Week of the Cat: Friday, Part III

[seamagik]

Command was empty. Well, not empty. It wasn't nearly as crowded as usual though. By now word of Peta and Jay's fight would have gotten around. Which meant everyone knew that the alphas would be livid, and they would be staying far away from wherever said alphas liked to hang out. Namely, here. Mole looked up from his conversation as Max very carefully walked in. Walked, not stomped, despite her desire to do so. She tried to avoid conversation anyway, too annoyed to make the effort to stop on her way to her office.

“How's she doing?” Mole called at her when it became clear she was in a mood and wouldn't be stopping to chit-chat.

Peta? Right. There were bigger things going on right now than Max's twisted love life. She paused at the hallway door and glanced over her shoulder to sigh, “She was speaking, at least.”

Mole nodded and she turned to watch as Carter's lean form shuddered in sympathy. A busted lung wasn't the most pleasant injury to have. She had a feeling most transgenics would prefer a bullet in any of their slightly less essential extremities. God knows they'd all probably dealt with one or two of those in their lifetime. She was tempted to sigh again. What sad, messed up lives they all led.

“We'll have to punish her, you know.” Mole said it blandly, because he knew Max wouldn't take it well, especially if she really was in a mood. But it was the truth and there was no helping it.

Max's eyes snapped up to Mole's carefully neutral face as he and Carter came closer. She searched him for an expression for a long moment but gave up soon after. He was the one that had raced to come find them after Peta's injury after all, most likely threatening Logan with bodily harm to get their location out of the cyber journalist. She really didn't think the reptilian transhuman was any happier about the situation than she was. Cut it and dice it anyway you like, though, there was an unspoken agreement amongst all the alphas that liked to lounge about command: They could not and would not condone mate fights.

...But Peta was in the hospital for god's sakes.

Her free hand came up and Max rubbed at her face in frustration. The stupid CD that Alec had tossed at her was still in the other hand, held gingerly despite her sudden desire to crush something.

Carter sighed as well, running a hand through sandy brown hair as he stated the obvious. “Well, this sucks.”

Mole's exasperated eyes rolled over to the X-4 standing next to him. “Well, thanks for that intelligent observation, jackass. Got any more gem's hiding up your sleeve, ready for the group?”

Carter scowled back, obviously tense. “Hey, don't get mad at me because your lesbian girlfriend got busted up by one of her own people.”

“Shut up both of you,” Max snapped, her hand dropping back to her side. “You're right, it does suck, but the last thing we need right now is more fighting. There are bigger problems out there, remember? Like, say, the Familiars that want us all dead?”

“Which is exactly why we can't let this go unpunished.” Mole argued back. “It's one thing to knock Janna around on the training mats. It's another to have a brawl in the city streets and get yourself injured.”

Max's cheeks deepened to red. So, the story was spreading faster than she'd realized; if Mole was willing to let that little statement out in public, it must be common knowledge by now. “Right.” She said stiffly. Carter's face split into a devious smile as his gaze shot towards his leader. He'd been itching for days to have it confirmed that Max had claimed Alec. Well, this was the closest he'd be getting to the truth so he'd better enjoy it now.

“Have someone round up Jay, put him under house arrest.” Max ignored Carter's smile, glancing at him in all seriousness. With the sun rapidly rising, it would be his crew that would have to do the dirty work. “And I want a 24 hour guard posted outside of Peta's door.”

Carter nodded, his face becoming solemn once more. “Sure thing, Max.” He started to step away, but paused. “By the way,” He nodded towards her blackened eyebrow. “Nice shiner.”

Max sighed, her hand coming up to unconsciously press at the tender flesh around her eye. Her gaze shifted back to Mole and she forced her hand back down. “House arrest will have to do for now.” She offered as way of explanation for the command she'd given to the other man. “Until we figure out what the fall-out from all this mess is. It'll at least give us the semblance of doing something.”

“And it will give us time to figure out what we'll really need to do if it comes to that.” Mole added dryly.

