A/N: I wrote this sometime last year, but I found a few finished Dark Angel one-shots on my computer that I never posted. This is one of them. The dialogue in the last section comes from the episode "The Berrisford Agenda", and there are spoilers for the show up until that point.

Sleepless Nights

Rain beats down on his head and his shoulders, sending rivulets of dirty water down the back of his leather jacket. It's been going on like this for hours. He's officially learned the true meaning of soaked to the bone. He's freezing, tired, and soaked. The surface of the Space Needle is slick beneath him, giving him the constant feeling that he's about to slip over the edge. But he can't leave, because if he goes anywhere but home, he'll have to talk to people; if he goes home, he'll fall asleep; if he falls asleep, he knows it'll be Rachel's face that he sees in his dreams.

So he stares blankly down at the city, watching all of the lights—the proof that everyone else's worlds are still spinning, even if his has come to a standstill.

"Bip, bip, people! This is a messenger service, not a chat room!" Normal's exclamation breaks up a group of chattering messengers, who roll their eyes but get moving. Max walks in—late, as usual—and Normal calls out to her. "Hey! You seen Golden Boy?"

Max barely spares him a glance. "He's sick," she says breezily.

"Still? It's been a week." He frowns at Max, who stops and crosses her arms, annoyed by the obvious concern in Normal's voice. "What's wrong with him?"

"Strep," Max answers, because mono, SARS, smallpox, and the bubonic plague have already been used this year. "He'll be back soon." She doesn't know this for sure—doesn't really know if Alec will be back at all—but she figures it'll get Normal off her back. She walks toward her locker, ignoring whatever Normal says next. She shrugs her backpack off on the bench next to Original Cindy. She flips down the hood of her jacket and pushes the wet strands of hair off of her face.

"So where's he really at, boo?" Original Cindy asks, looking up from her half-tied boot.

"Alec?" Max asks. She pops up the latch of her beat up locker and opens it. "I don't know," she admits. "I haven't heard from him."

"Hm," Original Cindy frowns. She doesn't know the details about the whole Alec issue. Max hasn't told her everything—just that some Manticore ghosts came back to haunt Alec. Max figures that Rachel Berrisford is Alec's story to tell, and it's not her place to tell it for him.

"I'm gonna stop by his place later," Max says, answering the question in her friend's eyes. She takes her pager and shoves it into the pocket of her jeans, not wanting it to get soaked when she goes back outside. "But I don't think he wants my help on this one."

"Pretty boy needs all the help he can get," Original Cindy says, swinging her foot down from the bench. Her words bring a half-hearted smile to Max's lips. Max can't fully appreciate the humor, not when the image of the shattered young man sobbing over Rachel Berrisford's comatose body is the only thing she sees when she closes her eyes.

Her knuckles crack against the door to Alec's apartment. She doesn't hear any movement inside, but for all she knows, Alec's drank himself to sleep. Then again, six days of drink after drink would probably only be enough to get him buzzed, with his amped up immune system.

"He's not there," a soft voice says. Max turns to see one of Alec's neighbors—a woman in her late thirties who is holding onto the hand of a little girl. "I haven't seen him go in or out in a week or so."

"Do you know where he went?" Max asks, already knowing that the question is useless. If Alec wants to disappear, he's not leaving a trail for her to follow. He wouldn't tell his neighbors his plans.

"No," the woman answers, reassuring Max's thoughts. The woman tilts her head slightly to the side. "Are you…?" She presses her lips together in a line, rephrases, and starts again. "Do you work with him?"

"Yeah," Max responds, folding her arms. She's really got better things to be doing than chatting with this woman. "We're…" She trails off, not knowing how to finish. She still won't call him a friend, but after what she's seen, she can no longer think of him as an enemy. "I'm just trying to make sure he doesn't do something stupid," she finally says, because that's the one thing she's sure of.

The woman nods. "He looked really upset the last time I saw him," she says, the questioning tone not lost on Max. "If you're going to look for him…" She looks down at the little girl, and then back at Max. "Just make sure he's all right. He's such a sweet kid; I hate to think of the trouble he could get in."

You and me both, Max thinks, followed by, Alec? Sweet? "Thanks," Max says to the woman, already walking down the hall.

With her enhanced hearing, she hears the little girl softly say, "Mommy, is Mr. Alec coming back?" The mother doesn't respond other than to usher the girl into their apartment.

