Alec said, bending down to straighten an upturned chair. “But it looks like it was over pretty quickly. The destruction is pretty localized.”

A cracked table. Upturned chairs. A trail of blood. An Ordinary person would have called the cops upon entry, but Transgenics had always handled their affairs without involving police if they could.

“Check it out,” Alec said.

She blinked herself out of her haze. “What is it?”

“A clue,” Alec smirked and tossed the small object towards her.

She caught it without a second thought and examined it curiously. It was a small gray cell phone. She flipped it open and pulled up the call log. The last twelve calls had all been made to her pager.

Logan’s cell phone, her mind told her. He’d been here just days ago, alive and calling for her help. She’d gotten the pages too, all twelve of them over a span of four hours and she’d ignored each and every single call. And when they’d stopped, she’d been glad. If she’d only paid attention…

Her stomach churned at the thought of it.

“Max,” Alec called, “are you all right?”

She dropped the phone and backed quickly out of the house.

Outside, she stumbled down the creaky, wooden steps, clutching at the railing for support. She tried not to look at the empty space beside her where she could still see the echo of Joshua’s mangled body.

Logan was on the small strip of lawn in front of the house waiting for her. She could scarcely force herself to look at him. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered, dangerously close to tears. “This is all my fault.”

“You shouldn’t worry about me,” Logan said softly. “I’m all right.” He gave her a serene smile that looked all wrong on his face. It was too wide, borderline loopy contrasting sharply with his appearance: his teeth were coated in red, his cheeks were a pale, almost deathly white and his eyes were glassy and unfocused behind shattered glasses.

“You bastard,” she whispered, as a wave of sadness crashed through her. She still couldn’t remember this man yet the thought of him dying hurt like a physical blow. She was supposed to be a soldier, strong, emotionless, but the very thought nearly propelled her to tears. “You’re dying.”

“I’m all right,” Logan assured her with his glassy-eyed, too-wide smile. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I’m going to find you,” Max promised. “There has to be something in Sandeman’s. Some sort of hint as to where they took you.”

“Max, do we have to do this?” Logan asked. “Can’t we just talk like we always used to? Pretend none of this ever happened.”

“You’re not going to die on me after all this,” Max hissed. “I won’t let you.”

“It’s too late,” Logan said with the barest hint of regret. “It’s almost over. He’s started to give up on me. He’s been letting me sleep for longer and longer. It’s good. It means I get to see you and it means you stay safe. It’s better this way—for both of us.” He smiled in earnest. “Don’t worry, Max. I never told him anything.”

“Told who?” she asked.

Logan reached up to rub his neck and averted her eyes. Max recognized it instantly as the tick of someone who was about to tell a lie.

And then she saw them. Peaking out from underneath his tattered long-sleeved t-shirt were dozens of thin red cuts, a intricate lattice work of scars criss-crossing his skin and spiraling up his forearm and out of sight.

“Max,” Alec said cautiously from the steps behind her. “What happened? I thought we were supposed to be figuring this out. The answers are at Sandeman’s, remember?”

Max stared at Logan. She had seen that same pattern of wounds before. She hazarded a glance at Alec who had lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. “What’s wrong, Max?” Alec asked finally. “Staring like that isn’t exactly polite.”

“Can you do me a favor?” she asked and tried not to notice how the scene had started spinning before her, like something out of an old Hitchcock movie. She felt like she was falling.

“Sure,” Alec replied, “anything.”

“Max,” Logan said, panicked. He clutched at the rims of his wheelchair. Blood dripped slowly from his sleeve. “Max, just let it go!”

“Can you show me you scars?” Her voice broke. She tried not to look at Logan.

“Why?” Alec shuffled his feet and averted her eyes. Alec used to wear his bruises like a badge of honor, shamelessly using them to pick up the occasional pity date, but that was before White got to him. Max had patched him up the best she could while waiting for the medical help, but that was the one and only time Alec had willingly let her see the marks of White’s torture. When he came back to work a few weeks later, he was sullen and moody, and wore only long sleeves even in the middle of the summer.

“Don’t do this Max,” Logan said. “It’s not worth it.”

Logan was wearing long sleeves.

“Alec, please.”

Alec swallowed audibly and complied. Max watched as he rolled up his shirt sleeves to reveal dozens of thin white scars, that despite his accelerated healing, still marred his skin nearly six months after the incident. One glance was all she needed to confirm her suspicions. Alec was watching her carefully, trying to gage her reaction. “Max, what’s this all about?”

“White,” Max whispered as the pieces of the puzzle finally started to fall into place. The color seeped out of Alec’s face. Her stomach churned. “White has Logan.”

Chapter Text

“That’s insane, Max,” Alec said quickly. “No one could have survived that fall. I wouldn’t have survived that fall. White’s dead. Hell, he an obituary, a funeral!”

