Alexander Stall's Story

He should've been waiting for her closer to the door. He knew she's sent him off, assured him she'd be fine by herself and, especially because she ran into no-man's land, he'd believed her. But he should've been at least pretending to wait. If she collapsed -

From a nosebleed?

"It happens," he mumbled, moving up in line.

Behind the counter was a boy hovering on seventeen. He had long hair pulled into a ponytail, thick and dark-rimmed glasses, and a hook at the end of his nose sharp enough to gut someone on. His uniform looked as though he'd spilled half of everything he'd made onto it, but he could've been one of the people they set around the shop to paint and have everyone crowd around. Roasters was known for its off-the-wall theatricality. One time, they'd pulled out a Medieval theme without any warning whatsoever. Xander had been in the middle of his coffee, giggling over how he'd made some kid cry, when the staff suddenly pulled out swords - oh, this was the kid who'd burst into tears. He saw Xander coming long before they reached the counter. He was instantly on guard and trying to find someone else to help -

"You." Xander had zeroed in on him. "If you fuck this up like you did last time, I'm coming over there and snapping your neck."

"This isn't Starbucks -"

"Yeah! Yeah, I noticed that," he snapped. "Too fucking bad, 'cause I'm here and now I'm stuck with you. Life's shit for everyone. Figure it out. If I say I want a 'venti', your ass jumps and throw everything in a twenty ounce cup, and I swear to God, if you do something even the slightest bit out of order..."

"We're - uh... We're out of peppermint until -"

"Peppermint is for fags. Don't ever offer me that again," Xander replied. He'd clearly been resting up for this. "What you're gonna give me is vanilla. On the second one, out of three. Y'ready?"

The kid saw no help on the horizon. He was on his own. Breathing out, then in just as sharply, he nodded and bunched his shoulders up, clearly trying to be prepared.

"Great. A cafe mocha for the chick in the bathroom," Xander said. "That's drink one. Drink two, I need a quad, venti, three pump caramel - if you try doing one of those shitty half-pumps, I'm putting your head through a wall - then four pump vanilla, breve - no, don't 'repeat it over me', you're gonna screw something up." The kid stopped. "Every pump of vanilla goes between a shot of espresso and the first shot of caramel must be at the bottom. If I'm not scraping something up with a spoon at the end of it, I'm going back and jamming the cup down your throat."

The barista was not having a good day anymore.

Gwen was still in the bathroom. What was taking her so long? And he couldn't look around for her because Xander had his eyes locked onto the kid's.

"And..." The boy did not want to ask his next question. "What's the third drink?"

"The third? Buddy - I'm not done explaining my second," Xander said. "Breve, extra hot, caramel drizzle on the whip - drizzle - and then, somewhere in the middle of that, you're gonna remember it's a caramel macchiato and try not to die inside. You'll get the order for drink number three when you get that one done right. I will send it back if it's even drop out of order. You know I will."

There was no way any person on this planet drank something like that, ever. Xander might not've even liked the taste. He gulped it down fast enough, but he was more likely to have been savouring the pain he caused Roasters employees. The Starbucks kids could take it, though. Xander had bled the weakness out of them.

"Why do you think she started bleeding?"

Maybe she thinks we're hella hot and had to get it out of her system, Xander said. What else should I get? I feel like I've got too much insulin in my body.

"My body, and I have just the right amount of insulin, thanks."

I need something with chocolate. He thought this over. Maybe white chocolate. Five pump, at least.

At least he felt safe in here. Still, he hoped she didn't need him. He wasn't getting out of this line anytime soon.

Gwen was back. As he and Xander waited for the barista to make the coffee again - and again and again as new things were added to the order - he'd been able to wrestle his eyes back. The rest of his body was set in an all-business mode. When it came to this sort of thing, making everyone else's day miserable, Xander didn't screw around, but he 'allowed' Alex to light up as he saw Gwen come towards him, her nose clear and -

Bouncy.

... Well, yes, there was that.

Bouncy bouncy?

"Stop that," Alex said. When she finally did reach him - so bouncy - he smiled, and keeping his eyes level with hers, which was not an easy thing to do, he asked, "Are you feeling better?"

"You look better. And - hey, if that shirt's got a little blood on it, you could always rip it off. I don't mind," Xander politely told her, grabbing the one cup that'd been made to his impossible standards. "I played it safe and got you sugar. Cafe mocha, the only thing this fuck-up knows how to make." If the barista hadn't heard, and he probably hadn't, he definitely acted like he did. "Alex made me pay, even though I remember you begging to get this for me."

"She wasn't 'begging' and it wasn't necessary," Alex said, defensive. "And you can afford the sixty bucks you've racked up. You know you're paying for everything he's throwing out?"

"The manager knows me."

Xander had a 'talk' with him once or twice before.

"Right. Well," Alex said, "just hurry up."

Out of the corner of his eye, the man in line behind him moved to open his mouth. It was the same guy - another regular - that somehow always ended up behind him. He'd tried complaining about the wait every single time, but the memory of when Xander 'talked' with him too kept his mouth shut as he was sent a nasty glare. The man grunted to himself and muttered something about wanting to leave.

"Good. Go. Try McDonald's," Xander said. "They serve the same thing you order here anyway - hey!" With eyes very clearly in the back of his head, he snapped at the barista before he made yet another mistake-that'd-only-seconds-ago-had-been-specifically-requested. "I want it with soy. You pick up skim again -"

Alex put a hand over his mouth - this is basic stuff! - and turned his attention back to where it belonged: with her. Satisfied Xander wasn't going to break into a rant, he gently explained, "This takes a while. You might want to sit down."

Great. She was angry, just hiding it.

"Sorry about that," he said, giving her a half-shrug, trying to lighten what he felt was growing into a tense mood. "Xander took it on the way out. I told him to put it back, but we were leaving then, and it would've raised some questions if I just walked back in." He rolled his eyes and then admitted, "Although in hindsight, I guess that didn't matter."

For fuck's sake, this isn't hard. Pump, espresso, pump, espresso, pump, espresso, then one last time. Twenty seconds, tops.

"You're forgetting the forty other things you told him to do," Alex said. "Maybe you should learn how to make it."

I know how. It's this asshole who needs to learn. Agent breaks into my bedroom, won't wake up 'til morning, ruins my entire interrogation schedule, and now this shit keeps happening. The corner of his mouth twitched at Gwen. That includes her, too. Damn - that pizza was a bad idea.

"Wow! Good job, Xander! That's a milestone, right there," Alex said. Translating for Gwen, he added, "He's finally figured out that I'm not always wrong."

The reason the pizza was a bad idea was because you can't keep your mouth closed around the bouncy-bouncy.

"You sound like a child," Alex said.

No, you.

Mature.

"Anyway, Gwen, don't get mad at him. He probably didn't read what was on there -" I did. "Okay, but it wasn't like he memorized it -" Yup. Alex tried again. "It's not like he's capable of doing anything with it. It's for your book, right? He's not a writer. You're fine. And I'll make sure he doesn't give the plot away to someone else."

Interesting plot, though. So far, I mean.

As a matter of fact, what was up with that?

"How the hell did you read it? I didn't even see -"

Peripheral vision. I can focus on the stuff that's in the corner of your eye. It's another reason why I'm so great. Mystery solved? A cup was cautiously pushed towards him. Taste it.

Alex did. He picked it up and gently sipped, trying to get enough to recognize the flavour but as sparingly as possible, all to keep Xander from thinking he was being robbed if this turned out to be 'the one'. He felt his nose start to sniff the thing, then he waited to see if he'd be throwing it at the kid's face or...

"Fine."

"Thank God," the barista gasped. "I can't - I - I can't make another one -"

"Don't worry," he sneered. "For future reference, I know not to ask you."

The kid was relieved. Alex shook his head, while Xander glared and finally started drinking. As if this exact thing wouldn't happen sometime next week. Xander would expect the guy to have it perfect the first time, only now there'd be hell if it wasn't. Today, the beast was soothed, and they zeroed in on a table not far from the window near the back. If they were here for a while, they'd be talking. If they were talking, he wanted to be alone.

Relatively speaking.

"Hope you don't mind the spooky corner in the back," Alex said. "It's probably the most normal thing you've into today, though." And then, with more emotion, he asked her, "Are you sure you're okay? Does that always happen?"

Alex frowned at that before he sat down and tried not to choke on the coffee - if that's what it was anymore.

"No big deal? That's... pretty much the opposite of what I'd call it," he said, "and this is from a guy who's got Xander living with him. Has it happened before? Or..." His mind started running wild with the possibilities. "What if you're driving or doing something delicate? What if you're being chased?"

By Agents. It always came back to that.

"I sound like I'm exaggerating," he said. "I'm not. Being here with me, I'm surprised we haven't had a gun put to our heads already." Then, hearing how that echoed in the air, he tossed in a light, "Not that I'd let that happen. By the time they'd get their hand on their holster, he'd step in. Still, though, you shouldn't wait with this sort of thing. We could always go by the hospital later. They practically have a room reserved for me."

He waited for Xander to congratulate himself on inadvertently drumming up another advantage of his ballistic rage, but the guy was quiet. What was wrong with him today?

It took him a moment to realize his finger was tapping on the table.

He knew that tap. That was the interrogation tap. It was the first time he'd seen it without someone frothing and foaming and on the brink of death, but he had no idea why Xander would be doing it at all. He felt him lean back in his chair, lazily, and give Gwen a vaguely triumphant look. Xander was curious. ... Why, exactly?

"I knew you were interesting," he said, grinning like he'd found the end of the rainbow. "I think it's time we had a chat."

He wasn't -

Relax, lover boy. I'm not gonna hurt her.

Right, sure, totally. He believed that with his heart and soul. Knock it off.

"This is important, Alex. Don't get your panties in a twist," Xander said. He took a deep gulp of that coma-in-a-cup, savoured it, still managed to think it was off, then got his finger tapping again. "So. Gwen. Is that short for anything? Don't answer that - I don't really care. What I do care about is how you're feeling. I was nervous there for a minute. All that blood... Gross. Am I right?"

He wasn't trying to be charming anymore. He was getting to the point, some imaginary or impossible point that no one else would understand but him. Alex tried stepping in, reached out to take control of his mouth, but Xander - with what amounted to a slap in his mind - pushed him back.

"I'm not trying to accuse you of anything." Except he definitely was. "You probably don't even know what's going on. And that's fine. Neither does Alex. I keep him in the dark about a lot of the shit around us 'cause he's panicky and he talks too much." Hey! "Let me explain something to you." He took another gulp. This time, he savoured it long enough to think of something else. "Actually, let me apologize. I'm sorry, Gwen. I shouldn't've snapped at you before. You deserved to know I existed and I guess I took screwing around with Alex too far for me to realistically have expected you to ignore it. And for being a bad neighbour - that too. All of that. I'm sorry."

