“Fuckin bitch!” The guard took his hand away from his face and saw she had drawn blood. A swift kick to her ribs with his army regulation steel toe boot and she winced in pain, but even feeling the 2 ribs break she still took a defensive crouch on the floor, ready to pounce him if he tried to touch her again.

“Told ya.” The guard put his hand up to his bleeding face again and turned angrily to the other guards outside the cell who were laughing at him.

“I thought you were lyin’, tryin’ to keep all of her sweet ass to your selves.” He gave a laugh, but stopped as he felt his knees kicked in from behind and falling to the floor. Turning slightly he faced his attacker who smiled quickly at him before grabbing the sides of his head and twisting sharply.

“We’ll show you! You fucking whore!” They dragged her from her cell half docile from the drugs they had managed to shoot into her and half fighting from the adrenalin still running through her veins. “He’ll teach you a fucking lesson you’ll never forget. He’s gonna tear you up!”

She heard the cell door open, but couldn’t focus on what the guard was saying.

“Rogue, meet Wolverine!” And suddenly it all came too clear, suddenly she was very afraid. She had heard that name before. She had heard the guards talk about him. Now she was frightened and the guards knew it. “Have fun.”

She felt a dull pain of being thrown to the floor before the drugs finally took hold and completely knocked her out.

*-*-*-*-*

He backed up into the far corner thinking they were back for him. But all they did was throw a woman into his cell and quickly close the door. He heard them leave, laughing to each other, but he waited to move after the door to the cell block was closed and locked.

He looked the girl over, thinking at first it was a ploy. Send a woman in to get something out of him, finally take everything he had left. But he then smelt her and really looked at her. She was only wearing an issue shirt, ripped in places, buttons torn off and thread bare. Her smell made him sick with anger. She smelt like at least 4 different men, all of them guards at this hellhole. She also smelt of blood, some of it her own, some of it someone else’s. Then he noticed something else on her slumped body, a dog tag. He hadn’t noticed anyone else wearing tags, but hers were exactly the same as his, just with a different name and number engraved on them.

Slowly edging forward, so interested in her tags that he didn’t notice the change in her breathing and before he knew what happened he felt blood dripping down his face and 2 huge brown eyes staring up at him from the woman ready to pounce on him again.

They just crouched there, eyeing each other up when he finally felt his face begin to close up, lagging due to the amount of drugs that were always swimming around his system. He saw her eyes go wide, but not with fear, with wonderment. She reached out to him, her hand stretched toward his face. He pulled back from her, but let her touch him. Smooth fingers slowly ran across his cheek and he leaned into her soft caresses until he suddenly felt so much pain. He looked at her wide eyes as the agony sped through his entire body. He found it hard to breath. He felt his heart slow and he thought he was about to die when she pulled away and he fell the floor, welcoming the unfeeling darkness.

*-*-*-*-*

Scrambling away from him she pressed herself up against the wall. Her broken ribs cracked back into place, a tear slid down her face as bone ripped through flesh, but soon the pain began to dull and she checked herself over. No more bruises marred her skin and her cut lip was closed. She felt her ribs to prove that they were really healed and smiled at the lack of pain as she prodded her bones.

Stepping over the man she had just taken from, she curled up on what looked like his bed and fell into a contented sleep. The guards would become suspicious of how she recovered, but if she kept hidden from them and pretended that her side still hurt she thought she could get away with her secret still. Falling into a restful sleep she didn’t give the Wolverine a second thought.

He woke shortly after dawn and was confused why he was laying on the cold stone and not in his bed. He tried to sit up, but the painful knowing in his brain made him stop midway. Slowly moving his head he looked over at his bed and the night before slowly came flooding back to him. She was lying in his bed. But there was something different about her. She had changed. The first thing he noticed was she no longer smelt of those different men. She smelled like herself and him, a heady mix of scents. She also looked different, her face was no longer battered and her chest, where a huge bruise had discoloured her skin was no longer there. He stepped a little closer, but stopped suddenly. Her breathing changed. She began to pant and thrashed a little as a moan came out of her mouth. She moved again and suddenly sat up straight, a gruff cry being ripped from her throat. Her eyes shot open and she looked straight at him with such pain in her eyes he wondered if that’s what he looked like when he awoke from a nightmare.

*-*-*-*-*

Finally focusing on the man before her she broke down in grief. Silent tears rolled down her face and onto the hard stone floor. The pain had gone through. She couldn’t understand it, couldn’t grasp it. And she used to think she had it bad.

The nightmare had hit her without warning and hit her hard. Over the years of coping with her mutation she had managed to make a filing system in her head to put the people’s memories and feelings when she took their energy from them. She had managed, with help, to file them away and never have to look at them unless she really concentrated. So it was such a shock to her system to have the Wolverine’s memories and thoughts thrust to the forefront of her mind, not wanting to be filed away.

She felt his hurt and pain that he so willingly pushed into nothing. As she tried to get his thoughts in order she hit one of his memories; the men he had killed, the women he had slept with, the un-see able past and suddenly it hit her again, his memory of the cutting and hot metal being poured into his sore flesh. The pain burned her and she fell to the floor trying to douse the flames inside, trying to cool her burning bones.

The memories receded, but they were still with her. They floated at the back of her head. Reminding her of what he had been through.

*-*-*-*-*

He watched her squirm on the floor wondering what was wrong with her, he was about to call out for a guard when she seemed to calm down and look at him. Slowly sitting up she reached for him. He didn’t flinch away thinking she might hold on that little bit longer. He was so close to death before, he thought she might be the one to bring him peace in the end. But when she touched him, he didn’t feel the pull he had before. There was nothing there now; it was like she had turned it off. He looked at her as her hands slid down his arm and finally came to rest on his hand. Pulling his heavy hand up to her face she began to inspect them. She ran her soft fingers across the indents between his knuckles and he knew what she was looking for. Pulling his hand out of hers he quickly shot the blades out of his hands. She didn’t react like everyone else who had seen them for the first time; she just looked at them in wonderment and sadness. Taking his hand back she began to carefully inspect the blades a tear slid down her face and dropped onto one of the blades, he tracked the droplet as it slid effortlessly down it and dripped silently onto the floor. His gaze was dragged back to the girl who was now sliding her delicate fingers across the blades. She followed the tear track right down to the tip, but she suddenly stopped. Pulling her finger slowly away he saw it, a cut along her finger. He quickly pulled the blades back into his hand. He had hurt her. He had hurt the first person in long a while who hadn’t been scared of him, of what they made him. She smiled as the cut knitted together and he sat back in amazement. She sucked her finger and showed it to him. It was gone, no marked skin or even a sign that it had once been cut apart from the small droplet of blood on the floor. He looked at her face wondering if that was why they had been put together, because she was the same as him.

She leaned into him and touched him on the chest, whispering quietly, “I took this.” Her hand moved up his body and she touched his temple, “And this.”

