Here There Be Monsters

Authors: Stormwolfe and Tinhutlady

Prologue

From the vast darkness of space, a battered scout ship slipped into orbit around the blue-white orb of Earth. The ship belonged to one of the aliens called Predators by those few Humans who had encountered them and lived. Indeed the creature’s race or even his personal name could not have been pronounced by anyone living on the sunlit planet below. In the Human language known as English, his name was K’Ha’Lon-ka. The ‘Ha would be pronounced with a series of clicking noises and the Lon-ka part of the name involved a purring sound and another sharp click. Roughly translated, his name meant Strong Warrior of the Fading Sun. His clan lived on the small world in his star system furthest from the larger of the two suns. They had survived in the harshest of the climates that their system worlds offered. K’Ha’Lon-ka’s clan were extremely fierce and proud creatures even for Predators. They were survivors.

K’Ha’Lon-ka had lost mating rights with his chosen female, which was why he was making the journey to this infamous blue planet. M’AG’Na-rk, Still-Strong Warrior, had brought back many more kills from the Hunt this past season than had K’Ha’Lon-ka, so K’Ha’Lon-ka had gathered the information needed to best his rival. Although Earth was usually far too cold for his species, a predictable wobble in its orbit, coupled with strange weather patterns promised to bring the heat needed for him to survive. It offered K’Ha’Lon-ka the opportunity of a once-in-a-lifetime Hunt; a Hunt he desperately needed. Kills and trophies brought back from Earth, particularly Human kills, held far more prestige than bounty taken from any other planet. Humans were ‘smart prey’. They had the intelligence to fight back and sometimes they even won. This added danger increased his personal risk therefore increasing the value of the treasure he would bring back and K’Ha’Lon-ka felt sure that he could reclaim his place with ease. GA’V-Ri-la, Clan is My Strength, would be sure to take him at the next Choosing. Thus focused on his musing, K’Ha’Lon-ka did not see the cluster of air vehicles coming his way.

The sensors of his ship, directed toward the planet’s surface to locate a good landing area with abundant prey, did not alert him to the possibility of danger. Thus, the first warnings indicating trouble were far too late in coming. The small group of fighter airplanes, developed specifically for this purpose, had the Predator’s ship in range and in weapons lock within seconds. Laser-type beams lashed out, penetrating the shields on K’Ha’Lon-ka’s ship and damaging the propulsion system. The second wave of laser blasts left him only enough control to keep from burning to a crisp in Earth’s atmosphere. The final salvo cut into him personally, causing him to roar with pain.

Far below K'Ha'Lon-Ka, on the planet’s surface, a man, garbed in the uniform of the United States military, smiled coldly as he watched the brief air battle through his Army issue binoculars. If they could just bring it down alive, he thought to himself. He needed it alive…

- - -

According to all news and weather reports, this summer would be the hottest on record in many years. Logan certainly agreed with the reports. At least it was sweltering in the state of New York. He glanced at his companion only to note that the other man was equally hot, sweaty, dirty, and exhausted. Moreover, he and Scott still had three more of the winter’s deadfall trees to clear from one of many trails that wound through the estate’s grounds. Hiring a tree-cutting service would save them the headache of being out in the heat, but both men preferred doing the work themselves. Less chance of a security breach that way.

Logan looked from Scott toward the back of the mansion. A tall, beautiful woman with flowing silver-white hair was walking in their direction, carrying a wicker basket over one arm. Logan smiled as she reached them and offered bottles of cold water and sandwiches from the basket. Her answering smile was cool and mirrored only slightly in the ice blue depths of her eyes. He sighed as Ororo Munroe moved away to speak softly to Scott, warmth and friendship for the other man apparent in her throaty voice. Despite the weather service’s prediction of a hotter than normal summer, Logan felt it turn ice cold.