“So did Logan,” Max whispered. “He had a grave and a funeral. We saw it.”

Max had watched White fall, tumbling end over end until hitting the pavement with a sickening thud she could hear from hundreds of feet above. It had took her nearly an hour to maneuvered Alec’s broken body down from the Space Needle and by the time she’d got to the ground, there’d been a crowd of people surrounding White’s corpse. She’d been preoccupied with getting Alec some medical help.

The newspaper had reported White’s death the day after. There had been a mere two paragraph, speculating that it had been a suicide and noting that Ames White was to be cremated. His ashes had been scattered into the ocean.

There was no way anyone could survive a fall like that.

“Max,” Alec insisted and she could read the blind terror plainly on his features. “He’s dead Max. He has to be.”

“I never saw the body,” she whispered. “I never felt like I needed to. There was no way he could have survived.”

But somehow, he had survived. Max cursed herself for her failure. She should have checked, should have made sure he was dead. After the Familiar at Harbor Lights last year she should have suspected the impossible.

“I figured it out,” Logan admitted from behind her. “One of my contacts spotted him and gave me the heads up. I was trying to warn you.”

The pages, Max realized, they’d been too spaced out for them have been cries for help. White would have cut off all Logan’s communication as soon as he had Logan in his clutches. She could have stopped this. She could have been there to save him… if only she’d listened.

“Say it is White…” Alec conceded from behind her, taking several deep, steadying breaths.

“It’s White,” she interrupted with absolute certainty. “I know it.”

“Now how the hell could you possibly be sure!?”

“Because it looked like this after he took you!” she screamed. “The struggle, the numbers on the wall…” Her voice dropped. “It’s the same thing. There’s only a handful of people who saw knew about this. White wants me to know it’s him. He wants me to know he’s still alive.”

“If White wants you to know, then why the hell would he go through all this trouble to make you forget? Max it doesn’t make any sense.” He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, voice low and dangerous. “Why the hell would he go through all this trouble to set up a familiar crime scene and then erase the guy he was taking from your memory? A scene like this, they’re looking to draw you out. They probably had a trap all set up for you. They probably figured you’d to come running the second the second you saw this place. But if you didn’t remember this Cale guy, there would be no reason for you to even check Sandeman’s, much less come running to help him.”

Max glanced behind her. Logan had vanished again. There was a little voice in her head that whispered, this time it might be for good.

Cy’s pale eyes flickered in her memory.

“I’d do it again.”

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered venomously. “That son of a bitch.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Alec hissed.

“Cy,” she said flatly. “This time, I’m really going to kill him.”

Alec tried to talk her out of it. He defended Cy at every turn.

Max didn’t know how he could do it, wondered how he could possibly be friends with someone who had nearly gotten him killed. If it hadn’t been for Cy sending them chasing false leads, she would have been able to spare Alec days of torture at White’s hands. And yet, when they got back to Terminal City and approached the Psy-ops building, Alec stepped smoothly in front of her and blocked her entrance.

“I can’t let you go in there,” Alec said firmly. “You have to slow down for a moment. You have to think.”

“Slow down,” Max echoed incredulously. “Logan could be dying and you’re telling me to slow down and take it easy on Cy. Did you forget what he did? Did you forget how he let you suffer?”

Somewhere along the way it had started to rain, and the sound of the soft droplets against tin roofs seemed impossibly loud to Max’s ears. Alec didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. “You don’t know the whole story, do you Max?”

She didn’t know the whole story. She didn’t know why Logan was gone or who he even was, didn’t know how had Cy gained Alec’s trust in the wake of his betrayal, didn’t know how Alec could keep so calm through all of this after White had broken him so thoroughly, she didn’t know… “Explain it to me then.”

Alec froze for the barest fraction of a second, a look of complete surprise flashing over his features. “I trust him,” Alec explained awkwardly. “The guy makes mistakes, but he’s as human as the rest of us. He means well.”

A red haze threatened to overtake her vision. Mole, Stat, and now Alec… They always insisted despite everything that Cy meant well, that Cy’s heart was in the right place. She opened her mouth to retort, but Alec cut her off smoothly. “You know, he isn’t even Psy-ops? Not originally at least. The kid spent six years in my unit, he was X-5.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Max asked, “I know Manticore. Psy-ops were a different line. No mixing of the test tubes.”