Xander -

I'm not kidding.

"You should know some other things," he went on. "Obviously, because if you picked up on me, you picked up on this, we're entertaining some shady company. They come and they go and they try to kill us and I've got one stuffed in our apartment and, lately, specifically since yesterday, they've started picking up in numbers. But that's okay. I'm not complaining. They've done it once before and it was - let me assure you - fucking awesome. But that only happened because I attracted some attention." Understatement. "You see, these people, the Agents, the ones Alex hasn't stopped droning on about, are after me and my kind. Well - Alex's kind. I didn't have powers until I showed up in his head, and imagine my surprise when I could shoot freaking lasers out of my eyes. Oh, by the way, I can kill you with my mind. That's just so we're on the same page - you don't have to worry about that yet."

'Yet'?

"Anyway! I thought Alex was the only guy wandering around with some 'special ability'. I mean - come on. Regular people with magic powers? Whatever you wanna call them, until you see it, it's a tough pill to swallow. I couldn't wrap my head around this guy until I started seeing what he could do. So, imagine my surprise when, one day, we run into some other kid named Peter. Refresh my memory, good fellow. What was Peter's thing again?"

"Oh. Uh..." Geez. Peter. He hadn't thought about him a while. "Telepathic. Kinetic, I mean. Telekinetic."

"Sure. So - Peter's doing the same thing we're doing, apparently, and - lo and behold - he's got a guy in his head, too. Hey! What're the odds of that, huh? And he comes running up to us, jumping for joy that he finally found the one other person on Earth exactly like him."

"Xander took care of it," Alex quietly remembered. "He turned out to be a traitor."

"Yeah. He was sent to find us. His powers, while for his personal use, were mostly a way of convincing us that he was on our side, that he was being hunted. And I had a good reason to believe him. The guy inside his head?" He rolled his eyes. Alex sympathized. That'd been one of the few times Xander was reluctant to kill anyone. The 'Brain-Bound Buddies' was what they'd stupidly called themselves for a while. "Persuasive. They usually are. When I finally discovered they were leading the Agents to us - which Alex, stupid shit, wouldn't believe me about - so they could get us trapped - which they did, and the fight was spectacular - I had to fry 'im. 'T'was a dark day, truly, but I learned a couple of lessons from it."

"There's no one in her head," Alex muttered. "I'd know."

You know? For a fact? Maybe she's a success story, he said. Then he went back to talking to Gwen, asking her, "Did you feel anything just then? Sweaty? Nervous? Pained? When we're doing the mental chat, I mean. Anything?"

Clearly, it was a rhetorical question. Xander was more interested in sucking down his coffee than he was in hearing what she had to say, but he listened patiently enough.

The paranoia was coming back. He'd made a good decision by walking to the back of the store. He wanted to reassure her and tell her Xander was playing around, even if he wasn't, but the words were stuck in his throat. That had nothing to do with his other half.

He sipped the coffee, too.

She was leaving him, wasn't she? She was pulling away. Alex might not spend his time around the bulk of society anymore, but he knew a stamp of rejection when it was slammed on his forehead.

"No," he said. "No - he wasn't... He didn't mean to imply anything about you. He's not..." Just like that, this was over? One nice morning, followed by one crappy talk over coffee, and now he was back to being on his own. Alex tried once more, mustering up the courage, and leaned forward to reassure her, "He never said anything was wrong with you."

It was hard to stay focused when Xander was, quite literally, laughing until he couldn't breathe. The second Gwen had answered, he disappeared again, only because the shrieks of entertainment would've turned some heads. He didn't know what was so funny. He didn't care. He was miserable now. He slumped his shoulders, then dropped back against the chair, absently listening to the sounds inside his head.

I - can't - even - talk -

"Just spit it out, Xander. Stop laughing." He wasn't in the mood for this anymore.

It took three minutes of waiting for Xander to compose himself well enough to take over again. Even then, his words were peppered with snickers and snorts.

"Sorry," Xander said, trying to shove the giggles down. "Sorry. Sorry - that was rude." More laughter, but he got it under control. Great. Alex didn't want to hear it. "Sorry. I'm okay. I - just... Really, I thought this'd be obvious to you."

'Obvious'? There wasn't a fucking person here who'd think anything Xander came up with was obvious. The guy followed a train of logic that'd derailed, rolled down a hill, dragged down a river, then dropped off a waterfall, reaching its destination through sheer luck and a miracle. Just to top off that analogy, everyone in the train, meaning everyone he brought into this mess, died horribly. He almost shoved Xander's stupid cup over to spite him, but he stopped, only because that'd be an entirely new kind of war.

Screw this. Let them talk. He should've fought harder with that dumb pizza thing. This was his body and he was the one in control. Supposed to be. Was.

"Okay. Okay, I'm good," Xander said, taking in deep breaths. "Alright. Let me break this down for you: the Agents are here because they're looking for someone 'special'. That's me. It's always me, and it's always been me because - until Peter, so many years ago - that's all there's ever been. You know - as far as I was told. There's a specific number of people they're allowed to send after me before they can't contain the secret anymore and the outside world starts cluing in. The fact that now, all of a sudden, they're pumping up the numbers to the point where, sitting here, I can see two of them walking around outside, means there's something else going on."

He paused for a coffee break.

"I don't know. Maybe it's subconscious with you. Maybe you really don't know what's happening and, if that's the case..." Xander shrugged. "Man. I can't tell you how lucky you are. Today's the day they mounted an attack, and if you hadn't run into me - if I hadn't come to you and stolen the spotlight, you'd be dead already. So, yes, you owe me a coffee. Make it two and we'll call it even."

"Focus, Xander..."

"Alright, alright."

He leaned in, suddenly light and bubbly. At its deepest core, Xander's words were still laced with suspicion, but he was like a kid, excited and in awe of the world around him. He was enjoying himself, Alex realized. Xander was enjoying talking to her. Or scaring the shit out of her, but this was as close to 'civil conversation' as he got, next to shamelessly flirting. He'd been pretty conservative with that so far though, which said a lot about how bad he could get.

"You tense up," Xander explained. "'Skin crawls'? Why not? But it translates to you becoming ever so slightly, blink-and-you-miss-it, absolutely imperceptible to anyone who isn't looking for it, tense. I'm always looking for that kind of thing and I've been seeing it all morning. I wasn't sure at first, but I put things together and now..." Sharp exhale and a shake of his head. "Damn. Mike. The one in the alley, the one I went off to talk with. He wasn't here looking for me. He was here looking for you."

"Xander, what the hell are you rambling about it?"

"I'm serious," he said. "He didn't get Alex, he freaked out, went all crazy-jealous 'cause, 'oh, damn, that should've been me with the seizure-eyes', so now he's been skulking around for who-knows-how-long, trying to find someone else he could hop inside, and taking over a hot chick - well... Either that's the smartest thing I've ever heard of, or he's ten times more evil than I thought."

"Why don't you try explaining things without forgetting the critical details?" Alex wanted to scowl, but Xander held it in place. "Why would the Agents want - what do you mean 'hop inside her'?"

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," Xander said. "You're fine, so long as I keep them away. You, on the other hand, have a hell of a lot to be afraid of." He pointed at her, teasingly. This was not the time for that. "The technology's had to have improved since they tried this shit out. If they get to you, you're not putting up with this little half-and-half you see me'n'Alex struggling with. You'll be dead, and there'll be someone walkin' around in a brand new Gwen body, complete with full access to any and all abilities you may or may not be aware of." He downed the rest of his cup merrily. Then he took his spoon and started scraping up the caramel stuck to the bottom. "By the way, you might want to look into something better than 'my skin crawls when people talk to themselves' if you plan on fighting back. Pretty lame. Try harder, 'cause they will."

This was too much for him to process. He couldn't imagine what it must've been like for her. He wanted to reach over and make sure she was okay, but he wouldn't let himself. This was the sort of situation where people didn't differentiate between them. It was 'Alexander' now, and if she was freaked out by one, she couldn't possibly want comfort from the other.

"So the Agents are after her? Because you think she has powers?"

"Maybe I drew them to her, maybe she drew them to me," Xander said. "All I can assume is that they know we're together at this particular second and there's not a doubt in my mind that they're gonna make a move." He snorted. "Eventually. I mean - this is me they're tryin' to fight." Cup was empty. Coffee was done. "So! I hope I made it clear that you don't have a choice in being involved, 'cause y'kind'f are already, and if you actually are the person they're after 'cause you haven't 'mastered your abilities' so you're defenseless, then I'm not ecstatic to be around you anymore, 'cause I was hoping to stay here another few weeks. I'll probably have to move out this afternoon, just to be sure I'm out of here before they bring in reinforcements."

"That mask," Alex said. "The one the Agent in our room was wearing."

"Worthless piece of garbage. 'Mirrored lenses' was some shit they pulled six years ago. Didn't work then, won't work now," Xander said. "Probably something they whipped up for you, Gwenny, just in case you decided to go crazy on them."

Too much. Way too much.

"Be gentle," Alex sighed.

Xander rolled his eyes.

"Look. Don't panic. I'm here and I'm unstoppable. Unless you really are playing us like Peter did, in which case I won't hesitate to make your brain explode. I'm here to help you," he finished, with the faintest touch of sincerity in final words. Then he looked down at her half-empty cup. "... Uh... You gonna drink the rest of that?"

I guess this means she's not buying me coffee.

"Gwen - wait!" Stop playing with the fucking cup! Stand up, you son of a bitch! "Gwen, hold on for a second!"

This put things into perspective. No, she wasn't leaving him. She was ditching Xander. He and his crazy story - what the fuck was that about? - had scared her off, and now she, repulsed out of her mind, was trying to run out the door.

Everybody panics, Xander said. Nobody listens to me until it's too late.

"You didn't have to spread that crap about 'magic powers'," he spat, struggling to get up. Xander had all his attention on his knees, determined to stay where he was. "What are you doing? She's going outside - there's Agents out there!"

It's fine. There's no one after her, remember?

No. Enough of this. Alex had fucking had it with this asshole and he wasn't taking his half-answers or any of the other shit anymore.

"Get up," he roared. "Get up and go outside before I stab you in the throat!"

That got the guy's attention - and everyone else's in the shop. All of their eyes were on him, but for the first time, he didn't care. So get up, you selfish bastard. He wasn't doing this.

Y'know, technically, she called you a freak, too.

She had the right! It was justified! After everything that'd happened today - was still happening - he was surprised he'd gotten off so lightly. His determination to catch her didn't fade. If anything, he fought harder. At last, his efforts were rewarded. Whether he'd run out of strength or simply gave in, Xander released his knees, let him stand, then run to the door to grab onto her.

