How long had it been, he had no earthly idea.

He was just there half sitting, half slumped on the metal platform that served him as a resting place, since the origin of times it seemed. Scents and sounds had long died down and blended in a horror filled illusion of a lightless world, the only thing real being the pain and suffering bountifully poured on him every single day.

There had been a time when he wondered why things were how they were, why he was there, but no answer ever came so he just assumed that this was what being alive meant. It was pointless to hope for something else, simply because there was nothing else, other than this pain, other than drowning, burning and bleeding, being at the mercy of others and never having any right whatsoever.


He didn’t know what he was, or what he looked like. When his eyes would occasionally roam his own naked form, he would notice that he looked like Them somehow; he had arms and hands, legs and feet, just like Them. When he would touch his face, he would notice that he had two eyes, one long, straight nose and a mouth. He had hair and skin too, though he didn’t really know why it grew back every time they skinned him, burned him alive or God knew what. But he didn’t talk… Never…So maybe that was what made him so different from Them. So he tried speaking or more likely whispering sometimes, tried to articulate words he’d heard Them say, the few times they bothered to speak at all. Words like “filth”, “worthless” or “monster”. He didn’t really know what they meant, but the edge in them made something tighten in his chest, and then spread out thickly through his bones like tar.

The day’s activities had changed lately. Of course, he still woke up to the sound of his own screams, but somehow, the pain dulled much faster than before, only to cease moments later when darkness claimed him again.
That’s when the new scent came in. It was faint, but it was still there… Different...

Whatever it was, it had the power to sooth something in him he didn’t even know hurt. The scent was deep and rich, free from the stench of chemicals, plastic or blood. If anything, the scent was pleasant yet completely unidentifiable. There rarely was anything new around here, and when novelty happened, it only meant more pain for him, so he just waited the moment he would pay whatever price he had to pay this time.




He was in his cell again, waiting for today’s special assortment of torture. The grays and blacks in the corners of his cell seemed to be waiting too. Time passed by but still nothing. Stillness never lasts very long, calmness is not to be trusted, he thought, and he started to shake uncontrollably in fear and anticipation. When Their heavily booted feet stomped the floor of the corridor he was held in without stopping, he hyperventilated, his dismantled thoughts crashing one against the other, trying to figure out what was going on. He thought he had lost the ability to fear or crumble in outright horror a long time ago, but God, was he ever wrong! Silence came again until the pathetic excuse of a light that peeked from the hole under the thick metal door of his cell was turned out, signaling the end of the day. He rarely slept, but that night, he couldn’t. Even when he would have begged for it, sleep was ripped away from him as someone esles's screams were heard somewhere beyond the walls of his metal and concrete world; screams so high pitched they were barely human. And then the stench of blood was so overpowering that it made his stomach lurch, making him rush to one of the corners of the room to heave his gut out against a wall. He never had to `witness’ anybody else’s pain, he wasn’t used or prepared to hear something other than the heavy footsteps, occasional gunshots, or his own personal brand of screams. That night and for the first time, he wished he was dead, wished that somebody would set him free from this place. That night and for the first time, he felt water well up in his eyes and run down his burning face, deep unforgiving sobs making it hard to breathe. It had a name, he suddenly remembered: crying.

The following day, the boots came again and this time stopped in front of his cell. There was something different today too; the boots weren’t alone, there were feet gliding over the hard surface too, barely audible, whispering like his. The feet stopped too, hesitating, and there was the scent again, the pleasant scent, so, he thought, the time had come to pay. Reverently, he stood up from the platform he was slumped over, gathered what little courage he had left after last night’s torrents of tears overflowing from the very darkness of his soul, to face the new comer and the world of hurt and pain they were bringing with them. The boots didn’t speak, they hardly did, but the feet started to whimper, and he would swear they were crying too. There, a plaintive childlike voice rang in the dimness, making the good scent suddenly run away, leaving a trail of all consuming terror in its wake.

The door to his cell opened to reveal the owners of the boots and feet. He knew the owners of the boots, so he didn’t spend too long eyeing them, but the feet were small, like their voice, and lead up to two ghostly white legs that kept going until they were stopped by greenish half clean, half soiled hospital scrubs. His eyes resumed their investigation of the pain bringer, considering its strangely delicate features and long dark and white hair that partially hid it from his gaze. The pain bringer looked up from its position between the booted men, its eyes big and scared, and lips trembling in silent request for mercy. He almost snorted at that: he was the one who should ask for mercy, but he knew better. Why would the pain bringer ask for it anyway? He was sure that they had come for him, come to torture him, fortunately one last time before it all blissfully ended. So he waited.

The boots shuffled forward like one and only man, dragging the pain bringer and its destructive potential in their midst. He was too bewildered to fully comprehend what was occurring before his very eyes. The boots left without a sound this time, the feet disappeared under a curtain of dark and white hair and dirty clothing, crying in the corner of his cell, begging him to finish them quick. When he finally came to, the heavy door was closed again, and an eerie silence reigned in the suddenly crowded space of the only place he’d known as a home. He was torn; what should he do? What did they expect from him this time? Was it the latest torture they thought of? When he took a closer look at the form huddled in the corner, another word came to his mind, the pain bringer was a victim too and her soft features, her long, dual hair, triggered an emotion so strong that it almost made him keel over: it was a woman, very young, but a woman still.



The day passed at an alarmingly slow pace. The woman on the floor hadn’t moved an inch, still crying silently, sniffing from time to time. He had paced the confines of the room, trying to figure out what to do with her, how to make her scent pleasant again, because now he was sure: the scent was hers, it had to be. Ever so slowly, he tried to approach her then, try to make the crying cease, but he didn’t know how to go about that. Suddenly, he wanted to talk, try to communicate with her, but the few words he could remember or phrase seemed frightening in their coldness; if They used it, these words couldn’t be good enough to tell her, now could they. Half squatting half crawling towards her shaking form, he extended one arm in her direction, hand in a semi fist, making to touch her, see if she was hurt. Her shoulder was warm to the touch, soft and inviting in a way he couldn’t clearly remember. The quaking of her body temporarily ceased, her face snapping up to his, and a breath hitched in her throat. Without him realizing it, a soft purr coming from his chest could be heard in the dimly lit space, and the young woman’s crying stopped at once. The sound echoed through her by the hand that was resting on her shoulder, hand that ever so slowly crept up to brush her jaw line and finally cup her tear stained cheek in its calloused palm. He saw that it took a lot from her, but she leaned in, her eyes never leaving his, and for just a few moments, all the shadows in them seamed to vanish.

The scent progressively came back, enfolding him in its softness and his hand on her face relaxed, as a thumb brushed the side of her brow. This was right, he thought, this was right, and the comforting sound of his grumbling purr soothed the girls even more, finally making her dozy. When her body slightly slumped over to his, he caught her easily in his arms and brought her to the metal platform on the other side of the cell.



Then the lights went out as suddenly as they had come in the morning, but he kept a silent vigil over his new cellmate as she dreamlessly slept in his arms. He spent the whole night sitting, his back propped against the wall, his left knee bent and his elbow leaning on it as a makeshift pillow under the young woman’s neck, and there she was, face partially nestled against his chest, the rest of her body lying between his legs. As he had nothing to shield her from the coldness of the night, he decided it was best he stayed with her like that, and this too was right somehow; familiar.



The young woman tried to talk to him the following day, as soon as she opened her eyes, finding herself securely held in her cellmate’s arms. She didn’t smell scared, though, just slightly agitated.


She tried to speak again and again, but he couldn't decipher the meaning of the bi-syllable word she’d been voicing for a few moments now. Looking at her face while she spoke this word was something he couldn’t help himself from doing. The feeling he had yesterday was multiplied a thousand times even as the soft sound of her voice echoed in the dark room. The way she looked at him while saying it, all the emotions and desperation it held bore a hole in his chest where his heart should have been, but he had none, that much he knew. He tried to whisper the word too, see if it would feel the same on his lips as on hers. Lowering his face to hers, he did just that, brushed his lips against hers to take a sip of the cryptic and enigmatic sound and then push it back against her mouth for her to appraise his doing.


“Looo-gn”, he breathed.


Her reaction was so strong that it threatened to make him wail like a newborn child then and there. She was indeed crying, quaking uncontrollably, hands clutching at his shoulders and face buried in the crook of his neck. At loss as to what to do with the shaking and sobbing piece of woman in his arms, he resumed his purr from the night before, and once again, the crying stopped and the only thing heard in their cell was the occasional sniffing of the soft spoken creature now limply resting in his arms, mingled with other more elaborate and incomprehensible words, which underlying meaning didn’t faze him completely; and that in itself was a complete mystery to him.

De profundis clamavi…

Have pity, my one love and sole delight!
Down to a dark abyss my heart has sounded,
A mournful world, by grey horizons bounded,
Where blasphemy and horror swim by night.
For half the year a heatless sun gives light,
The other half the night obscures the earth.
The arctic regions never knew such dearth.
No woods, nor streams, nor creatures meet the sight.
No horror in the world could match in dread
The cruelty of that dire sun of frost,
And that huge night like primal chaos spread.
I envy creatures of the vilest kind
That they in stupid slumber can be lost —
So slowly does the skein of time unwind!

Charles Baudelaire, Flowers of Evil





“Are you sure about the procedure Doctor?”


A disembodied and ageless voice inquired from the other side of the desk. Dr. Steve Matheson had never seen his “boss’s” face, not even once. He would always address him from the other side of his desk, the back of his broad chair facing him, in a soulless voice, and he had come to fear the day when he’d discover this voice’s face, associate it with that of a human being. The orders given to him were simple, though, they always were. But the thing is that they often involved the cruelest acts of torture, perpetrated in the name of science and progress; think about all the lives we’ll be able to save, it’s for the greater good, can’t you understand?


They captured Mutants and detained them for the sake of their experiences, their endless quest for fame or just simply to try and quench their insatiable blood lust; that was more like it. Dr. Matheson entered the army after graduating from a renowned medical school in the hopes of mending a world he believed was sick; broken. He did believe in progress and greater good, and ever since he started working as a researcher for the Canadian government, he dedicated each and every day to do just that: try and mend the world. So how did he ever end up in this Program anyway?
It happened that Dr. Matheson was simply the best at what he did, and what he did was to sequence the Human DNA. And what a genius he was! Ten years he had worked on trying to decode one of the creation’s best kept secret, the very essence of humanity, and he had finally figured it out. But thing was that some malevolent ears had heard about his prowess and decided that it was time for him to really unleash his potential in a program that could truly honor his abilities. If only he had known what he was signing for, though…


So there he was, explaining his latest discoveries about the young girl they had brought to him a little more than thirty-two hours ago. She was just a girl, really, who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time it seemed. No one had told him how exactly it happened, but now she was there, and she was believed to be one of the most valuable Mutants they had encountered so far. Even their main test subject, the Wolverine, was no match compared to the girl’s seemingly endless potential. They wanted one thing from her, though. The mere thought of it made the young doctor sick to his stomach; how could he ever go through with this, how could he ever live after *this*?


********




The day was calm and hours just silently ticked by as they lain on the metal platform. Holding her awakened something deep within him, something he had known; something from a long time ago. The young woman resting on his bosom did that to him. He was starting to think that maybe there was more than this place; maybe, just maybe it wasn’t all he had known. But it was absurd: he had always been there, as far as he could remember. Yet, she felt so right nestled against his chest, like she belonged here. Or maybe he was just losing it… They’d found a way to destroy him at last, torture and finally kill him with the feelings she awakened in him. So maybe *that* was the price, he thought…The longing for an impossible solace. They would wait until he grew accustomed to her, and then they would take her back, They would hurt her, make her scream like they made him, and there would be nothing he could do to prevent that. He didn’t know how to fight this, but he had to. The helplessness he felt was suddenly giving way to out and out fury. A feeling so foreign to him that it scared him, especially with Her laying so close to him, so vulnerable. He didn’t really understand why, but he felt he couldn’t let go of these powerful feelings, raging inside and threatening to shatter the very foundations of the Earth, destroying everything within their reach, especially when She was so close to him. She was beautiful, that was another word he had remembered during the night, as well as “innocent”, and “his”. That was what the darkness in him murmured at every given occasion; She was *HIS*, and that was why She felt so right next to him, that was why he had to protect her, keep her safe; it was the most important thing of all.


His body tensed without warning, and soon enough, his exceptional hearing picked the heavy noice of the boots and the whisper of metallic wheels with them. It was something he rarely heard around here. The metallic wheels usually were in the Black Room, where They would lock him up sometimes, before setting it on fire. The screeching sound meant a world of pain… He had to do something. They were coming to put them on fire, he knew it, he *knew* it! They were coming to hurt them! He knew he would heal, but maybe She wouldn’t. He had to protect her, no matter what, even if he had to die to keep her away from harm, he freely would lay down his life for Hers.
The sounds approached steadily. Panic rising bile in his throat, he woke Her up, whining in Her ear, whispering the only word he could voice.

“Loooo-gn.”

She stirred softly, unaware of the oncoming danger; he had to be quick!

“Loogan.” He added louder, his voice strained and husky from the lack of use for anything else than screaming.

“Yes, Logan, what’s wrong?”

She looked up at him, puzzled and then edgy as she noticed the tenseness of his body beneath hers and the tone of his voice, his eyes seeming to bore holes in the thick door with their intensity. Something must be terribly wrong, she thought, he was frantic. Then the sounds reached her too, and her heart started to double its already unhealthy rhythm. She didn’t know what it was, but she trusted him enough to take her cue from him and brace herself for the oncoming blow.

The boots and wheels stopped in front of the door, but the smell was all wrong. The smell wasn’t putrid like he knew it should, and there was no heat, not really. The woman next to him looked up to his face and stared long and hard, trying to talk without speaking. She knew the smell: it was food, warm food. As fast as her features had hardened, they started to relax, but he wouldn’t be a dupe, he knew They could be sneaky, he had to stay on high alert, and so was she!

The door slowly opened to reveal the boots and their owners, machine guns – that was new- and a trolley laden with boxes. His entire demeanor changed from weary to threatening in a heartbeat, shoving his cellmate behind him more harshly than he intended, and as anger and rage built up in him at an alarming pace, an excruciating pain burgeoned between his knuckles, revealing six angry looking appendices, ready to rip those boots, their owners and their equipment to pieces.

The pungent scent of fear mixed with cheap courage assailed his senses, while the boots stepped to him in uncoordinated cadence, and he growled deep and low, upping the scent a couple of notches. They weren’t used to him fighting, and seeing him so aware suddenly made Them second guessing Their course of action and gave Them a moment’s hesitation. It would be more than enough for him to strike, but he had to think of Her first, he had to protect Her and acting now could jeopardize Her chances of escaping whatever was about to be poured onto them. So he just stood there and watched, waiting for Them to lay down Their cards. For a few seconds no one dared to move, even the breaths were somewhat tightly controlled in a supreme effort to appear brave and composed in front of the sudden menace. He kept watching Them intently, undisturbed it seemed by Their display of power, until the faintest “click” was heard, sounding like a thunderbolt in the surreal silence of the cell. That move alone was all he needed and with a swift movement of his arm, he shove the young woman to the floor, startling her, while his other arm reached for the closest booted man, tearing through gun, armor and flesh as if it had been warm butter. And then, there was pain…lots of it. Bullets digging holes half the size of a golf ball rained in the clamped space of the room and hitting him square in the chest, bringing him to his knees with a howl that shook the walls. One last bullet hit him in the face, tearing away half of it, and a sudden darkness embraced him like a starving lover.

She cried all along, begged for them to stop, while clutching at her ears tightly in order to stop the sickening sounds of ripped flesh from entering her head.

“Stupid animals.” Muttered one of the soldiers to no one in particular, whilst another one pulled a few boxes from the trolley and threw them down in the girl’s general direction.

“Get fed!” The soldier yelled, his voice so loud that it stunned her to silence, her body unable to comply.

“I said eat, you dirt bitch!” The soldier repeated, this time emphasizing his order by pointing his gun to her head.

With shaking hands, the young prisoner reached for one of the clear plastic packages lying on the floor before her, its contents blurred by the tears that had welled up in her dark eyes. The food had no taste whatsoever, the sight of her cellmate lying in a torn and bloody heap in front of her making it hard to make each mouthful pass her teeth. Keeping the whole in her stomach was now another matter altogether. The soldiers stayed until all the boxes around her were empty, and even a few additional minutes to make sure she wouldn’t throw everything up, all the while keeping a machine gun glued to the side of her head. When they were satisfied, They picked up the shreds that were left of Their companion and walked back out of the cell.




Her cellmate still lied on the floor, unmoving, barely breathing. She didn’t even dare to touch him…What a sight he was! He was facing away from her, blood pooling all around him, looking like tar in the dimly lit room. She knelt reverently beside him, combing shaking fingers through his blood matted hair.


“Logan, what have they done to you? Logan, can you hear me?”