“How do you think Psy-ops got started, Max?” Alec asked lowly. “I mean, Manticore had been playing with coercion techniques and human statisticians, but those weren’t new concepts. There have always been people who could make you confess and people who could play the odds better than anyone. Full out Psychics on the other hand… I don’t think Manticore had even thought about cooking up a psychic…”

Alec swallowed, and took a deep breath before continuing, “And one night Cy started screaming in his sleep. We ignored him for the most part. No one wanted to report it to Lydecker, because we all knew what would happen. Cy had never been physically up to par adding screaming nightmares to the mix it was practically a death sentence.” There was a far away look in her friend’s eyes, like he was stuck years ago in the barracks of Manticore. “On the sixth day, Cy went up to Lydecker before training and told him X5-601 was going to die. Lydecker took Cy out of the wing, put him under evaluation. Two days later, 601 die in his sleep, a seizure. No one even heard a thing. They hauled Cy in for testing, looking for the genetic fluke that let him see the future. By just being alive the kid practically created the Psy-ops department.”

He leveled his gaze on Max, suddenly back in the present again. “So, yeah, maybe his morals are a little fucked up, and maybe you’ve never seen eye to eye with him and maybe you think that he screws things up at every turn but everything he does has a reason and when it comes to those visions of his, Cy is never, ever wrong.”

“This reason of his,” Max said slowly, “do you think it’s worth getting someone killed? Someone like you? Or Logan?”

Alec clenched his jaw. “I won’t let you kill him, Max. I’m not saying I like the guy, or even that I haven’t thought of making him pay myself, but I’m not going to let you kill him.”

“This doesn’t change anything,” she muttered, holding Alec’s gaze. “Cy still owes me some answers.”

Alec didn’t move from the doorway. Rain slid slowly down her back, chilling her to the bone. “Move,” she hissed venomously.

For a long second, Alec held his ground, but finally, he relented and stepped sideways to let her through. “I hope to God you know what you’re doing, Max.”

Cy was waiting for her, sitting cross-legged on his sagging bed with the door opened wide. “Figured it wasn’t worth running,” he said with a rueful smile. “Say what you want about me, but I can take my licks.

She got the feeling that Cy was talking more to Alec then to her and for some reason that made her blood boil. “Care to tell me why you might need those licks, Cy?”

“You’re the one storming into this place,” Cy retorted folding his gangly pale arms across his chest. “You tell me.”

“Fine,” Max snipped. “Alec and I just got back from Sandeman’s.”

The color drained from Cy’s already pale face. “Why the hell would you go there?”

“A little bird told me,” Max said sarcastically, taking three steps so she stood towering over Cy’s seated form. “What I want to know, is why White would go through the trouble to recreate the entire scene of Alec’s abduction only to erase all memory of his hostage. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”

Cy stood up slowly, long limbs unfolding as he rose. Cy was always taller than she expected. He was skinny and round shouldered with a tendency to hunch and folding into himself to project the image of someone six inches smaller than he actually was. “Are you going to accuse me of something or are you just going to stand there?”

“You needed to stall me, didn’t you?” Max whispered to Cy’s chest. “You knew what was going to happen and you didn’t do a thing to stop it.”

I’d do it again, his voice echoed in her head, over and over again, proclaiming his betrayal.

Cy didn’t answer, just stared at her with those pale green eyes.

She punched him hard in the face. He recoiled in surprise, blood leaking slowly out of his nose, the only color on his washed out face. Max’s hands shot to his throat, grasping the pale skin. “Tell me!”

“You’re not going to kill me,” Cy choked smugly. “I’ve seen how I die and Alec’s the only one in the room who’s packing.”

Alec dove after her, pulling her grip off Cy before she could do any serious damage.“What the hell are you doing Max?”

“He knows,” she insisted, “he knows what happened to Logan. He knows why I can’t remember.”

“I saw it, you know,” Cy said, pinching his nose to stop the blood flow. “At first I thought it was just a dream, hoped it was just a dream, but with me it never is.”

“You could have told someone,” Alec said evenly, “could have given us the heads up.”

“Would you have believed a word I said?” Cy snapped. “If I had come to you, would you have even listened? No, you would have said, that’s just Cy. He can’t be trusted. Without even taking consideration to the fact that Cy’s a goddamned psychic!”

Max opened her mouth to retort, but to her surprise, found that Cy’s words rang true. “You could have tried to stop it yourself,” Max said, lamely.

“And some cavalry that would have been,” Cy sneered, “I’m not combat ready. I didn’t spend my childhood training like you. I spent it in a lab getting prodded by curious scientists. Half the things I see can’t be stopped. It was a tactical decision. If I’d done what you wanted, I would have been killed. Just like your friend Joshua.”

Her heart clenched at the name. Her anger boiled up at gall behind its use. She would have torn Cy’s head off if Alec hadn’t had her in a firm immobile grip. “What did you do to me?” she hissed. “Why can’t I remember?”

“You give me way too much credit,” Cy said as a grin stretched across his ghostly pale face. “When it comes right down to it, I’m a really shitty psychic. I got the short end of both deals. Not strong enough to be a soldier, not skilled enough to really see the future. It’s what you get for being a genetic freak amongst genetic freaks. I told you everything I know about extractions.”