At least, he would've grabbed onto her. Xander wasn't done yet.

My mistake. There's four. Outside. He was running outside. I'll change that.

Not here! Xander - what the hell?! Not here!

He might as well have been in a different country. Far too eager, Xander pushed past Gwen, kicked open the doors and latched onto the first Agent he saw by its throat. He dragged the squirming fool over and forced its head to turn, building up his gaze of death beyond its boiling point. There was no frothing this time. The Agent just... dropped. Its dead weight pulled the body to the ground, which Xander was happy to let go of, especially since another Agent, one that'd been closer to the corner of the building and neatly out of sight, decided to draw his gun.

The sunglasses they wore were only useful in throwing off immediate and direct eye contact. So long as Alex saw pupils, he could pick someone off at any distance. He didn't. He thought it was the greatest act of evil he could've possibly been able to perform. Xander, on the other hand, called it a pointless drawback, one that meant he had to put in the extra effort to leap over. And he did - leap, that is. He jumped over the first body and stormed the second, pulling his fist back and throwing it into the new target. It was more than enough to knock the glasses off and it did enough damage on its own, but Xander's fights weren't over until someone stopped breathing, so he got in the second Agent's face and fried his mind, too.

And now he had a gun.

"You don't move," Xander told the third, who'd been trying to hide behind the second until that failed and had taken too long to run. In his sights, at his mercy, this one had no choice but to stay put, and Xander made extra sure he wouldn't try anything by grabbing him by the throat as well.

"There's four," Alex hysterically reminded.

Across the street and speeding over to join the fight came the last and the largest of the four roaming Agents. He'd've been better off trying to get help, because Xander raised his new toy arm, pulled some crazy half-second aim, fired, then quaintly noted, "No there isn't."

In public. In a public place. In front of a coffee shop, in front of a whole bunch of people, in front of an intersection for fuck's sake -

"Who are you?"

It was the third Agent who'd asked, the one Xander had kept alive. The reply that the man received was a very feral and bloodthirsty grin. Alex knew exactly what it looked like and it meant this Agent was braver than most because he didn't immediately break down and beg for his life at the sight of it.

"You don't know me? You must be on a different case," Xander said. "After Gwen."

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"I believe you," Xander said, sickly sweet. "It's - just... I've got this crazy voice in my head who's a little on the paranoid side. I've gotta make sure he believes you, too. You understand."

If Alex had control of his stomach, it'd be flipping by now. He didn't like this. He hated when Xander worked, but especially now, he felt nauseous.

"We have to get out of here," Alex said. "It's not even a question of 'did somebody see us'. Everyone saw this. And Gwen -"

"Right, her. Well, she wanted proof," Xander answered. Shouting over his shoulder, not bothering to check if she was still at the door where he'd left her - had they been in each other's shoes, Alex would've booked it by now - and already beginning to drag the third Agent across the street, he told her, "Hey, princess, sorry about the trauma, but if you're seriously looking for some evidence, this'll be the guy to talk to."

She can come if she wants. I don't care.

"Where are you taking him?" He was headed back in the direction they came. Oh God - what if someone called the cops? They had to have done that already. "Are you going back to the alley?"

"Yup."

"Gwen," Alex yelled, turning as best he could despite his roommate's insistence that they kept their - his - body facing ahead. "It's okay! He's fine - he's under control!"

If she was still there, she was insane. But if she was still there, she'd be safe. It was a risky deal, but he hoped she'd go through with it. And not be permanently scarred by his powers' handiwork.

Dammit, Xander. Whatever else happened, he better at least make this worth it.

Trust me.

And as much as every twist of logic in Alex's brain said otherwise, experience plainly stated that trusting him was a good idea. But it wasn't like he had the luxury of choosing.

"Okay, buddy. Stay alive a little longer." Easier said than done, the way the Agent was being treated. Xander was still dragging him, and by the time he'd reached the alley, the bottom of the man's pants were nearly shredded. It looked like he wasn't in any hurry to start walking or make getting to his interrogation room plus eventual grave a simple job, but because they were here now and no one else had shown up to save him, the Agent probably would've at least grabbed some brownie points if he'd played along. "Let's see what makes you tick."

Gwen was running up to them. He couldn't believe how overwhelmed she looked when she appeared. She wasn't being chased, so why -

Oh. Sometimes people panicked when there were dead guys lying around. So that, yes, but she almost seemed desperate not to be left behind now. He wouldn't do that to her. Chasing after him meant he had her trust and it was something he had no intention of abusing.

I like him, Xander said, bringing Alex's attention back to the Agent that'd been thrown against the dumpster. He seems to know he's fucked.

"Just don't go overboard. Gwen's here."

An alley was still a public place. Fortunately, at least, the current audience was limited to just her. So long as no one else came bursting in at the last second - he was praying the cops hadn't been called or that they'd take half a year to get here because Xander's list didn't need to be any longer - this would be a private affair. He tried giving her a friendly smile but it came out weak. Then he felt a wild and cocky grin spread across his face, knew it was time for that 'talk', and felt his head turn back towards the guy at his feet.

"I don't have rope," Xander said, "so it's 'you stay put' or 'I break your legs'."

"Fuck you -"

"That was not one of the options I gave you," he replied. "That's okay! I may need you to walk later or something. For now, let's keep your jaw in one piece." To Gwen, graciously, with more confidence and ease than anyone should've held claim to in a moment like this, he added, "Don't freak out. These guys don't have any powers and they suck. If you start feeling dizzy or lightheaded or whatever, let me know."

The concern in his voice was borderline noble, but he smashed that to shit as he smirked at the Agent again.

"Hey. You okay?" The Agent's lip curled into a snarl. "Good. I was worried. So how about we start with someone simple: do you know who I am?"

"Psychotic," the Agent spat.

"That's a 'no' and I'm insulted," Xander said. "I should be common knowledge by now. What the hell were you doing wearing sunglasses then?"

"They're standard issue."

"Well - that's bullshit. You were wearing 'em 'cause they made you look badass, right?" Xander waited until the man reluctantly bobbed his head. "I see, I see. That's fine - I'd do the same thing. So - uh... Do you know who she is?" He gestured to Gwen.

"No. I don't know who any of you are," the Agent said. "I'm just some kid you attacked -"

Xander cut him off. Alex almost did, too. Agents, when they were undercover, tried dressing down into more civilian-y clothes, but they kept certain things - like the sunglasses and the pissed off attitude - on at all times so they could recognize each other and apparently stand way the hell out anyway. He might not've been able to see the guy as a threat at first glance, but looming over him like this, Alex knew for a fact this was not some random guy on the street.

"Do you know her?" Xander rolled his eyes. "I killed your friends in - like - two seconds. You really think it's a good idea to 'resist'?" Quotation, quotation. He'd done the finger quotes.

For a few seconds too long, the Agent kept his mouth shut. It took a gentle nudge of his foot to the guy's hand, followed by a not-so-gentle nudge on his arm, then the threat of a swift kick to the side of his head to convince him his life was worth more than the answer to a question everyone already knew.

"I know of her."

Exactly what Xander wanted to hear.

"This is weird," he said. "This is really, really weird. I'm so used to being the center of attention and everyone having a profile on me that - this? You hunting her? I think I'm jealous. You actually don't know who I am? Actually?"

"... I've heard of you, too," the Agent admittedly, obviously hating himself for giving up the answer. "You're supposed to be the bogeyman, not real."

That was also exactly what Xander wanted.

"This is so awesome. I might have to keep you alive. Or at least not shoot you in the face."

"Yeah - about that!" Alex was annoyed yet another secret had 'mysteriously' been revealed. "When the hell did you learn how to use a gun?"

Uh... since always?

"I've never even touched one, but suddenly you're a sniper?"

Point, shoot, it's standard stuff. So - in the past six years I've been telling you 'we should get a gun', 'we should probably get a gun', 'I know we're like a gun but we should get a gun anyway', you thought... what?

"I thought you wanted to play with it," Alex said. "I didn't know you could shoot someone's head off from across the street."

"That was impressive. Wasn't that impressive?" He made the Agent agree. "Okay. So that's step one. Gwen, he's here for you. Surprise." A thought came to him. "Are they gonna do the transfer if they get her? Do they have someone picked out to take over her?"

"I wouldn't know." Xander's fist was raised. "I wouldn't know because I haven't met anyone like that yet! They might've - sure, but they don't tell us anything until we need to know."

"But we need to know," he said. "Gwen - she needs to know. How about explaining a few things to her?" With that semi-noble face again, he welcomed her closer to the Agent and asked, "Anything you wanna ask? Maybe why they're trying to steal you?"

The Agent was perfectly blank. He'd snapped from cornered and frustrated to emotionless the second Xander suggested he begin explaining things. Whatever it was he was hiding, it was pretty obvious he'd come prepared. He knew how to counter... whatever it was Gwen could do.

So she did have powers. Somehow. And Xander had known? He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He trusted her, of course, but he'd trusted Peter, too...

"I believe the lady asked you a question, kind sir," Xander said, twirling the gun on his finger. "Care to share?"

"I don't have the information you request."

Like a robot, Alex shuddered. Like a dead-eyed, soulless robot.

Xander, who'd stepped back enough to let Gwen do whatever she'd just done, came forward and knelt by the Agent's side. The man didn't flinch. He keep his face as bland as ever, until he was poked in the nose by the gun's barrel. That broke his concentration for an instant, but he immediately returned to stone.

"Ten minutes," Xander muttered, thoughtfully. "I can work with that."

"It's for the same reason we wanted you," the Agent blurted out. So much for 'cold and empty', although his eyes still seemed glassy. "We're only here to locate the host."

"For what?"

The Agent looked annoyed that he had to repeat himself. With a voice that wavered at the start of his next sentence, he replied, "I don't have -"

"It's a super-soldier program," Xander said, coolly. "Just like in the movies."

"This isn't a movie. And it's not a game," the Agent said. "This is -"

"They think you guys can't control your powers, so they're out to stick someone in your body who can." Xander kept twirling the gun around. "They'll grab you, hook you up, suck you out, and then in pops whoever they guess is good enough to handle it."

"Stop talking like you know what's going on," the Agent snapped. "You're the failed experiment."

"And you, along with the rest of your posse, need to accept that I'm too awesome to get back," Xander said. "Seriously - I've been killing colleagues left and right for forever. Weir? Mike Weir? Found him lurkin' around an hour ago. That's him, by the way." He gestured to the body that'd had the courtesy of falling and neatly hiding in a mound of garbage bags. "Crazy guy. I swear he tried biting me."