He didn’t know what to make of it at first. But soon the realisation hit him with full force. She had seen into his head. She had taken part of him into her self. That was what her nightmare was. That was what she had seen that scared her to tears. She saw a part of him that he never wanted to show anyone. The pain they had put him through and turmoil he was in because of it.

He looked at her and saw pity in her eyes. He didn’t want her pity. Quickly pulling away from her he saw her face fall. He knew what she was thinking, ‘poor man,’ ‘who could do such a thing to an innocent man.’ But he wasn’t innocent. He had found out he had gone into the procedure willingly, but all he felt and remembered after was betrayal. He didn’t want her pity. He didn’t need her pity. He had enough of his own to last a lifetime.

*-*-*-*-*

She slumped on the floor. She knew he had been angry that she had stolen those memories. Everyone was angry when she stole a part of who they were. She couldn’t help but feel such sadness for him. The agony the people had put him through, but he had escaped. Then due to one mistake he was back, afraid of what would happen to him now they had him again. And then she felt mad at him, he wanted to kill himself and give up on what life he had, the life he could have if he just tried to get out. They had battered him down so much that he didn’t even think that he could escape.

She stopped and listened; she could hear the keys turning in the lock of the door, of the cell block. It was wonderful if she really listened and she could even hear the guard breathing. The door opened and she almost gagged with the stench of him, one of the many guards who had tried to touch her since she had been there. Looking around she saw that Wolverine had also heard the guard. She was suddenly frightened for her life. If they found that Wolverine hadn’t beaten her up and that also she was better with him than she was in her own cage then they would put her back and then she would never get out. Seeing her chance, as the Wolverine was obviously bust with tracking the guard she pounced on him and on instinct he lashed out at her, hitting her back against the wall with such force she thought he maybe broke her ribs again.

He leapt up to her and towered over her crumpled form, breathing hard against her skin. She could see in his eyes that he felt betrayed; that he had known that she was a spy for them. And she found that she was sad that he thought that. She wanted to know him, be with him, even just to have his companionship in this hard time. She pleaded with him, pleading for what she didn’t know, to either hit her again to keep the guards away or to see that she wasn’t the enemy. He stilled, breath no longer coming. And then she heard it, the guard had stopped outside the cell and was looking at him; Wolverine’s body shielded her away from the guards gaze. He pulled an arm back and she readied herself for another blow when he punched the wall right next to her head, a yelp came out of her at the shock. He looked at her steadily and she knew what he meant. Closing her eyes she turned into the wall, shielding herself from his pretend attack. She felt Wolverine leave her to show the guard her shaking, beaten form and the guard laughed.

“Serves you right! Fucking bitch! Serves you right for killing one of us!” He spat at her. Waiting until she heard the cellblock door close and lock. Wiping the spittle off her arm she stood and checked to see if she had any bruises or broken bones. She was winded, but it didn’t feel like she had broken anything.

*-*-*-*-*

He looked at her and he saw what the guards saw. A beautiful woman who made his blood boil with want. When he was out in the world he had never gone this long without being with a woman, and as he looked at this wonderful woman in front of him the thought of sex came to the front of his mind. As she checked herself over once the guard had gone she revealed creamy, soft white skin and more womanly figure. A groan left his throat as she unbuttoned the only two buttons left on her flimsy shirt to reveal large white globes topped with dusty pink nipples. Shaking himself out of the thought of how they would feel under his hands and how she would cry out if he licked them. He quickly took off his shirt and handed it to her; she smiled a quick smile at him and completely removed her shirt to put his on. Turning, he fell down onto his bed to rest a while. Recovering after whatever she had done to him had severely depleted his energy supplies and with the drugs they had shot into him he was feeling very tired. Taking one last look at her he smiled slightly at the size of his shirt on her. The hem almost reached her knees and she had rolled the sleeves up twice and still only the tips of her fingers could be seen. Drifting off he welcomed the flashes of her skin and beautiful face interrupting his nightmare filled sleep.

He woke abruptly and realised he had slept right into the night. The longest he had gone without a bad dream. He knew it had something to do with his new cell mate, and he welcomed the change. Looking into the darkened cell he saw her curled up in the corner. She restlessly tossed around on the cold stone, but turning toward him, she opened her eyes. The just looked at each other, both wondering more and more about who the other was. He lifted an arm and he was glad she didn’t hesitate, picking herself up she walked over to him and carefully laid down next to him. He smiled into the back of her head as she scooted back fitting herself into the front of her body. He put his arm around her waist, waiting for her reaction, but smirked again, happily surprised when she pulled his arm tighter around her pressing herself snugly to his front.

*-*-*-*-*

She woke halfway through the night hearing someone coming. Turning to Wolverine she saw that he was awake as well. Reluctantly pulling herself from his warm embrace she shuffled over to the corner and fell into a heap trying to get comfortable again. As she twisted and turned it surprised her that she actually smiled, it became so funny that her smile soon spread into a huge grin spread across her face. Then the smile turned into a laugh, which she quickly covered with her hand. And that laugh turned into a full blown hysterical fit of giggling. Pushing her face into the wall she couldn’t help the laughter make her shake. She heard the guard come closer and then stop at the cell door, but even that couldn’t stop her laughter. She heard him move off again and turning to Wolverine who was looking at her worriedly she just smiled. It had struck her as strange that the only time she was even a little happy was when she was in the presence of the most feared man in the complex. Someone who had more horror stories about him than she could remember. And that made her laugh.

Crawling slowly over to him across the cold floor she looked over him approvingly. Without his shirt on he was one fine specimen of a man and compared to the guards he was a sight for very sore eyes. He was highly built with muscles that seemed so strong and welcoming, she wanted to climb into his embrace and never leave. His eyes were dark and menacing to all that didn’t know what he felt like inside, but to her they were the most wonderful eyes she had ever seen, so much turmoil and anger brewed behind them. Finally reaching him he lifted his arm to let her back in and that she did and would be thanking him forever for the relief he was giving her and the protection he was providing. Pushing herself into his hard chest and before even realising she had done it, she heard herself purr in satisfaction. And what surprised her even more was hearing a growl from Wolverine in return who pushed his face into her hair and sighed pleasantly against the back of her neck.

They spent days like that. Sleeping together and moving whenever a guard came through. Wolverine had to beat her up a few times, but nothing major, just a few bruises and cuts, but she was thankful for every single one because it meant she could spend more time with him, under his protection. And as long as she was with him, none of the guards would dare come in the cage.

But just as she had gotten into a place where she thought she was safe when she saw the guards coming up to the cage with dart guns. Suddenly scared that they had finally grown balls and were coming to take her away, to have another go on her, she hid behind Wolverine, hoping that he would protect her like he had done for the past couple of weeks and he stood defiantly in front of her. But instead of trying to shoot at her they shot into Wolverine’s chest. Hearing at least 6 darts being shot into him she realised they were after him and all of his horrible memories came back to the front of her mind.