“You’re lying.”

“You just wish I was.”

“Where is White keeping him?” Max demanded.

“I thought White was dead,” said Cy with faux innocence. “Something about falling off a Space Needle.”

“That’s it, Max,” Alec said with authority. “We’re leaving. He’s not talking and we don’t have time to get it out of him.”

“He knows,” Max spat. “He did this.”

“Max, it doesn’t matter,” Alec whispered into her ear. “What matters is getting to Logan before it’s too late.”

She knew Alec was right. No matter how much Max wanted to peel Cy’s milky white skin off his body and listen to him scream, every second wasted was another second of Logan dying by White’s hands. She composed herself and turned to walk out of the room.

“You know,” Cy’s voice drifted after her. “You were one of the first things I ever saw; back when I still thought I was crazy.”

Max paused, but didn’t turn to look at him.

“You were dead,” Cy continued as if in a daze. “Gunshot wound. A bullet hole smack in the middle of your forehead. Blood everywhere. And White stand over you saying they could proceed as planned now that 452 was eliminated. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I got the feeling that it was something bad. Pitch it however you want, but I’m not the enemy, Max.”

“Let’s go,” Alec growled into her ears. “He’s trying to stall us.”

“Be careful,” Cy said softly. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

She let Alec push her out the door and into the tidy, orderly hallway. He shut the door on the way out. “Max,” he said. “I told you this was a bad idea. We’re wasting time. If those phone calls are any indication, White’s had Cale for going on six days and I can guarantee you, ordinaries won’t last half as long as I did. We’ve got to find out where White is if you want to save this Logan guy of yours. At this point, we have narrowed down to ‘hopefully nearby.’ And we’re not even considering the fact that we’re probably walking into a trap.”

Alec’s words were static in her ears. The task was nearly insurmountable and every moment wasted would cost Logan a little more of his precious blood. Max was on the verge of unraveling.

“I’m sorry,” a new voice said. It took Max a long moment to locate the source. It was Dee, studying her with an intense blue stare. “I didn’t know.” The was a tremor in her soft voice and Max couldn’t help but picture her as just another normal kid who’d broken something her parents loved.

“I’m sure it’s not your fault, kiddo,” Alec said, crouching down next to her. “People make mistakes. Why don’t you go find Stat and…”

“It is my fault,” Dee insisted forcefully. “I should have guessed it was wrong, but he outranks me. I’ve got to listen to him.”

“Dee,” Max said, more sharply than she intended to. “Who are you talking about?”

“Cy,” she answered, nearly inaudibly. “He brought me a picture and asked me to take the man away. He said I was helping. He said people would die if I didn’t help him.”

“You did it,” Alec said with a little disbelief. “Took him out of people’s minds? Is that even possible?”

Max glanced at Alec. “Still think Cy’s one of the good guys. Christ, Alec, she’s just a kid.”

“He said I was the only one who could do it,” Dee whispered. “He said it would help, said I could be a soldier.” She looked up at Max, eyes shining with unshed tears. “You’re mad. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was wrong. I shouldn’t have done it. I didn’t want to disobey a direct order.”

“We’re not at Manticore anymore,” Max said, crouching over to put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “You don’t always have to obey orders.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” she sniffed.

“If you did it,” Max said as realization hit her, “if you took the memories of this guy away, you can put it back. Make everything how it should be again.”

“That’s just the thing,” Dee said miserably. “I’ve been trying. Ever since you can the first time, I’ve been trying to undo it, but I can’t. Don’t be mad. I-I.” She hiccupped. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right, Dee,” Max said softly and she’d surprised to find that she wasn’t mad with the girl. She was a victim of circumstances, an unfortunate bystander who got caught up in a war. Just like Joshua. Just like Alec. Just like Logan. “There’s another way you can help.”

The girl pulled herself up tall, standing at attention.

“Where is he now?” Max asked gently. “Where is Logan, the guy Cy made you erase?”

Dee frowned, furrowing her brow in concentration. “You already know where he is,” she said finally, opening an eye and nodding towards Alec. “Same place you found him last time.”

“The Space Needle,” Max whispered, turning to Alec. “We need to move.”

Chapter Text

The Space Needle was a long way up. Max had forgotten how tall it was, spiraling up to the heavens and blotting out the moon.

It had been a sanctuary once. A place for reflection and thought. Troubles used to seem small when she was up there, but that had all changed after White took Alec. Her refuge had been perverted, twisted into a place of evil and death.

She had thought this part of her life had was over. She’d hoped that she could return to her relatively peaceful existence and forget about White and all the transgenics’ troubles. But life hadn’t been that kind.

“It’s a long way up,” Alec said, as if echoing her thoughts. “And here I thought Sandeman’s was bad.” He paused for a moment and swallowed audibly. “It’s also a long way down.”