“For now, get the word out that the two of them are both on lock-down while we figure this bitch out.” Max paused, her eyes connecting with his. “This was the first time it happened, so we'll let it slide. We have to. But from here on out, let them know if they want to fight over something so stupid, they can do it on the outside.”

“Outside?” Mole questioned. “What, you mean like exile?”

“Exactly.” Max nodded sharply. Peta was her friend. But she had a thousand mouths to feed and children to protect and she just couldn't appear soft on this kind of behavior. Not when she had politicians and Familiars breathing down her neck. “And that goes for anyone that thinks brawling on the streets sounds like a good idea. Tell them to save it for the Familiars.”

“I'll get the word out, Princess. But I think maybe you need to tell Peta yourself.”

Fair enough.

She only felt a little bit like a hypocrite as she stalked back to her office. Her ribcage was, after all, covered in nearly faded yellow bruising from her own jealousy-fueled fight with Janna.

There was a difference, though, between the gym session she'd had with Janna and the street brawl that had erupted between Jay and Peta, and it wouldn't be hard for the people that'd been there to recognize what that difference was.

The final blow that had knocked Janna away from her that day on the training mat had been pulled; there'd been enough strength behind it to give Max the victory without permanently crushing the taller woman's nose. While Max wished Janna had been kinder to her ribcage, the blonde hadn't actually broken anything, either. Janna wasn't exactly lacking in strength. She'd been more than capable of fracturing Max's ribs into a million teeny tiny little pieces; but she hadn't. She was a mean bitch, to be sure, but Janna knew where the boundaries were and she hadn't crossed them. Max wished Jay had been smart enough to do the same.

The door slammed behind her and she sank into her office chair, suddenly tired. She tossed the CD to her desktop, watching it skid across loose papers.

If she'd been here, last night, would she have been able to stop that fight? Had it been inevitable? Max didn't know, but she couldn't help that small part of herself that felt responsible. Damn it, she should have been here.

She didn't know what actually made her feel more guilty; the fact that she'd been outside of T.C. on a side mission for Eyes Only, or that she'd been locked up in a closet, making out with Alec. 'Making Out' being an incredibly p.c. term for what they'd actually been doing. The memory of the closet made her thoughts take a sudden left turn, and not in the fun, tingly sort of way.

God, how was she supposed to face Logan now? Her dark eyes stared moodily at the CD, shimmering in the soft morning sun.

She wondered if she could truncate 'date night.'

Maybe she could swing in, toss the CD at him, and get the hell out of there before he started asking her why she looked so damn guilty. Because she would look guilty, she knew she would. If she hadn't been so broody, she might have let out a short, bitter laugh. A long time ago, she'd spilled her guts about Heat all over his penthouse floor. And they hadn't even been dating then! What now, now that they'd been dancing around hopeless circumstances for the better part of two or three years?

She was so incredibly screwed. Maybe he'd forgiven her back then: She knew he would not forgive her this. Not now after all this time, not when she wasn't in Heat, not when it was Alec.

Logan had always been a little wary of Alec and not just because of the transgenic's ability to wrangle up trouble; Alec's flippant nature and easy charm and Max's stubborn refusal to admit to his good looks and the spark of chemistry when they swatted angrily at one another... it's why Logan had so easily believed that Max could cheat on him with the X-5. She wasn't looking forward to having the same conversation with her on-again off-again boyfriend again... Especially since this time she actually would be in the wrong. Max swallowed in sudden dread, already having a pretty good idea how well 'date night' was going to go over.

Hard, angry blue eyes. Twisted, bitter mouth. Raised voice, how could you do this when we've waited so long?

Or, maybe worse.

Big, sad blue eyes. Soft, bitter accusations. Hanging head, how could you do this when we've waited so long?

Both scenarios sent a knot of anxiety twisting in her gut. This was not going to be easy. But there was no helping it, because she would have to be honest with Logan. She owed it to him.

...But did it really have to be tonight?

Given how much she sucked at lying, probably.

For a moment, she envied Alec's easy ability at untruths. Then thought better of it when she remembered Alec had been trained to assassinate Manticore's enemies and had enough built up angst hidden in that skull of his to power a dozen regency era fem-lit 101 novels.