"He's another failure," the Agent said. "He couldn't cut it as a candidate. I'm glad he's dead. It saves us from having to hunt him down."

"Wow. See - it's that kind of cut-throatedness that makes me happy to be out'f your circle-jerk," Xander said. "I want... Wait - hold on." Then he put a hand over his mouth, just as Alex exploded.

This. Was. Not. Happening.

It didn't matter whether Xander could read his thoughts; the message was as loud and fucking clear as if it'd been written in the sky with explosions.

Relax.

"'Relax'?" Alex was screeching into his palm, hyperventilating and horrifically aware there wasn't anywhere to run. "You're an Agent? You're one of them?"

I'm not an Agent. The Agents were established after I... y'know... escaped. I'm stolen property, he said, almost singing with pride.

"You're an Agent?!"

Really though? I mean - you never even guessed? I have the coolest moves, I kick the most ass, I know almost everything about the way these guys work...

For six years, Alex had trusted him to lead them to safety.

Oh, come on. You're exaggerating.

"Is this a bad time?" The Agent sneered. "I can come back later."

Xander slapped the gun into the side of the Agent's face. Then, politely, he replied, Obviously I'm on your side. You heard the guy. I was put in you -

"'Put in me' - you were 'put in me'?"

You're not paying attention at all. Let's start again: the Agents think you can't control your powers -

Oh God. Oh God, this was Peter on steroids and with full control over his body.

Funny thing about Peter: he was sent after us 'cause I ran off, and I ran off because the transfer didn't completely work. They got him right, though. He was an Agent from the beginning, Xander said. Fully uploaded, or whatever you wanna call it. I thought he knew how to get me out of here. Or get rid of you, at least.

This was not the first time he'd been told Xander wanted Alex out. This was, however, the first time the words had thoroughly terrified him to the core.

"Seriously," the Agent spat, recovered from the shock of the blow, "I can come back."

Xander punched the guy. This time, the Agent's lip split open. Alex barely noticed.

"How was he supposed to get rid of me? How was he supposed to help you?" He was still talking into his palm. Alex yanked it off his mouth. "No fucking wonder you two were friends. You were plotting against me -"

Oh, wow, really? I was up to no good - me? What a shocker. Completely out of character. Xander rolled his eyes. I killed him, didn't I? Turns out there's no second shot at this thing. If it doesn't work, you've gotta restart with an empty slate, which basically means they'd be sucking me out, too. As I'm sure you've noticed, I don't want to die.

He wanted Xander out. He wanted Xander out now. Right now. Right this second.

"The cops are coming," Alex said. He stood up. "I'm going. Gwen? You should start packing."

Methinks you might be angry.

He was furious.

"For as long as you think you can trust him," Alex said, "you might want to tag along. And you, Xander, are staying out this from now on."

...O... kay?

Son of a bitch. All this time... On the run together, maybe, but he must've been driving himself crazy trying to think of a way to get rid of Alex. Those had never been empty, asshole-ish threats. Those had been serious promises made by a very capable person and...

"Let's go."

You're gonna leave the -

"Shut up," Alex said. "Let's go."

Miss Agent stormed out. The child stormed out behind her, but not before making a show of shutting off his pathetic light show and grabbing the contraption he'd left on the table to support it. Jean couldn't help but laugh at how quickly the little boy clutched it to his chest. Those who wore the suit were very attached to its powers. It was good to see the flaw was yet another he could add to the team's list.

"Good luck, rookie," he politely offered. "You'll need it too, I think."

Was that enough of a 'th' for him?

"And fuck you too, friend," the boy replied, giving him a wincing smile before bounding out the door.

"That was uncalled for."

Benoit would have agreed had he not been thinking of the actual work of real Agents laid out before him.

"It will work this time," his lead said, as though he were commanding reality itself. "We have enough experience to know it will work."

"The lenses have been crafted to your specifications." He held up the small box the Agency had been kind enough to deliver to the building's crumpled doorstop. Why anyone would suffer living in this residence - not to say anything of the mess Alexander had made of his - was beyond Jean's understanding. "If this fails to stop him, you will know he is invincible."

"No one is invincible, Jean," Benoit said, turning around at last. "Not him, not her, and not anyone else."

The man knew how to speak of the obvious as if it were the very voice of truth raining from the heavens. Jean had faith in this, perhaps more than Benoit. He'd invested as much pain, sweat and tears into this case and now he needed it to close. It would close. Tonight. One way or another, this was coming to an end.

"We should put them on," Jean suggested. "And good luck, Benoit."

"Luck hasn't helped so far."

It would tonight. Jean was sure of it.



He hoped the building sprung a gas leak and their stupid smoking set them on fire. Wishful thinking if he left it up to fate, but if he wanted to work at it...

"That wasn't fair." For starters. "This isn't his case. Hell - this isn't even my case. Kicking me out is one thing, but you." He couldn't wrap his head around it. "What the hell are we supposed to do out on a rooftop?"

They were headed for the elevator, it seemed. He could hardly believe it. They were doing what Frenchie wanted. They were supposed to, definitely, because of that thing with seniority, but the fact that there'd been an order like that issued and then carried out... What if they took their time leaving? They could wait until their target showed, pick her up and run. Except he didn't know how long it would take. He hadn't picked up anyone on his screen yet -

<<Target's location identified. Proximity: high.>>

"Stop. Wait. They're here." Oh yes. Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes. Kick them out of the room - sure, why not? But if they met those crazy kids in the hallway, they'd have all the justification they needed for staying behind and finishing this thing the way they should've in the first place. "We can hide. We can do... something. Flank them, maybe. Get behind them, give those idiots back-up..."

It was up to her, but his boss had a short time to decide. His target was in this building and getting closer every second.

"Whatever you want, boss. This isn't collapsing on our heads a second time."

To put it lightly.



He was going to his room. Alex. He was packing everything and leaving tonight. Dude... He'd check into a fucking asylum if he had to - Come on. There had to be pills for this. He finally had proof - he heard it from straight from Xander's 'mouth' - that the voice he'd thought was some crazy quirk was a legitimate, separate person. And an Agent! An Agent! And Xander wanted him to relax?

I think you're getting a little carried away.

Xander hadn't tried to get control once so far. He didn't know if it was because the Agent was nervous to try it, tired for whatever fucking reason he no longer cared about, or maybe - for once, at long, long last - he'd accepted that he was a foreign entity, an intruder of the absolute highest grade, and realized he needed to back the fuck off before something happened.

... So... Still angry?

Alex was barely waiting for Gwen. He wanted her close but he had to get out of here. Why? Why the rush now? Having those assholes floating around was nothing new for him. He still had his powers and he could take care of them in a heartbeat -

I'm not crazy about what I'm getting off of you.

"Then get out of my head," Alex snarled under his breath.

He stopped. He came to his senses. He wasn't leaving Gwen behind for any reason, not when she finally needed him.

If you'd let me explain -

Alex needed to get drunk. If Xander wouldn't shut up on his own, he'd have to help him out.

For fuck's sake, man. I told you I wasn't an Agent and I told you they're fucking after me, too. Get off your period and listen to me.

"Okay! Fine! Fine - you want me to listen? I'm listening," Alex snapped. "Go ahead. Talk all night if you have to - just talk and talk and talk -"

I have never heard such a bitch fit in my life.

"Oh - which one, Xander? I'm confused. Was it the one you've been mooching off of me when they stuck you in my skull or the one you had when you were an Agent?"

I really hope you aren't holding your breath for an apology, 'cause that shit ain't stirrin', buttercup.

Where the hell was Gwen? He finally turned around, trying to relax after this... this...

... Mild twist in the story everyone saw coming? Y'know - except you, I mean.

Gwen. Talk to Gwen. She was calming, even when she panicked. He wasn't walking another step without her here. Alex stood up straight and waited for her.

She wasn't fine. She was collapsing, bleeding again and - just... She was falling apart and he had to help her. He didn't know how.

And I repeat, 'for fuck's sake, man.' He heard a sigh. Look - just let me do this.

No. Not happening. He could feel Xander reaching out for his hand and he fought back until the guy stopped. He didn't, not right away, and he made one final push for control like he was throwing a hissy fit, but he gave in when he got the message. Alex felt empowered.

Great! Glad to hear it. How 'bout you help her before she bleeds to death?

He wished he had more paper. He wished he'd grabbed some napkins. In light of everything that'd happened today, though, he was just happy they were both in one piece. He'd do what he could, but he wasn't used to any of this.

"Gwen, come on," Alex said softly. He walked to her side, put an arm around her back, and carefully began to pull her to her feet. "We'll take the elevator, go upstairs and... fix this..."

What was happening to her? Was this normal? As 'normal' as it got, anyway. Was she dying?

It was not what they needed right now. At any other time, this would've been bad, but here? At this very second? They didn't have the hour it'd take to get to the hospital and see a doctor. Alex was falling into full flight-mode. He couldn't wait, except to go upstairs, to his room, grab his things and go. Hopefully, there wasn't a horde of Agents up there for him, but knowing his luck, there'd be a small army and each one would have a gun. He'd be on his own if he had to fight them. From here on out, that was the way it was going to be.

They - are - after - me - too. Why is this so hard -

"They did something to you," Alex said. "They must've. You wouldn't just have this happen."

Fine. Whatever. Just forget I'm here.

"I'm trying," he snapped, "but it's hard when you won't shut up."

That feeling of Xander disappearing into the corner of his mind swam up again. Alex blinked away the numbness, then forced himself to concentrate on what was important.

Stupid Agent, ex or otherwise. He thought locking himself away was a punishment somehow. Someone should've let him know the punches to the face were much more effective, but Alex wasn't about to complain.

((((( By Tartra!! SUPER SPARKLES! )))))


In less than twenty seconds, Gwen had said the two most unsettling things Alex had ever heard. She could feel him? She could hear Xander? And then she panicked and jabbed at the elevator buttons and brought the thing to a stop underneath where they were supposed to be.

"What's going on? What's happening up there?"

Nothing from Xander. Fine. Fuck him, anyway.

"Gwen - calm down. I have things up there I have to get," he said. "Passports, licenses - I can't just leave without them. They're how I survive."

She was more alert than before. Good. Her brain wasn't melting. It was only a nosebleed, but now he knew - if it'd shown up when his abilities had been trotted out - that it was his fault after all. She had powers. It was true. And he'd... what? Awoken them? The guilt stuck into him like a knife, but he had even less time for that than whatever else was going on upstairs.

The elevator doors were closing. He stuck out his hand to change that. She made it clear she wasn't sticking around and, immediately, he moved to help her out of it. Alert or not, she shouldn't be moving around like this. He'd have to keep her steady until he knew she was going to be okay. Were they? That was a fun question to think about.