Screaming out she shot round the front of him and started to pull the darts out. Someone grabbed her from behind, but she easily kicked them off. She felt something pierce her back, but it didn’t really take notice of it until darkness started to swamp her vision. Trying to shake it off she began slapping him, trying to wake him up. Her slaps soon became feeble hits until she completely collapsed onto him, darkness settling its self firmly across her brain.

She woke to total darkness, cold and alone.

She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. For 3 days they had him and for 3 days every possible scenario of what they could be doing to him ran through her head. She saw images of his flesh ripped apart again and again. Horrific scenes of his blood pooling on the floor below him kept her from closing her eyes because she knew that if she was to sleep her subconscious mind could concoct even more disturbing pictures, which she just couldn’t handle.

Every noise and sound made her alert and waiting to see if the doors to the cell block would open and she would see the guards dragging Wolverine’s unconscious body through the doors and back to her.

She couldn’t stand the waiting and not knowing, she was going crazy!

She was pacing the cell trying to pass the minutes without thinking of what they could be doing to Wolverine when it happened.

A huge explosion ripped through the compound, shaking the floor and the walls around her.

From that point on everything went by her so quickly, so confusingly she didn’t quite how she became so lost and alone.

*-*-*-*-*

Fire licked at his skin and rubble continued to fall to the floor. He didn’t know what had happened, but all of a sudden the building was falling around him and the people who were holding him were dead or dieing at his feet. He was free.

The explosion was so great that even through the smell of brick dust, fire and burning flesh that he could smell fresh, crisp air and pine trees coming in through a gaping hole in the side of the structure. He could smell freedom through the death.

But even though the freedom he had all but completely given up on was so close he couldn’t have to think of leaving the girl behind. The girl who he had clung to through the unknown number of days they had held him strapped to a medical table. The girl who, even when he was no where near her, brought him peace.

So his choice was made, he heading away from the crisp fresh air back into the bowls of his hell to search for his lifeline.

He had no idea where he was going, every time they had taken him he had been too drugged to know which way was up let alone memorise the layout of the building. So he just ran, ran down long corridors and endless stairwells trying to detect a hint of her familiar scent through all the other foreign ones.

And just when he began to give up, he found her. The barest of traces of her, but he knew that she was near and as that realisation hit his heart began to race and his breath was coming too quick for him to think of anything but getting to her and saving her, saving them both.

He ran, cutting through doors like they were butter trying to find her and as he slashed through another he recognised the room that had held him captive for so many months. He stormed in hoping to find her waiting, knowing he would come for her, but as he came up to their cell his heart froze in his chest and his world crashed down around him, like the building that he was standing in.

She was lying on the cold stone floor, warm blood flowing out of her, mixing with the rubble that surrounded her still body.

A few seconds passed where he just looked at her, watching life leave her until he willed himself to do something, anything. Roughly picking a dead guard up that laid haphazardly against a crumbling wall he searched his pockets for the keys to the cells. Attempting to regain some composure he forced the key into the lock and wrenched the door open, but he stilled in the doorway, not knowing what to do. So much blood surrounded her he couldn’t pull his gaze away from it as more oozed from deep cuts that marred her perfect skin.

He stood frozen to the spot until he picked up the slightest of sounds, small uneven breaths coming from the woman in front of him. Without taking another pause he was crouching over her carefully removing bricks and debris from her prone body, trying to stem the flow of blood that continued to surge from her wounds.

It was then he heard the voices, a mix of familiar and unknown people in the throws of what sounded like a fire fight on the floors above. As he listened to the noises getting closer he was shocked back to the girl in front of him as he felt the familiar pain of her mutation pulling at him. He had removed his hands from her in alarm, but he relaxed, even in the face of the crumbling building and the fighting edging ever closer to them, calm came over him. He saw a way to save her, to rescue his own salvation.

*-*-*-*-*

The rush of energy that surged through her forced her to her feet, her nerves humming with coiled power. Her eyes darted around the small room finding nothing to fix on until she saw a body laying beside where she had just been. His unmoving form laying in a pool of blood shocked her to total stillness. She wondered how they had cut him so badly that so much of his blood could have come from him. It wasn’t until she inspected him and saw no wounds, not even the pink of healing cuts that could have caused such bleeding that she realised what he had done.

As she moved closer to see what could have happened she noticed her own blood soaked hands, then her torn shirt and stained skin. She was so used to his mind at the forefront of hers that she hadn’t noticed the surge of his personality overcoming her own. The realisation of what he had done for her finally shocked her into action.

She leaned over him fearing the worst, but as she got closer, under all of the noise around them she could hear his shallow breaths and strong heartbeat. He was alive and it was now up to her to get them out of there.

She exhaled a breath she didn’t know she had been holding as a groan came from deep in Wolverine’s chest. She rested her forehead quickly on his rising chest until a loud crash, emanating from somewhere far too close for comfort disturbed her silent rejoicing.

“You need to get up now, we have to move.” She shook him lightly, and then thought better of it, he needed to wake up, she needed him to wake up.

Wincing even before she did it, she hit him as hard as she could. “Wake up!” He groaned again, moving slightly. “You have to move!” She struck him again, “NOW!” His eyes opened groggily as another blast was heard outside the door. “Thank you, oh thank you.” She hadn’t realised how scared she had been until she saw his dark, reassuring eyes staring back at her.

“Go.” His deep voice gruff and pained as he spoke.

But as soon as he had opened his eyes they closed again. “No, no, we both need to go.” She hit him again, but all she got was a ‘humph’ in return.

Panicking she made her way to the corridors and even hearing the fighting going on so close to the cells she ran out of the room trying to find something to help her move him, to get him out, his heavy adimantium skeleton too heavy for her to move on her own.

Running out into the corridor she found herself in the middle of two fighting sides. At first she thought the guards were fighting some sort of special ops team, all dressed in black, but when a beam of red flashed from one of the special ops men and hit the group of guards facing them she realised who or rather what they were.

She tried to take it all in, the explosion, the mutants fighting her captors, the possibility of freedom, but all she could think of was Wolverine laying in the other room, counting on her. He consumed her thoughts until a barrage of bullets bit into her, the burning of her skin as each one ripped through flesh momentarily changed her focus.

She fell to her knees with the pain and even with Wolverine’s mutation, the sheer amount of bullets that had entered her were making it difficult for her to stay conscious.

“Bobby, grab her, we’ve got to get out of here before the whole place blows!” A strange man’s commanding voice cut through the fuzz that was settling over her brain and strong hands moved underneath her.

“No!” She screamed in her head, but the word came out as barely a whisper.

“It’s ok. We’re the good guys.” The boy holding her spoke with almost bragging in his voice.

“No! I can’t leave him. He saved me.” She murmured, trying to fight against his hold. She had to go back, she had to save Wolverine. Why weren’t they listening to her?

The image of Wolverine lying in a pool of her blood chased her into unconsciousness.

They stabbed him over and over. Making a cut, watching it knit its self back together and then cutting again. His shouts of pain echoing off the walls and reverberating in her head, and all she could do was watch as they hurt him again and again.