Alec.

It was easy to recognize the instantaneous hi-jacking of her thoughts. Why was she even thinking about Alec in the first place, why had her thoughts twisted so easily to him? She vindictively hoped he was at home in bed, tossing and turning and unable to sleep. Was it petty? Maybe. But as the brooding mood passed and fire bloomed in her chest, Max became acutely aware of not only her anger but also her acute embarrassment.

She'd practically offered herself up to him on a silver platter.

And he'd turned her down.

She pushed away from her desk, fist clenching in sudden agitation. What had she been thinking? How could she be so stupid? For a moment she wished there was a Familiar around, someone she could pummel without any repercussions. Max recognized the heightened aggression stemming from the one way Claim, but there was little she could do about it, save keep it in check. Well, that wasn't entirely true. There was something she could do. She could do like Jeri had suggested, what felt like a lifetime ago. She could release him.

No no no no nononono.

“You don't need him,” She whispered harshly into the silence of her office. The jungle cat was protesting, no, no, want him, need him. Well, he certainly doesn't need you, her mind snarled back. He has women, plenty of women, willing to scoop him up and put their pearly white canines all over him.

None that he wants. None that are you.

That line of reasoning was ridiculous and almost made her scoff. Alec, want her? Well, yes, physically, there was no denying that, not after this week... But actually want her? For more than a night, or a week, or a month? Because she needed more than that one good night, that one fantastic fling. And there was no denying, it would be fantastic... at least until she woke up one morning and realized it couldn't last. Because it never lasted. None of his relationships ever had... and neither had any of hers.

And neither had any of hers.

She cursed, finally standing as Alec's voice came unbidden to her mind. 'Three times, Max. Three times in the last six months, I've watched you break up with Logan.'

And as she stomped toward the window, her own thought bubbled to the surface: When Jeri had sprung the news of the potential cure on them, 'What's a few more years?!' She'd thought it despondently after Logan had asked her that same thing, her last hope of a half-forgotten dream turning to ash in her mouth. 'She couldn’t last two more years! ...God, she didn’t even know if she could last two more days.'

That'd only been yesterday. It was not lost on her that today was only Friday. She hadn't even made it the two days. She'd barely made it 24 hours. Some hard, bitter part of herself wanted to laugh, and laugh and laugh.

The laugh died in her throat before it could escape.

He'd told her to end it...

“I don't share,” He'd warned her.

How could he say that and not mean more than just one night?

Maybe he just didn't want to be the bad guy again. Maybe he knew she needed to come straight with Logan and end it without dragging Alec into things as the fall guy. Hadn't he said love was a myth, a fairy tale, a child's movie; beautiful as an escapist's dream but not able to stand up to the gray light of day? What kind of girl would want to be attached to that kind of gloomy reality? She would have to be the biggest damn idiot to ever be spliced together in Manticore's DNA lab and Max was relatively sure that she was no idiot. Usually, anyway.

But maybe Alec was right. Maybe love, the unending forever sort-of-kind, was a fairy tale.

...And if that was true and if he was right, damn him for it. She scrubbed a hand savagely at her angry eyes, eyes that were stubbornly refusing to shed tears for Logan or for herself or for the supposed loss of True Love, a love that felt more like empty, tired frustration, tinged with fear and guilt. The lack of sadness soured her mood even more. So while she was at it, her thoughts blazed merrily along, damn Logan for guilt-tripping her into this date, too! Damn Marcy, and Janna, and Peta, and Jay, and the Virus, and Manticore, and the scientists that had fucked them all.

At the end of it, Max's eyes were still dry, still hard, and the only one she was truly damning was herself.

And she still didn't have anyone she was allowed to hit.

So when the call came in that they'd gotten a 9-1-1 from a X-6 on the east side of Seattle proper being hunted by Familiars... well, Max was the first out the door.

