Michael Garibaldi lay face-down on his bed, wrists bound behind his back and ankles tied together, a truly uncomfortable position made even worse by the fact that he'd been tied for a good seven hours, which lead to certain physical discomforts. He twisted his head around to glare at the other occupant of his quarters.

“Hey!! Hey, you! Munchkin!" That about described his keeper. He, or she, as the case may be but he was leaning more toward male, was leaning against a nearby wall. Of course, that opinion was based mainly on the deepness of the being's voice and with aliens -- well, you could never be sure. "Listen, could you untie me? Just for a couple minutes?" He tried to sound harmless but he suspected it wasn't working.

The diminutive creature stepped closer. Swathed from head to foot in a dark-blue robe, it couldn't stand taller then three feet, if that. "You're joking, right?" His English was perfect, tainted only by the faintest of accents, an accent Garibaldi couldn't identify.

"Look, I really need to use the head." Garibaldi wasn't faking the desperation in his voice.

"Well, you jes' hang on a while longer. We'll be out of her..."

The door lifted open and his guard spun smoothly, his arm lifting to level the odd weapon on the back of his hand at the person entering then just as quickly lowering it. Automatically, Garibaldi noted that the revealed arm was gray-furred and the fingers clawed. "What the deities happened?" The little creature said sharply.

"She got close enough to scan me. Now move, Remy!"

Garibaldi twisted far enough to see his look alike walk in. His heart almost stopped as he realized that the limp burden in his arms was Talia Winters. Garibaldi struggled with difficulty to a sitting position.

"Damn you!" He half-snarled. "If you've hurt her!"

"Calm down. She'll be fine." The man set Talia gently into a chair then sat gingerly on the arm, one hand clutching at his groin. "I, on the other hand …” He swallowed hard, looking pale.

"Scanning isn't all she managed to do, eh?" Remy sounded amused, ignoring the nasty look his companion threw at him. "This isn't working, boss man. How about we blow this joint and maybe try something else?" The last bit was said in plaintive tones.

Garibaldi watched as his double straightened, looking down at the unconscious woman with a frown. "I hate to admit it, Remy but you're right."

"I'm always right." Remy said smugly.

Unable to hold himself in a sitting position any longer, Garibaldi let himself fall, landing on his left side. In this position, he could still see Remy and, with difficulty, his look alike. The latter had retreated to a corner of his room, half-hidden from the security chief's sight but he could see enough to realize that the man was changing clothes. The security uniform the man had appropriated for his use was tossed carelessly on a chair, the communication link and PPG onto a table. Garibaldi caught a glimpse of something glinting white then his double was pulling on dark clothing, covering them with an equally dark cloak.

"Ready?" Remy was practically hopping from foot to foot -- if he had feet.

"Yeahyeahyeah." Tugging on an odd pair of gloves, the man started toward the door, pausing with a frown over Talia.

"Keep away from her!" Garibaldi spat, twisting in his bonds. The man looked up, startled, identical pairs of eyes meeting then Talia groaned and the stranger jumped back from her. Remy yelped something Garibaldi couldn't make out and the man spun and darted out the door after him.

#

Talia groaned then flinched at the ache in her throat. Dimly, she heard something in the background, someone yelling her name. Opening her eyes, she looked around, trying to place where she is. It looked familiar then memory hit her and she sat and turned, half-suspecting what she would see.

Garibaldi was laying on his side, arms tied behind his back and ankles bound together. "Come on, Talia! I need your help!"

Talia scrambled to her feet, clutching the back of the chair as a wave of dizziness swept over her.

"You okay?" Garibaldi called, concerned.

"I'll live." She swallowed, raising a hand to her throat as she walked over to the bed. "Roll over. I'll untie your hands."

Garibaldi shook his head then jerked it toward the nightstand next to the bed. "There's a knife in that drawer. Use it."

Talia obeyed, cutting the binds on his wrists but before she could start on the ones binding his ankles, he rolled over and sat up, taking the knife from her with clumsy, blood-starved hands.

"Get me my link. Over there." He nodded toward a table.