Her inquiry was only met with silence, soundless sobs rocking her body as she watched the man before her heal second after agonizingly long second. She knew he would heal, but seeing him like this drained her of all her energy, her very life force. How could They hurt him so bad? Was it the treatment he’d been receiving for the two years he’d been “missing”? Two years of terror and outright violence… She wanted to find him again, and find him she did. She wanted to save him, and look where she was now! Everything was her fault, how could she be so stupid as to think she could do it all by herself?


“Please somebody, come and get us out of here… please!”


With that, she slumped to the floor next to the man she loved more than life, burrowing her face against his abused chest and crying, praying that somehow the X-men would find them very soon.

Flashback (one year ago)


Eleven months… He’s been gone eleven months. Not a word from him in all this time. Rogue knew that Logan wasn’t the writing or calling kind, but yet, she *knew* that something was wrong; she just felt it. A knowledge so deeply rooted in her bones that she had lost the ability to sleep or eat these last few days. Looking up at her reflection in the mirror that morning, she knew that she had to take action. The rest of the X-men, and especially Scott, had looked at her coolly when she asked if they’d had any news from Logan. None of them had heard of him in almost a year and nobody seemed to find it odd.


“Professor, maybe you could try and locate him with Cerebro?” Sue pleaded with the telepath, in hopes that he would embrace her cause more willingly than her teammates and teachers.


“Locating Logan is almost impossible, I’m afraid, Rogue.” Xavier replied in a soft but dissuading voice.


“But why? How would you know it for sure? Please, Professor, I’m not asking …” She cut herself as her voice suddenly failed her. Regaining a semblance of composure for the sake of her peers and mentors, she added in a tone that she hoped didn’t betray her deepest fears:


“I just want to make sure that he’s alright, that’s all.”


The soft buzzing sound of Xavier’s wheelchair echoed in the richly furnished study, adding to the softness of the hushed atmosphere of the room.


“My child…” Feeling the change in Rogue at his word, catching his faux-pas, he addressed her again after a short pause. “Rogue, I too care greatly for Logan, I assure you. To be completely honest with you, I’ve been trying to keep tabs on him for some time now, but I was never able to reach his mind; his mental shields preventing me from doing so, even with Cerebro.”


At that the young woman felt a wave of pure panic rising in her, the projection so strong that it made the two telepaths present in the room wince in unison.

Storm, being her usual pacifying self approached the girl she sometimes saw as her younger sister, making to lay a loving hand on her shoulder but catching herself at the very last second, fearing an eventual rejection. In a dream like voice, she simply stated: “He is fine, dear, I’m sure. If it wasn’t the case, don’t you think that he would have tried to contact us?”


“But what if he couldn’t…?”


Scott Summers, in all his Leading glory chose this moment to say his piece: “He doesn’t deserve that you worried so much about him, Rogue, you should know it by now. In all this those months he spent doing God knows what across Canada, he never saw fit to let you know that he was at least alive; it’s time for you to come to terms with that and move on.”


The young man never saw it coming. All those years of training were no match compared to an outraged Rogue, who with a few swift strides was in her teacher’s face, tightly fisting the collar of his impeccable navy polo shirt.


“Say that again?” Barked the young woman in all Wolverinish way. She still had a piece of Logan in her mind after all, and the man known as Cyclops should definitely know better than to provoke the Rogue.


Jean chimed in then, agreeing with her fiancé, for a change.

“Rogue, he’s right. If Logan wanted to come back, he would have by now. I’m sorry…but somebody has to tell you to move on Rogue, it’s not…”


“Oh, you would know, wouldn’t you? It’s not what, uh?” Rogue retorted, her eyes never leaving the face of the man she held in an iron grip, but her voice oozing enough venom to petrify the read headed beauty standing two steps away from her.


“It’s not what?!” She yelled this time, feeling her patience running thinner with every passing second.


“It’s not healthy.” Came the hushed answer from the usually silent Kitty Pryde.


“That’s what you all think, isn’t it?”


As silence filled the room, eyes looked intently to the carpeted floor, Rogue’s temper flared to all consuming rage at the attitude of those she believed were her family, people who should care about her. She also associated them as Logan’s new found family after the first few days they had spent at the mansion together. They had shown so much care, love even, to the both of them, her and Logan… How could they think so little of him after all he had done for them and with them? Sure he hadn’t stayed very long after Liberty Island, but wasn’t what he had sacrificed for people he had barely known proof enough of his value as a man, as Human being? How could they give up on him that easily?


“That’s enough.”


The short sentence calmed the building quarrel at once, and the Fearless Leader of the X-men took this opportunity to free himself from a grip he never thought would so tight, not from someone as fragile looking as his young student. Pride and embarrassment fought behind his ruby colored glasses at his protégée’s efficiency, but he just stepped back cautiously, making sure that he was out of harms reach this time.

Looking over her fellow X-men, her whole body consumed with fury and disappointment, she said the only thing she could think of, not caring for the consequences.


“Fine,” She said coldly, trying her hardest to keep her voice steady and the tears at bay. “You can count me out from this very moment. Don’t you ever try to find me or Logan again. I don’t want to have any kind of business with you anymore.”


With that said, the young woman stormed out of the room, tears blurring her vision, as she made the vow to find Logan all by herself if those she trusted refused to help her, or even at least try to understand her fears. Once in the safety of her bedroom, she reached for the dog tags she kept around her neck by day and by night like a talisman. Clutching them in her gloved fist, she finally crumbled to the floor in a pitiful weeping heap, calling the one and only name that mattered to her now: “Logan…”





End of flashback. Present time.


“You were right once again Dr. Matheson!” Expressed The Voice in devious glee. “The girl made quite a number on him, and we can only hope now that you are also right about the rest.”

Voice strained and resigned, the young man replied in what he hoped was cold and scientific detachment: “The subject’s reactions were indeed to be expected, sir. The young girl…uh, female we put with him seems to have awakened a kind of animal possessiveness in him, and we now count on a new bonding before tomorrow, if he is healed before then.”

“Very good, indeed! When do you think you can start with hormone treatments?” Inquired The Voice, buzzing with unveiled excitement.

“The formula is ready, sir, and ready to be administrated.”

“Then why wait?”

“Nature can only go so fast, I’m afraid, sir.” Was the doctor’s elusive reply. I need more time, he thought…just a little bit more time.



*******************



He woke up to the feel of smooth fingers running through his hair, and something that felt… warm. He cracked open one eye, then the other, his vision being slowly filled with the vision of his cellmate’s face. He was still lying on the concrete floor of their prison, but somehow the young woman had managed to prop his heavy head to rest in her lap. He felt so tired, every single muscle in his body screaming with pain, and he wondered why. Suddenly feeling the dampness of the floor beneath his body, and seeing the anxious expression on his unfortunate companion’s face, he started to gradually remember the morning’s events. Boots, the screeching sound of metal wheels and pain, pain like he had never known before. His passive demeanor changed in a heartbeat, as he suddenly rose to his feet, eying his surroundings with a terror stricken gaze.

“It’s okay Logan, they’re gone…” Came the muffled whisper aimed at his troubled heart and reaching right to his core.


Lifting a timid hand to him, Rogue pleaded her weary protector to come back and get some more rest. Awkwardly taking her hand in his huge one, he lifted her to her feet and guided her to the bunk a few feet away from the sea of blood they still stood in. He then looked at her like for the first time, taking in her state; the brownish smudges on her cloths and on her face making his heart race with dread. Eyes widening in horror, he took hold of her frail shoulders and started to turn her each and every way in search of any injury. She let him do until he was satisfied and finally smoothed his hands over her face over and over again in what she thought was a reassuring way for him.

“Why did you have to use those weapons on him?!”


Dr. Matheson had talked about strong sedative, he had developed the said sedative, but at no point had he mentioned fire arms, and least of all machine guns to *pacify* their test subject! The revelation made to him by his subordinate angered him so much that he felt he could kill the young recruit standing in front of him.


“We only followed the orders, doctor…” Replied the young man in a clipped voice.


“Orders? What orders? Not mine! I’ve never said that you could rip him to pieces!! I said *pacify*, damn it, not nearly kill him!”


“We only followed the orders.”


“Whose orders?!” Demanded the weary doctor, whose patience was running thin.


“Mine.” Said a calm voice from behind him. Steve Matheson turned around and his hateful glare met two steely gray eyes staring back at him with open amusement. The man was tall and had a kind of aura that spoke about power and lust for it. His whole demeanor inspired instantaneous awe and respect, leaving the two other men standing in his presence look like two lost fawns caught in headlights.


“Who are you?” He asked, suddenly feeling that his position wasn’t as assured as he thought.


“Colonel Montgomery, Safety Department. Is there something wrong?”


“What’s going on here?” Came the almost inaudible question from the shorter man, his frame barely shaking under his black coat and uniform.


“The boy is right. If you have something wrong with that *doctor*, you can always address your complaints to me.”


The raging feelings growing inside Steve Matheson gave way to outright panic at the other man’s words. Did they suspect something? No… It’s impossible, he thought.


Feigning a courage he didn’t feel at all, the young scientist turned his body to the gray haired man: “Nobody told me about this change. I will make sure to report to my superiors.”


“You can save your breath, then.” Said Montgomery. “I *am* your new superior.”


Readjusting his coat to try and hide his growing panic, Dr. Matheson thought that things were definitely playing against him. All his efforts, all the risks he took might soon be worthless if his suspicions were founded, if they truly had him in their specter and watched more closely to his *work* than he would have wished. Going back to his study, he hurried through the files he had saved on a highly secured hard disk. Dates, names, procedures and detailed chemical formulas were stocked up in his computer. He knew it was stupid, but where else could he stock them? Yet, it wasn’t enough to stop the whole operation, not by a long shot. He needed time to gather more information, more names; all those men and women who thought themselves above laws and morals. He had to stop them from continuing their atrocities, from achieving their goal: create the perfect Weapon. Hands holding the edge of his desk in a death grip, the young man tried to think of a solution to at least buy a little more time. It still could work, he still could save them all before the Program was consumed.

“Please, just a little more time…” He muttered in the silence of the brightly lit room.




**************************



He had finally sunk back into a dreamless sleep. Logan had been restless for hours, smoothing his hands over her body and constantly sniffing the air in quest of inexistent intruders. He was lying on his side now, his head buried between her breast and hands resting loosely about her waist and back. They really were a mess, and no need to mention the smell of sweat, fear and blood as well as other body fluids that tainted the atmosphere. Rogue would have given an arm and a leg for nice warm bath. Her skin felt clammy and soiled and the dried blood on her face and arms felt like an uncomfortable second skin. Letting herself drift off to dreams of huge bath tubs and pleasantly scented shampoos, she lazily caressed her cellmate’s hair, his forehead. That she was able to do so without hurting him was more than she had ever wished for, even in those god-awful circumstances. Rogue had always longed for Logan’s touch when they were at the mansion; imagining what his hands on the naked skin of her face would feel like, how would his lips feel on hers. They said that she had a crush on him, a kind of hero worship that would never go deeper than childish admiration. But they had been wrong about her. How could you hold on to foolish reveries about someone when you had experienced their darkness with all you had in you, when they had lain bare to the scrutiny of your soul; when this darkness had become a part of you? They thought her to be an eternal woman-child, the perfect mix of innocence and tragedy; a symbol they could cling on to. How could they have missed the very mechanism of her mutation? Maybe one of them knew after all… Maybe the Professor knew, and that was why he had seemed to understand her on that fateful day. But where did she lay now? Rogue knew that regrets were useless, but she couldn’t stop herself… If only she hadn’t left like she did! Maybe now she would be at the mansion again, with Logan, and they would be safe, they would be safe.

Tears suddenly ran down her hollow face, washing away some of the blood that had dried on her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry Logan… I’m sorry…” Timid tears soon became torrents, as her body shook with silent sobs. The spamming of her chest waking the man she had risked everything for, the young woman cried even louder when two honey colored eyes looked up at her from between her breasts, and she just wrapped her arms around the abused body of their owner.

Logan pushed at her slightly, trying to escape her smothering embrace, and he tried to repeat some of the words she was blubbering in his ear.


“Sorry…?” He said, all the while looking at her questioningly.


Unable to speak anymore, she just resumed her crying, shifting the slightest bit to allow him to breathe against her. Then, to her surprise, she heard something she thought she would never hear again: “Maaariiie...”

He had remembered her name.




***************************





The man stapled his fingers together in a thoughtful way, his face a mask of concentration. The brown folder resting on the surface of his desk in front of him intrigued him, or more specifically its content. There was no address, no name, only these three enigmatic words on the front page: “Amicus Humani Generis”. Once again, he opened the file, leafing through complicated schemes, chemical formulas and a picture that had struck him in a way he never thought was possible.


The picture was of a naked human form shackled to the ground, and lying on its side with three claws-like appendages protruding from its hands. Then the man sighed for what seemed the millionth time, his index finger resting on the blurry face on the picture. He picked up the receiver of the antique telephone that rested in one corner of the vast wooden expense of his desk.



“Hank…It’s Charles Xavier. When you have this message, please call me back immediately.”





***********************************








They were both asleep when the door to their cell opened with a massive bang, revealing six armored and heavily armed soldiers, two of them holding what looked like high powered fire hoses. The Wolverine still recovering from his morning encounter with the booted men, barely had the time to move before freezing water violently shoved him against the wall. Trying his best to at least sneak an arm around his cellmate in a protective attempt, he pushed on his exhausted legs in order to stand and shield her from the angry blow. Rogue on her part had her two hands uselessly held before her, trying to protect herself from the shards of icy water. With no warning, another hose unleashed its vicious load, but this time aiming at the dirty walls and floor. After what felt like an eternity, the hoses were shut down and the two prisoners were left shivering and dripping in a corner of the cell where they had taken refuge. The room was awfully cold now, turning burning breaths into white little clouds, shockingly contrasting with the surrounding damp darkness. The bloody smudges on Rogue’s face had now given way to a ghostly white skin, the thin bluish veins visible underneath its surface having nothing with the use of her gift. Logan on his part didn’t fare better. His healing factor worked even slower than Rogue had ever witnessed. The grime and blood now vigorously scrubbed from his body, revealed pale white and fragile looking skin where used to reign a healthy completion that spoke volumes about the long stretches of time that the Wolverine spent in the outdoors. Two years of confinement can do that, Marie noted dryly.



They were curled in each other’s embrace, like a mythic couple, when they heard footsteps for the third time that day. Rising to his feet somewhat much faster than the previous time, Logan firmly locked himself between his cellmate and the door. He was tired of this, oh God, so tired, but he had to be strong for his mate… His mate… The word sounded in his mind like a mantra that partially fazed him. When had the young woman become his mate? He wondered. Once again, the darkness in him whispered that she had always been, even before *everything*. Since the young woman had been brought to his cell, his mind seemed to work much better, thoughts took form, words now possessed a meaning beyond their sound, but he didn’t have time to push the analysis any further, though, the door opening angrily and letting in another six pack of soldiers harboring different types of guns. Reaching for a strength he didn’t feel at all, the Wolverine took an offensive posture, ready to pounce at any moment. His cellmate firmly tucked behind him in a corner, He let his claws slide out in the glaring specter of the soldiers’ flashlights.



One of them that had remained hidden in the corridor aimed his gun to the Wolverine’s broad chest, hitting him square in the heart. The soldiers reached for Marie as soon as her companion’s body hit the floor. She fought then, screamed and threw inefficient punches and kicks to the armored men. And now what? She thought. Couldn’t they just finish them once and for all?


She was dragged to another wing of the complex, and unceremoniously shoved on a metal bed. The room looked like a morgue; it had its coldness too. Straps she hadn’t noticed found their way around her limbs, chest and waist. As the six pack left her side, another figure entered the brightly lit room. It was a woman… How strange, she thought. Without preamble, the woman efficiently shoved Rogue’s flimsy covering upward, revealing her most private parts to her cold gaze. One gloved finger, then another invaded her, turning this way and that inside her searching for God knew what. Mortified, Marie closed her eyes and willed her mind elsewhere. Once the sadistic woman was satisfied with her exploration of the young prisoner’s body, she slid the latex gloves off her hands and grabbed a small device, bringing it to her thin lips.


“Time: 1500 hours, subject 23 for step 2 of Revival Program. Subject is intact and healthy. Skin still non reacting, treatment successful. Ready for implantation.”



If Marie could have screamed at this word, she so willingly would have, but the sudden dread this piece of news brought, made her blood turn into ice in her veins. “Implantation… “, “Revival…”, “Intact…”. Suddenly it all clicked together: why they had brought her here instead of killing her when they found her hiding place in the woods that surrounded the complex, why they had put her with Logan, the innumerable tests, and all the blood samples they took, and now why this cold bloodied woman had examined her so thoroughly. As realization struck her, she felt helpless tears run down her livid face. The wanted her to have Logan’s child.