Max doesn't know where to start looking. She honestly doesn't even know why she cares so much. She doesn't know why she's bothering—Alec's a big boy, he can take care of himself—other than that image in her mind. Maybe this twisted feeling in her gut is coming from the fact that it's not some ex-Manticore assassin that she's looking for, but a confused and hurt kid. Maybe she's worried about him because no one bothered to worry about her. Maybe she's the one coming down with strep.

No matter the reason, she needs to think. There's only one place in Seattle that will allow her to do that.

Max likes to go to the top of the Space Needle. It clears her mind and it calms her nerves to see how the rest of the city is still moving, even when she feels like her world has stopped. It's the only place she can go where no one will follow.

No one, that is, except for the huddled, shaking figure near the edge. She can almost feel herself soften with pity and relief. She walks forward, being careful to keep her balance on the wet metal surface. She lowers herself to sit next to Alec, already feeling the rain seeping through her jacket. "You been here the whole time?" The sound of her voice sounds wrong in the silence, but she can't just not talk.

He lifts his head and fixes her with a look. It's the same look he'd given her at the Berrisford place—completely devoid of any emotion but pain. He's soaked. His hair is plastered to his face. His fingers are clenched into the sleeves of his jacket so tightly that his knuckles have gone white. The look in his eyes is so shattered, so broken, so not Alec that Max wants to shake him.

"Been six days," Max says quietly. Alec averts his eyes, staring down at the passing lights. "You eaten anything?" She gets no response.

"Have you slept?"

"I can't." His voice cracks painfully halfway through, hoarse from lack of use.

"I don't sleep much either," she says. She's using the same tone that she would use with a small child. She doesn't mean to, but she treats him like he's fragile because she doesn't know how true that might be.

He glances at her from the side of his eyes, saying wordlessly that insomnia isn't why he can't sleep. Max bites her lip and looks down over the city. She takes a deep breath, stands up, and firmly says, "Get up."

He slowly turns his gaze to her, like he's pulling himself out of a memory.

"Now," Max orders. "Stand up before I beat your scrawny ass. And don't think about jumping, either."

They watch each other for a moment before Alec rises to his feet, movements mechanical. He stands there, eyes on the ground, until Max grabs him by the arm and leads him out of the rain like a lost child.

"Ketchup, honey, and Scotch," Max lists. "Wow, Alec. Great food supply." She lets the refrigerator door bang shut as she turns around to look to Alec.

She'd managed to get him to dry off and put on new clothes. Now, he's sitting on the worn couch, still shaking from the cold. His eyes are aimed toward the television, transfixed. Max grabs the remote from the bar and turns the television on. Images of car crashes and explosions are shot across Alec's glassy eyes. Realizing that the news probably isn't what Alec needs, Max presses the power button again.

She walks over and sits down next to him. Even wrapped in every blanket she could find, he's still shaking. Sighing, she pries one end of the blankets away from him. She moves so that she's sitting beside him. With her body pressed against his, she finds herself shaking just as hard as he is. She closes the blankets again, leaving them much closer than Max finds comfortable.

"W-what are you d-doing?" Alec asks, turning his head to give her a confused look. From this close, Max can see the brown flecks in his eyes, can see the sprinkle of freckles across his nose.

It takes her a moment to remember to answer. "You're freezing," she says matter-of-factly. "Body heat'll keep you from going all hypothermic on me."

"Field m-med 101," Alec says, the hint of bitterness hitting Max harder than his words.

Max elbows him, trying desperately to make things normal again. When he doesn't retaliate, she fights back a sigh. "No," she says. "That one's common sense."

He nods, sinking farther into the couch. He makes no snarky remark about their proximity, and this just furthers Max's concern. Everything is quiet except for the sounds of their breathing. "Why're you h-here?" Alec finally asks. He doesn't sound angry, or even confused. He just sounds defeated.

Max is silent, trying to think of an answer. She turns away, staring down at the floor. "I don't know," she says truthfully.

"I c-can t-take c-care of myself," he says, though he makes no attempt to move.

She takes in his pale skin, the dark circles under his eyes, and the way that he's still shaking. "Yeah, good job with that," she says sarcastically, causing him to clench his jaw and roll his eyes.