Alec slept in fits and starts. In his dreams, she was always with him. Her fingers tripped across his neck. Her teeth tugged at his skin... It was incredibly, incredibly frustrating. Especially when he kept waking up, uncomfortably aware that he was alone and he did not want to be. Finally he gave up, rolling to his back, his eyes slowly opening. He stared past the ceiling for a moment, brooding, his mind far away from his small apartment.

He could be holed up with Max right now, he thought moodily to himself. He could have carried her the rest of the way to her place from that damn alleyway. He could have locked the door behind him. He could have kept her in bed so long, she wouldn't have even remembered her stupid 'date night.' When her pager started blowing up, he could have accidentally tossed it out the window. He rolled to his side and punched the pillow before flopping back down into it. His glare fell on the empty half of the bed next to him. Stupid. He flopped back over to his other side, glaring at the morning sunshine streaming through his window instead. Much better.

Alec had always liked sex, and booze, and fun, and shiny things, and adrenaline... He liked the easy things. The fun things. He liked being Outside and he liked being free. And now that he'd been out of Manticore for a while, had sown most of his wild oats, he liked the hard things, too. He liked responsibility and leading. He liked being dependable and worthy, liked knowing that he had other people's backs just as much as they had his. So, yes, Alec liked a great number of things... but to 'like' is not to crave. He'd never actually craved before. Not the way he craved her. The smell of her. The feel of her skin under his fingertips. The sound of her breath in his ear.

The closest thing he could compare it to was a one-time occurrence when he was 13. An X-4 had started dumping hormones and, even at that age, the want that had shocked his system had made him wide-eyed and dumb. The trainers had got to her, pulling her into the med labs for a suppressant before any X series could take advantage of the situation, but the feeling had stayed with him, had shocked him to the core. It was the first time he'd recognized that he was more than just fast and strong and intelligent, that the animal had supplied him with something Manticore could not account for. He hadn't liked that feeling, the loss of control.

That's how he knew none of this was real.

He'd never craved before, so how could he possibly crave her? It was all the animal, he decided, turning him into a big chump just as it had so many years ago.

Which brought him to his current thought: Maybe he'd been wrong in the alleyway. Maybe it wasn't her that was living in some kind of fairytale. Maybe it was him. Maybe he was the idiot. Maybe it really was True Love, maybe that's why Max kept running back to that sanctimonious, yellow-haired, pasty-faced...

That spark of anger and jealousy was also the Claim talking, he tried to convince himself, letting out a slow breath. Maybe love did exist. Just because he never got happy endings didn't necessarily mean that they didn't exist. His one experience with love, well... he'd realized too late that he'd loved Rachel Berrisford. After she'd died it hadn't taken him long to realize the truth; he remembered staring at her grave, walking away with the knowledge hounding every step.

Rachel Berrisford hadn't loved him.

No, she hadn't loved him, she'd loved Simon Lehane, a charming, mild-mannered piano teacher that was too good looking for a 17-year-old to ignore. And when presented with the truth, she'd run screaming in the other direction. Maybe that's why he'd never talked to Max about Rachel. It was too raw. Too embarrassing and heart-breaking. He'd given a lot of himself to her over the last year and a half. He did not know if he was ready to give her that, his biggest shame. He'd killed the one woman he'd loved; one that had never really loved him in return. Surely happy endings couldn't exist for someone like him.

Or maybe he had craved before.

He remember Rachel looking up at him, saying softly, I love you. His hands had shook. He had wanted it to be true, but maybe even then he'd realized she could not love what she did not know.

He rolled out of bed, his bare feet gingerly touching the uncarpeted floor of his bedroom.

Does Max know me? He found himself wondering. She'd seen him at his worst, his lows after breathing in the heady air of disorientation and freedom post-Manticore. She'd also seen him at his best. For every time she'd saved his butt, hadn't he slunk back to save hers? Hadn't he stepped up, hadn't he remembered the man he actually was and helped her lead what many others thought would be a losing war? Hadn't they grown? From enemies, to frenemies, and finally to friends?

Was he really going to stand aside and let her fix things with Logan again?

His feet flattened surely against the cold floor as he stood and crossed his room to grab for his boots and jacket.