Where am I? Who are these people? It all feels so strange, like I’m floating out of myself. Everything is somewhat dulled, far away from me; foreign. Something is trying to reach me; a sound…a voice devoid of emotions.

It’s coming back now: sensations, licking at what I think is my body. I’m cold… I’m naked…. Where am I? What’s happening to me? Marie, where are you?



“Step 1 okay. Test subject stabilized, we’re ready for step 2.”


“Oxygen mask in place. Proceed.”



Who’s talking? What are you doing to me? I need to open my eyes, I need to…! Something is burning! It’s burning inside me, it’s in my mouth, my nose; everywhere! I’m choking… Can’t move, can’t breathe… Got to get away… Got to make it go away…



“What’s going on?”


“He’s fibrillating! Heart rate at 200 and going up. ”


“Damn it! We’re losing him!”


“That’s impossible! Stop the procedure, stop it now!!”


Can’t breathe… Marie, where are you? Marie…


“240 and still going up .”


“Stop!!”


“Impossible, we’re too close.”


“You’re going to kill him.”


“Get a grip of yourself Matheson, it’s an order! Continue.”


“Heart failure. The subject is rejecting the compound, must we stop the procedure?”


“ We’re too close… go on.”


“Signs of neuronal distress, his system is on override! Bruises are forming on his chest!”


“Internal bleeding… puncture and drain.”



Marie…




“It’s the lungs, sir! His lungs are bleeding… Damn it, heart is… Oh my God, what’s that?!”


“Heart tissue is turning grey…no time to lose, inject him with the max dosage of adrenaline, now!”


“Procedure complete at 95%.”


“NO! You’ll compromise the procedure!”


“97%.”


“Damn it Montgomery! Manual stimulation! Dr. Cha, pump, now! I keep on draining…”


“99%.”


“Hang on! You hear me? Don’t die on me!!”



Why…? Let me go… It hurts too much… It’s too much…



“Procedure complete.”


“Still no reaction, keep pumping!”


“Take that fucking mask away from his face, now! Come on… Fight, damn it!”


“Colonel…?”


“He’ll come back, he always does.”


“Come on! She needs you! Fight, damn it! Hear me? She needs you!”



Some one’s murmuring… Needs me…? Marie?



“We’re losing him. Brain and heart unresponsive, bleeding doesn’t stop. Burns on the outside of heart and lungs…”


“Go on! He must survive, you hear me? I don’t care if you’ve got to keep your hands elbows deep in his chest pumping his fucking heart ‘till the day you die; I want him alive!”


“Colonel Montgomery, It’s been more than five minutes now! Even if we keep him alive, you’ll have nothing more than a…”


“I don’t give a damn, he’s too precious, we can’t lose him now, not ever. Pump.”


“It’s a little bit too late for that… That man is dead Montgomery! Adrenaline, now! Now!”


“He’s lashing out! Clear, clear!”


Bip…Bliding light, fear and pain, too much of it… Got to breathe… Got to grrrrrrrr………


“Subject is reacting to adrenaline, watch the claws! Check for heart activity.”


“Faint but there, Doctor.”


“Okay, switch to oxygen, and close back.”


“I don’t think we’ll need to… He’s mutation is kicking in.”


“Alright, keep him restrained and under. We don’t want him to fully wake up now, do we?”


“Colonel, that man just underwent a massive trauma, he needs all his strength to recover


“But he’s not a man Matheson. You seem to forget that. On which side are you, exactly? And anyway, do you have a death wish? You should be the last person in here to ignore the effects of that gas we made him breathe.”


“Colonel, all I care for is the Program. You’re about to ruin two years of research and progress just because…”


“Because of what, *Doctor*?”


“Because, with all due respect, you don’t know the difference between science and sadism, Colonel.”


“And you certainly do, Doctor… Clean up that mess, and bring him back to his cell, that’s an order.”




*************************




They hadn’t brought her back to her cell when the female doctor finished with her. When she saw that they were taking her in another direction, she almost keeled over in fear. What if she was wrong? What if they brought her to someone else’s cell? No, she was sure…it all made sense… But then, where were they taking her?


Entering a new set of heavy doors, Rogue took in her surroundings. White walls, white furniture, white coats, and that big hospital bed in the middle of the room. That last thing shocked her more than words could have said. It was actually a real hospital bed, fully equipped with mattress, security bars on each side and supreme luxury: a thick blanket. Fear soon gave way to complete confusion, her mind in overdrive, trying to comprehend the scene before her. Before she had the time to form any hypothesis, two hands took hold of her shoulders and brought her to the bed and disappeared as soon as they had appeared, leaving her in the middle of the room, her mind as white as the walls.

“Is there somebody here?” Her timid voice echoed in the bright space, but no one answered.


Tearing her eyes away from the bed, Marie looked around the room. A spartan desk with assorted chair, a sink and a toilet in the opposite corner and a mirror. There even was a closet next to the door.


“What’s going on here?” She asked to the silence, feeling more unsettled and scared here than in the horrible cell she’d been sharing with Logan.


Logan…Where was he? What were they doing to him right now? At that thought, a violent headache split her cranium from ear to ear, making Rogue fall to her knees on the cold linoleum. Clutching her head in her hands in hopes to prevent it from cracking, she let out a blood curdling scream. She didn’t notice that two doctors had entered the room until she felt two sets of gloved hands trying to loosen the grip she had on her own head and hair. Something was wrong…

The Logan in her mind was screaming, howling really and the sounds he made were so frighteningly loud and desperate that they started to consume her psyche. Her chest felt like it was on fire, she couldn’t breathe anymore, couldn’t hear the doctors call her, pull at her hands… She was in another room, breathing fire with the man she loved.




************************




He woke up to the feel of something hard and cold digging around his neck and wrists. He opened his eyes slowly, tiredly to the darkness of his cell. Turning his head in an effort to assert his environment, he noticed chains holding him to the wall behind him by shackles. The very sight of it made him growl deep and low in his chest, making the chains shake with the vibration. He sniffed the air then, in search of those who had done this to him. The whole room reeked of blood and fear, and something else, something that made the growl die down to a plaintive purr. The scent was sweet and pure… Marie! With this simple word his drugged mind cleared at once, awakening in him a need for the young woman he had never felt before. It was beyond speech, beyond reason, the need to have here, the need to make her his… HIS! Where was she? They had taken her away from him! They would pay for daring to touch her…


As if on a cue, the door to his cell jammed open and revealed six armored soldiers and a man in a white coat. Easily reading the rage in the shackled man’s eyes, he just stated: “You’ll see her soon enough. Just a few adjustments and she’ll be all yours.” All the while, the man took confident steps in his direction, making him snarl viciously.


“Easy big boy. Just one last shot and you’re good to go.”


What was that? The sight of a syringe set off all sorts of alarms in the shackled man. He knew this thing, it meant bad things… Drugs…The word suddenly taking over his mind with its power. They were drugging him!


“NOOO!”


“Sunofabitch!”


Too little too late. The disgustingly familiar sting of a needle piercing his neck froze him for a moment. He was waiting for the darkness, there always had darkness. When nothing happened, he just looked at the retreating white coat, words stuck in his throat.


“See, it was nothing bad… big boy. Now you’re going to have your girlfriend, isn’t it nice? ”


With that, the door to his cell closed with a loud bang, leaving a very confused feral man looking through the darkness.


Marie… The man needed to keep his promise! The mere thought of her name made his lower stomach muscles clench uncomfortably, and something else, lower even tighten. Need her now… Now!





*********************





Steve Matheson sat at his desk, head hung low and fists clenching and unclenching unconsciously. Thinking back to the “Procedure”, he slammed a fist on the metal desk before him, knocking over a picture frame in a corner. The noise waking him up from his enraged trance, he picked it up and absently traced the faces under the glass protection. There was a woman holding a baby in her arms, smiling an angelic smile. Vibrant red hair and sparkling blue eyes, the woman in the picture was the very image of happiness and beauty. Had it already been a year? A year without knowing if his wife and daughter were still alive…



“Where are you Helen? Do they at least treat you right?”



Doctor Matheson had signed the bad contract, alright. One you couldn’t hope to interrupt without paying the highest price. The young doctor had first believed this program to be for the good of humanity-and he had himself claimed to an Amicus Humani Generis, a friend of the human race-but where was he standing now? They had told him at first that the test subjects were volunteers, former soldiers, but he had soon discovered the lies under the layer of shining polish. They abducted dozens of Mutants, most of them women… And this man, the Wolverine like they called him, was the main test subject they had on the complex, the very heart of the program. As a scientist-one specialized in genetics-he had to reckon that the man was the result of natural selection at its best. Tall and muscular body, ideally symmetric features… all about him spoke about perfection, balance and power. He remembered having thought, when it all started that Adam himself might not have looked a lot different from that man. Well, if you were a believer, that is. But Matheson was no believer, not in God anyhow. Or if he had been, he wasn’t anymore, not after all the things he had seen in this underground complex he could so keenly associate with the ninth circle of Hell.





*****************************





“How is she?”


“She’ll be fine, it was just a seizure.”


Rogue woke up to the sounds of a conversation taking place next to her. How long had she been out? What had happen to Logan? To her?


“You can bring her back now, we took what we needed.”


“Yeah, saved the chore of sedating and restrain her, didn’t it?”


“Sometimes, one can get lucky…!”


Could the situation get any worse? What had they taken from her? She couldn’t do it anymore, she wanted it to end, she was tired, so tired...


“You don’t say! Heard we would be in for one hell of show with these two. Hell, the girl really did a number on our old boy!”


“What? You really think it will work this time?”


“Yeah, we were really careful in our selection this time: she’s perfect. And it seems that the Wolverine has noticed too, otherwise, he would have damaged her by now, don’t you think?”


“The others weren’t nice to look at once he had finished with them.”


“I had to sew’em back, remember? He really is an animal.”


“Yeah, a freak…”


Others? What others? What was going on in this place? Feeling panic gripping her heart again, Rogue let her head roll to the side where the two doctors wouldn’t see the tears streaming down her face. It was really happening; there was no way around it… She would have Logan’s child or they would kill her; she would give birth or die. A great tiredness spread through her body at the thought. In other circumstances, she would have exulted if one had told her she was going to give a child to the man she loved, but now the mere perspective of it filled her with dread. What would become of her baby here? What kind of sick experiment would the run on its innocent and vulnerable body? It took Marie all of her strength not to start sobbing in front of the two men standing next to the bed she was lying in. She wanted to fight, but she didn’t know how. She wanted to die, so that they wouldn’t have her baby, but then they’d just have to go out again and snatch another Mutant of the side of the road, there were so many. Heart leaden, she let the soldiers bring her limp body back to the familiarity of her cell.


What else was there to do?





**************************





He could smell her, she was approaching. His Marie, his mate. Hormone overloaded blood beat in his temples, making it hard to think, and Logan felt himself swell at the thought of the beautiful young woman whose scent was approaching. He ached to stroke himself and release some of the tension in his nether regions, but his hands chained to the wall made it impossible. He started to rock his hips almost involuntarily, panting and throwing back his head against the coldness of the wall. Flaring his nostrils to fill his lungs with his mate’s sweet aroma, Wolverine noticed something unsettling underneath the fresh scent of the young woman: sorrow. Unable to dwell on the information for more than half a second, he started to buck wildly at the thought of her getting closer to him still, wetness burgeoning at his tip and sending painful shivers up his spine. There she was, there she was, he thought; all warmth, and sweetness and completely his to have, his to possess and keep.



The door to the cell opened, and Marie appeared in a clean white hospital gown, her face a mask where relief and terror dueled mercilessly. Logan caught her eyes dropping to his hardened flesh and he had to bite his lip not to come yet. The six soldiers behind her were completely forgotten, they could as well strip and start a rain dance for all he cared, they had brought his mate back, so Logan guessed he could let them live through one more day; Wolverine didn’t mind, as long as he had his female. But the chains had to go though, and now wouldn’t be a bad idea. Unable to think coherently anymore, he just started to yank at his bonds, so hard that tiny chunks of concrete started detach themselves from the wall where the chains were fixed. Without a word, four of the soldiers started to him, holding dart guns at the ready, one of them clutching an electronic device in his hand resting against the canon of his gun. The other two stayed at the back, each one of them holding Marie by one of her arms, the look of defeat on her face barely registered as he fixed his gaze on her.



Once he was freed from his metal contraptions, Logan let out a roar that shook the darkness around them. The guards had long fled from the cell, leaving the young prisoner faced with a highly aroused feral Mutant. Rogue had waited for this moment almost all her life, it seemed, but she could feel no joy whatsoever. The sight of the man she loved, snarling, barely able to stand on his legs because of the state he was in, made her heart soar. It was no use fighting, it would happen anyway, so she’d rather be at least consenting for what would come next.



It hadn’t taken two strides for Logan to be on her, lips demanding and hips pressing into her. He needed her, needed to fill her with all he was; there was nothing more important than that at the moment. Her sad scent would change, he’d make sure of that, he’d make it good for her, he’d make her forget the bad things of this place. Hands searching, divesting the supple body beneath him of the thin clothing it was clad in, Logan started to coax responses from Rogue, responses her traitorous hormones gave to the assault she was undergoing. After all, it was still him. No matter what would happen, no matter how it happened, it was still him, she thought. What started like a timid sparkle in her soon turned into all consuming flames of uncanny passion for the man crushing her body under his. Rogue started exploring every inch of exposed flesh, lingering a tad longer on Logan’s broad chest before travelling southwards.


Unable to hold back anymore, Logan dived into the black night of her body, burying himself to the hilt in one swift motion. He felt her clench around him at the intrusion and he almost came then and there, but he willed her body to stay still just a few moments, time for her to adjust to his girth. Soft brown eyes met golden hazel for what seemed like an eternity, reading all the emotions reflected in the other’s gaze. The young woman seeing all the assurance she needed in the intelligent eyes of the man above her, opened herself to him, to all the things he promised in that moment; love, care, support, understanding and compassion…And then he started to move.

Steely gray eyes were watching, their hands shaking in unhealthy interest at the scene playing on the screen before them. Two human forms were there dancing along each other in the dark, performing a ritual older than the foundations of the world and speaking of a life soon to come. The eyes smiled thinking that neither of the two prisoners had taken notice of the black rounded device in one of the corners of the cell they were held in, which gave the eyes all the imagery they needed to sleep peacefully tonight. Everything was going according to plan, they thought. At this rate, they could probably even start phase 3 sooner than previously scheduled; the two deluded souls down there were going at it with so much frenzy and abandon… Yes, they would have their precious offspring, it was now a given.


Finally sated for now, the two forms settled to a well deserved sleep, and so did the gray eyes.




*********************




He felt warm. For the first time since longer than he cared to remember, Logan felt warm; the dormant beauty nestled against his chest brought a feeling of safety and belonging he didn’t want to see the end of. Opening his eyes to drink one more time the sight before him, he idly caressed his mate’s naked arm, trying hard to keep the tears gradually fogging his vision at bay. His mind had never felt that clear in the whole time he could remember, even before that fateful night so long ago; the night he woke up bloody and shackled to a sled in one of the complex’s too numerous morgues.



It was after a good night’s fight. Logan had been feeling like a little distraction from the woman-girl that haunted his thoughts, hunting for a warm and willing body to ease some of the pent up desire burning inside him. Guess I followed the wrong woman, he thought bitterly. He hadn’t seen it coming, really… In the haze of what he thought was the best lay he’d had so far, he failed to react soon enough to disable the blond woman sticking a three-inch long needle in his neck. He was out before he had the time to say “Fuck!”



He had done everything he could really, to hightail it far away enough from her; Marie. He was doing it for her, saving her from certain destruction. Yes… Being with her the way they both wanted would only end up with her tainted, destroyed; so he had fled, promising to come back some day when he would have worked out healthier feelings for the girl he had promised to protect. In afterthought, he had just wanted to honor his promise to her. But there she was, in the same Hell as he was, sleeping in his arms, her body already weaving what would become his child in her most secret place. How on earth had they taken a hold of her in the first place? He would have to ask her…when he gathered the courage.



Logan remembered more clearly as hours ticked by, all these women brought to him for one purpose only. He remembered the endless sessions of sperm sampling, humiliating him in the worst ways possible, robbing him of his masculinity. They had taken him back to possess his future as well as his past, and there was nothing he could do. But strangely enough, despite all the dedication they had put into their breeding program, it had never taken in all the time he’d been held captive. Maybe it was because of the way he had treated each and every single of the Mutant women he was supposed to get pregnant. They had drugged him countless times, making him as randy as a bull in rut, darkening his mind so much that at some point he had completely let his animal side take over in order to cope with the things they did to him; the things they made him do. The beatings, the experiments, the lack of food and clothing helped a great deal in that vein too. He was nothing more than a lab rat… Less than an animal sometimes, he thought. What would happen now? Logan was sure that the final drugs they had pumped him with the day before had the ultimate purpose of rendering him completely feral, casting him away from mankind once and for all; making him the angular stone for their dream of perfect weapons and world dominion. But Marie, his Marie had changed it all…But at what price? Looking at her one more time then, he was unable to contain the sorrow filled sobs smothering his abused lungs any longer. What would become of his Marie and their baby…What they did last night… He wish he could undo what he did with her, but he’d be lying through his teeth if he didn’t admit that even without the drugs, he may have not been able to hold back. For one moment, one tiny little moment, he wished he had never met her, but the thought as attractive as it was remained unbearable. He thought about a thousand ways to end it all, but came up empty.