"I told you, I can take care of you," he said. "If it's an Agent or two or ten, I can handle it. I've done it before." Xander had done it before. But it was his body and that meant the skills were inside him, too. And it happened so often nowadays - especially when they'd first discovered each other - that everything would probably happen out of reflex. This wasn't a problem. He promised himself that it wouldn't be a problem. "It's better to get them -" He scowled. "Say what you wanna say, then go back to hiding wherever you were before."

Xander didn't say anything, but he was out again and almost as alert as she was. And he was excited. Alex wanted to take that as a sign that they should get out of here, but the entire reason they'd made it this far was because of the resources they'd been building up to fight. Their enemies were stronger now and more aware of what he could do. Leaving it behind would take him back to the bottom and give them a soul-crushing advantage. Common sense was fighting against him, but logic - he hoped it was logic - was telling him to go upstairs. He thought it over.

"Let me... Let me go alone." Yeah. That'd be better. It'd be faster that way, too. "I'll go upstairs and make sure everything's okay, and if it's not, I'll make sure it is."

Yeah - okay, buddy.

"You think I can't do it?" Of course he did. Alex shouldn't've had to ask. And he shouldn't've bothered either, because Xander didn't answer. "I can do it. It's not as hard as you think."

Not as easy as you think. I know I make it look bad-ass, but that's because I've got all those years of training. You know. As an Agent.

Alex grit his teeth.

"Just stay here, Gwen." Yeah. In the middle of the hallway, nose bleeding, arms shaking, panicked beyond all hell - "I'll come back."

One of us will, anyway. Xander paused. Too soon?

"Shut up."

So - uh... You wanna move over a little?

Had that... Had that really happened? Did she just kiss him?

Technically no, so if you could squeeze your ass out of the way a bit...

His heart was racing. His mind was blank. It'd been so sudden and... He wanted to say 'unexpected', but thinking about it, going over what she did, a part of him must have seen this coming and been waiting for this -

Yeah. That'd be me. Move it!

Right. Right - uh... Upstairs. And she'd -

Wow. Not even close.

He knew that feeling. Xander had found his opening and he was taking it. Alex was still half-numb with shock. He wasn't able to fight back right away, and when he was, he'd already lost. With his arms moving smoother than he'd ever been able to get them, one hand reached forward and held onto the back of Gwen's neck, fingers lightly curling around a lock of her hair, while the other touched her chin to keep her steady. Xander looked at her, took her in, but only for long enough to let her see it. Then his mouth was against hers, leaning in with something... gentle.

That, he would have never expected.

Xander was being gentle and holding her for longer than what she'd tried to do, but it was over in only seconds anyway. He broke it off purely to brush against her lips and tell her, "The next time you want to kiss me, wait until I'm actually outside. I hate seeing good things wasted on people who can't appreciate it."

Alright! Let's go kill some bad guys!

Then he slipped away entirely, grinning like this was the morning of his life, and started for the stairs by the elevator - she'd be waiting there when he got back - and went up. Alex wrestled back control immediately.

Silence. For now.

"I don't know if should ask this -"

So don't.

"- but what the hell was that?"

Better than what you did. Pay attention. If you're gonna be a dick and body-hog -

"This is my body, Xander," Alex snapped, his feet pounding on the stairs. "I'm not gonna let you - just... do that!"

Uh-huh. Am I fighting or what? 'Cause, apparently, I have to keep you alive.

"Stay out of this," Alex snapped. "I can do it without you."

Okay. Agent, by the way.

Alex stopped and threw himself against the wall, flattening himself into it. There were only six steps left until he reached the door to his floor. A small window had been put in the left side of it. He couldn't see anyone.

"I don't see anyone."

Well, that's because you're stupid, Xander said. They're there. Trust me. Or don't - whatever. I'm an Agent too, you know.

He wasn't going to stop rubbing that in.

I'll stop when you get over it. Gwen doesn't cry this much and she's fucking leaking out'f her face. Speaking of which, grab a towel while you're up here.

He scowled, slowly moving up the final stairs.

"What? You like her now? Mr. Hero?"

Jealous again?

"Concerned," he said, sternly. "Why do you suddenly care about getting her a towel?"

Gee, I dunno. Maybe 'cause people crowd when someone's hurt? Since when is getting a passport so important? You know I can have one made. I've done it six times for you already.

"There's other stuff up there."

A driver's license? Really? That's what you're risking my life for?

"Not just that!" Pictures and... other things. Clothes.

All stealable.

This was his decision and he was sticking to it. He didn't know how long Gwen was going to be with them, but if they had to - for whatever reason - start watching out for her too, they could use all the time they could get. That meant not wasting it on remaking cards they already had in their rooms.

He took a deep breath and put a hand on the door. Xander wasn't straining to get out like usual. This truly was up to him, so with another breath and a quick exhale, he opened it and walked through.



Alexander was back. Jason had broken off from his lead's side to stand outside the stairwell. He faded when the door opened, allowing the suit to hide him as he watched the man walk in. He almost laughed at the difference. There was no trace of the person he'd fought before. Instead of narrowing his eyes and lunging at him, Alexander crept towards his room instead, looking forward the entire time. At least it confirmed one fact, that he knew enough to guess there were people up here. Nothing special. Jason knew there were people down there. The IDs flashed in the corner of his screen. He wouldn't go after his target, though. Alexander was still too close. He had to be dealt with, but by Benoit until Jason had other orders. If that happened and his boss gave the command, he promised himself one important thing: no matter what, this rematch would end very differently than before. His grit his teeth as he played it in his head.

He was starting to understand the obsession.

He couldn't see anyone. There was no one in the hallway and he couldn't hear the faintest sound or smothered breath. That was what made him tense. That, and the ever-lingering sense of doubt he had in Xander's evaluation of the scene kept digging at him. It wouldn't be the first time he'd said there was someone around purely to screw with him, and he had the proof he needed to pass off a convincing lie. Alex had seen them swarm today already. But if they were here for Gwen, like he'd been told, he should've been relaxing. The heat wasn't on him.

By the way, she'd liked Xander's 'turn' way too much. As if he needed another reason to hate the guy.

I can't wait to find out how horribly this ends.

Alex didn't answer. He kept walking. The elevator - the one they were supposed to have been on - was leaving, and the fact that it was moving without a problem gave him the courage he needed to go ahead, too. His apartment door was still closed. That was a good sign.

"I'm going in," he said. "Unless you've got a problem."

I'm pretty sure it'll solve itself.

He knew what that meant. He didn't respond to it, either. Instead he unlocked the door and gingerly pushed it open, not sure what he'd find when he went in but positive it'd be something bad. What he did find was even worse.

"The Agent's gone," Alex said. "They were in here."

No shit, Sherlock. Let's bounce.

"No." He climbed over the debris that still had yet to be removed. He was almost embarrassed by it. The Agents chasing him seemed so proper, but maybe they'd see the mess and get too offended to come after him anymore. He could always dream. Anyway, his room still had a path to it. He went inside, pulled out the dresser shelves, then started rooting around for whatever was important. He was grateful that'd he'd managed to keep that organized after all these years. He barely needed a minute before he had everything together. "Got it. Let's go."

Four credit cards, a cell phone, a big ol' wad of cash -

"A picture of my parents," Alex snapped. "That's not replaceable."

Yeah. Hell - I know I'd want a snapshot of the people who signed me up for this.

Alex was getting out of here.

Towel?

Oh, right. He stopped by the closet and grabbed one of those. He shoved it in the bag lying on the ground, then threw a few clothes in there for good measure.

"I should get her stuff, too."

And while we're at it, can we do something about these drapes? I dunno - I'm thinking lighter and more neutral -

"Fine. We'll buy her more," he said. "Let's go."

Right behind you. Xander laughed. Get it? 'Cause it was a pun.

"That doesn't -"

Duck. Retard.

Alex threw himself to the floor just as the wind whistled overhead from the mammoth fist that'd swung at where his face had been. Yeah, these guys. The crazy French ones. The ones who wouldn't stop chasing him no matter how many of them he - meaning Xander - killed.

"Quick as ever, Alexander," the one in charge said. "Surprising, because I hear you have been walking with extra weight. Made a new friend?"

"Yeah. She's pretty hot," Xander said. "What's that? New toys?"

The glasses looked the same as ever. Still, the Agent grinned, so there must've been something under them or else a new twist'd been thrown in.

"Only the best for the best," the Agent said. "We went beyond mirrored lenses, the ones you insist never work, but I can assure you, when they rest upon the eyes, they prove to be much more effective."

"Why? 'Cause I can't slap 'em off? That's okay - I'll rip out your the whole eye."

Oops! I can't! Someone doesn't want me helping.

What happened to not 'waiting until he begged'?

But you're not begging. And she's not here anyway.

"You underestimate the effort I have made to get these," the Agent said. "They have more than one trick."

"I think I can handle it," Alex said.

The Agent gave a merry laugh and peered at him.

"Is that the host? Is that the original?" The Agent shook his head. "I would rather not give you brain damage in this fight. If you please, send out your other half." Xander roared with laughter. "I can wait, if you'd like."

Why did no one believe he could do this? But sure, he'd take the minute to size the situation up. He didn't want to charge into this blindly. That'd be really, really dumb.



Jason saw his lead get on the elevator. He was a little surprised by it, since he thought she'd want him with her. She might've been senior staff and everything, but he had a suit and a whole lot of ass-kicking know-how. Unless she wanted him up here...?

No, screw it. He was going down, too. Until he got that two month thing figured out, until he got the gear Frenchie and Flunky had, he wasn't playing around with that kind of power anymore. Later, though, he promised himself. In the meantime, he opened the door to the stairwell and ran down, his target bursting into full analysis on the corner of his screen.

What - so she was flying solo now? Everything was taken care of? Well, thank God the Agency had roped him into this little mission. He was glad to've helped his lead with... oh, wait. Right. Jason sighed to himself, happy he was still in the stairwell and out of sight. At least he didn't have to take another magic blast of whatever a second time tonight. He hadn't shaken off the first attack yet, anyway.

Still. He felt useless. He had to help somehow.

Gary?

wut

Start setting up a transfer booth.

wut

A transfer booth, or whatever you people use to stick people into different bodies.

lololol its nt a both moran

Of course it wasn't. Not that he'd know. The Agency and everyone else involved in this 'program' kept him so far out of the loop, he might as well've been a civilian. At least he'd been 'informed' of the process.

u got the host?

Give me ten minutes. Give his lead ten minutes. We'll have her.