Whatever steam had powered him out of his apartment and to Command started to flag when he got there and found her gone... without him. A 9-1-1 and she hadn't even thought to call him? He was just a little put out (even though he knew he shouldn't be). She could more then take care of herself and they ran separate missions all the time... but still he was a little peeved. Especially now that he was dressed and out of bed with nothing to do. And now that he was up and about, the doubt was going to creep in.

What would he have done when he'd found her anyway? Flung open her office door and told her not to go have spaghetti with Logan? To come have macaroni n' cheese with him instead? The thought almost made his cheeks color in embarrassment. He was almost entirely convinced that he was just acting like a chump (again) by the time he stepped back out of Command. His narrowed eyes and pursed lips gazed down the length of the street. He could go out there. Go give her back up. Except someone had already paged to say that they'd picked up a girl and were heading back.

So he could wait. He could be sitting in her office, glaring, when she got back...

But he was kind of tired of having conversations that went round n' round and never went anywhere. Tired of running away, or of watching her run away. Tired of staring the truth in the face day after day: he was delaying sex for hope of a feeling.

Chump.

Jeri had her feet kicked up on the desk, her neck lolling backwards, her mouth open in sleep. Alec shook his head, walked past her and into the hallway. He frowned a little bit at the the X-4 leaning against the wall outside of Peta's door. The guy just nodded back, like it was no big deal, and Alec suddenly had a feeling that he knew why he was there. He thought that posting a guard on a woman with a punctured lung was a little bit of a joke, not like she'd be running anywhere, but he could sort of understand it even if he didn't have to like it.

Peta glared at him as he walked through the door. Guess she was full on anti-social mode. But he didn't care. Just shrugged and sank into a worn plastic chair at her bedside, propping his feet up on her cot. They stared at each other, challenging, for a few moments, before Alec finally opened his mouth to speak...

And was immediately interrupted by the small fiery blonde that swept in, freezing Peta in shock. Alec's head turned to look at Clara, seething by the doorway. Well, she said she'd be back. Alec just hadn't realizeed she'd meant so soon.

“How could you?”

Alec started to protest, but Peta silenced him with a wave of her hand, her olive eyes fixated on the woman at the door.

Her arched eyebrow asked the question for her. How could I what? She wheezed out, “Is this because I ruined your sex life?”

Alec winced, having a feeling that Peta must have gotten in a good kick to Jay's unmentionables. Transgenic females. He was tempted to sigh. They certainly never pulled any punches. Guess it came with being kind of the leaders of the pack. Clara didn't find it amusing.

“Shut up! Just shut up. Everything's always a joke to to you.”

Peta struggled to sit up and Alec's feet dropped from her cot as he reached for her, but she ignored him. She made it up on her own, fixing the small blonde with a dead stare. Clara's brown eyes moved over her former lover's bruised body, anger shining in their depths.

“What were you thinking, Peta? He's twice your speed! Why would you provoke him like that?”

“Why do you think?” Peta asked quietly.

“Oh no, don't try to pin this on me,” Clara protested, her eyes narrowing. “You're the one that cheated on me, remember?”

“And why do you think that was?” Peta snarled back.

Alec remembered Peta once mentioning it to him as a joke, in an off-hand way that let him know it really bugged her. He's the father of my child and he has to be a part of my life. Peta had mockingly said it could practically be Clara's motto, the other woman said it so much. Alec was tempted to excuse himself. He had a feeling things were about to get ugly. He heard the X-4 in the hallway clear his throat awkwardly, probably thinking the same thing. And that reminded him of the poor security guard at the Pier and Max making all those delightful noises. Alec cleared his throat, uncomfortable now for two reasons.

“That's not fair,” Clara retaliated, oblivious.

“No,” Peta frowned. “What wasn't fair was that you claimed to love me but always chose him first.”

“He's Nina's father!”

“That doesn't mean he has to be your Mate!”

“Oh, like you would want the responsibility.”