“Rogue! Rogue!" Jubilee tried to wake Marie without scaring her and setting off her skin. “Wake up you lazy whore!”

“There’s no need to be rude. I’m up, I’m up.” Rogue stretched and tried to shake the images of her nightmare out of her head. It was the same nightmare every night; different scenes of how the could be torturing him, but always the same feelings of horror and helplessness. She thought she would be used to it by that point, but every morning she woke shaking and her skin cool with a sheen of sweat. For 18 months she always woke the same way.

She looked confusingly at Jubilee as she noticed it was still dark outside. “What’s up? Is there something wrong?”

“They found him!” Jubilee was practically vibrating with excitement.

“What? Who?” wiping sleep out of her eyes, Marie sat up in bed, thinking Jubilee might have finally gone mad.

“You know Scott and Peter went out to check out that compound the professor sent them out too?” Jubilee didn’t give her time to answer. “Well they found it and it was pretty much abandoned apart from a few scientists and guards and one mutant.” She was talking so quickly now Marie was having a hard time deciphering what she was saying. “They bought him back here!”

“Who!” She said it a bit harsher than was necessary, but she was tired.

“Your wild man, Wolverine!”

Marie went totally still and jubilee stepped toward her, concern written all over her face. A yelp slipped out of her as Marie bolted out of her bed almost knocking her down as she ran, at full speed out of her room.

“At least the think it’s him… Rogue, Rogue!”

Sprinting down the corridors to the lifts that would take her down to the lower levels her heart began to palpate, she couldn’t breath. A million thoughts rushed through her head; what had they done to him? What if they had finally broken him? Had he forgiven her for leaving him there? She couldn’t stop the rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

The lift was too slow; she paced in the small space and tried to arrange her thoughts and emotions. Too much was running through her brain at once. Finally the doors slid open to the familiar metallic walls and she bolted down the cold hallway toward the med lab, hoping it would be where they took him first.

Pushing the doors open with too much force, they slammed against the walls and broke the silence that had settled over the room. Everyone turned to face her, everyone apart from Wolverine who was lying unconscious with what looked like a blast mark in the front of his shirt, exposing his chest.

“What did you do?” As she spoke the words, anger dripping off each one, she went straight for Scott, hitting him in the face before anyone knew what was going on.

“Rogue!” Jean ran to her husband whilst Marie ran to Wolverine’s side.

He looked so still, if it weren’t for the quietly beeping of the machines above him she would have thought he was dead. She placed her hand gently on his exposed chest and felt his steady heartbeat under his fingers.

He was there, really there, after 18 months he was with her again and she couldn’t comprehend it. She could feel him, the heat of his skin soaking into her, the rise and fall of his chest, but after all that time she couldn’t quite believe she had found him again.

The singed edge of his ruined shirt scratched against her hand and anger pulled her back to the people standing around her.

Marie looked up at the others surrounding her with cold eyes.

“We had to immobilise him.” Scott, with his hand still cradling him face, tried to sound like the leader of the x-men and not like a gut who had just been hit by a girl half his size. “He was going to kill us if we didn’t slow him down.

She shot an angry look at Scott. “You, don’t talk to me.”

Everyone stilled at the hate in her voice.

Seeing Wolverine like that, her protector and saviour so still, so helpless, bought back all of the memories and feeling of that place. The place that almost destroyed her, that she thought had destroyed him. It had her sick to think what could have happened to him after she left him alone with those people for so many months.

Suddenly there was an unexpected movement next her and before anyone knew what was going on Wolverine had Marie’s throat held tightly in his hand and the blades of his other pointed towards the rest.

It seemed like forever that everyone just stood there waiting, waiting for him to kill her.

But she knew him better than that, knew that as soon as he realised who she was he would calm down. He just needed to recognise her.

“Wolverine.” She said it so quietly that the others just saw her mouth curve around the name, but she knew he had heard. That he was listening.

*-*-*-*-*

And he was. His focus shifted abruptly from the people in front of him who had attacked and captured him earlier to the woman in his grasp.

He looked down at the girl confused, she had said his name with kindness, not hatred as he was used to. He searched her face for something, anything that could explain why she looked up at him with hope and reassurance swimming in her brown eyes.

“Wolverine.”

And there it was again. There was sweetness, a fondness in the way she said his name, the only information he had about himself. He studied her face, trying to figure out the trick they were playing on him, how they were torturing him now.

He loosened his grip on her throat, but instead of trying to struggle the rest of the way out of his grasp and running away from him, she turned fully toward him and stared him straight in his eyes, waiting.

Looking down at the strong woman in front of him a niggling feeling pulled at him. There was something familiar about her, something he should remember.

“Rogue.” Someone spoke behind her, his grip tightened again and his focus was back on his attackers.

As he tried to calculate how to escape from his new room a soft hand touched the side of his face and once again he relaxed. Something about this girl cooled the heat of his anger. She pulled his focus again until she was the only one he was concerned with.

He leaned forward slightly and breathed her in. The smell of the sterile medical lab they were in was all he could concentrate on, the feeling it evoked mad him choke on fear, but as the scent of her cut through the disinfected stench he was confused how she smelt of warmth, safety and it was so familiar to him. Searching her face for any answers she just looked up at him with open ease. He tried to think, tried to remember why she was so recognizable.

She touched him again and he then didn’t care about the others in the room at all, he just knew this person in front of him was important and he would never let go.

*-*-*-*-*

Marie smiled slightly as he completely released his grip on her throat. He looked down at her, his dark eyes searching her face for something, she didn’t know what he was looking for, but she could tell he at least recognised her.

Too quickly for everyone else’s comfort he reached for her again, but instead of grabbing her throat, his thick arms coiled around her, pulling her into his solid chest. He pressed his face into her neck and breathed her in as he slumped to the floor, dragging her down with him.

She curled up in his lap, fitting herself into his unyielding form, letting him hold her close to his body. It felt like hours they were sitting there like that, his arms so comfortable surrounding her, so safe, she wondered how she had made it through the past months without that feeling. They stayed like that until his weight slumped against her. Pulling away slightly she saw a needle jabbed into the side of his neck. She turned toward Jean, glaring at her.

“He has to be sedated for us to move him.” Jean said apologetically.

“He would have gone willingly if you’d lust let me talk to him.” Anger seeping back into her voice as she spoke.

“We couldn’t take the risk.” Scott moved toward her, but he stopped as her cold eyes once again rested on him. A smug thought flittered across her mind as she noticed the red welt forming over his cheek bone.

“You don’t go near him.” She knew they were right, he was unpredictable, but she was still annoyed at the way they were treating him. She looked back at Wolverine, even in sleep he looked fierce. “Where are you taking him?” Her fingers gently traced his furrowed brow.

“To one of the holding cells until the professor come back to talk to him.”

Even though she hated the thought of locking him up again, she knew it was the only way to deal with him. Even though he recognised her, she didn’t think that he remembered her or understood that they were trying to help him, that they were the good guys.