White had kept Alec on the observation deck for two weeks before moving him out onto the roof. If Max had gotten there seconds later, it would have been Alec who went over the edge and not White. The very thought sent ice racing through her veins.

Alec was chalk white, his hands trembling just a little. He hid his fear well, better than Max herself did, but the fear was there nonetheless. Manticore may have taught their soldiers how to hide it, but it would never be enough to erase it completely.

“First time coming back?” Max guessed, eyeing her friend with concern.

“That obvious?” Alec breathed as he slipped through the gap in the fence separating the Space Needle from the public. “It’s my first time back in the fucking sector.”

Max let out a sickly laugh. “I can do this on my own you know.”

“Like hell,” he grumbled, snapping seamlessly back into the persona she knew. “Let’s do this. Time’s a-wasting.”

The ascent was a blur and neither she nor Alec spared much breath for talk. When they made it to the Space Needle’s observation deck, Alec was looking slightly queasy. “Who’d have thought it,” he joked weakly, “one of Manticore’s finest, afraid of heights.”

Max shot him a sharp glance. “They’re probably waiting for us… it’s a trap remember?”

“Fine then, Maxie, rush to comfort me.”

“Now’s not the time, Alec.”

He quieted without protest. Max realized with sudden insight that he knew it wasn’t the time to jokes, that he had always know when it wasn’t time to joke. Alec had always worn his sarcasm like a coat of armor. White’s torture hadn’t changed that but rather made his bravado seem transparent and false. Still without it, Max doubted he’d be able to cope.

The scene of six months ago flickered in her mind, she could picture Alec’s slack, blood coated face. She’d heard once that the human body carried six quarts of blood. She remembered that fact dancing through her mind until it was all she could see. For a second she was sure that all of it must have been in that room even though she knew it was impossible. There’d been a solid trail from the observation deck to the roof where she’d found him, a map etched with blood. Alec’s clothes had been completely soaked through.

There had been so much blood.

She thought there was more now. Fresh splashes of red covering dried older stains. “Where the hell are they?” Max hissed.

“Blood’s fresh…it’s not even dry yet.” Alec muttered, probably lost in his own memories. “They can’t be far.”

A wheelchair was upturned in the far corner of the room, the wheels spinning incongruously, the only movement in the silent room.

Through the silence came a muffled thud. Max and Alec’s heads turned upwards in tandem.

“The roof,” Alec whispered and Max put a finger to her lips to silence him.

They’re listening, she signed over to him.

It’s a trap, Alec signed back irritably.

He was probably right, but somehow, Max couldn’t bring herself to consider the consequences. There just wasn’t enough time. Besides, Dee said this was the right place… She’d like to think that no one but White was capable of this kind of violence.

I’m going up, she signed, cover me around back.

Alec didn’t look happy but he gave her the okay symbol and silently crept to the opposite side of the observation deck. Max eyed the wheelchair and took a deep breath to steel her resolve.

She’d climbed up onto the Space Needle a hundred times before, but the strange new uneasiness that had crept into the pit of her stomach unnerved her. For the first time in her life, she could see why some people were afraid of heights.

It was a long way down. Far longer than she ever remembered. It would take an eternity to fall.

She grasped the lip of the roof and hauled herself up.

She was greeted with the cold metal barrel of a gun against her forehead.

“452,” White said, sneering.

This is how I die, Max thought vaguely, This is what Cy saw. Gun shot wound to the head...

White was still alive. White was here. White had survived the fall. White had been out there for months without them knowing. How could she have let him get away with this…

It was too late to stop him now. He had a gun to her head and one of his muscled bound Familiar buddies was looming ten feet behind him for back-up.

“Where’s Logan,” she breathed as she slowly straightening up to her full height.

White let her rise but kept the gun where it was. “Your boyfriend?” He smirked. “He lasted longer than I thought he would.”

“If he’s dead…” Max hissed, “If he’s dead, I will tear…”

“You’re not exactly in the position to make threats are you, 452,” White said. “I could kill you right now… Or better yet, just give you a push. I doubt you could survive the fall.”

She didn’t have to glance back to know what was behind her. She’d spent hours, staring out at the vast Seattle skyline from this very spot. She’d memorized each and every inch of it. She could feel her heels on the edge of the Space Needle. She was far too close to the edge for comfort.

It was a long way down.

White looked nearly the same as he had before the fall. Mouth in a perpetual sneer, dark eyes cold and ruthless, hair cropped short. The only difference was the faint scarring on the left side of his face, but even that was fading.

“You survived the fall,” Max said with false bravado. “And let’s face it, anything you can do, I can do a hell of a lot better.”

“Cute, 452. You never did know when to keep your mouth shut.”

“Where’s Logan?”