Ten minutes sounded fair. If his lead wanted some private time, he'd respect that, but the fact of the matter was he had a job to do. One quick hand wave of 'go away' wasn't going to stop him for long. So. Ten minutes. He'd stay close and stay frosty, but that mask was off for the rest of the damn year. He knew a few tricks to keep his mind hidden from his target's powers. Jason would follow them until that time was up and then he was moving in.



"What if I got a knife?"

"Non. You cannot use a knife."

"Broken table? Broken shelf?"

"About that," the Agent said. "I hate to pry into your personal matters, but I must have an answer for what exploded in this room."

"That was me," Xander perked up, enjoying every minute of this. "You like it?"

"It is an homage to your strength," the Agent said. "I appreciate your work."

Okay, enough already. Alex scowled and demanded from the Frenchman, "Why the hell are you not fighting me?"

The Agent, hovering in his early-to-mid-forties, pulled a pack of cigarettes from the inside of his jackets and promptly jammed one in his mouth. Waiting patiently for his friend to light it for him - delicate hands, Alex guessed, or else he was lazy - he said, "As I explained earlier, I need you intact. Your mind is the shell we require to re-perform the necessary transfer. If I am to fight anyone, it will be the one who is expendable."

I can hear you, asshole.

"I thought you were getting rid of both of us," Alex said.

"In time," the Agent said. "But for now, our priority is to re-establish the blank slate we had before. That means getting him out, as it seems his control has been unable to take."

"And then once you have me out..." He was getting answers. This was incredible. "Who's going in?"

The Agent smiled.

"Me." He smiled wider. "It was supposed to be me, initially. Your friend and I were among the final contenders for the honour. I cannot imagine what he did to steal the glory away -" It probably had something to do with me - y'know - not sucking ass. "- but, I can assure you, the failure to correctly place his mind within you was both a blessing and a sweet taste of karma." He took a drag, then grinned through the cloud he blew out. "How is it in there, by the way? Crowded, I assume. How you have put up with each for so long... You should be dead already. Faded. You are now overdue."

Xander had been tired lately.

"Well! This has been insanely educational," Xander said. "I'm glad we could have this talk, Mr. Guy-Who-Won't-Die-When-I-Stab-Bludgeon-Choke-Drown-Electrocute-Him. I, personally, knew all this shit already, but I'm sure Alex got somethin' - heart punch!"

He flung forward with both fists, slamming them into either Agents' chest. It sent both of them backwards, especially the seven foot tall one with the zero balance in his body, but the other Agent, the one in charge, seemed to accept the blow. He didn't resist or try to fight back as Xander leaped back and sailed out of the door, the bag of everything hanging safely from Alex's arm.

"This feels like a purse. I hate it."

Xander was leaving them alive?

"Fuck it. I keep trying. It's not happening. I don't even trust the gun to do it."

Alex wanted to sigh. It stuck in his throat. He tried again. Still stuck.

One more time.

... Still -



"That was unnecessary," Jean muttered, climbing out of the pile he'd fallen into. "I will enjoy returning the favour."

"Soon. You have him traced?"

"These lenses are a miracle," Jean said. "We should have ordered them years ago." He nodded his head at the door. "When should I scrape him off the ground?"

"Half an hour, if that. It will be an accomplishment if he makes it down the block," Benoit replied. He picked his cigarette up again and returned it to his mouth. "Good idea?"

"It works well."

Goodbye, Alexander. Jean set his watch to start timing. The lenses could do that, too.

Alex realized what was wrong before Xander had left the hall. He couldn't get out. It was like he was trapped inside his head somehow or...

... Holy shit. He'd switched places. For no reason at all - absolutely zero reason, and when the fuck did this happen - suddenly he was the voice inside his head and Xander -

Xander?

"Oh, that's what he did."

What the fuck do you mean 'that's what he did'? What who-

"The guy in there," Xander said, and already Alex could hear a difference in his voice. It was no longer his that'd been warped to something cocky and conceited. Now it sounded like someone else, like someone completely different. "He gave me this weird look when I cracked a hole through his ribs. Thought he was hittin' on me, but damn if I didn't live to see the day where that would've been better."

The Agent had his body. The Agent had his body. The Agent had his body.

"Stop crying. I'm the one who has shit to worry about now."

You're in my body! Like - in, as in exactly how it was supposed to be, Alex snarled. Excuse me for being freaked out!

Xander hadn't stopped running through this. He'd flown down the stairwell as he'd been talking, moving faster than he'd ever been in the last few years. Before he reached the next floor, however, his hand shot out and shoved something face-first into the wall. The Agent. That other Agent. The one they'd tied up in his apartment. He'd done that weird invisibility shit again, and Alex was furious that, for the second time, he'd failed to pick up on it.

"Gonna need these."

And with a sweep of his hands, Xander pulled the goggles by their strap, tearing it off of the Agent's head before firing his entire body into a focused knee to the asshole's gut. Alex could only glimpse as their intruder doubled over, out-matched in the worst way, before he was taken into the hallway and on a hunt for Gwen.

She's not -

"I have eyes," he snapped, walking briskly. "Yours." And then he muttered, mostly to himself, "She couldn't've gone far."

"Haaarrrrrrrrr -"

Alex had solved another mystery. Xander did, somehow, have eyes in the back of his head. He didn't turn or bother looking at anything as the war-cry behind them sounded. He just bent his arm and threw an elbow in what felt like the general direction. The sharp crack that followed and the subtle shudder in his sight was more than enough proof that that damn failure was out a second time, but the dead thud the man made as he fell to the ground was a nice way to hammer it home.

... Good shot.

"They're fucking pathetic. I'm glad I'm out of there," Xander said. He pointed. "See her?"

Who is that? He was glad he didn't have to waste air on the question. Alex could tell with a glance that that woman beside Gwen was an Agent, too. You know her?

"Nope."

Xander had slowed down, trying to hide behind the back of their heads as he walked up. He was doing a fantastic job of it, until the women began to move. They were fighting.

They're fighting -

"Shut up, man," he said. "You're acting like this is the first time I've taken over."

Permanently? Yeah -

"It's not permanent," Xander said. He didn't finish up with that, because now his eyes were focused on the flurry of fists pounding Gwen into a corner. He tensed and readied himself to -

"Give them back!"

This time, it wasn't the shriek that'd given the Agent away. Alex saw it when Xander did, fiercely aware of the dull shadow in the lights around him, the gentle vibration through the floor in the distance, the hushed sound of fabric scraping against itself as someone streaked down the hall... He'd never noticed it before. He still couldn't, and he wasn't able to consciously decide to turn around and face the repeat attacker like his body had magically managed. That was Xander. His thoughts were random bursts of insight Alex managed to glean as they were turned over and considered. For what truly was the first time, he had a horrible glimpse into what Xander could do, and it didn't look ready to end nicer than it usually did.

"Dude - seriously, you're pissing me off," Xander said.

It wasn't enough that the Agent had been taken down twice in two minutes. He charged ahead like a bull, and without even doubting if it was going to work, Xander grabbed the guy by his curly hair, latched onto his momentum and swung him into the hallway wall. The Agent must've been sick of this by now, but he wasn't out of this yet. Xander had the end of his patience, so he made sure there was enough eye contact to burn a path between them and force him to stay down.

That wasn't a kill, Alex said, managing to sound breathless.

"Yeah. Fresh out'f those." He rocketed away from the half-corpse, shoving the goggles absently into his bag, then caught up to the psycho going after Gwen - she had her by the hair and had pointed her fingers like she was about to stab her through her neck - and put his arm up, stopping whatever lethal blow she'd been about to deliver and making extra sure she didn't have any lenses on before letting loose with another mind fry. This one was even weaker than the other, but it'd have to be enough to keep the Agent in place as Xander grabbed Gwen, whose hair was still entangled and who'd probably had a solid jerk on her scalp before she was freed, and ran. "Hope you can move. We're taking the stairs."

Get out of here! Jump out a window!

"Are you fucking insane? I'm not jumping out a window," Xander told him. He was practically dragging Gwen along, wrapping a hand around her waist and nearly pulling her onto him. "We're finding a taxi, getting in, and then you guys're gonna figure out some place to sit while I pass out for a day."

'Pass out'?

"How long do you think I can keep this up for? I'm exhausted," Xander said. "We've got ten minutes, if that, before I'm down and you two are up shit's creek. Again."

This was going pretty well, all things considered. Then again, getting out of the building was part one. Part two was getting a taxi, part three was getting his body back -

"What happened is that I'm stuck out here in full control," Xander said. He'd stopped running at the sight of the front doors. He was back to a brisk walk, eager to get out of here, but pacing himself all the same. "We need to find a taxi. Start looking for one."

She asked you what's going to happen, Alex said. Are you sure you're out in ten minutes?

"I'm guessing," he told him. "Might be ten, might be twenty, but I'm wearing out fast and whatever the fuck he did to me, riding shotgun's not an option now. Find a damn taxi."

There was no one on the road outside. It was like the city had emptied around them, but that wasn't what was on Alex's mind. Being out of control - completely - was something he'd be able to stomach if he knew, at least, it'd be worth something. Whatever Xander's motivation was, he was still on the run. They needed everything he had to offer and, right now, he needed them. If he did pass out, if he did collapse...

I'll take over.

"Huh?"

I said I'll take over, Alex said. He caught a whiff of confusion. My body?

"If you can do it, do it fast," Xander replied.

Alex would've frowned if he could. His mouth was so far out of his reach, though. And that wasn't what he'd been getting at. He tried again, speaking slowly this time.

If you pass out, I'll take over my body again. Problem solved. In the meantime -

"I'm pretty sure that's not how this works."

Taxi! A taxi! If he could see it, Xander could see it, and sure enough, he began marching forward.

How do you know that's not how it works? Now he was trying to scowl. Agent insight?

"Common sense. Mr. Won't-Die is not the kind of person who'd spend the effort getting those lenses to take me out just to let you run off immediately afterwards."

He thinks I'm pathetic.

"You are pathetic."

But he told me he'd crush me in a second, Alex said. It'd be easier to hunt me down if you were out of the way. I'll -

"It'd be even easier if I was gone and you had no control. Feel like having another coma? 'Cause that's probably what this is gonna be. Keep up, Gwen. I'll look after you when we're out of here."

There'd been an absent fear growing in the back of Alex's mind. When they learned about Gwen and her new role in the Agents' missions, he'd wondered if Xander planned to offer her up as some kind of a gift or bargaining chip. With such incredible access to what the guy was feeling, he was sure he'd know what his true intentions were if he simply asked. But wouldn't Gwen have been able to pick up on it if he had? And if he really was trying to strike a deal, what was the point of knocking out that other woman? Or any of the other Agents? Their French stalker would've been perfectly happy to negotiate. So maybe he was being paranoid again. Maybe... maybe he was an idiot for accusing Xander at all.