The one and only way was to escape from this place, get his mate and cub-if cub there was-as far away from here as humanly possible. Logan had made up his mind; he would get them out or die trying.





****************************





Somewhere in another wing of the complex…



“How is it going Dr. Mann?”


The middle aged woman looked up from the screen before her to acknowledge the man who was talking to her. Hard blue eyes stared at the tall and muscular gray haired soldier-her superior-unblinkingly, reflecting her annoyance at his intrusion.


“Good.” She said stiffly.



“Is it taking?”



Eyes retargeting on her screen, Dr. Mann addressed her interlocutor in a distant voice, trying to sound professional and not simply pissed at his persistence.


“It’s been hard, but it’s taking this time. I don’t know why…” There was a kind of wonder in her voice despite herself. “The other female samples rejected the donor …they died. It was impossible to get any result whatsoever, but this new one is different, though. There was no rejection; the two mutations seem 100% compatible. I have already five fertilized ovum, and my guess is that at least two of them will be viable.”



“It’s very good indeed, Doctor. When do you think we will be able to transfer?” The man asked with unveiled excitement.


“Whenever you want. We’ll still have to examine her again, make sure that her body is ready to welcome the embryo, though.” The platinum blond woman retorted, her icy blue eyes scanning the amass of cells on the screen.


“What for? I’m sure she’s already more than ready for that, courtesy of the Wolverine.”


“What did you do, Colonel? What were you thinking? You could jeopardize the whole operation!” She shot back, her full attention on the steely gray eyes burning into hers.


“Dr. Mann…What do you say you take care of your job, which is to make sure that the embryo you transfer back into that girl will become the most powerful mutant ever heard of, and I take care of mine?” The man purred as he lazily rested his hand on the lab coat covered shoulder of the woman sitting before him.


“Whatever you say.” Was the half murmured, half breathed answer.


“That’s more like it.” Montgomery said, his hand effortlessly heading lower until it reached soft rounded flesh.


“I’m working…” Dr. Mann managed, her breathing labored.


“And so am I…Make sure to join me later in my office *Doctor*.”



And with that said, he stormed out the room, leaving a very much frustrated woman fuming in front of the glaring screen of her computer. Yes, she definitely had some work to do, heedless of what her crazy hormones dictated. She had a Super-Mutant to create, and that came before sex, or anything else for that matter. The woman took a devious pleasure in her work, playing with their main test subject’s cells, shaping them in whatever she wanted. She had seen him at his arrival and recognized in him a raw sexuality that could have made her come on the spot if she hadn’t caught herself. She laughed bitterly at the thought; a woman her age should definitely forget about specimens like the Wolverine. She was on the decline, and he was…well he was the very image of power, and drool causing virility. But she still kept dreaming that if things were different… Thinking back on what Montgomery had said a few moments ago, suggesting that this slip of a girl was getting some of the very thing she lusted after, all consuming rage tinted her world a dangerous shade of red. She hated her… Dr. Mann had examined her on more than one occasion; Hell she had even performed her last examination, making sure the girl was ready to have the night of her life with the Animal. It should have been her, getting her rocks off with Mr. Strong and Potent! She was tempted then and there to throw all the slides on which semen met ovum to the floor in impotent rage and unjustified outrage. But no…It would be worse if she did so, they would have to start all over again. The sooner the little slut was pregnant, the sooner she would be out of the way, and then...


Montgomery wanted Super-Mutant babies? “Consider it done.” The hysteric blond woman muttered to the high powered microscope on her right, readying herself for a long and exhausting day of work.






***********************






Hank McCoy had driven all the way from JFK airport to Westchester without stopping. The message he had received from his long time friend, Charles Xavier had unsettled him more than anything else could have. The voice on the other end of the line sounded agitated; a characteristic that he usually didn’t associate with the powerful telepath. So instead of calling him back, Dr. McCoy, or Beast as he was also known had thought it better to head to the place he once regarded as his home; the mansion. So many years had passed since then.


Finally seeing the imposing gates of Charles Xavier’s School for the Gifted Youngsters, a mixture of anticipation and fear dueled in him. Entering his code on the gates’ digital panel, he willed his racing heart to settle back down to a healthier rhythm; it was no use risking a heart attack over things he still knew nothing about. He had heard of something, though while he was in Washington a few days ago. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but he had caught a conversation between the President and the Secretary of Domestic Affairs on his way to the President’s private office. There was noise of a big scale operation lead by the Canadian government. That such news had transpired over to the Oval Office made the blue furred Mutant’s blood turn to ice in his veins.


Now parking his car in front of the main entrance, Hank hoped to God that what Charles Xavier wanted to tell him wouldn’t include the words “labs” and “Canada” in the same sentence. His greatest fear was that this Program so long ago aborted rose again from dust and come back to haunt them again. Without dwelling too much on those thoughts, Dr. McCoy made his way to his friend’s study. No need for anyone to announce him, the telepath must know by now that a worry laden, but also more than familiar mind was approaching; Heavens, he’d be more likely waiting for him at this point!

As if on a cue, the wooden panel to Xavier’s office opened, letting children of all age filter through it.


“Good morning Charles.” Hank started, smiling at his old friend in an attempt to rein on his troubled feelings .


The man sitting in a wheelchair at the other end of the large room, on the other hand had left the pretence for a long time now. The traditionally serene features of Charles Xavier were tired, lack of sleep and food evident on his grim face. He looked older than his years should tell, and that in itself set off all kinds of alarms in The Beast.


“Charles… What happened to you, my friend?”


Taking a mysterious file from one of the drawers sitting by his side, Xavier extended it to the blue furred man sitting in one of the chairs that adorned the space in front his desk. Reaching with trembling hands, Hank opened it wearily. He barely contained a gasp as his eyes scanned chemical formulas and schemes, page after page. Leafing back and fro, he stopped in mid-breath, briefly lifting his eyes to the silent man across from him.


“Is it viable?” He asked, his voice filled with dread.


“I don’t know, really… That is why I wanted to talk to you. But it’s not my main concern at the moment, though.” The older man admitted in defeat. “Two of my X-men have gone missing…and one of them ended up in a lab if the picture in this file is to be trusted.”

At the mention of the picture, blue taloned fingers leafed further through the thin pages, stopping on a black and white photograph. The scene there was shocking to say the least. A man was shackled to the floor, heavy chains wound around his neck and hands. But what caught the doctor’s attention was the claws protruding from the man’s hands and the expression of pure and unadulterated agony on his face.


“My stars…this is…”


“Weapon X. Alias Wolverine, or Logan, as I have come to know him.” Xavier added, as the blue doctor was unable to finish his sentence. “The picture is recent, that much I can tell.”


“This man is one of your X-men?”


“Yes indeed, at least until two years ago, which was the last time I saw him.”


“Who sent you this anyway, and why?”


“It might be a set up…but it could also be someone over there trying to send an SOS, someone who would be trying and save Logan. But it’s not everything, my friend. When Wolverine arrived here two years ago, he was with a young girl going by the name of Rogue. After painful events, they bonded in a way no one thought possible for people like them, and he ultimately sacrificed all he had for a girl he had barely known, saving her from Magneto on Liberty Island; I believe you can situate what I am referring to.” Sparing a quick glance at his audience to make sure they still were with him, Charles Xavier went on. “Rogue’s mutation is exceptional. She can absorb life energy with a touch, and in the case of mutants, she can take their mutation, thoughts, knowledge and retain them temporarily; which was why Magneto took a hold of her in the first place. When Wolverine saved her that day, he literally gave his life for hers. Ever since that night, the bond they shared deepened so much that I saw fit to send Logan away for some time. With her being so young, and him being so jaded, I convinced him that she needed time to herself, to grow up. It hadn’t taken long…”



“Charles, you’re not telling me everything, do you? What exactly happened between them?”


“Well, the thoughts the darkest side of Logan-the Wolverine-entertained about Rogue alarmed me greatly. Logan was literally fighting to keep control of his emotions in presence of the girl. She took a habit to go to him on nights she couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares she had; Absorbing Logan’s mutation also gave the nightmares he was plagued with. One night, his feral side took over while the girl was in his room. Sensing the beast and his intent towards Rogue, I urged Rogue to go back to her own bed, via Scott. So when I proposed Logan the following day to leave for a few months, he took the opportunity for what it was: a way to preserve the one person who truly mattered to him. And I’m afraid Logan still is to come back…”


“Charles…?”


“I put him on a lead to his lost past, hoping that it would keep his mind off a certain teenager; he had eagerly agreed to that. But it seems that the information I had received at that time was fake, leading him strait to where the Canadian government could tackle him.”


“Charles, my friend where did you send him?”


“To the abandoned facility of Alkali Lake…”


“…Where the Weapon X program started almost twenty years ago. But I thought the place was compromised, that there was nothing left there but rumble and ice.”


“That’s what I thought too. I thought that sending him back there would open his memory again. My sources seemed so safe, the lead so promising, that I never thought it could be a set up! Hank, they knew everything! They knew about me, about the X-men, and they used everything they could to have him back…”


“But what about the girl, Rogue?”



“After almost a year of hearing nothing about him, she set off looking for him across the country. I lost track of her too long ago. There’s no way to contact them, even with Cerebro; their unique mind frame making my powers useless.”


“You said that she left only a year after Wolverine’s departure, but it was two years ago…”


“The Last time Rogue was here, things didn’t go well. She was so upset at the team’s behavior regarding Logan’s whereabouts, especially Scott and Jean, that she decided to leave, swearing to never come back again. She had made it clear that she didn’t want to have anything to do with either of us. She was upset, but I didn’t have the heart to contradict her…I should have tried harder to make her stay, Hank. Everything is my fault.” The weary telepath said, his voice far away, as if by just thinking about all the what if’s that crowded his mind at the moment, he could all make it different.


“Charles, you couldn’t know!”


“For me Logan’s prolonged absence was a sign that he simply wasn’t ready to come back…And now I’m afraid that Rogue eventually figured out where Logan was headed, and ended up captured or worse. If the site is still active, then there is a risk…”



“I’m so sorry Charles…” The blue Mutant said in all sympathy for his older friend, his mentor.


“I know my friend, but what I need now is your help.”


“You have it! Tell me how.”


“First, I need to know the true nature of these schemes and formulas. Then, I need you to try and see if someone in Washington has heard of any recent underground activity in northern Canada, and…”


Without letting Xavier finish his sentence, Hank’s heart literally skipping a beat, he spoke the words he had wished he wouldn’t, all the while making his way to the X-mansion.


“I think I can already answer this question, I’m afraid. I involuntarily overheard a conversation over there that confirms this hypothesis. Still, I know that you will need more proof, but we could still send the team on site to give us a faster and more assertive idea.”


“Hank, I have missed your agility of mind so much, my friend!” The older man said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “But we need time. I couldn’t bear the loss of another one of them, Hank; I know you understand.”


“Very well, Charles. I’ll make a few phone calls, and will let you know of my progress. In the meanwhile, I will start with the file. Now, if you’ll excuse me. ”


“Of course. I believe then that you will honor us with your presence for a little while?”



“I didn’t see it differently!”


Hank McCoy stepped then out of the office, his mind set on one thing: end the Weapon X program once and for all.

A single flash will pass between us
Like a long sob, charged with farewells


Charles Baudelaire, “La mort des amants” (The death of the lovers)






She slowly opened her eyes, letting every fiber of her body taking in the feel of the man intimately pressed against her. Logan. With every passing second Rogue remembered the previous night’s events, all the sensations bountifully poured upon her, all the love that they had made for hours, until neither of them could move; overcame. Yes, she thought, it was love, no matter what the circumstances may have been the man above her was the man she loved, the other part of her soul. And now, lying next to him, it almost felt like everything was right with the whole world. The young woman registered movement on her arm, the caress of a hand warming her skin and she marveled at the feel of warm bare flesh gliding over hers. Rogue didn’t really care how it came to happen at the moment, the time for worries would come soon enough. Now was the time for something else she couldn’t identify yet, so much greater than her that it triggered feelings that didn’t belong to this world; more than this world. Giving in to the sheer power of the thunder storm of emotions threatening to consume her, she started to speak the only language she could muster at the moment, a language made of gentle caresses and soft moans, warm kisses and tender gazes.



“Logan?” Marie murmured in the darkness, voice pleading, searching for what, she didn’t really know.



“Hey… Marie.” came the soft answer from the man tightening his embrace around her.



Marie suddenly burst into tears, seeing recognition and intelligence settle in Logan’s warm hazel eyes. He actually talked! He could talk, he had recognized her! Soon it became impossible for the young woman to process any further thought, her mind overwhelmed by one and only thing: *Her* Logan was back.



“Hush baby, I’m here now. I’m here… Marie, God, I missed you so much!”



Logan couldn’t deny his tears any longer. He cried shamelessly in his young lover’s welcoming arms, wishing to change space and time, to undo all the decisions that had brought them in this Hell. Frantic eyes, almost black in the darkness searched his face, trying to find there the reassurance that it would soon be all over, that they would be safe again. But suddenly their expression changed, from plea to pure agony contorting their owner’s features into a mask Logan barely recognized; his Marie held all the weight of her mind’s age and that only made his heart freeze in his chest.



“Logan, we have to get out of here… They want something with us! It’s bad…Logan, it’s… We can’t let them! We got to get away!”



“Baby, Marie, I know… I won’t let them hurt you, you hear me? I won’t let them!”



“I know. Logan… What if it was…?”



Refusing to even think about it, Logan cut her. “No, it’s not too late, it’s not…” But the rest of his sentence remained stuck in his throat. Oh God, how could he? In his quest for solace and oblivion he had let himself cross that line with Marie, the very thing why he had fled from the mansion in the first place. Yet, Logan refused to believe that a child could have been conceived last night; not in a place like this, not like this he thought bitterly, his face reflecting Marie’s agony. Oh God, please no!



“Logan, there’s a possibility… That’s why they brought me in here with you… I’m sorry Logan, so sorry. I should have…”



“Hey, now baby you listen to me. We don’t know for sure, and I’m sure they don’t either.”



“But they’re going to keep trying! They’ll drug you again, until you no longer know who you are, they’ll make us do it anyway Logan! We have to leave this place!”



Wolverine knew his mate was right, and Logan felt powerlessness creep its way up his limbs, making it hard to move, hard to breathe. He knew they had to get out, but how?


The air around him suddenly became heavy, making each intake a struggle. His lungs burned, his chest starting to heave harder and harder, until Logan started to gasp for a breath, his eyes huge and glazed over. Something was terribly wrong there. Rogue instinctively reached for him, touching his face and calling his name in a desperate attempt to know what was happening to him. Suddenly it hit him. The gas… They were infusing it in the already clamped and stale air of the cell, making it overpowering. A few more intakes of this air and he was going to be feral again…Maybe it was already too late. So with the last threads of sanity he had, he choked the few words that mattered now: “Marie, get away from here…Get away from me!”



Get away? Where, why? The cell was locked; there was no ways of escape! No, I won’t leave you here, Rogue thought, her eyes focused on her lover.



“Logan what’s wrong? Talk to me!”



A deep and threatening growl was Rogue’s sole answer. Too startled to back away, she watched Logan, or should she have said Wolverine, lung towards her, pinning her under his heavy frame and inhaling deeply. The young girl smelled of sex and sweat and him; *HIM*! Yes, he knew her… Her soft skin and her doe eyes, and her scent! Everything in him started to coil and burn, steadily gathering into a pool of heat in his lower stomach and making him swell in anticipation. There was no place for thinking anymore; not when he had his mate pinned under him smelling so good he could barely keep himself from fucking her blind.



Rogue stared at the black eyes piercing her, and realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Whatever had happened moments before, it had made Logan let the beast loose, and if his growing erection was any indication, she knew what would come next. Oh no, not again, she thought; not like this! Not when they had finally found each other! Maybe if she tried to talk to him, tried to make him come back…Maybe it wouldn’t happen. Keeping Logan feral was their sole and only asset in this; knowing that the man wouldn’t take her willingly...not if he was fully aware of his surroundings. It seemed that they knew him well after all… She had to do something, now!



“Logan...? Logan, can you hear me?”



“Grrr!”



“Logan, you’ve got to fight this… You can fight this.”



