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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you guys for all the marvellous reviews!!

Never thought I'd be able to write this new chapie that quick!

WARNING: Very troubling scenes described; ye sensitive souls be warned!!!!

Enjoy!!
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.
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