"I'm f-fine, Maxie," he says. His voice is laced with the edges of sleep, and a quick glance upward shows Max that his eyes are drooping. "You c-can go…"

"Like hell," Max snaps, narrowing her eyes at him. "Soon as I leave, you're gonna be gone again."

He looks away, proving her right. "The hell do you c-care?" he mumbles. He doesn't seem to have the energy to put any heat behind the words.

"You're useful," Max replies, shrugging. It's getting harder for her to keep her eyes open. She realizes that she hasn't slept since that night at the Berrisford's. A steady look at the guy beside her reminded her of the reason for that.

"I'm a tool," Alec says, and his eyes are completely closed now.

"Sometimes," Max finds herself saying, even though in all actuality, she does think he's a bit of a tool.

"I forgot," he sighs. Max isn't sure if he's aware that he's still talking, and she doesn't reply. "I forgot about her."

"It's not your fault," she says quietly.

He doesn't reply. Max feels his breathing even out, proof that he's asleep, or at least pretending to be. Max vaguely thinks that she should go find some food, but she can't find the will to move. The combination of the warmth and the fact that Alec's still trembling, even in his sleep, keeps her in place until she falls asleep as well.

"Someone's late for my lesson." A smile, a wink, a look that he doesn't quite understand.

"Take them both out, 494." A twisting feels in his gut that doesn't make sense—it's an order, he follows orders, why does this one bother him?

"I love you." A quickening in the pace of his heart. A rush of warmth that could be fear or happiness or—or love.

"No! Rachel!" An explosion. The heat of the burning car not doing a thing for the ice cold terror that grips him.

"Your hands are shaking."

Alec wakes with a jolt. His heart is racing nearly as hard as it had been that day. For a moment, he's Simon LeHane, paralyzed with fear and guilt as he's dragged away from the scene of his crime. Then he feels the weight on him—Max, dead asleep—and comes back to the present. He extricates himself from the blankets, careful not to wake Max. (It's not that, at the moment, he cares about disrupting her beauty sleep—he just really, really doesn't want to talk to her.)

He doesn't feel any better than he had last night—warmer, yeah, and not soaked, but otherwise…he still doesn't want to deal with anything. The only difference is that he knows he has to. He has to go back to work—that is, if he's still got a job after being MIA for a week.

He goes through the motions: He takes a shower, finds some food among the condiments, and heads for the door. He glances over at Max, who is still asleep, and sighs, knowing what he needs to do.

Max's eyes open slowly, and for a minute, she's not sure why it feels like something's wrong. Then, she gets it—Alec isn't there. She sits bolt upright, wondering how he'd managed to leave without waking her up. She swears under her breath and stands up, pushing the blankets to the floor with her.

Her eyes land on a piece of paper taped to the flat-screen. Her heart rate slows to normal when she sees the words written in a familiar, neat, all-caps handwriting.

"Don't freak out. See you at work."

She lets out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. Now she's got to stop at her place, get some clothes, and check up on him at work.

Max sees him standing at his locker, shoving his backpack in. She walks up to him, eyes down. She's not sure what his reaction is going to be. "Hey," she says, stopping a few feet behind him.

He glances up, not surprised to see her. "Hey, Max," he says nonchalantly.

Max pauses, trying to figure out how to order her words. "Listen…" He looks up, and for some reason she feels like he's mocking her. Look, Maxie, I'm listening to you. "If you ever want to talk…"

He pulls the innocence card, daring her to bring it up. "About what?"

Max thinks of the lost child she'd found on the Space Needle. She thinks of the shaking, freezing kid she'd fallen asleep next to. She thinks of the broken man she'd seen sobbing over the body of his first love. She thinks she should've expected this reaction from the guarded guy she'd come to know. "About anything," she answers.

Alec smiles, and it comes off cynical. "Now why would I want to do that?" he questions. He uses the same tone he'd used the night before—not angry or accusing, but defeated.

They both know that after how Max has treated him the past few months, she has no place offering comfort now. "Just consider the offer open," Max says, uncertain.

"All right," Alec says. He adjusts the straps of his backpack, mostly to give him something else to look at. "Listen," he finally says, eyes flicking up to meet hers. "Thanks for saving my ass."

Max frowns. "You're all right?" she asks, knowing already that she won't get an honest answer.

Alec studies her for a moment before cracking a wry smile. "I'm always all right," he says, and Max knows now that this is a lie.