His patience was running thin. She would just keep on jabbering, her eyes huge, as if she was afraid of something. Didn’t she know that she would be safe as long as he was around? He’d had enough of this articulated junk! Time for some action… She would come to it willingly, or he’d just have to put her back on the right track. She smelled of sex and him, and for the Wolverine it was enough proof of her willingness to mate. The fact that he didn’t really remember being with her barely registered, he grabbed her wrists in his huge hand, and started to position his body between his mate’sz88;legs, eliciting a whimper from her trembling lips. His breathing was still irregular and labored from the gas steadily filling the space all around them, enfolding them like a thick blanket. Rogue watched Wolverine’s muscles double in volume under her very eyes, veins popping on his neck and arms as if ready to explode. She looked, shell-shocked as two one-inch long fangs flourished from the corners of his snarling lips, and something else extremely thick, hard and scalding hot pressing against her hip. With tears glistening in her eyes, Marie tried one last time to get through to the man she loved.



“Logan, please wake up…Don’t let them win.”



The words weren’t out of her mouth yet that Rogue felt Wolverine’s thick and burning length tear inside her, the invasion so violent and sudden that all she could do was scream in pain and shock. This wasn’t happening, she thought; this wasn’t real. But each violent thrust inside her body belied this statement. Was she going to get through this? It wasn’t like the night before; Logan was gone… There was only Wolverine here. His movements soon became jerky, more punishing in their strength. The sudden potent smell of her blood brought the meaning of the word frantic to a whole new level. Wolverine was now gripping her left buttock with one hand, claws unsheathed and growling, his thrust threatening to split Rogue’s body in two. She felt her mind giving up slowly… This wasn’t real… A last earth shattering roar brought the exhausted young woman to the here and now. Before she had the time to process what was happening, she felt the skin at the junction between her neck and shoulder split and explode in a heart stopping pain, while she felt Wolverine erupt inside her, his seed like liquid fire. Marie wanted to scream, pull at her hair and cry in shame and helplessness, but Rogue suddenly shouted inside her mind: “This is real, face it! What happened is your fault, so now face it, every time it happens, face it!”



Catching her breath, head turned away from her cellmate, she willed herself not to cry. It was true… If she hadn’t been so stupid, she wouldn’t have ended up here in the first place. Logan was as much a victim as her… she had to be strong now, she had to save him, make him come back from this state they had put him in and get them out of here before they completely broke their bodies’ resistance and finally obtain the only thing those so called scientists had kept them alive for. Rogue knew for a fact that if they kept her there in this cell with Wolverine as a cellmate, it wouldn’t take long before she conceived.




Feeling everything in her ache like never before, Marie just lay on the cold floor, face averted from the “man” still breathing hard above her, when something wet and warm settled on the bite mark on her shoulder. Slowly rolling her head to the source of the sensation, she could barely control the flinch at the almost tender gesture from Wolverine. What had just happened? Was it a rape? If she was true to herself, Marie knew that it wasn’t, not really. But something in her was different now. She wasn’t actually scared, not really. Her cellmate now sated, he purred contentedly, his face buried against her throat, his arms hanging loosely around her. Marie could tell he was more than relaxed, at least he seemed to be. He wasn’t being brutal or savage right now, if anything Wolverine looked like a big kitten, nuzzling her hair and neck, occasionally licking her “love wound” in a soothing way. Marie was completely at a loss for words to explain this new development. She didn’t move, and her unresponsiveness to Wolverine’s awkward tenderness made him raise his head and blink dark puzzled eyes at her.


There was something wrong with his mate. Wasn’t she satisfied with their last mating? She looked a bit sad, and her scent was somewhat off, and she had flinched from him. It had been almost too faint to notice, but he had noticed none the least, and that made his chest tighten painfully.




******************




The Colonel Montgomery watched the green screen in complete satisfaction. Just like he thought, Wolverine had developed a tolerance to the gas he had engineered and was now assimilating it. Montgomery remembered the reports he had read about the exposition of the Mutant to two particular mortal diseases, and other mortal gas, almost killing him in their quest. A quest for what, he didn’t really know and he didn’t really care. They had the perfect toy. They could break it and put it back together in whatever shape they could imagine; Dr. Mann was their best asset in this field… and that made the grey-haired man shiver in devious elation. She and he were so alike that it sometimes scared him; he never thought a woman could be so heartless, so cold. Meg Mann was a sadist to the core, and Montgomery enjoyed every second he spent with her, whether it was in a lab or in a bedroom; the things she would think of for their main test subject sometimes made their other colleagues gag or throw up at some point. She loved inflicting pain, receiving it, and so did he. They both loved seeing hopelessness and pain, and agony, and Wolverine was perfection in flesh for that… nobody made agony and misery as beautiful as the Wolverine, and no one ever would. Or maybe his soon to be child? Who knew? , the man thought, an amused smile on his rough face.



He turned off the volume of the device, the screams coming form it now so highly pitched that it threatened to make his eardrums bleed. Montgomery suddenly turned agitated eyes toward the massive form of Wolverine on the screen. Orbs wide with trepidation he took hold of the phone resting at the other end of his desk.



“Get her out of there. Sedate him first and take blood samples from them both, I want a full report of their condition.”



“Yes, sir.” answered an anonymous voice on the other end of the line, before hanging up without further ado.



Once again focusing on the screen, the Head of the Safety Department traced a calloused finger on the body outlined before him.



“He has almost doubled in size… and just what the Hell are those?” Montgomery said to the air buzzing around him, his blunt digit now resting on one of the fangs at the corners of his prized prisoner’s lips, before he dove for his cellmate’s shoulder savagely biting her.




*********************




Rogue felt something lukewarm and sticky running down her inner thigh. She hadn’t moved an inch since Wolverine had taken her what seemed like hours before. But maybe it was only a few minutes, she thought tiredly. He was still purring and rubbing against her. She had wanted to respond somewhat to his marks of animal like affection, but she couldn’t make her limbs cooperate. So the young woman just lied there, trying to make sense of what had happened. Talking had proven fairly inefficient; maybe if she could just touch him, make him remember who she was…



“It’s useless.” Rogue said in an aguish filled sigh.



At the sound of her voice her cellmate rose from his position at her side, propping himself up on an adamantium laced elbow. He was looking at her very intently; his dark eyes searching. Rogue looked back at him with ancient eyes; tired eyes.



“Where are you Logan…? What have they done to you this time?” The young prisoner asked, her voice so low that she herself couldn’t really make it out in the enfolding silence.


Wolverine didn’t like what he was seeing, and instead of a satisfied scent, the only thing he could pick up from his mate was resignation and bone deep sorrow. He had tried to sooth her in the only way he knew, but the young girl under him had remained passive, barely breathing. His enhanced sense of smell had caught the potent smell of her blood during their mating, and that had made him even more intense in his quest for release, but deep inside Wolverine knew he had hurt his mate, and not only physically. So he kept licking at her throat, smoothing his hands on her sore body but nothing changed.

Heavy footsteps approached rapidly, the click of weapons being clearly heard. Rogue took this opportunity to smoothly rise to her feet with almost animal like grace. Her cellmate arose too, his claws slowly extending, his eyes almost boring holes in the heavy metal door at the other side of the cell. Wolverine tried to usher Rogue behind him in a gesture of protection, but she resisted the slightest bit, earning herself a warning growl. What was she thinking?



The door opened on screeching hinges, revealing eight soldiers armed with what looked like electric prods and dart guns all aimed at Wolverine. Rage blackened, almost iris less eyes watched the small army with unveiled menace, shining like two deep, black lakes in the dim light. Marie backed away to a corner behind her cellmate’s huge back couldn’t see much of anything, her ears on full alert; she readied herself to seize her chance. A sudden fierce roar erupting from the immense human form between Rogue and the soldiers made the time stand still, the force and sound of it more animal than anything she’d ever heard from him before. Her heart sank a little more at that, thinking than the man she loved was probably even further in uncharted territory than she’d originally thought. The instant presence of Wolverine’s right arm around her, molding her nude form against his back, lit a spark inside the young woman; something she never suspected existed in her. Closing her eyes, she focused on the sounds and scents filling the cell, things she had never paid attention to before. Eight heartbeats, ragged breaths and the smell of adrenaline and fear tainting the air like a cheap, vile perfume. Then there were his heartbeats: strong and calm, deep sounds that made Rogue think of an antique war drum. She concentrated on her own heartbeats, willing them to slow down, calming herself in order to act efficiently when the time would come.



“Now freaks, you can have it the hard or easy way.” said one of the guards.



At his words Wolverine tilted his head, as if trying to make sense of the words aimed at him. Roaring again, he took that momentum to swipe at the stunned guard in front of him. The armored man had barely hit the floor that a waltz of darts flew in his direction, hitting him in the chest for some and thighs and arms for the others. Seeing the scene before her, Rogue had all the pain in the world to resist the urge to fly at the guards’ throat and defend her cellmate now twitching on the cold floor. Instead she remained in the corner she was crouching in, rising slowly to her feet and keeping her arms alongside her body, palms up.



Taking no further risks, two of the men holding the prods approached her and gripped her tightly by her arms. Another one of the guards pointed a dart gun to her stomach, the image not going unnoticed by her; they knew who she was and what Logan - no, Wolverine- meant to her. The gun was pointed symbolically to her soon to be baby. Gulping down the disgust and fear rising in her throat, Rogue opposed no further resistance as the small army started to the door. Sparing one last glance at her cellmate, she followed the guards, her attention full on taking in their scents and her surroundings, the hallways, cell doors and occasional elevators, committing them all to memory, for when the time would come. Soon, she thought, soon.




******




She was back in the white room. There were needles, machines, wires and more needles decorating her ghostly white skin. Tests went on for what seemed like forever. The doctors and nurses fussing around her like crows around an injured fawn on the side of the road. Then there was this awful woman doctor, the one with cold blue eyes and platinum blond hair, looking at her like she was nothing more than an amass of cells under a microscope. The older woman’s touch was cold and clinical, taking blood samples, injecting this and that in the I.V. hooked to Rogue’s arm.



Suddenly the cold and hard stare turned almost motherly, as their owner’s hands reached a strange looking needle; a very big and strange looking needle. Without a word, Velcro straps were fastened to her wrists, ankles and waist. Strangest thing though, her knees were bent at a very awkward angle, while her feet rested on the soft bed. The young girl felt fear grip her heart. What now? she thought, on the verge of tears despite herself. She was about to move to try and press her thighs together when two of the other doctors present in the room took hold of her legs, opening them even wider. The woman doctor, a maniacal glint in her eye, took off the needle cap and approached the lengthy end towards Rogue’s body. Disgust filled her when icy, latex covered fingers caressed her intimately; she was about to vomit what little she had in her stomach. Then the clear content of the syringe was pushed inside her. Rogue remained unmoving, her muscles numbed by fear, and tears pooling in her eyes. A million questions started to rise inside her, making her unconsciously shake her head and mouth that no, it couldn’t be real, it just couldn’t.



“You should be happy, dear.” said the woman doctor, her voice soft, almost tender. “You’re going to be a mom soon. And guess what?” she added, caressing Rogue’s cheek. “No more cell for you. You’ll stay here now.”



Rogue, no more able to hold back the screams inside any longer, let a blood curdling howl fill the air of the room; a sound ripped from the depth of her soul and making the doctors and nurses around her freeze.



“NO! Logan! LOGAN!” she desperately called.



“Keep her restrained.” Said the blond woman coolly, smiling at the crying younger woman twitching on the bed. “He doesn’t hear you. And if he did, he wouldn’t even understand you. So now tell me, just between the two of us, was he that good, uh? He made you scream, didn’t he?”



“Fuck you!”



“Too bad you have to stay here now. He’s going to need some company, won’t he?”



“Don’t you fucking touch him! Don’t touch him!!”



“Temper, temper… Stupid animal won’t even see the difference.”



“What did you do to him?!”



“Nothing, really. We just made him like nature wanted him; we made him into what he’s always been but have been denying all this time. Now be a good freak and shut up before I make you.”



In her blind rage, Rogue did the only thing she could think of at the moment. Unable to move, she spat at her captor’s face, snarling menacingly.



“I’ll make you pay for that.” The young woman said, tears of frustration running down her face.



“And how will you do this, uh? Don’t be stupid.” Dr. Mann wiped at her face with her white lab coat’s sleeve. “You really should rest now. It takes a lot of energy to carry one baby, but two…”



Rogue’s eyes widened in terror. Two babies? How was it even possible? They didn’t even know for sure that she was indeed pregnant.



“You are now…Marie. What do you think I have just put inside of you, uh? Oh, and you really should watch that habit of yours; it won’t do you any good.” Dr. Mann smiled evilly.



“What the...No, you’re lying! You’re lying!” Rogue was now shaking in powerless anger, her body tense and her mouth bone dry.



“You tell yourself that, honey and we’ll get along just fine. Dinner’s at 6pm.”



The doctors filed out of the room one after the other, sparing her delighted glances. No, Rogue thought, no…
As the door closed, the young prisoner felt a sudden pang of dread tightening her chest, making it hard to breathe; the shock of the news that had just been broken to her, making her dizzy and nauseous. She thought she still had time, at least a little of it. Time to form a plan, time to get through to Logan, and escape this place before it was too late, but now… “Twins…” was her last thought before she blacked out.





*****************





He woke up strapped to a metal table. What a surprise! he thought bitterly. Slowly sweeping the space that surrounded him with his eyes, Logan tried hard to ease the feeling of dread rising inside of him. There was something very wrong here. He could smell blood, and sex and sorrow clinging to his skin; it was Marie’s blood. Moving his head, he ventured a look down his body, but felt more than saw the round shaped stain of blood on him. What happened?



“Good day Wolverine!” Interrupted an over cheery voice behind him.



Logan hadn’t caught the man’s scent, lost in thought as he was. He remained silent, refusing to play the man’s game.



“I believe you had restful sleep.”



Still no answer. The man talking remained out of sight. He smelled of something Logan hoped he would never smell in this place: triumph. He made his best not to shudder at the implication of this and the fact that his Marie was nowhere to be found and that he could smell somewhat what might have happened with her.



“Congratulations Wolverine! Your delicious girlfriend…”



“I want to see her!” cut Logan, his voice heavy with worry.



“I assure you that she is fine.”



“Yeah, right… Take me to her, I want to see for myself.”



“I’m afraid you will have to trust me for now.”



“Like Hell! Let me see her, now!”



“Why, Wolverine? Why are you so anxious? Oh… I see. You remember what you did to her, right? Poor thing looked pretty bad from where I watched. And I took you for a gentleman…”



“Fuck you! You sick bastard…”



“You will have to watch that dirty mouth of yours, Wolverine…”



“Come around here so I can see you, you son of a…”



“Keep it up, and I won’t let you see her at all before she gives birth…”



Logan stopped breathing then and there. “Birth”? Oh God, no…please, no! This wasn’t possible… it was way too early to know… How long had he been under? It couldn’t be that long!



“Oh you didn’t know? See, if you’d let me finish first… Again, congratulations.”



With that, the man snickered and turned on his heel to leave. Hearing the retreating footsteps, Logan contorted his body as far as it could go, trying to catch a glimpse of the voice owner.


“Wait!” he said, voice shaking. He never thought he would ever beg for anything in his life, but there he was, dropping the pretence, his only concern for the woman he loved more than anything.



“How… Please, let me see her… Please!”



“Now that’s unexpected…” the voice retorted, genuinely surprised at the prisoner’s sudden change of attitude.




“I’ll give you anything you want… please, just let me see her.”




“But there’s nothing you can give us that we don’t already have, Wolverine… Don’t you get it? You have nothing. You are nothing.”



The footsteps retreated without stopping this time, heedless of Logan’s cries of supplication for a chance to see his mate. He never thought he could be broken. He was wrong… Powerless rage filled sobs and screams filled the air around him, their echo bouncing off the metal walls of the morgue he was lying in.

Had it been a month already? Rogue was still in the same white room, with the big comfortable bed and soft blanket and pillow. Yet she didn’t use any of them. She would just sit in a corner all day - usually next to the toilet bowl - her eyes cast downwards. Doctors and nurses would come and go, food would be brought, but she barely noticed anything. Her mind was in another place; with her lover. Where was Logan now? What were they doing to him? If she had doubts about her being pregnant the first few days, now she had full confirmation, if her position in “her room” was anything to go by. The young woman let a hand glide over the expanse of her still flat stomach, wishing for everything to be different. The reality of her situation hit her every single day when the doctors would leave her room with satisfied smiles across their faces. She wished day after day that she’d be able to see Logan, make sure that he was still alive, at least. Rogue had asked countless times for news from him, but her tormentors would mostly ignore her when they tired of making fun of her.

So she would just stay there, sitting on the white linoleum floor, next to the toilet, her back against the wall and thinking about the father of her babies. Soon she’d hear their heartbeats when going for her scans; they’d be even more real. This thought brought a smile to Rogue’s lips more often than not. This thought was the only thing that kept her sane; she wasn’t alone, she would never be alone now.


“Logan, do you know that you’re going to be a dad?” she said, her eyes faraway.