He woke groggily, disorientated with the drugs fading from his system. He opened his eyes to a blindingly bright room; he had to blink a few times to focus through the glare. It was so white and clean in the room he instantly recognised as a cell, cleaner and more comfortable, but still a prison. His mind instantly began strategising escapes, of ways to break out even before he had sat up.

Slowly pushing himself off the floor he noticed the new, clean shirt they had dressed him in, the bed made up in the corner and a plate of food that lay on the floor near the door. The door itself was clear, so he could see out into the corridor, he smiled at their stupidity,
They under estimated him. But then he saw her.

She was curled up on the hard floor outside the door, her hands tucked under her chin. He cautiously edged closer to her, concentrating on the rise and fall of her chest. He studied her, still confused by who she was and what she meant to him.

From memories being lost in the uncountable amount of tests and quashing of others to prevent them from being used against him by his many captors, Wolverine had lost most of his memories to prevent himself from breaking, to protect what little of his humanity was left. And something in him told him that she fit in there somewhere, that she was a memory that he had given up to save himself. The frustration of not knowing who he was to her or what had happened between them to make her look at him like she had nothing to fear was grating on his mind.

He studied her while she slept, hoping that something would remind him. He was concentrating so hard on her that he didn’t hear the door down the corridor opening or the footsteps getting closer until two feet obscured his view of the girl.

He jumped back, the furthest he could get from the door, snarling more at himself for being so careless than at the intruder.

He watched as the girl stirred at the intrusion, and he was overcome with irrational anger at the new comer for disturbing her when she looked so peaceful.

“You shouldn’t be down here. If Scott catches you he’ll chew you a new one.” As the big man that had entered talked to the waking girl anger flashed across her delicate features.

“He really needs to stay away from me right now or I’ll give him another black eye to match the other one.” She sat up, fight running through her voice.

Wolverine couldn’t help but watch her every movement, every expression, he was drawn to her in a way he found quite disturbing.

“That shiner you gave him is very pretty.” The big guy laughed quietly and it was then Wolverine recognised him as the other one who had fought and captured him. Another growl erupted from him gaining the attention of both of the people outside his cell. “He’s awake”

The girl turned to him, and despite his bared teeth she smiled warmly at him. She turned to the other man, worry covering her features “I think you’d better go. He has a very good memory for people who have hurt him.”

“I think you’re right. You should go as well.” Wolverine baulked at his words, he didn’t want her to go, and he needed her to stay, to never leave his sight. “You can’t sleep here.”

“I’m staying. He shouldn’t be left alone. He doesn’t know where he is, or who we are.” She looked back at him, sadness in her eyes. “I can’t leave him again.”

As he left Wolverine relaxed against the back wall, watching as she edged closer to the door, her eyes fixed on him.

A smile pulled at her lips, but as he watched the corners of her mouth turn up a tear slid down her cheek, quivering at her chin before dropping to the cold floor.

Before he even realised it himself, he had lunged at the door, blades drawn, trying to cut through the clear barrier between them to get to her.

But even though his blades pierced through the door he pulled his hands back, his blades retracting as a surge of electricity licked at his nerves. He jumped away from the door, fists still balled, glaring at the obstruction that separated him from her.

So they weren’t as stupid as they looked.

Turning back to her, the pain on her face was, her realised, in response to his.

“I’m so sorry.” More tears began to fall and he wished he could do something to stop it, to make her smile like she had done before.

Shaking off the last remnants of the shock he had received he grabbed some of the bedding they had given him and dragged it to the door.

He settled in front of her, smirking quickly as she smiled sweetly at him through the last of her tears. As he watched her his mind raced with thoughts of how to escape, his plans changing with new information. It didn’t surprise him that every scenario for his escape ended with her leaving with him.

Again they sat there staring at each other like a silent contest. Both trying to work out what the other was thinking, who the other was.

He smirked as her eyelids began to droop. She had sat uncomfortably on the hard floor studying him for hours and he watched as she became more and more tired, slumping against the wall, her head lolling every so often until she curled up on the floor, tucking her hands under her chin again, falling into an easy sleep.

He mimicked her, laying on the bedding listening to her easy breaths until the large man returned and ignoring Wolverine’s snarls, growls and angry pacing, lifted her into his arms and took her away.

He was used to long periods of time being by himself, but without her he left so desolately alone. He could handle the cage, being imprisoned, he could handle the torture, but being without her seemed to affect him more than he wanted to admit, even to himself. She was a link to what he had forgotten and he wasn’t going to loose her again, not now that he had found her.

He continued to pace, a flurry of escape plans fell through his head as the night passed.

*-*-*-*-*

She woke, like always, sweat covering her skin and images of Wolverine cut and bleeding fading with the growing light. Sitting up abruptly she was surprised by waking up in her bed. For a brief second she thought that it had been a cruel dream, her mind fabricating his rescue to ease her pain over leaving him. But the second passed and she broke out in a fit of giggles as she pulled off the day old clothes and pulled on the first ones her fingers touched. She was only half dressed as she ran into the hallway, getting a few puzzled looks as she tugged on a jumper and made her way back down to the lower levels.

Sliding into the cell on the smooth floor she saw him, pacing the floor of his cell. At her interruption he paused and turned violently toward her, frustration and anger pulling his features into a sneer, but as he recognised her, his face softened and she almost saw a smile.

“Hi.” She sheepishly waved, blushing at her lame greeting. “I’m sorry I left, someone must have taken me up to bed.” Rage flashed across his face and she guessed someone he didn’t like had come and got her. She mad a note to bring her quilt down later so she could sleep down there with him. She thought about what Scott would say to that, but quickly changed off that train of thought as anger began to rise in her.

She didn’t know what else to say. Sorry for locking you up? They don’t want to let you out because you might kill someone? Forgive me for leaving you?

She felt so guilty and couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes any longer. Her eyes settled on the food that laid untouched by door.

“Aren’t you hungry? I know the food here is bad, but it’s edible, I promise.”

She saw him glance down at the plate and then back at her. She began to get worried. It wasn’t like they fed them well whilst they were captured together and she didn’t think their hospitality skills had improved much since she had been rescued. She wondered when he had last eaten.

“Ok, ok. Food. You need food.” She flurried at the door, and she worried for a second what she looked like to Wolverine, a crazed look on her face, she wondered whether to stay or go and get him some food. She didn’t want to leave him, but she had to go and talk Jean about what they would be doing with him, how they would be helping him.

She ran from the room, but ran back again, smiling awkwardly as he looked at her confused.

“I’ll be back.” Another embarrassed half wave and she ran from the room heading to the dining hall where she knew they would all be eating breakfast.

Grabbing two plates, she filled one with everything she could think he would like and the other with only a few bits and pieces, she couldn’t think to eat when so much was going on.

“You hungry Rogue?” Pete asked with a smile as she sat down at the table near Jean.

“No, not really.” She said distractedly. The table shot confused looks to her plates then at her. “One’s for Wolverine.”