- - -

Dr. Augustus Stryker looked at the thick manila file folder that lay on his desk. It was marked ‘Classified, Top Secret’ in large, bold red letters across the front. The papers in the file told the story of one Major ‘Dutch’ Schaeffer and the fate of his last command. Frankly, Stryker thought, the story was preposterous. The well-dressed man seated in his visitor’s chair, however, assured him otherwise.

The beginnings of hope for his plan stirred in Stryker’s brain, but he kept a tight reign on his emotions. It would not do to act prematurely. For so many nights, he had outlined the ways and means of executing vengeance upon those who had wronged his family’s name. Here, on his desk, was the potential for restoring his family’s name and honor, as well as bringing a cold-blooded murderer to justice. If, as this man claimed, the military had in their possession one of the alien Predators that had so easily destroyed Schaeffer’s rescue team, he at last could see a means to avenging his brother’s premature death. That they wanted to experiment on the alien to create a superior warrior was a given, even though it had not yet been mentioned. They would need his research as they had needed his brother’s, any child could see that. What they did not know was that he was way ahead of them on a better use for the alien. He watched the man in front of him squirm in the chair and knew the military did not like asking outsiders for help; they preferred giving orders. Soon he would be in control, Augustus thought to himself. Once they revealed their plan, no matter what it was, he would consent to direct it to fruition. Now, he had to convince his guest that he required one thing to guarantee the success of whatever plan the military had. He needed the mutant known as Weapon X. Stryker would convince them to bring him the Wolverine.

Stryker managed one of his most charming smiles, "Colonel McDaniel, this is an incredible tale. If it is true, I can see a multitude of applications for the research and I would indeed be interested in participating. I have a feeling though, that you have a more specific agenda in mind…Perhaps the result of Major Schaeffer’s foray into that jungle has ignited the idea for a more military-minded product?"

McDaniel surveyed the scientist with cold, dead-looking gray eyes, "That is true. Major Schaeffer rather adamantly declined our request for re-activation. It was the decision of my superiors not to press the matter with the man and to forge ahead without his input. Military applications are the primary focus. As you are probably aware, your brother was instrumental in…manipulating…mutant genetic engineering into more viable and aggressive uses for the Army. We plan to incorporate his research from Weapon X to produce an alien version of that…manipulation…which will create what we will term Weapon X2. Because of the technical knowledge needed for this undertaking we need a special kind of scientist. Your name, Dr. Stryker, came up almost immediately. What with the similarity of work that you and brother have accomplished and the unfortunate loss of your brother’s life, we thought you would like to uphold his legacy…" McDaniel tried to soften his voice in a vain attempt to convey sympathy for the loss of William Stryker.

Augustus smiled in feigned warmth and lowered his eyes for a moment as if in respect. Truthfully, the loss of his brother meant little to him emotionally. William was always a bit too passionate about things; a disappointing trait that fortunately Augustus lacked. The fact that someone out there had dared harm a Stryker should have evoked a malevolent hatred on his part, but Augustus only had a firm sense of duty; it required that he execute his older brother’s murderer, nothing more. If the opportunity arose to make the killer suffer prior to its demise, that would be a bonus. Emotion would only cloud his ability to accomplish that task.

William had always remarked that Augustus was too good looking to be very bright. In reality, each brother had to admit that the other was a genius in his own right. William looked for the faster route to scientific success, preferring to have the enormous resources of the U.S. and Canadian governments at his disposal. Augustus, never having the least bit of interest in the military, had headed down a different path, choosing to take his time and accumulate accolades and resources along the way. William mistook this circuitous path to mean that Augustus was lacking in ambition. His opinion of his younger brother had not changed even after seeing proof of Augustus’ many accomplishments. William had died not realizing that his younger brother had become an immensely wealthy and powerful man, a man who played in the shadows of respectability just enough to pull strings that William could not have reached. Even as he dwelt upon the fact that his successes far exceeded anything that William ever hoped to accomplish, Augustus realized it was a moot point. William was dead and the Stryker name maligned due to both fiascoes at the Alkali Lake facility. It was up to Augustus to restore honor to the family name and bring the recognition to his work that William deserved. Augustus told himself that it would not matter, in the end, that his own name and achievements would far surpass William’s.