Her hand still stroking her stomach, she started to half sing half hum a song that her mother used to sing to her when she was still a little girl. Marie sang the song, imagining that her babies could hear her. She knew it was too early for that but she couldn’t stop herself. How much time would she have with them? What would the doctors do to them when they were born? Her throat tightening at the thought, Marie murmured very low, fearing that the doctors would hear her somehow:


“Momma will get you out of here. You’ll see… Momma will get you out of here.” Wiping at the tears now streaming down her face, she went on. “I want you to see how it is out there, how it’s beautiful. And there are so many people who will be so happy to meet you… Your dad… The Professor, Storm… you’ll see… Don’t worry now, Momma’s here. Everything is going to be okay, I promise.”


Resuming her humming-singing, Rogue wiped at her face with her hands, relaxing against the wall and thinking about a way to get her family away from the Hades they were all trapped in.









*************************************






Dr. Matheson watched in horror as he leafed through the reports of the “Procedure” that had enabled his superiors to get through the second part of the “Revival Program”. They had used a dual method to get the young girl pregnant, a method no one had told him about. God, he felt sick just reading it. A name appeared many times in the notes, and he wondered just how twisted this person could be. This Dr. Mann had transferred genetically engineered embryos in the girl while at the same time the girl was to be “prepared” by being physically with a highly drugged and feral Wolverine; the sexual stimulation having as a final goal to increase natural hormones production in the girl and therefore maximize the effectiveness of the embryos transfer and ensuing pregnancy. Even if he had wanted to slow down the procedure with Wolverine, the girl was going to be pregnant anyway; Dr. Mann had made sure of that. But what was the point anyway? They didn’t just want to make sure she’d have this prisoner’s child, it seemed too easy… There was something else, something even more hideous than what he thought. The probability was too high for them to completely ignore it; they must know, Matheson thought agitatedly. The reports stated that two embryos had been transferred in the young Mutant, but there might be a chance that with her being so young and fertile and with Wolverine’s capability, there might be a parallel natural conception. He refused to dwell a second longer on that probability, thinking it too horrible to be true.
And what about this Xavier guy? It had been a little more than three weeks now, what was he waiting for? Dr. Matheson had been so sure, though. He knew Wolverine was somehow connected to Charles Xavier, the man he had attempted to warn of what was happening with the prisoner, the impact of the researches conducted at the facility. It was stupid really, what was he thinking, sending an anonymous file to one of America’s most active lobbyists? A man like this Charles Xavier would definitely not look twice at a rogue file like that. So now what? The young man thought tiredly. He had risked a lot; his superiors might have even been suspecting him the whole time for all he knew! And now this poor girl was pregnant! This Dr. Mann character seemed to be a force to be reckoned with…


“So this is what they wanted with her…? Will they keep her? What about the babies? What if there’s a miscarriage, what will they do to her? This gas they have engineered to control Wolverine… is it to keep him as a producer, keep him under the heel of their boot?” This was sick, very sick… the young man thought, his mind a whirlwind. There was nothing more he could do without risking his wife and daughter’s lives. If he took upon himself to do something for the girl and Wolverine, his family would certainly die…


“Tell me Helen, what should I do?”


Casting a loving gaze to the picture frame on his desk, Steve Matheson went back to the reports in front of him, trying to swallow back the disgust rising in his throat with every page he turned.









***********************************






She had been waiting… She had stayed in the darkness, waiting for the right time, barely able to dampen her growing lust. If she had been a man, she would have been walking around with a permanent hard-on. But she wasn’t a man. So nobody knew.
No one questioned her that day when, months after the transfer procedure she entered the examination room #3 where Wolverine was permanently held in, no one would ever suspect that she had a syringe of that prized hormone based serum and a capsule of Beta gas hidden in her pocket. She walked casually, her demeanor confident and authoritative, no one would even think to ask her why she was going alone in the cell at the end of the corridor, a cell whose door saw less and less use with every passing day.










*****************************************





Logan lifted tired eyes to what he guessed was the ceiling of the room, his mind on a particular young brunette. Marie… Where was she now? How were they treating her? Was she really pregnant? It had been a long time since that man had come to him with this piece of news, and since that, not too many people had talked to him; not that he’d complain. The first days had been Hell, the experiments even more brutal and cruel than anything he could remember, putting his healing factor on overdrive on more than one occasion. They would cut him open, gas him, and sometimes retrieve a few things, just to see if it’d grow back. He almost regretted the time when he was too feral to remember anything. Now his mind was crystal clear, and all the memories as vivid as could be. His captors would give him water, occasionally something that could pass for food; it seemed they wanted him to last at least a little. It’s not that he wanted to accept anything from them, but he’d want to stay alive, as much as he could help it; if he was alive, he could still find a way to see his Marie, maybe even get her out of there. Logan wasn’t deluded, though. He was permanently strapped to a table, his hands and arms safely secured alongside his body, making it impossible for him to unsheathe his claws efficiently. Freeing his mate and soon to be baby would require a lot of luck, if not a miracle.

He didn’t even twitch when he heard the door’s hinges screech, signaling a new comer. The door’s opening casted a ray of white light from the adjacent corridor across the room, revealing the shiny immaculate surface of the metal walls and floor, the different tables and machines that adorned the space all around him. Being in the dark had its good points, Logan noted humorlessly; at least he didn’t have to see that he was an over-sized lab rat, ready to be experimented on at any time of the day or of the night.

The lights flicked on, steps coming steadily closer. What caught the Mutant’s attention wasn’t the perspective of new tortures though, but the fact that whoever was coming, they were alone and they were female and in heat; and that in itself was enough to make him keep his guard up. Maybe it was the miracle he needed.








************************************



"Charles, if we act, we have to act now!” exploded Dr. McCoy’s voice in the richly furnished study he had just stormed in.


“I already have the team ready to go at any given time. This gas that you described, how dangerous do you think it could be to the X-men?”


“It might be of no effect to them, but if they have used it on Logan as I suppose they did, he might prove to be a far greater menace than anything else they might throw at us.”


“I have received a call last night from a friend who had contacts with some of the former Canadian government leaders, and this arrived this morning.” the older mutant gestured to the side of his desk where another manila folder was lying.

“What is it this time?”


“I figure it is the same someone from last time, but at the difference that there are names, dates, pictures of not only Logan, but Rogue also, as well as this scan…”


Xavier produced a black and white picture from the thick file at his right and leant forward to hand it over to his long time friend. The man sitting across from him extended a shaky hand, already knowing what the picture was. His shocked expression deepened though, the longer his eyes lingered on the shapes seemingly dancing with aquatic grace on the glossy paper. Two formed fetuses were clearly visible, whereas a darker form in the back ground was despite his knowledge, unidentifiable.


“My stars… This is…”


Reading the blue doctor’s mind with ease despite his present confusion, Professor X answered in a tight voice: “This is what the Program was about; I’ve just received confirmation of this. This fiend I have has confirmed all my fears; he’s risked a lot to reveal these pieces of information. It seems that they plan to create a squad of prefect Mutant killers, where Logan will be the center piece. They knew everything about him, his hooking up with Rogue in Laughlin city, what happened at Liberty Island, the way he saved her. They knew everything…! And I let her go out there, I handed her to them without even suspecting anything! I’m supposed to be a psychic, for God’s sake! The world’s most powerful telepath!”


“Charles…”


“And now she’s been made pregnant by God only knows what ways…! You are right, my friend. It’s time… Time for me to get my children back home. If you say this gas is harmless to the team, then we are going right now!”


“We?”


“Oh yes, my friend! And if Logan is the main threat, I’ll take action.”


“But Charles you can’t…”


“I have my own weapons, old friend. Have no worries.”









************************




She had never seen it coming. The wound left by his sharp fangs appeared in a tangled mess of blood and shredded flesh and skin. She could still breathe, though, still think but not speak. Huge panicked blue eyes watched in frightened wonder as the Wolverine got rid of his bonds, his face marred with her blood and his body still stiff from the attentions she had provided only a few minutes before.


No, she had never seen it coming.


She had followed the very same pattern as in the tests: gas, then a shot of hormone serum. The results were immediate, but soon enough, she realized that something was wrong. There was this glint of human intelligence behind the feral eyes that looked defiantly back at her, but she could be wrong… That’s what she told herself. She wasn’t thinking that clearly anyway, blinded by her obsession and lust for the man/beast lying under her. She never had the time to react when her brain finally registered in the throes of her madness induced orgasm that the Mutant under her had one of his hands free.



He could have impaled her, but he didn’t. He could have slit her throat from ear to ear, but then again, he didn’t. This was personal, lying now on the cold metal floor of the room, Dr. Mann realized that much. She wanted to ask him now, but her severed vocal cords wouldn’t comply. Wolverine was there though, crouching right in front of her, looking at her dying. He had never been more handsome she thought almost lovingly, radiating pure animal hatred hand human vengeance; like some kind of mythic avenging god. The lines of his body slowly blurred, until her vision went black and silence finally enfolded her.

"I am exact and merciless, but I love you
-There is no escape for you."

Walt Whitman



She had been lying there, keeping her faithful vigil next to the toilet bowl, the only movement registered from her being the occasional blinking of her eyes. She would eat but just enough for her to remain healthy; for her babies. Other than that, she wouldn’t move, wouldn’t speak.



They had taken her to scans, made thorough medical exams, and monitored everything that could be monitored in her body, making sure that her precious cargo was strong and healthy. It was still too early to hear their heat beats but she saw them on this wide black and white screen; two forms outlined in the dark night of her body. Rogue never paid much attention to the frown on one of the doctors’ face. She was just too glad that that horrible blond woman wasn’t there to torture or torment her today. The young girl put all her attention back on the screen, shutting out the rest, focusing on the two lives growing inside her. One word escaped her lips, though; a murmur in the otherwise silence of the room. “Logan”.


At the faint sound, the doctor next to her sent what she thought was a somewhat compassionate glance her way. The oddity of that glance struck her harder than anything else she had to endure during her captivity; stung painfully. They brought her back to her “room”, but today they didn’t take the usual way back. Instead, they stopped at another corridor which smelled of steam and antiseptic. One of the nurses walking at her side motioned Rogue forward to a white tiled room, vast enough to contain a hundred people. Divesting her of her paper gown, the woman pushed her to one of the far walls, away from the unique door. Alone now in the room, she heard a faint humming noise, like some engine warming up. Fear started to pool in her stomach, but Rogue made a quick calculation, estimating that whatever was about to happen, her captors weren’t about to harm her; not as long as she was pregnant. She then allowed herself to relax a little, although her eyes and mind were still on high alert, ready to take any chance she had to make a run for it.



Another sound echoed in the empty room, like a siren, and the ceiling slowly moved above her head. A row of what looked like shower heads appeared and soon poured warm water upon her. Memories of the last shower she had in the cell with Logan made Rogue shriek and press herself in the closest corner, but when the young woman realized that the pressure and temperature of the water were nothing like her latest experience, she berated herself for her kneejerk reaction and walked back under the spray of water. Another quick estimation had her conclude that it was indeed only water that was running down her body, and she noticed for the first time the bar of white soap dangling from a small rope attached to the wall next to her. Rogue took it gingerly in her hands and started to lathe it between her palms and then scrubbing the suds over her arms, neck and chest and going steadily southwards. Her hands stopped when she reached her stomach, her fingers lingering there, massaging softly, lovingly. The thought that crossed her mind then nearly made her cry out in pain and agony. Logan. Where was he? Was he still alive? Did he know? The same questions had been haunting her for the past weeks, turning over and over again in her troubled mind, and offering her no reprieve.



When she was done, the water stopped automatically, leaving her shivering slightly in the slowly cooling space. Rogue didn’t dwell too long on the sensation of being clean again, she wouldn’t allow herself even though she’d been longing for warm water and soap since her arrival in the complex. Still it was odd. Why would they care for her comfort and personal hygiene when everything else here was hellish at best? The answer was quickly brought to her when the wall behind her slid open to another sterile room where a chair was sitting in its middle. Lifting her gaze to the ceiling the young prisoner noticed a long black cable from which hung silver colored electric clippers. Letting her eyes sweep the rest of the room, Rogue noticed another paper gown neatly folded on the backrest of the chair. The young girl shivered as things started to click together in her mind. She heard steps behind her and she turned around quickly enough to notice a man dressed in black fatigues and shirt walking to her, flanked by two nurses.



One of them gestured her to the chair and the gown with one tilt of the head. Rogue, her eyes never leaving them walked slowly to the place indicated to her and proceeded to dress in the thin piece of clothing offered to her. Her body was still wet and shivering, goose bumps forming on every inch of her skin and making certain parts raise to attention. She caught the lingering stare of the soldier and quickly crossed her arms before her chest in an attempt at shielding her modesty. The two nurses then approached and made a quick work of sitting her on the chair and strapping the young prisoner to it. Where did they hide those damn things, Rogue thought, her anger flaring for once again failing to notice the leather straps that were now bound to her wrists and ankles. The man then stepped behind her, savagely gripping a handful of her long hair and starting the clippers. The young woman, unable to fight back bit her lip to prevent herself form crying in impotent rage at the new violation. The soldier took then a devious pleasure in grating the cold metal of the clippers over her damp head. Rogue lifted up teary eyes to the white light of the ceiling, feeling heavy tresses after heavy tresses of her hair being chopped off and falling on her shoulders and around her feet. Why? She thought, her mind screaming at the offending gesture. Why?!


When suddenly the buzzing noise stopped, the young girl chanced a look at her lap where some of her once magnificent hair lay like a lifeless body; cold and wet. When she saw the white streaks looking back at her, Rogue couldn’t contain her tears anymore. It wasn’t so much for the gesture than for the fact that one of the things Logan loved so much about her had been hacked off to the root. Marie let her head fall to her chest and sobbed shamelessly. One of the nurses stepped beside her and slid a metal chain around her neck. The young girl’s eyes followed the glint of metal resting now against her chest, reading the series of numbers and letters on the brand new dog tag: ‘Sample #458 25 244’. A number, she was now just a number. They hadn’t managed to break her completely, not until now.




***********************





Run, he had to run. He had to get to her, had to find her. Every turn lead to another dead end, and frustration and rage started to tint his field of vision a dangerous shade of dark red. He had one down, he had to find the others, but first he had to find her. He took deep breaths, more to taste the air around him than to regain any sort of clarity in his thinking. He filled his lungs until his brain could pick out her unique scent, and he started again in another direction, running faster than he could ever remember.



The halls were surprisingly empty, not that he minded. He didn’t want to call their attention upon him, not now anyway. He had more important things to do just for the time being. There, he thought. She was there; distressed, sad and angry, but otherwise okay. She was at the end of the corridor; that was where her scent led. He heard footsteps approaching quickly on his left. He ducked silently to the small recess in the wall and crouched, waiting that the steps came closer. Without a moment’s notice, he had the two lab coat wearing men to the floor, their throat slit from ear to ear, while the woman that was with them was pinned to the wall beside him by three adamantium claws through the chest. He stood back up, unbothered and advanced to his destination, his senses on high alert.



The door in front of him was made of thick heavy steel, but it could have been a flimsy curtain for all the hindrance it would be to his claws and his rage. He made a short work of the door, slicing it to shreds that heavily fell to the plastic floor. He’d found her! She was safe now; he was getting her away from this place. Searching the room for the familiar face of his young mate, Wolverine’s eyes were met by a vision he didn’t expect. Huddled in a corner of the vast room was a form that smelled like his mate but didn’t quite look like her. If it hadn’t been for his own underlying scent clinking to the person before him, he would have them impaled on his claws before they knew what hit them.



He approached slowly, his eyes riveted to the shivering form across from him and his whole body tensed, ready to strike. Then all of his strength failed him when two familiar brown eyes looked at him, wet with tears.



“Logan…?” the figure said. Wolverine wouldn’t let himself believe that this was his beloved mate, yet every fiber of his body screamed that it was her, it could only be her, and that she was pregnant; with *His* cub.



“Logan?” she asked again, her voice unsure.



Though Wolverine couldn’t understand what she was saying he was sure that he had heard her say that word before, and that it sounded good when it fell from her lips; it made something in him bloom with primal joy, and something deeper strain to the surface. He had clung to the image of her, that young girl, sensations, emotions so strong that they broke the darkness the lab men had forced his mind into. All the serums, gases and drugs in the whole world could never take away that one memory in him. The Wolverine had a mate, and he would do anything to be with her again!
And there she was…It was *her*, no doubt now. He had found her at last.



Wolverine strode purposefully towards the young woman still sitting on the floor and scooped her up. He had her in his arms, and he took a few seconds to revel in the sensation of her body cradled against his chest, making a low satisfactory growl echo in the white room. Running back to the door as fast as he could with his mate in his arms, he was slightly startled by the blaring of alarms going off all around him before resuming his march. He looked down at the face of his mate as if looking for assurances that everything was going to be okay, Wolverine made a run for it through the maze of corridors and doors, all hell breaking lose around him in a blur of earth shattering explosions and screams.