She looked up to see everyone’s concerned eyes on her. She sighed; they had never understood her connection to the mutant, that even from the prisons where he had been held, horrible rumours of what they had done to him and what he had done himself, had spread.

Everyone thought she was deranged when she first told them what happened between them, they gave her a strange look when she talked about him. They couldn’t understand that even though it had been only a short time for everyone else, it had been a lifetime for her. Every minute that had passed in that place had felt like a year. They didn’t understand that even though they had known nothing about each others lives, they had known who each other really were.

She also had his memories, feelings and personality floating around in her head. As the months had gone by without him she had grasped onto what was left of him in her head, trying to hold onto every part of him she had taken from him.

When she had first arrived back at the mansion, they had all given her a wide berth, her temperament was prone to erratic change, her personality interchanging with the Wolverines. It had become harder and harder for her to control the part of him she had absorbed the further she was from him.

As the months had passed he had calmed somewhat in her mind, but the teachers had found her on occasion burning cigars or downing beers in the gardens of the mansion, revelling in his favourite things.

It had been Jean who had helped her the most, listening, with a lot of patience, to Rogue crying and Wolverine sneering, all the time both of them wanting to go back and find the man himself.

But most of the other students just didn’t get it and now that he was here and so untrusting of any of them she didn’t think they would understand the ties between her and the Wolverine.

“He’s not eating.” She directed at Jean, hoping she would have an answer for it. “He hasn’t touched any of the food you’ve given him.”

“How about sedating him, force feeding?” Scott interjected before he could stop himself. He looked up to Marie staring evilly at him and he turned back to his plate, finding something there very interesting.

“Drugging him again will only set us back. He needs to see that we aren’t like his previous captors if we want to him trust us.” Marie relaxed at Jean’s words, at least someone was thinking about how to help Wolverine.

“Well we’ve got to do something.” Marie pushed her food around her plate, hoping for an idea to come to her.

The conversation soon changed and Marie stood, pocketing her knife and fork and picked up her plates. She tried to ignore the stares as she moved away from the table

He looked up at her as she entered, watching the plates in her hands as she moved toward the door.

“Why aren’t you eating?” She sat down in front of him and picked at her plate as he slowly moved toward her.

She just sat there for a moment, she didn’t know what to say or do. The time in the compound had joined them together in a horrible, violent way. Through a situation like that, that no one should be in, she wondered that if they reconnected, would they relive those times or just regain that closeness that had bought them both through it. She wondered if she could save him again or if they, whoever they were, had managed to push him too far to pull him back to her.

Cautiously she opened the flap at the side of the door, and pulled the plate of untouched food out of the cell.

“It’s edible.” She picked a cold sausage off the dish, broke a small bit off and popped it in her mouth. “The sausages are brilliant.” She placed the rest of the sausage back onto the plate and gave a small yelp as his hand shot through the flap, grabbed the plate and dragged it back toward him. In a few short moments he had practically swallowed the 3 sausages whole.

Marie waited for him to eat the rest, but he just sat the again, watching her.

“Is that what it is?” As the realisation dawned a slight smile, turning into a grimace crossed her face. “What did they do to you to make you so wary of even eating?” She wanted to cry for him, but she knew she couldn’t, she had to be strong for him, to bring him back.

Reaching through again, she took the plate back and tried a little bit of each before passing it back to him, then repeated the procedure with her own plates. She smiled as he sat back after finishing all 3 plates, his hand scrubbing at the vestiges of food left around his mouth.

*-*-*-*-*

She came, day after day and just sat with him. He paced back and forth his small room, waiting for her to come and sit outside his cell either talking to him, reading to him or just watching him. He grew to understand these people weren’t like his previous captors, but he couldn’t work out what they wanted. His cell was clean and well kept, no beatings; other than when they had first captured him, no testing and no drugging his food. But he was still in a cage, however much they tried not to make it look like one.

She was sitting in front of him again, this time with a book, which he wasn’t listening to, just watching her as she studied the words intently.

For some reason she kept coming back, she spoke and looked at him like she knew him. And he knew her aswell, but he just didn’t know how and with each passing day the not knowing, not remembering was infuriating him even more.

It was then he noticed that she had stopped reading and was just sitting there looking at him and he realised why she was so quite.

She sat in the open doorway of his cell watching him, trying to gage his reaction.

They both sat there, not moving, watching each other, searching for something.

“Rogue!”

They both jumped at the shout from behind her.

Scott stormed toward them and without thinking Wolverine had pulled her to her feet and further into his cell, putting himself between her and his previous attacker, drawing his claws as he moved.

“Rogue, move slowly away from him and out of the cell.” Scott edged closer earning himself a warning growl from Wolverine.

“It’s not me he wants to hurt Scott. He’s protecting me from you.”

“What?”

“He sees you as the enemy, as the threat to him and to me. Leave the room slowly, I’m fine. If he does anything I can just touch him, but you have to go.” She noticed the edge to her voice; it always seemed to be there when she spoke to Scott now.

“I’m not leaving you in there with him.”

Scott reached up to his glasses and Wolverine growled deep in his chest again, leaning back onto his haunches Marie could tell he was about to lunge for the x-man threatening him.

“Scott, leave! If you don’t he’s not going to give you the chance you had before. He will kill you. I’ll be fine, leave.”

Scott swayed slightly on the spot, trying to decide what to do, but she smiled tightly as she saw him beginning to back slowly from the room.

Wolverine’s breathing was heavy and laboured as he stared at the door where Scott had been. She nervously reached for him, touching him lightly on his back.

She stifled a scream as he quickly turned on her, shoving her back against the wall. His face was so close to hers, his hot breaths pushing against her skin as he pressed against her, her body caught in between his solid body and the unyielding wall.

She slowly raised her hand and placed it on his chest, feeling the heavy beating of his heart trying to push its way into her palm. Looking back at his face she tried to ease his anger, hoping he knew it was safe with her, that nothing was going to harm him when she was with him.

Soon she began to feel him calm. His breaths came easier and his heartbeat slowed, but as soon as he was composed again, it was her heart that began to beat erratically in her chest. She stilled as his hands rose up to her face, his palms cradled her face, and his wild eyes searched hers. She didn’t know what he was looking for, but as he looked into her so intently she thought it must have been very important to him. Her breath left her as, while his eyes searched her own, his hands began to search her body.

His calloused fingers dragged along her skin raising goose bumps where ever he touched. He was soon so intent on trying to find something on her that his eyes followed where his fingers went. She could feel his warm breath on her throat as his touch trailed down her neck, across her collarbone until her jumper got in his way. He surprised her as he pulled her jumper roughly over her head and hardly acknowledging the slight hitch in her throat continued his exploration.

Tightly scrunching her eyes shut as he trailed his hands down her sides, she tried not turn to jelly under his ministrations.

But as soon as he had started, he stopped.

She blushed bright red as a moan of disappointment slipped from her mouth as his hands stilled and he stepped away from her.