“Unconscious,” White taunted. “He stopped moaning a few minutes ago. You were too late this time, 452”

Max did the calculations in her head. Could she get the gun off of her before White pulled the trigger? Sure she could dodge bullets when the gunman was twenty feet away, but not even her reflexes were quick enough to escape something fired at point blank range.

Gunshot wound, whispered Cy in her head, A bullet hole smack in the middle of your forehead. Blood everywhere.

Where the hell was Alec?

“I’m surprised at you, 452,” White continued, obviously enjoying being in control. “I thought you’d come running the moment you found out he was gone. But no, you wait a week and then you mount the most pathetic rescue attempt I’ve ever seen. You should have heard Cale the first few days. He swore you’d come kick my ass.” White’s lip curled. “He gave up on you quicker than I expected. I haven’t heard a word in days. I was starting to think you weren’t even looking. I left you all those clues. You were supposed to come running. I had the perfect trap all lined up for you.”

“Where is he?” Max growled.

White nodded behind him moved a half step sideways to allow Max a view of Logan’s crumpled form laying face down twenty feet away, face completely obscured from view. Logan’s clothes were in tatters, a thin layer of blood coating everywhere.

Max couldn’t tell if he was still breathing.

“I’m going to kill you,” she told White slowly. “This time, you’re going to suffer.”

White laughed. Max finally caught a sight of Alec as he pulled himself up onto the platform and began creeping towards White’s bodyguard. He was moving with a slight limp and with a start, Max realized he’d already been jumped once.

She kept her eyes trained White and tried not to give Alec away. White shook his head. “Look at the transgenics' hero, weak and alone. Without you, they’re nothing.”

“I’m nobody’s hero,” Max said firmly, desperately trying to mask the sound of the snapping neck as Alec took out White’s extra muscle from behind.

“I know you’re no one’s hero,” White said slowly, “Just like I know you brought 494 for back-up.”

Behind him, Alec froze, rooted for to the spot.

Before Max could even realize what happened, White had turned around and in a single swift movement took aim and pulled the trigger.

The bullet caught Alec in the shoulder and he stumbled backwards, face creased in pain. He had been too close to the edge of the Space Needle and his third step back had him teetering precariously on the edge as the seconds seemed to stretch onto hours.

And then he lost his balance, tumbling backwards, off the edge and down, down, down. Max watched in horror as his flailing arms dropped out of sight.

Max lost it, bringing her arm up with superhuman speed grabbing White’s gun arm and jerking the gun from her forehead. White fired off two shots into the still night air. Max caught him solidly in the jaw with another quick hit. White shook it off like it was nothing, feinting twice left and then using Max’s momentum against her to toss her down onto the cold hard metal of the Space Needle. “Too slow, 452.”

She sprang up, running on pure adrenaline now, and kicked the gun from it his hands. White shrugged and pulled himself into a fighting crouch. “You can’t beat me,” he said slowly.

He moved with the barest limp, his left side still weak from the fall. She couldn’t help but think there should be a bigger outward sign: crushed cheekbones or hideously disfiguring scars of reconstruction surgery but the only visible signs of the fall were the fading scars on his cheek and an almost unnoticeable limp.

She doubted Alec would make it out that cleanly. She doubted Alec would even survive the fall.

Logan was lying a few feet to her left, a thin trail of blood leaking from his mouth.

Her momentary distraction cost her as White’s fist sliced through the still air, lightning fast, clipping her cheek. She retaliated with a feint left followed by a solid right hook that connected with his jaw that sent his head snapping backwards.

“Harsh, 452,” White taunted, “That almost hurt.”

She dropped low and tried to take his legs out from under him, but he saw the move coming and easily stepped out of the way and delivered a solid kick to her head.

Max reeled back, sliding all the way to the edge of the Space Needle, stars dancing in her vision as she gazed past the Seattle skyline and towards the ground. The scene spun under her, twisting and swirling with astonishing speed.

White approached from behind her, footsteps clomping metallically on the ground. She forced herself to move, flipping over his head and landing on her feet, White turned quickly and delivered a solid blow to her stomach before she could completely regain her balance. She doubled of over instinctively, gasping for breath. Black invaded her vision. White wasted no time while he had the advantage and threw her twenty feet to the side. She landed roughly, bouncing twice and hear a small crack that could only be a rib.

White rushed at her, coming with unnatural speed to finish the job. Max raised both her legs and kicked him in the stomach, propelling him over her. He rolled smoothly when he hit the ground and stood as he complete the roll. Max couldn’t help but think her training must have slipped or something because she hadn’t had her ass-kicked this bad since the Reds were in town.

She pushed herself onto all fours, broken ribs protesting vehemently. The gun she’d knocked from White’s hands was lying a few feet away. Without thinking about it, she grabbed it, hands clutching the cold metal. She couldn’t help but feel the unwanted memories sweeping over her.