By the time she returned with the link, Garibaldi had managed to saw through the remaining ties. Dropping the knife on his bed, Garibaldi took the link, just barely managing to work the controls. "Garibaldi to Allan."

"Allan here."

"Zack, listen carefully. This might be confusing. I want an alert put out for a man, looks pretty much like me. Wearing dark clothes and a dark cloak that's probably covering most of his face and traveling with a companion. Little fellow maybe three feet high, also totally cloaked. No idea what he looks like. Consider both to be armed. Get that alert out then I want you to come to my quarters. Garibaldi out."

He didn't wait for Zack’s reply, just affixed the link to the back of his hand and climbed unsteadily to his feet. Talia moved to help him but he waved her away. "I'm okay. Right now what I really need is the head."

By the time Garibaldi returned, there was someone at his door. No, two someones. Captain Sheridan was the first through the door, Zack at his heels.

"Michael! What the hell happened?" Sheridan took in his security chief's disheveled appearance with a concerned glance.

Garibaldi gave him an unusually grim look. "You mean besides the fact that someone has been impersonating me for the past seven-plus hours?"

"What!?" Sheridan came to a dead halt, his expression shocked.

"Got me when I walked in the door. One a short little fella I never saw clearly, the other looked just like me."

"Except for his eyes." Talia interrupted then paused, flustered, as three pairs of eyes turned toward her. "They were a little more green then Michael's."

Sheridan’s eyes narrowed and he glanced at Talia. "How did you get involved, Ms. Winters?" He asked as Garibaldi picked up his PPG.

"I got too close to him and picked up on his thoughts. The minute I did, I knew he wasn’t Michael." Talia paused, raising a hand to her throat.

Garibaldi looked at her in concern, bending his head to peer at her throat. "You've got a lovely set of bruises."

"What!?" Sheridan followed Garibaldi's gaze.

"Sleeper choke. Zack." Garibaldi motioned the security officer forward. "Take Ms. Winters to Medlab."

"I'm all ri ..." Talia started then fell silent as Garibaldi's link beeped for attention.

He raised the link to his mouth, keying it automatically. "Garibaldi. Talk to me."

"Welch here. I think I've seen the people you're looking for, heading Downbelow."

"Downbelow? You sure?" Garibaldi frowned. "I thought for sure they'd head for the docks."

"Two cloaked figures, one roughly your size, the other maybe three foot tall. We're following them right now." The man said.

"Good. Tell me where you are and I'll be there as soon as I can."

Lou told him and Garibaldi keyed the link off. "Zack." He nodded at Talia.

"Yes, sir. Ms. Winters." Zack gestured toward the door. Talia started toward it then paused, turning back to Garibaldi.

"Michael. When I scanned that man's mind -- he has a mind-shield, a very strong one. He might be a telepath."

"Just what we need." Garibaldi muttered as the woman and her escort left.

"Yeah." Sheridan glanced at Garibaldi uncertainly. The man looked shaky but determined. "I'll stick with you, Michael. Keep your own people from arresting you."

Garibaldi hesitated then nodded.

#

By the time they reached the location Lou had given them he’d already moved on but Ivanova was tracking his link and they followed her crisp directions through Grey Seven from where it left an informal bazaar and turned into rundown living quarters for the Lurkers that dwelt there. Several of the Lurkers flinched back at this unexpected invasion but Garibaldi ignored them as he led the way to Lou’s latest location.

He spotted Lou and his partner, Torque just approaching a corner. Garibaldi hurried to his side, joining him in peering around the corner. His quarry was midway down the corridor and the security chief grinned in satisfaction. The next second he was frowning, eyes darting around the corridor.

"Where's his little friend?" He asked quietly.

Lou shook his head. "He was there when they went around the corner."

"Damn it!" Garibaldi gave the corridor another hard look. Lurkers were curled against the wall, some, he knew, were hiding in the curtained off areas of unfinished walls but there were no one directly between him and his double, who was rapidly approaching another corner. "Keep an eye peeled for the little fella." He said as he drew his PPG and stepped around the corner. The others followed but before any of them could take a step the man spun suddenly, dropping to one knee and raising a hand in a gesture Garibaldi recognized from his ex-guard.