“I love Nina,” Peta shouted, her voice a slick, pained wheeze, and Alec figured that this argument was descending into new lows. “Don't even go there!” She descended into a rattling cough, and Alec was alarmed to see blood on the woman's hand when she pulled it away. Clara paused, pre-rant, and her face became neutral, a sure sign she was controlling her expression.

Alec had seen enough. He stood, his shoulders flexing slightly with an accompanying sigh. He was practically twice her size and he let her know it. “Okay, honey. You've caused enough trouble for one day.”

She glared at him, acknowledging his presence for the first time, but he had more than enough status on her and was able to easily ignore it. “If you want to fight with her,” He said blandly, “Can you at least wait until her lung has healed?” He glanced telling at her Peta's hand, at the red droplets, and Clara followed his gaze.

That gave her pause, didn't it. She froze, her blue eyes glancing across Peta. What was her deal? She came all this way to fight Peta and now was playing concerned? Alec vaguely wondered why Peta didn't just choose Sara and be done with it. When Peta's eyes closed in weary unhappiness after Clara swept out, he had a feeling he knew why.

"What a bitch," he muttered after her.

"Shut up, Alec." Peta wheezed and he happily obliged.

Guess love makes chumps of us all.

The fight had been almost non-existent, but the coiled energy in her body was mostly gone. They'd scooped the girl up with little trouble and booked it back to T.C. just as fast as they could. The Familiars had given chase but had broken off as they'd neared the chainlink protecting the inner city. Not even Familiars were dumb enough to try and break the barrier in onesies-twosies. They usually saved their strength for full-on raids. Well, let them keep coming. Max would be more than happy to keep dumping their dumb asses naked on the other side of the fence.

“Max.”

The silken voice startled her from her thought, and she had to glance about the shadows of the med group, not that there were many, for a moment. The X-6 she had left in Jeri's care had a young, high voice, so surely this was not her. Max's startled brown eyes met swirling grey and she relaxed. The dark grey eyes seemed almost out of place on the Korean appearing face, but as no one was really able to meet the woman's gaze for long, it hardly ever got brought up. Switch, Max's alpha contact with the empaths, was leaning in shadow against the wall near the hallway, having materialized, seemingly, from nowhere.

Switch was always doing that, using shadows that weren't there to sneak up on her. It seemed to amuse some dark humor within the shorter woman. What Switch didn't tell Max was that when she lost in brooding thought, as she had just been, a herd of elephants could have tip-toed through the shadows and Max wouldn't have noticed. Dry sense of humor that she had, she prefered to keep it to herself. She just offered Max a small, secretive smile, and Max thought, not for the first time, that Switch was absolutely nothing like Mia.

Where Mia had flagrantly abused her short-term powers of telecoercion, Switch safely guarded her far stronger hypnotic abilities. Where Mia had been full-bodied and bubbly and utterly two-faced, Switch was lithe and silent and as honest as they came when she did choose to talk. Where Mia had shoulder-length, bouncy brown hair to match her annoyingly perky personality, Switch frequently wore her long, straight black hair pulled back into a tight braid, a hairstyle that seemed to match her somber personality. Alec sometimes joked that if gothic vampires had really existed, Korean appearing or no, Switch is undoubtedly the person that would have wanted to be. Max was tempted to agree.

“Haven't seen you in a while.” Max nodded.

The empaths didn't really like 'hanging out.' Manticore had liked using the power of the empaths against their own kind, something that they and other transgenics never seemed to forgot. T.C. wasn't always one big happy family, Max knew, but she still wished those handful of empaths she did have were able to take a more active role. As it was, Switch usually popped up when the situation demanded, helped out, then blended back into obscurity until she was needed again... or at least until the next command meeting, which she usually spent leaned backwards in her chair, snoring softly. God, if she wasn't so useful and usually so serious, Max would swear she was obnoxious on purpose.

Switch blinked big gray cats' eyes, and remained leaning, as aloof as ever. “Heard the 9-1-1, wondered if the girl would need any help.” She sighed in a much-suffering way. “Jeri and her assistant have got her well in hand, though.”