"Colonel McDaniel, with the availability of the alien DNA…we, I’m sorry, I mean…you could realistically resume work on Weapon X with great success. It is apparent, due to the nature of my brother’s death and where it occurred, that Weapon X is alive, well, and living somewhere, yes? If so, it would be an invaluable resource to have on hand should we proceed with your agenda…"

McDaniel narrowed his eyes. He completely understood what the other man was suggesting. Moreover, he liked the idea of bringing Weapon X back and forcing the creature to do the job for which it had been designed and created.

McDaniel stood and offered his hand, "I’m sure we can come to a more than satisfactory arrangement. I’ll be in touch as soon as we’ve completed the rest of our new facility and secured Weapon X."

Augustus took the proffered hand and smiled, his own eyes more frigid than those of the Colonel. Colonel McDaniel felt a chill work its way down his spine as the other man said softly, "I look forward to working with you, Colonel."

Chapter 1

Ororo Munroe stared blankly at the results from the pregnancy home-test kit. She blinked once then backed up and carefully sat down on the edge of her bed. This only happened in bad romance novels, she thought. One-night stands just did not result in pregnancy. Ororo was not wildly sexually active, but took birth control precautions anyway. Her birth control implant was less than a year old and although she had only had spotting during her prior month’s menstrual cycle, she had attributed that to an abnormally light period and the queasiness to stomach flu. This month, however, had passed without her normal cycle and Ororo knew her own body well enough to know that something was not right. There was still hope, though; home test kits were sometimes inaccurate. She prayed to her Goddess that this was the case this time. The next step involved having either Jean or Hank confirm the results.

Try as she might, Ororo could not completely contain her emotions and thunder rumbled overhead. Her blue eyes clouded over and she allowed another ominous rumble of thunder before dismissing the tempestuous weather and pushing open the French doors to step out on the rooftop balcony. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stood staring into the distance, lost in thought.

After the incident at Alkali Lake, Kurt Wagner, the strangely beautiful man also known as Nightcrawler, had returned to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters with them. Though his religious and philosophical beliefs differed from Ororo's, she had found herself attracted to the man. His gentle spirit, wry and deprecating sense of humor, and boundless faith had offset their different beliefs. They had spent more and more time in each other’s company and, for Ororo, it seemed inevitable that they would fall in love. She never dreamed that something both as simple and complex as different religious beliefs could part them. As she pressed for a more intimate relationship, however, Kurt turned to talking more about the spiritual.

In frustration, Ororo had questioned him regarding where he saw their relationship leading. With a great deal of sorrow in his beautiful, yellow eyes, Kurt had sadly told her that he saw no future for them. Nightcrawler respected Ororo's chosen beliefs but could not share them. He also realized that she could not put aside a lifetime of faith to embrace a religion that was almost alien to her.

A few days after leaving her sitting in the garden, mute with disbelief that the man was going to let religion come between them, Kurt had left Xavier’s. He had located an abbey deep in the Catskill Mountains whose brethren accepted and embraced mutant kind. Kurt promised to stay in touch and come back to teach as he completed his own seminary training.

Thus, another romance ended for the Windrider. Ororo vowed to herself that it would be the last. She was through wanting a man in her life. She was Storm, Mistress of the Elements, the Windrider! She had once been worshipped as a living Goddess. Never again would Ororo Munroe allow herself to be so devastated by a mere man.

These thoughts whipped through Ororo's mind as she stared out over the vast Xavier estate. From her balcony, she could see the lake and the dock that extended into it. Several of the students lay on the dock in swimsuits, sunbathing and enjoying the cool breeze by the lake. It was a great respite from the sweltering summertime heat. A movement at the edge of the forest caught her attention and her eyes narrowed.