Nothing to say about that?

"About what?" The taxi had seen them. It was pulling over to the curb. No one was bearing down on them and no one was sneaking up from behind, but Alex couldn't be expected to know.

About what I said.

"You didn't say anything."

He couldn't hear his thoughts anymore, Alex realized. Or hear his emotions, or however the hell it worked. That was part of the switch. He had privacy now. ... But unless Xander really was as thoughtless as he acted, there should've been more information flowing between them. The guy had something to say about every notion that'd popped into Alex's head. Either he needed a hell of a lot more practise at this or Xander was doing something to severely limit what he let Alex in on.

I said 'maybe I should trust you', he said. I think you need us too much to stab us in the back now.

"Hey, that's great to hear." He stopped, opened the taxi door and turned to Gwen with the wad of cash in his hand. "You're gonna be in charge of this for a while. Get him to drive as far as he possibly can. If you can't wait for me to wake up - well... Keep running."

... Just a second.

What the hell do you mean 'coma'? Not again. Never again. Am I waking up if you pass out?

"Maybe."

'Maybe'?

"And try to keep Alex calm, too," Xander said, waiting for the woman to get in. "He's havin' a bad day. How's yours going? Enjoy the coffee?"

This was the worst day of Jason's life. The first experience with that mind ray had been agonizing and torturous, but he knew, even before he had something to compare it with, that Alexander was keeping him alive to interrogate later. This time? It was not the same. This was supposed to be lethal and it hadn't been. He didn't know why, but in his floating, half-real idea of what was going on around him, he could guess that the man had either been in too much of a hurry to finish the job or just assumed that two month thing would take care of him eventually. Or maybe he'd thought harder about it than that and kept Jason alive because he seemed to be excelling at fucking everything up on this end.

This wasn't the kind of Agent he was. He was a professional, dammit, and he'd underestimated Alexander twice. The first time had an excuse attached to it. The second, part a, did, too. He'd stupidly thought seeing him in his faded suit had been a one-chance stroke of luck, but apparently Alexander was as familiar with his technology as Frenchie insisted. He'd been trying to get Jason's guard down and it worked. But he'd've been content to lie there after that knee to his stomach if he hadn't been ripped away from his goggles, the lifeblood of everything his suit could do, seconds later. In that moment, something inside of him had snapped. It wasn't like before when they'd told him to wear something else and he'd be allowed to carry the goggles with him; the goggles were gone and the panic had bubbled up instantly. He had no choice but to attack. Repeatedly. Purposefully. Clumsily. There'd been no coordination and he was shocked that was still breathing.

Then he felt someone standing over him and the brush of a line against his throat. He didn't have to be trained to know what it was. His lead wasn't playing around anymore. To be honest, he'd do the same in her position.

The knife was gone.

With a mighty slap across his face racing like fire to every pain center in his brain - amazingly, that thing still worked - Jason snapped out of it. He blinked once, twice, then tried to focus on her. She almost refused to come out as anything but blurry and he forced himself to sit up.

"I'm awake," he said, sounding too happy and hopeful for anyone's tastes. It was gone after that. The life bled out of his voice. "They took the goggles."

Not that she cared, he bitterly remembered. Why would she?

"We can trace them," he said, starting to wake up. "The goggles - it'd take seconds. We'd know exactly where they are."

"Ah, tracers." That voice. It sounded as smoky as it smelled. "Reliable technology. Ancient, but the cornerstone to any operation of this caliber."

"You look like you had fun," the Flunky said.

Jason must've missed the ding from the elevator and hadn't noticed the doors open, but he watched as they came out and joined them, one smirking pleasantly to himself, and the other a brain cell away from chewing on his shoes.

"Glad to see your catch of the day," Jason said. "With all due respect. Sir."

Benoit's smirk became a smile, and he answered silkily, "The best trap takes its time to work."

"It defeats the purpose a little, though," Jason said. "What's the point of hunting something if you're going to let it die where you can't reach it?"

"Relax," Benoit said. "I know where he is. And this way, I have ensured Alexander is neutralized before we engage him again. Considering your dear girl's new interest in him, I say a very large anchor has been tied around her neck if she chooses to wait by his side. You should thank me. I have done your job for you." He took a moment to get another cloud circling his head. "I expected as much anyway."

"I cannot understand why you keep him around," the Flunky muttered. "Every time I find him, it is after he has failed to grasp the concept of 'close your eyes'."

"No, Jean. You know better than that. Blame the thread, not the needle, if the stitch fails to hold." He was talking about Jason's lead. He was unashamedly unwilling to hide it. "After all, it is the thread that must keep the fabric together. But I suppose failure is warranted in unfamiliar territory. Welcome to the world of chain-mail, Miss Agent. What do you think of it, as a native of the world of tissue?"

"I think they understand our point, Benoit."

And, of course, they 'hawhn-hawhn-hawhn'd over that one for forever.



Xander yawned.

Coffee's not gonna fix that, is it?

"I'm up for trying."

Alex was more than happy to let Gwen take over for now. She had him in the cab, she had the cab on the move, she had the money to keep the guy motivated, and she should be decent at sensing any trouble, new to her powers or not. The problem was what they were going to do with the dead weight if it turned out Alex couldn't take over when Xander collapsed, which he was clearly on the verge of.

You should sleep now, Alex said. If you're gonna wear down anyway, don't bother pushing my body to its limit.

He felt a flicker of annoyance at the emphasis on 'my' but it was topped by the flash of amusement that came after it. Xander's trick to limit what he projected seemed to be wearing down, but he was too weak - that was a horrifying thing to think about - to feel much anyway. Running on reserves, he turned to Gwen and said, "So. Second date. Walk along the beaches of Iraq? 'M sure they'd be friendlier than these guys."

We should find a hotel, Alex said. Far away, I mean. Really, really far away.

That's why those credit cards would come in handy. He wasn't stupid enough to actually have any in his name, even if using them at all still came with a risk. Did he have to worry about that, though? Whatever the French Agent had done, he seemed positive he'd be able to find them after. Plus, Xander brought along a sharp looking piece of Agent tech by grabbing the useless one's goggles. They had to have a way to trace it. They must have been feeling very, very confident that they could catch up if they hadn't set out after him and Gwen immediately. He hoped it'd be their downfall, or at least keep them at bay for long enough to get Xander up and running again.

Or get my body back...

"Yeah. Okay. That's it. I'm tired," Xander said. "Find a hotel - like... ten cities away if you can, then get someone to drag my ass up there. If they ask, I'm drunk."

That's the cover you're coming up with? It's early afternoon.

"Just say I'm an alcoholic," Xander muttered. "I can shut you up with that now, right? Save me a few drinks up there."

With that darling request, Alex saw his eyes close completely. After a short breath, Xander was asleep, and then Alex felt a lightness come over him. He shot out instantly and started grabbing for his fingers, his toes, anything he might've been able to get control of. Nothing. There was nothing there. He was more out of touch than before and his situation was starting to get worse.

Gwen? Gwen - I hope you can hear me. I don't want to be in here alone.

"I am glad to hear your will to fight remains intact," Benoit said. "Try not to be too hard on yourself. Becoming lost in this mission is an easy thing to do. This is your first time seeing your case in her flesh." That much was obvious. "But do not allow yourself to be overwhelmed again."

"And keep a leash on that one," Jean added.

Benoit shook his head, sympathizing with the boy's situation.

"In his case, I blame the suit," he said. "This is the first one I have seen who avoided the drugs they pair with the product, but he is as weak and helpless as any other. You must be mindful of him at all times. They are known to go mad if the suit is damaged."

"Alexander stole my goggles," the child grunted.

"Well. We will have to ask for them back," Benoit said. "Miss Agent, I believe it is time you addressed me by my first name. You have earned it, and I hope you understand what it means. I have reconsidered your proposal to work together."

Jean was immediately on guard. His eyes and those of the weakling on the floor met and narrowed at each other.

"Provided you can handle the risk," Jean said. "As it stands, it may be safer to keep you here."

"The information you requested earlier," his lead went on, ignoring the petty squabble that threatened to consume their time. "Regarding Alexander. I will decide what is safe to answer later. However, my primary objective is cataloging your target's abilities. Gwendolyn, was it? With my target preoccupied, relatively speaking, she will be in charge of their defences. The more I know about what she can do, the more I can tailor my plan to fit both of our needs." He bowed his head a touch. "I can assure you, no one here understands our attachment to our cases, and I give you my word, this is not an attempt to take yours away. It just so happens that now, unequivocally, our paths have merged. It would be a mistake to ignore it."

Jean sidled up to his lead and drew close. In a voice soft enough to keep the others from listening in, he told the man, "I will not work with the careless."

"He has a suit. He has training. He is simply... exuberant," Benoit said. "You will keep him out of trouble, non? And keep him alive until we have finished?"

"I promise nothing."

Benoit was amused. He returned his gaze to the other lead and politely wrapped up his offer with a quick, "What do you say, Miss Agent?"

"Do we get something for our eyes?" The tiny one was clambering to his feet. "Can we have what you have?"

"Eyelids?"

"Jean. Stop that." Benoit gave a gentle nod. "I will see what I can arrange, but I doubt it will match the technology you are used to. We operate on a simpler field."

"Yeah. I figured," was his curt reply. "Good enough. I guess."



She could hear him. At least there was one good thing that'd come out of this. He couldn't imagine what it'd be like if he was cut off from the world entirely, but he was still blind and motionless. Too bad Xander didn't sleep with his eyes open.

That's not completely true, Alex 'said', trying to relax in the midst of everything. You could always go back to your real life. It's not so much the hiding that's the problem. It's the staying quiet part. Cops everywhere? News reports? Taking care of the Agents who do find us is supposed to be something subtle and we never mastered that. Now look what happened.

He was going to have to fix everything somehow.

Are you sure he's breathing? It's hard to tell in here. I'm sure he is - he has to be - but... Can you reach him at all?

Good. This was good. So - maybe Xander wasn't in a coma after all. That was much, much better than anything he could've asked for. 'Raring to go', though? He tried not to let her in on his skepticism, but it wasn't like he had a lot of practise at it. And - hey, speaking of that!

It wasn't slow motion, he insisted. And it was only for a second anyway. I wasn't... you know... The thought bubbled up again. Argh - no! Stop it! I mean... I'm not thinking about that. Anymore.

He completely was, now more than ever just because he knew it was off-limits. And she had to say 'nurse', too.