"Down!" Garibaldi shouted, dropping as he spoke. He raised his own weapon and fired. Hot plasma flared against the stranger's shoulder and he stumbled back before turning to dart around the corner.

"Welch's down!" Sheridan's voice. "Torque, get Medlab and stay with him!"

Garibaldi bolted after the man. He could hear another pair of footsteps behind him and knew Sheridan was right behind him. Moving too fast to stop at the corner, he skidded around it, bouncing off the wall. Sheridan's turn was more controlled as he took the lead in the chase, Garibaldi on his heels.

Both men could see their quarry. He had ditched the dark cloak and was running down the corridor as fast as he could. Garibaldi drew alongside his commanding officer.

"The Triangle!" He gasped and Sheridan started then nodded. "I'll cut him off." Then Garibaldi ducked into a side corridor, following his memory of a short-cut to the area known as the B5 Triangle. His gut told him that that was where his double was heading -- why, he had no idea. But there he was.

Garibaldi forced a burst of speed and threw himself forward, tackling the runner around the waist. They both tumbled to the ground, Garibaldi on top but the next second an elbow jabbed into the side of his head, throwing him off balance. The man scrambled away from him but he managed to grab his leg, yanking him back down. With a snarl, the stranger twisted and Garibaldi found himself on his back, the other man astride him, a fist -- his left, he noted in a dazed way -- posed to strike.

There was the sudden sound of a PPG warming up and eyes, so much like his own, suddenly widened. The man froze.

“I want both hands up.” Sheridan’s voice came from behind and above the stranger and Garibaldi’s eyes shifted to see the Captain holding his weapon firmly against the other’s head. “Now.”

The man swallowed hard, his face working then slowly his hands went up, the odd weapons on the backs of each pointing upward, his fingers curled away from the triggers. Michael yanked out his PPG and pressed it under the man’s chin. He flinched back but was trapped between the two weapons.

“Take off those weapons.” Sheridan ordered. “And toss them against that wall.”

The man didn’t move, his breathing harsh and hard. Michael pushed the PPG harder into his throat. “Now.” He said curtly.

The man didn’t look at him. He probably couldn’t because of the PPG under his chin. Slowly, his left hand went over his head to unsnap the glove holding the weapon in place, stripping it off and throwing it to one side. He did the same for the one on his left.

“Okay, now up.” Michael pressed harder. “On your feet and against the wall.”

Sheridan stepped back as the man slowly stood. From down the corridor, there was a clatter of feet and some of his men, lead by Zack, appeared, weapons leveled at the stranger. A look of despair crossed his face then vanished, leaving no expression at all. Michael pulled himself back then up to his feet. “Against the wall.” He repeated. “Zack. Frisk him.”

The man obeyed and Zack walked to him, holstering his PPG. His search was halted almost immediately. “He’s got some kind of armor on, chief.”

“I figured. We can get it once he’s in custody.”

“Right.” He continued the search with quick, efficient moves, pausing only at the man’s left leg, jerking up the pant leg to pull a knife from the boot. “This is it, chief.”

Garibaldi stepped forward to take the ornate blade from Zack, studying it while his men put restraints on the prisoner. They weren’t gentle about it but the man didn’t make a sound, even when they jerked him around to face their superior.

Garibaldi resisted the urge to pound a fist into the other man’s face. It was far too much like his own for comfort. “Okay, pal. Who the hell are you and where’s your little friend?” He reached over to take the gloves from one of his men. “And what the hell did you shoot Lou with?”

The man’s eyes slipped down to the gloves. “Sleep drug.” He said tersely.

“Sleep drug. That’s it?”

The man didn’t answer and Garibaldi glanced at Zack. “Take him to lockup. Get that armor off of him. And find out who he is!”

“Right, chief. Come on, you.” Zack gave the prisoner’s arm an ungentle jerk, his grip on the man’s arm hard enough to leave bruises.

Garibaldi and Sheridan watched them go. “No brothers, Michael? Look alike cousins?”