***************************






“Take cover!”



Colonel Montgomery was still looking at the bloodied form lying on the floor in front of him. Dr Mann had been a little too taken by her job it seemed. The grey haired man looked on with a frown of disgust as semen was slowly leaking from between his once lover’s legs. Her icy blue eyes were still opened and strangely calm, an expression of awe on her face partly covered in blood.



“Dr Mann is dead, what was she thinking coming in here alone? Where’s Wolverine? Arrrrgh, damnit!!” Said the man standing behind him, the man whose face always had been hidden.


“My guess is that he went after her, colonel. If the bite mark on Dr Mann’s throat is anything to go by, he’s in a feral state. And if it’s the case, he might have went after his female.”


“He shouldn’t even remember her, Montgomery!” Retorted the small rounded man, the fat of his face trembling in his rage. “I don’t care, wherever he is, they mustn’t get out of here! And godamnit, just who are these people?!”


“I have no idea sir, but they seem to be looking for something...or someone.”


“They’re here for Wolverine… They can’t take him away!!!”


“Colonel Stryker, what are your orders?”


“This facility is compromised; destroy all you can, the samples and embryos as well, especially the samples. Whoever they are, they mustn’t get their hands on those damn things, you hear?”


“Yes sir!”


“Find Wolverine and the girl, I want them alive. Use the maximum dose of alpha gas for Wolverine, it should be enough to tranq him for the length of the transfer, but do not hurt the girl. There are two different trucks, keep them apart at all costs!”


“Yes sir, I’m on it personally.”



Montgomery took his leave without further ado and assembled his men. He was on a chase and he had very little time if the sound of explosions going off through the complex and the screams of sheer horror from the medical personal were any indication.



“Collins, Murray and Jones, you come with me, the rest of you, go to the main storage room, blow it to bits, kill whoever you find.”



“Yes sir, but…sir, ‘whoever ‘can belong to the program…”



“Got some hearing problem Wilson?” Montgomery snarled to the soldier aiming a formerly invisible gun to the shorter man’s forehead. “I said whoever, even if it’s me, or the Pope or even their precious cargo bag and her lap dog, I don’t give a shit.”



“Yes sir!”



“Now get!”






*****************************








“Cyclops, Storm, you get in first and open the way. Shadow Cat, Ink and Colossus, try to locate where they hold Logan and Rogue. Remember that Logan might be in a feral state and uncontainable. Don’t hesitate to use the tranqs, I’ll scan your thoughts regularly and take care of him personally.”



“Yes, Professor!”



“Hank, you know what you have to do?”



“Everything is ready at the back of the jet. Jean, I need you to stay here with me, just in case.”



“Okay, Hank. Let’s just hope that Logan and Rogue will be the only prisoners in this place.”



“Yes, but we need to be ready, there might be more. Our sources were unable to state any approaching number of prisoners.”



“Jubilee, keep the jet at the ready. Pyro, Gambit, you will be the last line of defense.”



“Now everybody, good luck!”



“Alright! Now move, move!”






***********************







Smoke was stinging her eyes, her bare feet pounding against the cold floor as she followed Wolverine to the best of her capacities. He was holding her wrist in a vice like grip, leading her through the complex crumbling all around them. Rogue had insisted at some point in their race for freedom that she was perfectly capable of using her legs, and now she was hard pressed to keep up with her companion. She didn’t look around, she just watched her ‘mate’ opening the way, concentrating on him rather than on the pain in her calves and thighs, on her babies rather than on the fear pumping thickly in her veins. They had to make it!



Wolverine suddenly came to halt and Rogue almost collided with his heavy frame. She never had the time to ask herself why they had stopped as gun shots echoed in the air. Her companion made quick work of pushing her back in a corner as he lunged back to the source of the noise. Soon, screams of sheer horror bounced off the walls, along with the sound of flesh being shredded and the heavy thump of lifeless bodies falling to the ground. When a figure covered in blood reappeared in front of her, Marie almost let out a cry of terror herself. She stared wide eyed at the figure in front of her, naked, save for the dog-tags similar to hers around his neck, claws unsheathed and eyes an inky black. She nearly flinched when he extended a hand in her direction, but quickly reminded herself that it was the father of her soon to be born children making to touch her, and he would never hurt her, regardless of the violence and murderous intent now pouring from him.



The skin of his hand was sticky with partly clotted blood; marking her skin everywhere he touched her. They kept on running, occasionally encountering soldiers or doctors desperately running toward an exit always too far away. Rogue had tried using her powers during her captivity, tried to reawaken them to use on somebody in hopes of getting information about a way out, but whatever those doctors had done to her had permanently canceled her powers. She never thought that she would one day miss her powers so much. At some point she stole a key card from man that just had his head ripped off his body by Wolverine, body arms and legs still flailing uselessly in a desperate attempt at defense. They needed a plan, had to regroup.


Rogue stopped suddenly, holding Wolverine’s hand in hers.



“Logan, Logan, we need to find plans, something! We can’t keep running around in circles like that, we don’t know where we’re going!”



Her companion looked at her, lines furrowed on his brow in silent question.



“Logan, please…We need to…”



She never had the chance to finish as Wolverine just snorted and started dragging her after him at a dead run. She had the feeling that they had been running for hours, her legs threatened to give up on her any second, adrenaline being now the only thing keeping her going. Her pleas fell on death ears as far as her mate was concerned, so Marie did the only thing she could think of, wrenching her arm from Wolverine’s grasp and putting as much determination in her demeanor as she could muster and repeated herself, this time brandishing the key card in front of her former cellmate’s eyes.



“Logan, listen to me! I know you’re in there! You have no idea where the exit is!”






*************************






He had no idea what she was talking about… Her scent was now dangerously tinted of anger and frustration. Was she defying him? Now was not the time to stop for a little chit-chat! He could smell the outdoors closer now, the snow and pines just a few meters away. Wait… maybe it wasn’t defiance, maybe she was… She didn’t trust him to find his way out of this bad place. That knowledge almost made him unsheathe the claws at his mate, but the scent of her pregnancy stopped him, and he resolved to just bare his fangs at her warningly. He was her alpha, and she had better remember it. She was young, she would learn; learn to trust him with her life.


“Logan…?”


She needed to understand, and she obviously spoke a language he couldn’t. He needed to get her to trust him, now. So Wolverine opted for gentle coxing, grabbing her wrist less forcibly, laying a hand on her fabric covered stomach, doing his best to convey that he had her safety at heart, that he would lay down his life for her and the cub she was carrying. After a few seconds of hesitation, his young mate seemed to get the message. Lifting his head in the air, Wolverine inhaled deeply, turning his eyes to the source of the scent of fresh air, and then looked back at his female to emphasize his point: he knew what he was doing!



“Alright, Logan…lead the way.”



The light around them blinked then turned to inky darkness. The air was eerily silent all of a sudden, the siren coming to a startling stop; it wasn’t a good sign. Wolverine felt his mate tense behind him, sliding closer to him, grasping his side with shaking hands. He remained still, opening his ears to the smallest of sound, waiting. Ever so slowly, he backed away against the closest wall, his mate firmly tucked to his side. Footsteps were approaching, two females and a male, their breaths erratic and their scents shadowed by a mix of anticipation and fear.


A loud voice bleared coming from the walls and the ceiling, orange twirling light above their heads showed the empty corridor they were in, definitely not a good sing.



“This complex will be destroyed in three minutes…”

The three bodies stopped briefly before resuming their progress through the corridor.



“Kitty, are you sure it’s here?”



“Shadow Cat, Ink! Call me Shadow Cat! We’re on a mission, so call me by my damn code name!”



“Alright, sheesh, don’t get your leather panties in a twist, girly!”



“When you ladies are done blabbering on about bull shit, maybe we can get to the task at hand? This place is going to hell in less than three minutes now!”



“Oh, can it Tin-man!”



“It’s Colossus! Ball pen!”



“No you too?”



“What, why’d you stop?”



“Shhh….I can sense two people just out there.”



“You think it’s them?”



“Dunno…I’ll go check.”



“Ink! Don’t! Damn it, we have to stay close, okay?!”



“Don’t you worry your pretty head pussy cat, I’ll go under cover…as usual.”



“Ink!”



The liquid noise that echoed behind the wall got Wolverine tensing and he swiftly put his mate behind the protection of his body. A black spot on the floor shining darkly at his feet moved with watery ease and stopped just in front of him. Growling menacingly at the inky puddle, he tried to move to his right, only to see the puddle follow his movement, as if commandeered by a will of its own. Wolverine felt rather than saw his young female peek at the form from behind his thick arm and heard her yelp as the puddle countered him to head in her direction.



“Ink, come back! Now!”



The miniature inky black lake slid back and away rapidly, stopping a few feet from them and started escalating in the air, taking the shape of a body. Without giving it time to fully transform, Wolverine struck, aiming at the head with fully extended claws. The form screamed in surprise, and went back to its original liquid state.



“Ink!!”



The two others rounded the corner, one tall and covered in metal, the male and the other much smaller and looking like a cub, an expression of horror on her face, the female. Before he could rip them apart, Wolverine felt a hand gripping his arm tightly as his mate surged forward.


“Logan, no!!”



“ROGUE!!!!”



The Wolverine looked, horrified as his claws partly embedded themselves in his mate’s shoulder, blood immediately flowing profusely from the three wounds and cascading over the flimsy fabric covering the thin body of the girl. He sheathed back the claws; a sorrowful whimper coming from his throat as he quickly caught the young body in his arms in its descent to the ground.



“Logan, don’t, they’re here to help us… Don’t hurt them!”






***************************







“Scott!! Scott, we found them! Rogue is down!”



“Rogue, oh God, are you okay?”



“Colossus, damn it, tranq him!!”



“NO!!! Please, don’t he didn’t mean it! It’s…He doesn’t recognize you guys! Please don’t! It’s not his fault!”




“Rogue, you alright?” said a dark skinned young woman with glinting jet black hair and startlingly faireyes, finger pressing the trigger of her gun already and aiming at the large frame of the Wolverine. A face Rogue had seen before but took some time to remember.



Ink, alias Reese Parker, the latest member of the junior X-team. They had met just a few months before she left. She remembered that Reese had shown some kind of concern for her while at the mansion, and Rogue had taken up on herself to show her around and help her settle down a little. That was all before things went sour with the main X-team.



“This psycho just impaled you! I don’t give a fuck what’s wrong or right with your man right now, I’ll get him under wraps! Now!”



“NO! Please, I’ll calm him, but please don’t shoot him!” Marie screamed, pleading, begging for them not to hurt her mate.



She chanced a glance at his face, terror, panic and hurt engraved there made the young escapee’s heart twist painfully in her chest.



“Logan…? Logan, it’s okay, everything’s gonna be fine now. They’re not going to hurt you; nobody’s going to hurt you. Trust me?”



She heard him whine, whimper, his hands smoothing over her face, her body; tears streaming down from her mate’s eyes and disappearing in his bearded cheeks. He was frantic, trying to undo what had been done by sheer force of will.



“Baby, please, for me…for us.” Rogue said in a hushed tone, her hand holding Logan’s own flat on her stomach. That move didn’t go unnoticed as she heard three distinctive gasps behind her.




“What the fuck is going on here?! Rogue…you’re… you’re…” Reese Parker was for the first time in her life at a loss for words, at least as far as Marie ever remembered of her former classmate.




“It’s a long story.” Replied Rogue softly, her hand caressing her mate’s fingers splayed over her abdomen.



“Okay, now, let’s just get out of here.” Interjected Colossus. “Rogue, can you move?”



“Yes, I can. Help me, Logan?” And her mate miraculously understood her request, gently enfolding her in his arms and standing swiftly.



And with that, the five of them half ran, half flew through the now empty corridors, the voice of the siren reminding them every thirty seconds that everything was about to blow apart.

Running, running. Just a few more yards and they would be outside, he could smell it!


Wolverine looked down at his mate, her shoulder still bleeding from his claws and he could barely hold back the agonized whine at the sight. He did this to her; he had hurt her. Just what kind of mate was he? He had to take her to safety, make sure their cub would be alright. He didn’t dare think of what might happen to the cub if the bleeding didn’t stop. So he ran, hardly noticing the group running with him, next to him.


The gyrating orange lights above them scared him, put him on edge jumping every time one of the cubs around him moved in too close, almost skewering them on his claws; damn those things anyway!



Heavy footsteps hit the floor in the distance and the whine in Wolverine’s throat steadily turning into a threatening growl forcing the group to a halt.

No one dared make a sound; listening carefully, anxious to get out but sensing trouble. Now fangs were bared as the footsteps got closer, the distinctive click of weapons echoing in with them. He has to do something! Looking at the other male, Wolverine held out his mate's body to him, his eyes pleading for him to understand that he now has to look out for his mate for him, even though he himself found the idea absolutely revolting. But there was no other choice, no time to lose. He knew whatever will happen, he will heal, but not them, not his beloved mate and their cub. Yes, he can do this. His mate is pregnant with his cub, she won’t look twice at the other male, he can trust her; he can do this.


The other male was stunned for a few moments but then regained his composure and enfolded the young female’s body in his arms.


“Logan, what are you doing? Logan, no!”


He could hear her, but he also knew that he wouldn't turn back. He was doing it for her, for their cub, so that they had a chance to get out of here alive. So he ran, leaving her behind, his heart torn in two, ran as fast as he could towards the enemy.




******************************




“Find him and kill him!”


“Yes sir. But sir, he heals from everything we’ve dished at him in the simulations, even tanks…”


“Oh, but this time, he’ll stay down, believe me! You know what you have to do?”


“Yes sir.”



Colonel Montgomery held his gun tighter, enjoying the feel of warm steel against his palm, the adrenaline pumping in his bloodstream making him almost giddy at the perspective ahead of him. He was a hunter, and there was going to be a killing, soon. He almost salivated at the thought of his soon to be victim, his prey: the Wolverine.

He could almost feel him, he knew he was close. Oh, yes… The head of the Safety Department never questioned this primitive knowledge in him, how he could be able to sense the beast in the huge complex, but he did, inexplicably; always have. Just killer instinct maybe?


A growl. There he was. It would be over soon.

Montgomery geared his gun, taking aim even before seeing anything of his prey. His men imitated him, their guns at the ready and he smiled a sinister smile knowing what the ammo was. This would kill the mighty beast, this would be the only thing able to finally terminate this freak of nature once and for all.


At his signal, Collins, his most prized sniper, rounded the corner, took aim at where the growling came from and fired two grenades. The hissing of a gas being released came to Montgomery’s sensitive ears and he gestured to the two other men with him, shooting at the slumped form of the Wolverine, their bullets digging black holes in his broad back, his side.



The beast was choking on its own breath, gasping for air, pitiful helpless whines coming from its throat, its claws shooting in and out of its paws. The Colonel smiled broadly at the sight, not stopping his shooting, advancing on the battered body with unfaltering steps until all he saw was just the misshapen form of what used to be wolverine. There was a black pool forming around the body, bits of flesh and internal organs splattered on the floor. The body twitched once, twice and then went still. Only then did Montgomery stop shooting.


He knelt down, grasped a fistful of blood matted hair and yanked so hard that he heard the distinctive pop of bones shifting in Wolverine’s neck. The face was slack, mouth slightly open to reveal fangs shaper than he thought they would be. Other than that, it looked human; well almost. Hearing footsteps approaching quickly, the grey haired man spat at the lifeless body and ordered a retreat.




*****************************




He had looked in horror, unable to move or breathe.
First, the two grenades of alpha-gas, the bullets rain that befell the prisoner. The black holes and the black liquid pouring from the fresh wounds were unmistakable. Dr Steve Matheson had participated in the elaboration of this serum when he first arrived, knew how hazardous the combination of chemicals was and mutant blood. The poor man was probably dead now, healing factor notwithstanding. But he had to make sure. He couldn’t die now, not so close to finally getting out of there. The doctor had run at the first blare of sirens, gun in hand, with only one thing in mind: finding Montgomery before he found the two prisoners.


He had spent weeks trying to find names, data, just about anything he could to send to this Xavier guy again and finally put an end to this museum of torture, and he had. Three names came back regularly: Stryker, Mann and Montgomery. In his search, Matheson found a program developed in parallel of Revival. Well, if the compilation of tortures and rapes could be called a “scientific program”, that is. Each and every prisoner that came through the complex had been tortured and abused by the Colonel Montgomery, assisted by the devious Dr Mann. Reading the notes, he had been sick to his stomach countless times, and he discovered one thing about the good Colonel: he hated the main test subject with unholy passion. Almost every reports were about him, records of procedures performed when no one was watching, taking what they called “samples”: a kidney, a lung, an eye… There even were pictures. God! Montgomery wanted the Wolverine destroyed at all costs, but first, he wanted to have his fun with him.