Max didn’t do guns. Just touching the thing made her physically ill. She swept the gun off of the Space Needle, comforted by the fact that Cy’s vision had no means of coming to pass.

Only, she suddenly realized as she pulled herself laboriously back to her feet White still had a gun. He always carried at least two. Max didn’t know how she could have possibly forgotten.

Her heart lurched. White had it pointed at Logan’s prone form.

She had no doubt that White wouldn’t even hesitate before pulling the trigger. “One move, 452,” he said venomously, “and I blow your boyfriend’s head off.”

She hated guns. “I’ll take you out before you can fire,” she threatened. “You won’t even know what hit you.”

“You’re bluffing,” White said calmly. “I’ll put a bullet into Cale here before you even decided to move. But being the reasonable guy that I am, I’m willing to cut you a deal. Surrender, and I’ll let Cale here live to see another day.”

Live, her mind chided. She couldn’t even tell if he was still breathing.

“We’re not like that,” Max bluffed. “Why would I care about some pathetic ordinary?”

“Tick-tock,” White mocked, not buying the act for a second. “Time’s running out.”

A bullet would probably be the kindest thing for Logan at this point. It would put him out of his misery.

She raised her hands in defeat. “Fine, you win. Just don’t hurt him anymore.”

A sneer twisted its way across White’s features as, keeping the gun trained on Logan, he moved towards her.

“And to think Sandeman had such high hopes for you. He would have been disappointed, his protégé failed him so completely.”

White placed the barrel of the gun firmly on Max’s forehead.

She hoped to God Logan was still breathing.

“Goodbye 452,” White said.

A shot rang out in darkness and for a fraction of a second, Max was sure she was dead, sure she was lying there in a pool of her own blood just like Cy had predicted. She could feel the sticky red blood splattered across her face.

And then White swayed, like sheets floating in the mid-summer’s breeze, forward and back and to Max’s surprise, she noticed the was a gaping hole in his head. An jagged exit wound that had torn half his face clean off.

He collapsed suddenly, entire body giving way all and once and falling in a sort of hap-hazard mess of limbs.

Behind him she could see Alec struggling to pull himself up onto the Space Needle, gun clutched in his off hand. Alec who was not dead. Alec who must have grabbed the safety netting and survived against all odds. “A little help here, Maxie?” he asked. “I’m having issues with my gunshot wound.”

She hurried over, grabbed his arm and pulled him up.

“Is he dead?” Alec asked.

Max nodded mutely. There wasn’t enough left of him to be reconstructed.

Alec rocked a little as he pushed himself to his feet. “I think I’m going to go make sure. You should check on ghost boy over there.”

As Max made her way over Logan, she heard Alec fire another three rounds into White’s corpse, banishing his demons, ending his torture once and for all.

She was afraid to touch Logan, afraid to move him for fear of aggravating one his countless injuries. Even close up, she couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

She rolled him over, groping for a pulse.

Alec stumbled towards her. “Is he alive?”

There was a rhythm, slow and erratic, but there. “Not for long at this rate,” she mumbled. “We need to get him to a hospital.”

“How are we going to explain this to the cops?” Alec asked.

“We’ll figure something out,” Max said, frantically searching for a way to stop some of the bleeding. “I don’t think he can last much longer.”

Logan’s eyes were shut. There were tiny cuts surrounding his closed eyes, the only remaining sign of his shattered glasses.

“If you die on me after all this,” Max hissed into his ear. “I’m going to find a way to bring you back and kill you again.”

Logan didn’t respond.

Chapter Text

Max had been two steps away from leaving again. From cutting Logan Cale out of her life once and for all. She’d done in before, in memory if not in practice. She’d seen the shooting, seen Logan lying beaten on the pavement and she didn’t remember ever going to see him again.

It was the easy way out. It would definitely be the safe way to go. Logan had been a target because he knew her.

It was Alec who’d stopped her on the seventh day. He’d cut her off before she’d left for work one day and said, “He’s awake you know. I went to see him last night. He’s been asking for you.”

Max had been taken aback by the knowledge, even though it shouldn’t have surprised her in the least. “You went to see him?” she asked. “Why?”

Alec rolled his eyes and said, “The guy was abducted, beaten and tortured. He comes back only to find that all memory of him has been wiped off the face of the Earth. He’s going to have a rough enough time getting his life back without having to do it alone.” He frowned. “From what the guy said, we were never tight, but I think he appreciated the company. It wasn’t like anyone else came to see him.”

“Why would he even want to see me? I almost got him killed… a couple seconds later and he would have been…” She swallowed hard. “He’s going to hate me because I can’t remember.”

“Max.” Alec put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “The way the guy waxes poetry about you, I don’t think he cares.”

Even then she’d been reluctant to go visit him. Even after days of having him haunt her every step, she still feared the emotions that accompanied his presence. Everything about him was more intense, more real that anything she’d ever felt before.