“Rogue, what are you doing?” Jean’s voice was strained with trying to sound calm and unthreatening.

Reluctantly opening her eyes to their interruption, Marie sighed and turned to face the older woman. Scott had run and tattled on her.

Marie looked pleadingly at Jean hoping she would realize what she was trying to do and not do anything to upset Wolverine.

“I’m fine. He won’t hurt me.” She looked at the man whose touch was still tingling on her skin. “I can get through to him. Please let me try.” She wasn’t leaving him, so she just hoped Jean would understand.

“Rogue.” Jean’s voice became pleading as she stepped forward.

Wolverine only shifted slightly, Marie figure he didn’t find her as threatening as Scott and was willing to give her a little leeway.

“I don’t think this is the best course of action.”

“Jean, at least let me try. If he even looks slightly threatening I’ll take him down.” Marie wiggled her fingers at Jean, making her smile tensely.

“I’m going to have to lock you in there with him.”

Marie relaxed a little at Jean’s confidence in her. “That’s fine.”

Jean reached for the door, pausing with doubt for a second before locking it.

“Someone’s going to be just down the corridor at all times. If they hear anything resembling an attack they will come in.” Jean motioned down the hall where Marie suspected Scott already stood guard.

The two women stood just observing each other. Jean’s face was full of worry and hesitation, but Marie knew Jean trusted her to do the right thing.

“It’s the only way to help him.” Marie said warningly. Jean nodded stiffly and left the room.

*-*-*-*-*

As he listened to the red headed woman’s retreating footsteps he tried to work out why the woman in front of him had willingly imprisoned herself. She had been free, the other side of the door, but now she was as trapped as him.

But there was something familiar about being stuck inside those four walls with her. The more he thought about how he knew her, how she connected him to his past, the more perturbed he became.

He had been trying to force himself to remember her, to remember anything when they had been interrupted. He smirked at the thought. It may have started out that way. When he had pulled her behind him he had wanted to protect her, but once she was in there he didn’t want to let her go.

He had searched her face, struggling as hard as he could to find anything to trigger his memory. He had searched until he was distracted.

The smell of her had filled the space around him. From the moment she had opened his cell her intoxicating scent had saturating into his clothes, his bedding, even seeping into his skin. With the wonderful assault on his senses a conflict of wanting to protect her and wanting to over power and own her warred on him He found it difficult to control himself around her. She seemed to pull everything out of him and lay it at his feet.

Part of him growled at the older women who had interrupted them in annoyance, and the other part thanked the redhead for the intrusion; he didn’t think his restraint could have lasted much longer.

And then they were alone again and now locked in together.

He watched her, almost amused, as she stood in the middle of the cell wringing her hands nervously. He wondered how she could look so lost in the middle of such a small room. But how ever nervous she was it was her who made the first move back to him.

She edged closer to him, unease in her eyes. He looked away from her ashamedly; he had caused her wariness of him. It was difficult for him to trust anyone, but she had helped him, she had even lock herself in his cell with him and he repays her sacrifice by frightening her and pushing her away from him.

He felt her delicate fingers brush against his arm and turned to see her wearily smiling up at him. Looking down at her with confusion he tried to work out what had changed whilst he had been berating himself. He watched as her eyes drooped slightly and she stifled a yawn. She yawned again and he couldn’t help but smile as her little pink tongue stuck out as her mouth opened up wide.

He gathered all of his bedding, sheets and pillows, piling them at her feet. He arranged a bed for her and crouched next to the ‘nest’ waiting for her to lie down. She stood over him for a few seconds before she gave up and slumped onto the makeshift bed, stretching and snuggling into the soft covers. She looked up at him through half closed eyes and reached out. He looked at her small hand that was stretched in his direction and hesitated before edging closer to her. A lazy smile pulled at the corners of her lips as he got closer and as soon as he was in reach she pulled on his heavy arm. He looked down at her in confusion, wondering what she could want from him.

She smiled at his confused face and tugged on his arm again.

“Sleep.” Another ineffectual tug and he knelt onto the bedding next to her.

She half rolled over, trying to pull him with her, his heavy, adimatium skeleton making it practically impossible for her to have any effect on his movements.

“Come on, I wont bite. I swear.” She yawned through a smile and he couldn’t have said no to her when she looked up at him like that.

He crawled onto the bedding next to her and carefully laid down at her side, trying to keep a little distance between them, he didn’t quite trust himself around her. But he was surprised when, as he was letting her have some room, she squirmed to get closer to him.

He watched her sleep in his arms, tiredness pulling at his own mind. She had curled up into his front, her head resting on his chest listening to his heartbeat when she began to lightly snore. Her even breaths were lulling him to sleep and soon he was drawn into restful dreams filled with images of the woman in his arms.

But soon, like every time he slept, the nightmares soon filled his head and chased him through his sleep.

A particularly violent nightmare pulled him out of his sleep, with the fading horrific images still clouding his mind he found it difficult to tell reality from nightmare, but slowly it became clearer; the soft, warm body of the woman next to him, her shallow breaths. The comfortable ‘nest’ they slept on and the safety of his new ‘home’.

He tried to shake the last vestiges of the painful cream out of his head, but the smell of blood still surrounded him.

His eyes wearily opened to the dark cell and he looked down to the woman nestled in his arms. He expected to see her sleeping, but her wide, brown eyes were staring up at him, pain and fear filling them. With a sickening abruptness he realised the blood that had followed him out of his dream was not in his head, it was hers.

The scene in front of him made his stomach turn. His fist was pushed up against her chest, blades lodged in between her ribs, tearing at her lungs as she tried to breathe.

For a few never ending seconds he just stared at her and her at him, neither fully comprehending the situation.

Blood gurgled in her throat as she opened her mouth and tried to speak. She weakly coughed and winced in pain at the action.

Without thinking he retracted his blades, pushing his palm against the wound, at a loss of what else he could do for her. He couldn’t help her, she was dieing in his arms and he had no way to stop it.

She laid there, blood slowly oozing out of the three identical holes he had made and all he could do was watch.

She opened her mouth again, spitting blood out onto the floor; she spoke very softly to him.

“Sorry.”

He looked at her confused, what did she have to be sorry for? He was the monster, he should be saying sorry to her. He was watching the one person who didn’t want to hurt or run away from him die from something he had done to her.

But suddenly he couldn’t think of everything else but the extreme pain emanating from where her fingers were weakly reaching up and brushing against his arm.

He felt himself being pulled back into unconsciousness. He tried to fight it, tried to stay awake, but the darkness pulled at him. He fell weakly beside her, unable to hold his own weight. The last thing he saw before his world turned dark were her brown eyes looking at him with fear and worry.

He had hurt the one person who he truly cared about and he was leaving her to die alone in his cell.

She cradled his head in her lap, tears running light tracks down her cheeks, the salt water mixing with the blood that covered her and surrounded them both.