His toe hadn't been too much of a problem so far. It was painful and he'd been hiding a limp made much worse by the tango with 'Mike' or whoever, but he'd gotten along by putting his weight on the sides of his foot. That wasn't how Xander ran. He and his dead sprint downstairs to Gwen had demolished any hope of it just being or staying a bad sprain. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate it and Gwen, definitely, had gotten the long end of that stick, but if there was anything to be grateful for about being stuck like... this, it was him not having to be the one to put up with the fresh pain. No matter how tough the guy was or how little it'd ultimately bother him, Xander was going to be pissed when he woke up and realized he had walk around on that foot. Then again, he'd been happy to spend an afternoon chasing down Agents on rooftops last year, and Alex'd had a fracture down his entire leg. Maybe Xander wouldn't notice.

We should fix it, Alex decided. It could get worse. But I don't think a hospital'd be the best place to go.

The Frenchman would've ruled it out. He knew Alex well enough to know his injuries would never drag him into such a public place so soon. That didn't necessarily hold for whoever else was on his army, though. If there was anyone else left, he meant, but they couldn't risk it yet.

If you think you can manage it, I'll let you look, Alex said. I think there's gauze - maybe - in the bag I brought. There's a towel in there too, by the way, in case your - uh... your nose starts up. He thought about it, what he'd seen before Xander had stepped in. How are you? Hurt? Any pains anywhere I should know about? If you need a hospital, we can go. I don't think Xander'll be able to get up for it - and I'll... be stuck here until I can get control - but we'll take the risk of running into them if it means making sure you're okay.

He hadn't been able to stand the first time he'd faced an Agent, back before he'd gotten a 'friend' injected into his brain. They'd kicked his ass like they'd wanted him dead, so to see her still walking, even wanting to help, was something he could barely wrap his head around. He was proud of her, and maybe a tiny bit jealous, but guilty too. That feeling started sinking in. He tried defending his choice to go upstairs and get his things, but his argument about leaving it behind and getting trapped in a disadvantage, seemed hollow now. They'd hit the worst case scenario and Alex had been the one to take them there. Whatever happened because of it would be his fault.

He'd fix it. He'd find a way. Get Xander up, get back in control, find a way to get rid of those damn Agents...



Jean wanted to protest. He wanted to get involved. Benoit, however, gave no sign he required assistance, and that was nearly as strong an answer as taking the woman into a different room and locking him and the brat out. As a result, Jean kept his mouth shut, even if he left his ears finely tuned for whatever his lead called for throughout his answer to the others.

"Alexander can overload a person's mind. The exact science behind it is something I have no interest in; so long as it remains stable, I am satisfied simply knowing it exists." Benoit's cigarette was running low. Jean had another one out for him. "The attacks are controlled through his willpower. Should he wish to kill a man, he will do so, and the person will drop, dead, immediately, unless the want to cause pain is a part of his plan as well. In that case, the effect is drawn out, and his victim lives only long enough to feel his mind fry in its skull. In contrast to this violence, he may choose to stun an opponent. He prefers to spark the feeling of a taser to the front of one's brain, and although I know he can, as far as I have experienced, he will not attack any lighter than that. What this translates to is his most frequent level of intensity is akin - or, I should say, is exactly - a seizure."

"It is the easiest way to track our target," Jean said, filling in the gaps Benoit had left for him. "'Frying the mind' is not a literal term. The deaths are indistinguishable from normal causes. The only way to be sure it is his work is to examine the victim's history. No record of such onsets or any traits that would suggest its likelihood in that poor fool means he has struck again."

"Though it may come as a late warning, the attacks are made through eye contact." The scowl on that child's face was well beyond entertaining. Benoit would have laughed had he been looking. "'Temporary'? No. Low dosage is what you must call it, and be grateful it was not at full strength. From what I have been reading as the reports came in, he ran into your team this morning. You met him while he was worn down. They weren't so lucky."

"And we're supposed to block this by closing our eyes? Why isn't that common knowledge?"

Jean was very polite as he replied in place of his lead.

"We cannot afford to have him grow used to opening our colleague's eyes. He has enough practise as it is. One less talent to hone will end well for us all."

"As per your second request," Benoit went on, "I suppose I could shed some light on the matter." He nodded. "Very well. Alexander. The guest, I should clarify, not the host. He is the thief we are here to judge, owing to his theft of the host the Agency intended to embrace."

"He is a failed experiment," Jean said. "That should be common enough."

The boy frowned. He frowned back.

"Alexander-the-guest was one of the lead Agents on the case, back when we knew too little of this strain of gifted persons to allow only one in charge to handle it. He was also a candidate for transfer, and was accepted as such and given the same rules anyone intent to do the same would find familiar: he would become the blessed host and, for the rest of his life, serve as an eternal employee of the Agency, dedicated to ensuring others like Alexander did not run wild with their strengths and kill millions. A noble cause to be sure, and one Alexander-the-guest accepted." He paused. He puffed. He went back to talking. "Until the transfer didn't work." Benoit liked explaining that. "For some reason, he wasn't able to take full control of the host, likely because the technology used was too new and barbaric. We solved the problem not long afterwards, but we realized the only way to ensure the original Alexander, the one we needed to contain for the greater good, was no longer able to terrorize the populace, was to remove all consciouses and start again. Alexander-the-guest knew this. When he woke up from his delightful nap, he ran, stealing the Agency's property and establishing our division as the hand that takes what was lost back." He paused again, this time having reached all he cared to offer. "Was that enough?"

"What about the two-month thing?" The other Agent seemed incapable of shutting up. "I read your reports, or at least bits you put up. You've had a whole line of Agents dying exactly two months after any skirmishes with your target."

"I know nothing of that," Benoit said. "If you feel it is more than coincidence, perhaps you should investigate."

"If you can manage without your toy," Jean muttered.

"Can you manage without your face? 'Cause that's what's coming next," the boy hissed.

Stupid child. The whole of his head could fit in Jean's hand and crush as quickly. Jean had no complaints in proving it.

"I look forward to the show," he said.

And again, the boy scowled.

Okay, so that was pretty much the worst sound that could've come out her mouth. What the hell happened? Was it his foot? She said she'd look at it. Was it broken? Badly?

Uh... How is it?

As if he couldn't guess.

So long as it's attached and I can still feel my toes, Xander'll get along, he said. But if I need a doctor...

At least she was okay. He felt better about it, but he wanted to see for himself. In the darkness like this, not knowing if or when he'd get out of here, he'd hit a new level of discomfort. It'd been a long time since he'd had to depend on somebody, and even if she was more trustworthy than anyone he'd come across in a long, long time, he wasn't jumping for joy. With some luck, he'd still be able to actually jump. His foot had been through hell and back half a dozen times before, but with the way everything was going, he had a feeling today could be the day it decided to fuck off on him.

Stupid, pointless powers. Why couldn't he have gotten something like... like soul stealing or whatever? It'd be as dangerous as his overloads but he wouldn't keep having to chase people down to get in their face and use it.

He heard rustling. Gwen must've been looking after him. Great. He tried to take a breath, panicked a bit when he couldn't, but managed to relax despite that. In a few hours - minimum - they'd stop off at some place far away and rest. After that, he'd run for a week.

I hope you don't have another job you need to get back to tomorrow, he said. If you really are coming with us, it might be better if you mail in your two weeks' notice. She was losing everything. Her whole life, after she'd told him she'd grown up here, was slowly going down the drain and they couldn't do anything to stop it. He had to be positive. After all, they'd been hunting for her anyway. Maybe she'd be thrown into a world of life on the run for forever, but it was better than having someone dig their way into her head. At least you don't have to pay. We can't risk you going to the bank, so what you have is what you have. I've got a system set up, though, and Xander won't sleep anywhere that doesn't have at least four stars, so... there's that.

It wasn't a great consolation but it was the best he had. 'It's the thought that counts', he told himself. Hopefully, she'd get the message, and when he could feel enough of his arm to move it, he'd hold onto her. Until then, he'd just have to point to a nicer horizon.



Jean was not a tiny man. Benoit had selected him largely because of that. His competence was another strong factor, his skill in cornering opponents a glorious bonus, but it had been his great seven feet and loose change in inches that set him apart from his colleagues when the group had been assembled. There had been thirty then. Jean was the first to join this team and the last to remain on it. He held no small pride in that accomplishment, although he lacked surprise to go with it. Who would be surprised? His fingers were enough to crush rocks unaided and his square face, narrow eyes and skin cooked under the heat of the sun sent a silent, damning threat to anyone who dared do them harm. Aside from Alexander, who boasted a speed that was nearly a power in itself, there was nothing that stood a chance against his might.

And the brat refused to care.

He glared at the boy. The boy glared back. It stayed that way until he felt his lead mutely demand attention.

"Give them what they need," Benoit said.

Jean did so. He gave one pair of the mirrored glasses to the woman with a high note of respect, as was expected of anyone advanced enough to reach her level, but the second pair, his old ones, Jean nearly chose to crumple in his fist. His lead was aware of that, and ever easily amused, was trying not to laugh. Regardless, he was given a warning to co-operate. Squabbling, no matter how entertaining Benoit would find it, was not something he tolerated in the presence of other senior employees. Past a point.

"These have served us since we obtained our lenses," Jean explained. "Now that we have them, these are obsolete. I imagine you will find a use for them at any rate."

"I can shove 'em up your ass," the child grunted.

Jean had been the only one to hear it, but the leads had caught on.

"Play nicely, boys," Benoit said. "These are of higher quality than what our Agency provides as standard equipment. Alexander may have considerable practise at removing such effects from his enemy's face, but he knows not to try blasting through it. He learned the lesson the hard way - at the hands of Alexander-the-guest, no less, before they were stuck in their pathetic half-life. Actually, should either of you have the chance, I suggest you look into the story. It's quite funny."

"Not today," Jean said. "Today, we remain on task. The lenses allow us to follow a trail Alexander creates as he moves. Wherever he goes, we will be able to follow."

"Yes. At our leisure." Benoit flicked his cigarette to the ground. "I believe our lunch was earned. Come, Miss Agent, and her faithful companion. We should celebrate this union, and you will feel better after you eat."

Benoit would not be deciding where that was. If Jean let him, the man would choke down a plate of sugar and swear it was a vegetable 'because it came from a tree'. For someone so well trained in the art of combat and culture, who hailed from the heart of the land of French - the other and more Canadian one - and had grown up around the richest tapestry of cuisine, it was as if he had no tongue at all. Jean, instead, and as usual, would decide where they ate, and he refused to eat anywhere less than a mile from this dump. Had Alexander no pride in where he lived?

It would be good to have the boy walk anyway. He looked ill. If Jean's day were truly blessed, the effort and stress would kill him. It would be easier on everyone, he felt, as his patience was wearing thin and he would rather not have to explain to either lead why dear Jason's neck had collapsed as though iron had wrapped around it. Benoit, for one, would hate the paperwork.