Maybe that was why, in the end, she hadn’t been able to stay away.

Logan’s hospital room—267—was a small private room, with a window overlooking the city. She’d run into Sam Carr on the way to the room. With a small, disbelieving smile he’d informed her that Logan seemed to be out of the woods. “I still don’t understand what happened. This whole thing’s a logistical nightmare. Remember that virus of yours?”

Max nodded.

“It was targeted to his DNA. I didn’t catch it before since the guy was deceased. It doesn’t make any sense.” Sam shook his head in amazement. “I swear to you, Logan Cale was dead on my operating table three years ago. It’s like some sort of miracle.”

She’d nodded a vague agreement and moved past the doctor and towards the room. The door was cracked open, but she couldn’t see the bed from her angle. She hesitated for a split second, again considering flight, but remained rooted to the spot. “There nothing to be afraid of,” she whispered to herself even as the irrational terror swept through her.

She pushed the door open and slid inside. Logan was sitting up in the hospital bed, right arm in a cast, scabs and bruises covering almost all of his visible skin. She counted over sixty stitches on his left arm alone, souvenirs of White’s knife. The cuts that hadn’t needed stitches were scabbed over, thick red lines that threatened to break open with any sudden movement. The mess of bruises covering his face had faded from a bright purple to a sickly yellow-green, but the swelling around his eyes had subsided and she could see his clear, green-blue gaze peaking out from under his glasses. “Logan,” she said cautiously.

“Max,” he replied, face splitting into a painfully wide smile. “I was wondering when you’d stop by.”

“I wanted to make sure you were still alive,” she mumbled, inexplicably nervous. “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly,” Logan said as he adjusted his glasses—different frames than she was used to seeing, they seemed to swallow his face—and smiled faintly. “I feel great although I have the sneaking suspicion that it’s from the morphine.” He paused, staring at her. “You know, you can actually come in if you want,” he offered, beckoning her inside with his good arm.

She moved past the doorframe to the seat by his bed, trying not to stare at the stitches.

“Alec came by yesterday,” Logan began hesitantly. “I’ve got to say, he’s a lot easier to talk to now that he doesn’t know who I am. It was nice to see someone who wasn’t a doctor or the cops. It turns out coming back from the dead is a big deal around these parts.” He said it easily, almost in passing, but his face betrayed how much the idea bothered him. “I managed to pull a few strings to keep it out of the papers; it turns out Eyes Only still has some friends around. Matt Sung says he’s going to try and keep this case off the record. If I can stay dead officially, I might actually have a chance to get Eyes Only back up and running. But if his reappearance coincides with Logan Cale’s there’s going to be some suspicion…” He trailed off, looking away from her, suddenly fascinated with the loose string on the thin white bed sheets. Max realized that he was just as nervous as she was.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted suddenly. “I should have got there sooner. It was my fault you almost died.”

“I didn’t exactly make things easy on you,” Logan admitted. “ I knew they were looking to spring a trap. I didn’t want you getting hurt.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Believe me,” Logan chuckled. “I know.”

His response sent her quickly back into silence. His words jarred her with their intimacy. He knew her, but there was still a big, blank void where her memories of him should have been. She’d half hoped that coming here would unlock something, that actually physically seeing him would bring the memories tumbling back. That hadn’t been the case.

But even thought the whole scene felt foreign to her, she could tell that there was something here. It was in the way that her heart jumped when he smiled, in the way she could actually relax when she was around him and in the way that, despite everything, she’d come back to see him.

“You still don’t remember,” Logan observed quietly. “It’s all right. I didn’t expect you to.”

“I thought it was all going to come rushing back,” she admitted.

“Guess we have to start over then, don’t we?” Logan turned slightly in his hospital bed so that he could face her and smirked as he extended him good arm. “Logan Cale,” he said ironically, “and I must say that it’s a much better introduction than last time when we had a gun and that statue between us.”

She regarded him with surprise for a long moment before finally taking his hand. “Max, and the pleasure is all mine.”

“You dropped the Guevara,” he teased wryly. “I like it, very Madonna.”

Max smiled. There was something here. Something between them that nothing could touch, no matter how much happened. “Should I be worried about being compared to some trashy pre-pulse singer?”

He didn’t bother answering, just gave her a small, shy smile, that crumbled half of her carefully constructed walls in one go.

“So how long before they let you out of this joint?”

“Sam says another week if I promise to be a good boy and take it easy.” Logan laughed. “If he actually remembered what kind of patient I am, he’d have already sentenced me to a month. I have a tendency to overdo it.”

There was something here.

“I’ll be here to keep you in check,” Max promised.

Logan gave her a charming, boyish smile. “I’ll take you up on that offer.”

There had always been something here.

And no matter what happened, it wasn’t going anywhere.