Matheson had put some data from those secret files in his last SOS message to Xavier, hoping against hope that this time, the man would react, do something for one of his own kind. And if the sudden commotion was anything to go by, he had finally heard him. So the doctor had run, gun in hand, trying to find the Colonel first, and his stomach had dropped as he watched, powerless, as all he had fought to avoid happened under his very eyes.



Taking a deep breath, Matheson summoned all his strength and courage, giving chase to Montgomery and his men. This was right. He would avenge this poor man, . Yes, this man. Not a beast, not a test subject, this man. He would absolve himself



“Forgive me Helen…” breathed the doctor in the heavy silence around him.



Soon, there was a blur of gunshots and screams, the surprise effect playing in the doctor’s favor for a few precious seconds. And then there was only silence.




***********************




“What was that?” Marie exclaimed, breathless.


“Gunshots…”


“Logan!”


With a strength she didn’t know she had, Marie rose to her feet and went in the direction of the sounds at a dead run, her injuries completely forgotten.



“One minute and thirty seconds before destruction…”



“Rogue!!”



She didn’t care about anything else, her mate might be hurt, she had to do something, anything. She couldn’t remember ever running that fast in her entire life, everything was covered in a hazy layer of grey, even hazier in the corners of her vision.


Marie heard the howl of pain, heard the loud thud of a body hitting the ground, gunshots still filling the air. She was still so far, but she kept running.



The guns had turned silent when she arrived. There was no one. No one but her Logan lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood, unmoving. It took everything she had in her not to collapse where she was. Marie kept running, stopping abruptly next to her lover, refusing to think the unthinkable, and started to turn him. Still inhabited by an unearthly strength, she grabbed Logan’s body under the armpits and started to drag him. She heard her friends gathering around her, their horrified gasps at the sight that greeted them, but she decided to ignore them, none of this was important; Logan was.


Without a word, Colossus, took one arm and dragged with her. In one instant, the young X-team was helping her carrying her mate out of the complex. The young woman, didn’t notice the snow, or the coldness of the air. She didn’t hear Storm landing next to them, didn’t see the jet or the blue beast rushing towards them to help.


Her whole body was hurting, her heart was in pieces, and it’s only when she felt the ground shift under her that Marie realized that she was the Blackbird, and that they were leaving, that the orange light she saw wasn’t that of the corridors of the complex but that of the gigantic explosion in the growing distance. Only then did she start to realize, only then did she start to scream and kick and completely lose her mind.


The young girl barely recognized Jean who was trying to tend to the wounds on her shoulder, almost scratching a chunk out of the read haired doctor’s face, a howl filling her throat at the sight of the man she loved, lying on a gurney still unmoving. It took Iceman and Scott to finally get her to lie down on the other gurney, took this new guy to strap her to it so that Jean could insert a needle in her arm.


Marie wanted to scream once more, but she was all of a sudden too tired to move, too tired to think and then everything went black.





**********



“How is she?” Xavier asked, his voice tight.


“She’s stable” answered Jean, “Just press this to her shoulder Kitty…”


“Jean, I need your help here!”


“Hank! What do we have?”


“He’s unresponsive, his healing factor seems to be completely off.”


“Damn it! What happened out there?”



Kitty Pryde, still holding a pack of gauze to Rogue’s shoulder answered in a shaking voice.



“I don’t know. He just started to growl, and the next moment he was gone, and then there were gunshots and Rogue went after him, and…”



Unable to continue, the young girl burst into tears, shaking under the power of her sobs. Ink, who had remained very silent up until now started to speak in hushed tones, eyes looking at nothing. She was mumbling that it was her fault, everything was her fault.



“Reese, dear, whatever are you talking about? None of this is your fault!” Professor Xavier said calmly but firmly, his had slowly reaching to the young woman sitting next to him.


The gesture seemed to shake Reese Parker out of her stupor and she stood up, heading for the makeshift medical wing of the jet. Without hesitation, she took a pair of scissors and slit her wrist, a black liquid slowly pooling against the cut, thick like tar.



“Ink! What in Heaven’s name are you doing?” Exclaimed Hank McCoy, still busy trying to bring Wolverine back to life.


“You’ll understand…” came the whispered reply of the young beauty, her grey eyes filled with unshed tears.



She extended her injured wrist next to the man lying on the gurney black liquid oozing from every wound. All the eyes widened as they witnessed the shiny essence slowly moving from Logan’s body to Reese’s slit wrist. There was an audible gasp coming from her as more of the liquid went inside of her, leaving deep wounds in their wake.



“You have to take it all out, otherwise he won’t heal.” She said, the tears finally flowing free.


“How did you…?”


“I’ll explain everything, I promise.” Said the woman known as ink, her face stained with tear tracks, her eyes soft, almost tender resting on Wolverine’s form.



Ever so slowly, the wounds started to close one after the other, free of the black poison, they were red and angry looking. There would probably leave scars. When all of the black substance was clear of all the wounds, Ink stepped back; hand on her wrist to stop the bleeding, apologies flowing from her mouth, barely understandable under her choked sobs.

The X-men were too shocked to react to that last development, and the two doctors went back to tend to their patient who had just taken his much awaited first gulp of air since being brought inside the jet.



Charles Xavier tried to make sense of what he’d just witnessed, a million thoughts running through his mind. One of them struck him harder than the others, though: was it possible that Ink could be involved in Logan’s abduction, and if yes, in what ways? This thought didn’t leave him during all the time it took the Blackbird to fly back to the mansion. Keeping all this to himself, he couldn’t help but casting intrigued glances at the grey eyed young woman, still crying in a corner, far from everyone else, the grief and guilt pouring from her enough to almost choke him. There would be things to discuss at their arrival.




*****************




Marie woke with a start, Logan’s name on her lips. Shaking the dream off, she glanced around at the space around her and almost burst into tears of relief. She was home, she was at the mansion. But her relief was short lived as the last events played back in her mind, remembering the sirens, the gunshots, oh my God, Logan!


She stood on wobbly legs heading out the door but crumbled two steps away from the bed. She felt weak, terribly so and her shoulder hurt like fire. Doing her best to stand back up again, she almost jumped out of her skin when the door opened to reveal the form of her former teacher Ororo Munroe.



“Here, let me help you?” she white haired woman said softly.


“Where’s Logan?” She couldn’t help it, she had to know, now!


“He’s alright.”


“Please Storm, take me to him, I want to see him!”


“He’s alright Rogue, you need to rest, you’ve been through a lot.”


“If he’s alright, then why isn’t he here with me?”


When the question took one too long second to be answered, Rogue knew that there was something wrong. Unable to hold back her tears anymore, she begged the weather goddess to take her to her mate. She had no memory of how they arrived at the mansion, and that worried her a great deal. Maybe, just maybe…she had to make sure.


Ororo helped the young woman in the wheelchair by the bed and took upon herself to wheel her former student to the med bay, all the while remaining anxiously silent. Rogue didn’t mind, all that mattered was to see for herself that her Logan was fine. When they arrived on the sublevel, something struck Rogue as wrong, it was dark, and…deserted. Shouldn’t there be someone to tend to Logan? He was injured rather badly, the last time she saw him, he needed someone to take care of him! She utterly panicked when Storm wheeled her past the medical wing to stop by a heavily sealed door. She entered a code in a panel on her right and another door slid open. The place was extremely bright compared to the corridors, one of the walls was an immense window, revealing what must have been the room behind the sealed door. What she saw inside made the young girl’s blood freeze in her veins. Lying on a cot in a corner of the room was Logan, his hair long and greasy, a beard covering his face. He was lying on his side, shaking slightly, an IV steadily dripping a clear liquid into his bloodstream. He had his eyes open, full of pain, so much of it that it caused Rogue’s eyes to suddenly sting with tears again.



“Why do you keep him here? He needs help! Can’t you see that he’s hurt? That he’s scared?”


“Rogue, please…” Replied the woman kneeling next to her.


“How can you do this to him? How can You?!! You’re no better than the people back there, you disgust…”


And she froze, seeing the open grieve and pain in the blue eyes of the goddess.



“He couldn’t recognize any of us… He tried to kill Hank, Jean and the Professor. He’s not himself right now, Rogue. We had to sedate him and put him here. No one has been able to make contact with him since. We had no choice.”


“Yes you had. But you still chose to hurt him. How long?”


“It’s been two weeks now…”


“Oh Logan… Storm, please, I want to see him. He needs me. Please.”


“Rogue, I can’t, he could hurt you!”


“No he won’t. When we were at the lab, he came looking for me. He was wild, Storm, but he came looking for me, to get me out of there. He won’t hurt me.”

Marie was at a loss for words. Her eyes riveted to the glass window through which she could see Logan...or Wolverine more likely. Slowly, she splayed her fingers on the cold glass, almost falling off the wheelchair she was sat on, trying by sheer force of will to phase through that window that separated her from her mate. Oh, how she wished she were Kitty right now...But if she were, then she wouldn't be in what could only be described as a predicament.

Rogue's true situation came crashing down on her as she looked on, the world suddenly narrowing to Wolverine, her babies and herself. She was barely 19, lab escapee and pregnant...with twins, no less! And now that she needed him the most, Rogue realized that the man she loved was in no state to be able to do anything for her. For the very first time she realized how much she'd been counting on Logan ever since she was brought to the lab. Even when he was feral, she'd been counting on him to give her strength to hold on, strength to go on.

And now...

She burst into tears at the thought. Logan, or Wolverine, or whatever his name could be, HER mate needed her more than anything else. He was locked once again, scared and hurt and she couldn't let things happen anymore. She was back, in a place safe enough for her to fully concentrate on her family. A family...

Not even in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined that she would have one; not since her mutation hit.

Trying her best to regain her composure, Marie took several deep breaths, concentrating on the here and now and digging deep inside herself to find back her courage, her true self. Oh, but the lab had broken her, they'd managed to do that, the last straw being the shaving of her head and the dog tags around her neck. She still had them on. No one dared taking it away from her while she was 'asleep'. She'd been sleeping long enough. Two full weeks according to Storm. Well now was the time to push the past away and move on.

With numb fingers Rogue wiped away her tears, sniffling a little. Coming back to the world she was still in she turned to the weather goddess still kneeling by her side.


"Storm. He needs me. Please, let me in. He won't hurt me."

Rogue's voice was soft, her southern accent suddenly gone.
To make her point, she started to stand up, legs heavy and uncooperative. Once, twice, failing but trying again. One step. Then a second and a third. She was shaking, yes, but she was up. Ororo, seeing the determination in her former student's eyes, could do nothing but comply. She stood up and helped Rogue walk to the Danger Room's double doors. Typed the code and led the way to where the prisoner was.


"I'll be alright now. Thank you, for everything. You don't know how much this means to me...and to him." The last words catching in her throat as it constricted violently, warning for an approaching torrent of tears.
But it never came.

Rogue wiped again at her face, hearing the retreating footsteps of her former teacher.


************************************


He'd caught her scent even before she arrived, despite the sedatives, the pain and the fear. His body was covered with red scars from the shooting that befell him as he tried to protect his mate and cub. He remembered everything, every second of agony was engraved in his brain, forever.

He thought he would never see her again, that the lab had taken him again, that he'd never find freedom. He was aware that it was a different facility, that the people weren't the same, that there were fewer doctors but a lot more prisoners, though he had never seen any of them. He'd just smelt them, but the strange thing was that they didn't smell scared or hurt, like him. If he had to give a name to their scent, he'd say that they smelt...happy?


No, that couldn't be, he was losing it!


Red rimmed hazel eyes looked, filled with pain, too tired to hope, too tired to realize. But she was there. The white-haired female was gone and he was alone with her; his mate.

He looked as she raised a trembling hand and trailed it down his face, cool fingers disappearing in his hair-covered cheeks and resting there.

That's when he believed. A touch from her, that's what it took to make the pain vanish, make the shivering stop and take away all the bad memories that kept him awake nights and days alike.

Soon her other hand joined its twin in its soothing caresses. Smoothing his long bangs out of his eyes, moving down his cheeks and climbing back up, trailing down again until the wetness in his eyes dried.

He was watching her intently, gathering a courage that had deserted him, a strength he knew he didn't have, pushing his will to the very limit, he lifted up a hand.
He touched her too. He wanted to do a lot more than that, but that simple, gentle gesture robbed him of physical strength. Slowly, softly, he trailed his own fingers down the soft skin of his mate's face, trying to remember the good things, the rare good things of the time when they were together in the cell. The memory of her tightly surrounding him made the stinging in his eyes come back. He couldn't control it, he knew he should but all of a sudden, it didn't matter so much anymore.

Her voice...She was saying something to him. That word...he'd heard it before. In the cell. It was a good word, a word he wanted to say back to her, to connect with her on that level; the talking.
It was hard and unnatural to him but he tried. God he tried. Long broken sound coming from his throat, that magical word that make the darkness in his mind go away:


"Looo-gaann."

Sleep had deserted Professor Xavier. He had stayed up all night going through the data they were able to gather during the raid. One particularly made his gut churn and rekindled an unholy passionate hatred against the people at the lab. It seemed that this Amicus Humani Generis, friend of the human kind had another name: Doctor Steve Matheson.

The young doctor had managed to gather disturbing procedures operated manly on Logan, the main test subject. All the probing, all the cutting, all the times they'd killed him only to bring him back and torture him some more...Charles Xavier started to seriously doubt that Logan could fully recover one day, healing factor notwithstanding. Proof was the scars all over his body, his feral state and the fact that he didn't know friend from foe. He had tried to kill them...

The old man, feeling all the weight of his years in this moment closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. No he wouldn't cry, he couldn't! He didn't know how he could have left so much time pass without wondering what had happened to Logan. He should have known better, should have looked deeper into things. Even after that fist file he had received he hadn't moved. He'd been sitting calmly at his desk for almost a full month and more! Said he didn't have enough data to make a move. Data...
The word rang in his head with the force of a sonic boom, the crashing of a thunder bolt. He could never make amends for what he had let happen to Logan... To Rogue, now pregnant with Logan's children. And by the way, the result of the first scans had troubled him beyond words.

Professor X. took the picture from the brown folder once again. Two perfectly normal forms of two perfectly healthy embryos...and one shadow.
The outline of a miniature body it seemed, but something was wrong. Terribly so. his trained eye took in the posture, the tail-like rear-end of something not entirely human.


"What is this...?" said he, his tired voice barely above a whisper.


{Hank?}


{Yes, Professor?}


{Sleep has deserted you as well my friend...}


{So it seems.}


{There is something I would like to talk to you about. It's...I'm not exactly sure. The babies...there might be something wrong. I'm probably exaggerating, but...}


{My old friend, that would be the first time! But I can only share your concern. I have conducted the exams during Rogue's coma and I must admit that something is terribly amiss.}


{So it's not just me...}


{What do you mean, Charles?}


{The outline in the background, have you noticed it? Lord above, I hope I'm wrong.}


{I'm afraid you are right. I am viewing the video of the scan and yes, there is an outline; a moving outline.}


"Oh, God..."


That simple sentence had so much purpose behind it that the whole mansion was filled with it, every mind suddenly invaded by the worry and pain Professor X. was projecting.



*******************************



Jean Grey, or Doctor Grey as she was called around the mansion was wide awake. The sight of Logan's body riddled with bullet holes still engraved in her mind, kept her up at night.


God! The blood, so much of it. The holes and that tar-like liquid poisoning Wolverine's system, keeping it from repairing itself. She was a doctor, yet she had been powerless as Logan was bleeding to death. He had flat-lined...Only she had known at that moment that he'd been dead for several minutes for she could hear his heart, mentally monitor his heartbeats. And then it had stopped, the body going into shock as it emptied itself. The mere thought of it making her eyes sting with tears. Never had she experienced so strong a feeling. It wasn't just mere compassion or pity. No, it ran deeper than that. It tore at her very being to him like that and not be able to do anything. Still she was hiding the truth even to herself.

It had been hard for her to see Rogue cling to Logan. It stung in a devilish sort of way. She never dwelt on it, though...


What was wrong with her?


***********************************



Reese was on the roof. Smoking cigarette after cigarette, nicotine doing nothing for her nerves. She had told the Professor. All of it. How she had been created from mutant DNA and chemicals, how she'd been trained to kill, train to lie. How she'd been sent to trick and sedate him. Oh, but she was good. The best there was at what she did and what she did wasn't very nice at all.
Her real name was Tar-A or number 374 907 458 before that. Reese was just an undercover name.

How or why the Professor could still keep her here with the other students was beyond her! She could barely stand herself...self loathing running deep and robbing her from sleep. She barely ate, barely kept herself alive.
She had visited the danger room. Saw what had become of Wolverine or Logan as he was called here, and it was all her fault. Professor X. had told her different, said she'd been a victim in all this too. The man was just too good to be true, seriously!

She should go. Get lost in the world. Or just...no.
Despite everything she couldn't bring herself to do it.

So she sat on the roof of the mansion...smoking and hoping against hope that she could find absolution...one day...maybe?