Max had a feeling she knew what that sigh was about. Jeri had a big problem with empaths. Politeness, which wasn't her strong suit to begin with, usually went straight out the door when one of the psychically gifted walked through same said door. There was probably history there but Max had never had the time, or patience, to delve into it. Sometimes Max wished that other transgenics could be more like Alec. Despite his experiences, he'd accepted the empaths almost as easily as he had the transhumans. Almost. Even he had been a little tense a few days after the first empath had been forced into T.C.'s protections by a gunshot wound. Max had cured him of most of his misgivings by barreling right in and offering friendship to the nervous young boy and what choice did he have but to follow suit with a bemused shake of his head?

Switch eyes swept across Max's face for a small moment, then she smiled slowly. “Alec's back there, you know.”

Max started. Then snapped, defensive, “What, now you're psychic too?”

“No,” Switch's smile remained light and close-lipped. “But I'm not stupid, and I enjoy listening to the rumors just as much as anyone else. Probably more so, since I don't get out much.”

“What goes on between me and Alec-” Max started to sigh.

“Is now everyone else's business, because if things go south there'll be repercussions that will echo in our chain of command.” Switch interrupted smoothly. Her eyes again did that sweeping search across Max's face. Switch didn't like making eye contact, but probably only because it made other people visibly uncomfortable. Probably had something to do with the way her iris's seemed fluid, like the gray of her eyes was moving like smoke across dark water.

“Well, don't let it bother you,” Max shook her head. She didn't lie to Switch, because what was the point? The shorter woman always seemed to know, anyway. “Alec and I are just friends.”

The memory of his hand, sliding beneath her jeans. His breath against her ear. Her face colored, but her voice had remained level, and for that Max gave herself props.

“It must have been Marcy, then.” Switch deduced immediately. “Alec wouldn't have a problem breaking things off with Janna, but Marcy is too sweet. He'd have a hard time hurting her.”

Jealousy flared in her chest, fiery and sharp like a red-hot knife. Marcy. Marcy was always the threat, wasn't she. Where was Marcy? But Switch interrupted Max's dark, animal musings with some truth.

“If you break the claim, you know there'll be no going back to the way things were before.”

Max opened her mouth to protest, but it died, because Switch was pushing up one dark gray sleeve, and there on the inside of her wrist, a faded scar.

Switch smiled grimly at the mark. “I loved him. But he was Normal, and I couldn't bear the way people looked at him for being with me.”

“You mated to a human? I didn't even know that was possible.” Max glanced again at the mark. It was almost impossible to tell what the scar had once been. It didn't even look like teeth, pale marks that they were against even paler skin. Would that happen to the mark on Alec? Would it fade and soften and be forgotten?

Switch shoved her long sleeve back down. “No, he was not a human. That is impossible. He was a Normal, like you.”

It hit her fairly quickly. Max was tempted to laugh. Some transgenics called humans Ordinaries. That empaths called transgenics without psychic abilities Normals.... well, guess there was more than one side to every coin. “Who was he?”

Switch sighed softly. “Doesn't matter now. I imagine he's somewhere in Canada, holed up with somebody else.” Switch met her eyes, just for a moment, swirling gray colliding with troubled brown. “Just remember Max, for every happy ending, there is always a sad one. If you let Alec go, there will be a Marcy waiting in the wings for him, just as surely as there will be someone waiting for you. But it won't be the same.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Max eyed her empath alpha warily. “That's pretty direct of you. Don't you usually leave it at a metaphor, disappear, and wait for me to figure out everything on my own a week later?”

“You don't have a week.” Switch arched one dark eyebrow. “You have a few days at most. If you really did Claim Alec to save him from Marcy, it was meant to be a temporary arrangement at best. To be honest, I'm not being altruistic. Mostly I just don't want to see the chain of command shaken when you two have your falling out.” She paused, and admitted grudgingly,“Plus, I like you. You remind me of him, oddly enough. He was like you in a way, always optimistically rushing into things that he didn't fully understand.” Switch smiled quickly, sadly, before her face firmed up and she was back to being as mysterious as usual, her eyes lingering on Max's.