Leaving the shelter of the forest, the Wolverine walked across the rear lawn of the mansion. Halfway to the massive house, he stopped dead and looked up in her direction. For a moment, even from the distance, she felt their eyes lock, then he proceeded on toward the rear entrance. Ororo's hands gripped the wrought iron balcony railing as she followed him with her eyes. She did not release the breath she had been unaware of holding until he disappeared inside.

How was that man, of all men, going to take the news that he would soon be a father?

- - -

With so many adults around the mansion, it was inevitable that some of them would keep stashes of alcoholic beverages. Therefore, the Professor wisely had a cooler installed in the large pantry just off the main kitchen. The only unusual thing about it was the combination lock built into its door. To date, the lock and the cooler had both done their jobs. The cooler allowed the occasional indulgence by the adults in a wine cooler, glass of chilled wine, or beer. The lock kept the student body sober and in compliance with the law.

Logan keyed in his combination to the drinks cooler and opened the door. With a shake of his head, he moved the bottles of pricey micro-brewed beer that Scott kept, to reach his own. Turning around he almost bumped into Scott, who was on a similar mission. Back in the kitchen, Logan lifted an eyebrow as Scott opened his bottle and poured the icy beverage into a chilled, glass beer mug.

"How can you drink that stuff, Slim?" Logan asked, uncapping his own bottle and taking a long drink.

"This is an excellent beer, designed and brewed by an exclusive brewery in Seattle, Washington. There are only one or two beverage stores that even carry it," Scott replied. "You should try one."

Logan laughed and pointed at Scott’s glass with his bottle, "It looks like pond water." He wrinkled his nose and sniffed, "Smells like it too."

Scott grinned, "Shows how much you know." He raised the glass and took a healthy swig of the pale, golden-green liquid. In the next instant, he was choking and trying to spit the stuff into the sink inset in the kitchen island. "Tastes like pond water too," Scott said wryly. He poured the rest of the drink down the drain and returned to the beer cooler.

Turning for the door to the outside, intent on relaxing on the patio, Logan called back, "DO NOT get one of mine, Junior!"

Scott laughed as he joined Logan on the patio carrying one of the other man’s Molson Canadian brand beers, "Consider it an education for me."

Logan feigned a glare in the younger man’s direction but did not object further. It was just another round? in the never-ending cycle of games they played with each other. Scott stretched out in the next lounge chair and sighed. Even this late in the day, with the sun barely showing over the horizon, it was agonizingly hot. A few of the students sat around the Olympic sized swimming pool or floated on its cool surface. Most of them spent the day down at the lake where they could take advantage of a slight breeze and shade from the nearby forest. Even Logan had chosen a pair of khaki colored shorts and a loose sleeveless t-shirt rather than his usual blue jeans.

Scott indicated the surrounding area with a wave of the hand; "Thank heavens the Professor chose to run only three days of classes a week for this session. I don’t think any of us would have survived both the heat and a full load."

Logan nodded, sharing his companion’s sentiments. Fortunately, the X-Men had also had a considerable period of down time. Perhaps, he thought wryly, even the bad guys – mutants and humans alike – had taken the summer off to avoid the heat. Usually this amount of inactivity would have Logan climbing the walls. For now, however, he was as grateful for the quiet time as Scott was. The relentless heat was enervating.

Logan opened his eyes as he heard Scott let out an ‘umph’ of discomfort. He had caught the scent of the lovely Jean Grey-Summers before she had reached them, but simply chose not to warn Scott that his wife was probably up to no good. Sure enough, Jean was sprawled across Scott’s lap with his bottle of beer in her hand. In the moment it had taken him to readjust to her flopping into his lap, he had loosened his grip on the beer bottle. Using her telekinetic powers, Jean had snatched the bottle from his hand and was helping herself to its contents. Scott looked decidedly aggrieved at the whole situation.

Logan chuckled, "That’s what you get for snatching my beer."