“No.” Garibaldi said shortly.

Sheridan eyed him in concern. “You all right?”

“No. Damn it! That ... whoever the hell he is ... has been impersonating me for a good seven hours! God knows what kind of damage he’s done!”

“We’ll find out and take care of it. First off ...” Sheridan looked at the gloves Garibaldi held.

Garibaldi followed his eyes. “Right. First we see how Lou and Talia are doing.”

#

Medlab was fairly empty when they arrived. Franklin was just exiting one of the exam rooms when they entered.

“Oh, good. You’re here. Welch’s going to be fine, Michael. It was some kind of sleeping drug. I have no idea how long he’ll be out.”

“Maybe this will help.” Garibaldi held out a blue canister he had pulled from one of the gloves.

“Well.” Franklin took the canister. “I’ll run it through some tests, see if I can figure out what it was.”

“Where’s Talia?”

Franklin gestured toward another room where the door was open and they stepped over it. Talia, sitting on the exam table, looked up at their approach, smiling wanly.

“You look terrible, Michael.”

“Gee, just what I want to hear.” Garibaldi looked down at himself ruefully. He was a mess.

“What happened, Ms. Winters?” Sheridan asked and Garibaldi looked up again.

Talia explained what had happened; the feeling that something was wrong, seeing someone she’d thought was Garibaldi, catching up to him only to find he was an impostor.

“The funny thing is that he told me he wouldn’t hurt me and when I scanned him, I realized he was telling the truth. Even when ...” She touched her throat. “He had no intention of hurting me.”

“Did you get any information on him?” Garibaldi said hopefully. “When you scanned him?”

“No. I could just reach his surface thoughts. He had a shield, a powerful one. But I have to retract what I said earlier, about him being a telepath. The more I think about it, the more I believe that he isn’t. It’s possible that the shield is simply a naturally occurring one.”

“Jez, I wonder where I can get one.” Garibaldi muttered and Talia smiled briefly. “Do you think you can scan him through the shield?”

“No. Not without breaking through it forcibly. Even if I could do it, it could do a great deal of damage to him.”

Garibaldi growled deep in his throat, biting back the remark that he didn’t care if it damaged him. Sheridan gripped his shoulder.

“I suggest, Michael, that you go get cleaned up and changed. Ms. Winters, can we escort you to your quarters?”

She opened her mouth to refuse then paused. “Thank you.”

#

Torque released the restraints and stepped back, hand on her PPG. Zack stood behind her and to one side, his hand on his weapon, keeping a wary eye on the man. The stranger had said nothing during their walk to the holding cell, refusing to answer any questions.

“Strip.” Torque said curtly. “To the skin. There’s a change of clothes on the bed.”

The man looked toward the bed and Torque felt a chill as she caught sight of his profile. She couldn’t believe how much this man looked like the chief. She opened her mouth to repeat the order but the man was already untabbing the shirt, stripping it off and letting it fall to the floor. Underneath it, he wore a sleeveless mail shirt, white in color and made of small riveted rings. He reached under his right arm to unsnap the fastenings that ran up that side and pulled the armor over his head and down his left arm, lowering it to the floor gently.

Torque glanced at Zack, who was glaring at the back of the stranger’s head like he wanted to put a bullet into it. He flicked a look at her then shrugged and shook his head. By the time she looked back at the prisoner, he was naked and turning toward the clothes on the bed.

“Jesus!” Torque exploded with a hint of horror. “How the hell did you survive that?”

The man paused, looking down at the ugly jagged scar on his right side. It started, Torque saw, just above his groin, below and slightly to the right of his bellybutton and running up his torso to just under his right armpit. The jaggedness of it suggested a serrated blade and she felt her stomach clench. “With the help of a friend.” He said tonelessly and reached for the clothing.

Even his voice matched the chief.

As soon as he was dressed in the simple jumpsuit, she directed him to sit on the bed, fingers laced behind his head, while she gathered up the discarded clothing. It was almost unnerving the way he avoided looking at her, staring at a spot on the far wall, expressionless.