After a few agonising seconds when she couldn’t feel a pulse, his heart had began to beat again and her hand laid on his chest feeling each lub-dub of his blood pumping through his body again. She knew she just had to be patient; she had to wait for him to recover, he could handle her mutation. He had done it before and she kept telling herself he could do it again, she just had to wait.

His breath stilled and for a second she thought he had died again, given up his struggle over her mutation. But as soon as that thought had came, it left again as he leapt up out of her grasp.

She gave a small yelp, hoping that whoever was down the hall hadn’t heard it, she didn’t need anyone coming into the room with the floor, bedding and both her and Wolverine covered in her blood. Not easy to explain without someone flipping out.

Her small noise captured his attention and he turned to her, crouched and ready to pounce on whoever was holding him. She watched as his eyes widened as he looked at her. And looking down at herself she realised what shocked him.

Blood covered her chest, soaked into her top, some of the bedding surrounding her and was even caked in her hair. Even without the blood she imagined his focus was also drawn to the three evenly spaced cuts in her top. She watched him as he gradually edged toward her, blades pushing slowly out from between his knuckles with sickening slowness. He raised his hand and lined his blades with their matching holes. For a long time she tried to stay as still as she could so she didn’t spook him until suddenly his blades sank back into his hands and he was leaning over her, pulling her shirt away, ripping the fabric from her body.

Her heart beat ran at double its rate and she began to feel light headed with the clipped, rapid breaths she tried to pull into her lungs as he examined her. It seemed to her like this was becoming a regular thing for him to do to her. He was always trying to find something on her body and she had to admit she didn’t mind one little bit.

His frantic hands were everywhere, searching her skin under where the three punctures had been, trying to find the damage he had caused. He wiped again and again at the blood, trying to find any source, the furrow of confusion on his forehead getting more pronounced the longer he went on.

Finally managing to move her self into action she placed her hands over his, trapping them against her heart, which, embarrassingly was still beating way too fast.

“I took this.” Her fingers stroked between his knuckles before she moved her hand to his chest. “And this.” She shifted her hand to his head, smiling grimly at the memory her actions triggered, but the smile was soon gone when he pulled away from her as if she had burnt him.

She just managed to stop a sob from being ripped from her throat as he stared at her with what she thought looked like disgust.

*-*-*-*-*

After all of the pieces of what he had done to the woman in his cell had finally slotted back into place his world fell apart again.

“I took this.” Her delicate hand softly grazed the skin over his heart, which beat hard against her ribs in response. “And this” As her fingers reached up to his head, the movement triggered something in him. Flashes of what had been, recollections of who he was, memories of her, ran through his head.

He leapt back from her touch on instinct, pulling away and trying to sort through the jumble that his psyche had become.

His mind was a whirl of thoughts, feelings and disjointed memories. But one thing he latched onto was all the memories of the girl sitting in front of him. He saw images of her beaten and skinny being thrown into his cell, the feeling of anger as he smelt all of the guards’ scents on her skin, the smile and purr as she curled into his front and they fell to sleep together in that horrible place.

As pictures flashed across his mind he stilled as one image was thrust into the forefront of his mind. Her creamy white skin being revealed as she pulled off her own thread bare shirt and pulled his on. The warm glow of feelings that accompanied those thoughts rushed in the opposite direction of his head and made him focus again on the real woman before him

As quickly as he had pulled away from her, he lurched back to her side. He knew he was too close to her, invading her space, but he needed to know if what he was remembering was true, if what had gone on in the compound had really happened.

Her smell, that had triggered feelings of calm and security, now surrounded him in memories of sleeping with her in his arms, his face buried in his hair breathing her in. Everything was rushing back to him, too fast for him to properly comprehend, but her mutation had triggered him to remember their first meeting.

He searcher her eyes, with a new fascination and warmth, she had pulled him through uncountable days, the darkest of nights, unending torture and tests. The woman before him had been his life line and he thanked every deity that anyone believed in for bringing him back to her.

She had been looking at him with fear and trepidation, but as his own features softened so did hers. She moved closer to him, so they were almost touching, he light breath cooling his heated skin. They stayed there, perfectly still until he couldn’t handle it anymore.

He reached out, grabbed her and crushed her small frame to his. He wrapped his arms around her and vowed never to let her go again.

The length of time that had passed from when he had been taken from her, to the time his was in at that moment was something he couldn’t comprehend. It could have been only days, but to him it had felt like and eternity. They had moved him again and again, probably scared that the people who had destroyed the last facility were going to find them again. They had tortured him more times than he could, or wanted to recount. Cutting open his flesh over and over to finish what they had started. The beatings had become more often, their boredom had been abated by his pain.

And it had been over that unending time that he had held onto the idea of her, but forced himself to forget the actual woman so they couldn’t use the memory of the sweet girl who hadn’t been afraid, against him.

He had survived through it all with only the knowledge that there was something outside of his prison worth fighting for.

He relaxed his hold on her a little, figuring she might need to breath. She smiled up at hi quickly before snuggling into his chest. As he felt the weight of her against him he looked around them and saw all of the blood again. Guilt swelled in him as the remembered what he had done to her in his sleep.

“I’m sorry.” His voice sounded unfamiliar and gruff, he tried to think of the last time he had spoken willingly.

She shifted in his arms so she could look at his face.

“What for?”

“Hurting you.” He placed his hand over where his claws had violated her body, ripped at her insides and so much blood had spilled from.

She placed her small hand over his. “All better.” She squeezed his fingers slightly. “I should be apologising to you. I can’t imagine how much I hurt you.”

He scoffed, he had impaled her on 3 razor sharp claws and she was worried about a small headache she had given him. “You almost died, I almost killed you.” A flash of her dead, lying limp in his arms, blood still spilling out of her still form crossed his mind. The image made his stomach turn

“You saved me. For the second time.” She turned in his arms, straddling his thighs so she could look right at him, but her movement did everything but keep his focus on what she was saying.

“You remember don’t you.” It wasn’t a question, but he nodded anyway. “Do you remember everything?”

“No, just you and a bit before.” As he spoke his hands ran up the sides of her thighs and rested on her hips, he couldn’t help but touch her.

She shifted her position on his thighs a little and then he couldn’t think of anything else but the weight of her body and the feel of her under his hands.

Again the image of her undressing and exposing all of her white skin to him moved to the front of his mind. His eyes strayed from her face and moved down to her body.

He vaguely remembered ripping her top from her to find out where he had cut her and now she sat on him in just jeans and a green bra, her breast rising and falling with each breath. As he moved his hands from her hips to her back and up her spine, her breaths became more rapid and he watched in fascination ad her breasts fought against their constraint.

He straightened up, moving one hand down her back and the other into her hair. He stared into her suddenly desire filled brown eyes and looked for permission to continue. She looked slightly confused at how suddenly his attention had been turned, but she nodded in silent acceptance of his unaired questions. He smiled quickly, liking the fact that her mind was not on a dissimilar track to his own.

Tugging lightly on her hair he drew her toward him, crushing their lips together and pulling her body flush against his.