And then Max blinked, and Switch was gone. Max cursed. She hated when the other woman did that. She could sort of forgive her the mind mojo though. That was probably the most Switch had ever opened herself up before so she could forgive her the quick escape this once. She couldn't forgive her that Switch had timed it well enough that Alec was walking out of the hallway just as Max was blinking and clearing the momentary fog.

“Max?” Alec questioned.

“I just-” She was tempted to tell him 'I just got mind tricked.' She was tempted to tell him the Switch had put in her customary weekly two-minute appearance, command meeting naps not included, and wasn't as aloof as she sometimes seemed. She was tempted to tell him to keep the hell away from Marcy for the rest of his ever-living life. Instead she stuttered and panicked, her eyes caught in his green gaze. “I gotta go.”

Maybe it was just the hopelessness of seeing Peta and Clara. But he caught her gloved hand easily enough. Maybe it was just the way Switch had looked down at the faded scar on her wrist, all silent and empty, but Max didn't rip away and run immediately. She turned and faced him, swallowing when his other hand came up and he brushed some of her long, dark hair back behind her ear. They stood like that for a moment, before Alec reluctantly released her hand.

“Was Switch here?”

Max let out a quick, sharp laugh. “That easy to tell?”

“It was just a guess. I thought I heard her voice earlier and when I came out of the hallway, you looked a little lost. Switch loves doing that to me, too. Wait for a break in conversation then escape as fast as she can. Sometimes I think she hates talking and as we are the only two people who ever actually try to talk to her...”

“It follows.” Max sighed. “That's probably why she sleeps through command meetings, so she won't have to actively participate. God knows Manticore kept her holed up in Psy Ops most her life.”

“That and I get the feeling she doesn't want the other alphas to think she's swaying any of their thoughts. You told her she had to be there, but if she's not awake, she can't be a threat, right?”

“I suppose.” Max agreed, shifting from one foot to the other. The conversation was almost superficial, like they were dancing around the matter at hand. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Max vaguely realized that she wanted to kiss him again. And not be interrupted. The alleyway, pre-descent into disaster, had been... nice. His lips against hers without the cat yowling in her ear... It had been something different, anyway. The last time she'd been kissed, not including the claim-fueled make-out sessions with Alec, had been in that car, in a junk yard, with Logan. And even then, it wasn't one she'd been a willing participant in. Logan had stolen it from her, risking his own life in the process. Even back then, it hadn't seemed romantic. It had seemed selfish.

Logan was a good guy, but maybe he wasn't good for her.

“What's wrong?” Alec asked. “You look.... I don't know, troubled.”

Alec doesn't believe in fairy tales, she reminded herself.

“It's nothing.”

Alec sighed. “Of course it is.” He smiled humorlessly at her, reminding himself that he was avoiding her and these conversations that went and went and never went anywhere. “Well, I guess I'll head back to Command so you can go doll up for date night.”

It was petty and jealous, but he kept his voice light and teasing, so how could she know? But she did know, immediately, and her sigh matched his earlier one. “Alec-”

“Yup, I know.” He didn't need her to tell him he was being a chump. He'd been telling himself that the better part of the morning. He eyed her troubled face once more. “You are still going, I take it?”

“I have to.” She said softly.

He assumed she meant she had to for the sake of their Epic Love, or something similarly nauseating, and his face turned to stone. “Right.” He turned on his heel to leave, but her voice stopped him.

“I have to tell him the truth, Alec.”

The truth. What was the truth? She'd claimed him and she'd moaned for him. She'd kissed him and she'd wanted him. She wasn't entirely sure, that when the week was up, that she would let him go. The truth was always a painful thing and maybe a lie would be better.

Alec didn't really know what to make of that statement. He paused and glanced at her over one shoulder, trying to decipher the troubled look that was again on her face. He went for the most neutral thing he could think of. But even on a good day, he could be a little inflammatory. “Well, I guess I'll wait for the angry phone call then. Don't worry, I'm used to being the bad guy.”

She couldn't even correct him, no, she was the bad guy, because he was already gone.