Jean winked, "That’s right, Hon. Don’t you have all that high priced…?"

"Pond water," Logan interrupted. "What Slim has was obviously bottled from Old MacDonald’s Stock Pond Brewery."

Jean laughed and Scott attempted to frown, before he too grinned good-naturedly. Looking at Logan, he pretended to glare, "Ass."

Logan responded without looking back at him, "Dick."

- - -

Ororo stood just inside the French doors that led to one of the mansion’s large, rear patios. She had heard the exchange between Logan and her two friends and irrationally, wondered how the man could even consider joking around at a time like this. Ororo had just come from having her condition confirmed by Dr. Henry McCoy; she was, indeed, pregnant. She was also working herself into a good state of anger as she prepared herself for Logan's excuses and accusations.

Taking a deep breath, Ororo pushed open the doors and stepped out on the patio. Walking over to where Logan, Jean, and Scott were sitting, she stopped near Logan's chair. In a voice sharp with annoyance she said, "Logan, I need to speak with you a moment."

Logan tilted an eyebrow in surprise. Since the one night they had spent together, Ororo had limited speaking to him to only the necessary. ‘Pass the salt’ had become a long conversation for them. Swinging his legs off the lounge chair, he nodded toward the now vacant part of the seat, "Go ahead, darlin’."

If possible, the Windrider looked even more annoyed, "In private, Logan."

Now decidedly curious, Logan stood up and put his empty beer bottle into a nearby trash container. Indicating with a small gesture of his hand that Ororo should lead off, he nodded at the other two X-Men and followed the Weather Witch off the patio. As they walked, Logan reviewed the last few days, wondering how he could have pissed her off since they rarely associated with one another. He chuckled to himself; since they both taught History it made for an interesting relationship.

After Alkali Lake, he had watched Ororo fall for Kurt Wagner. As he observed their relationship unfold, Logan had found himself falling for her. Keeping in mind how recently he had thought he was in love with Jean Grey, he had kept his feelings to himself…and continued to watch. At that point, his friendship with Ororo had been light and easy. If she had confided her feelings to anyone after Kurt left, it was not Logan.

Logan allowed his thoughts to drift back to the night two months previous when everything had changed.

Late on Friday evening Ororo encountered him in the foyer of the mansion talking to Rogue. The girl was pouting that she was not old enough to go to a bar with him and he adamantly refused to allow her to sneak in with him.

Ororo's only reply had been to slide out from under him, get to her feet, and walk toward the bedroom door, dropping bits of clothing along her path. He joined her in the bedroom as she was gracefully sliding out of her blue jeans and panties. Logan had often fantasized about what she would look like unclothed, but the fantasies could not compare with reality. Mesmerized, he watched as Ororo crossed the room to stand in front of him, reaching slender hands out to unfasten his belt…

"Logan!"

For several long seconds, Logan could not figure out why Ororo sounded so annoyed. Startled, he looked around to see that they had reached one of the small clearings near the lake. Ororo was staring at him, arms crossed, foot tapping in irritation, and fire dancing in her striking cat-like blue eyes.

"Sorry…" he said trying to pull the rest of his mind back to the present, "you were saying?"

Ororo sank down on a nearby bench and stared at the lake. Indicating the spot beside her she said, "Please sit. If I have your attention now…?"

Logan sat down, shifting his body slightly so that he could face her. Silently, he gave thanks to whatever Gods looked after fools and Wolverines that she was not a telepath. He would not want her to know where his thoughts had been on the walk to the lake. Her first words nearly caused him to choke on his own breath…

"Logan, about that incident two months ago…" she began, watching his face closely. He did not react other than to become more still and attentive. "I am pregnant." Logan's expression did not change and he did not move a muscle. Whatever he had been expecting, it was not this.

"Excuse me?" he said automatically while his mind tried to cope with her statement.

Ororo looked at him, exasperation plain on her face, "I…AM…PREGNANT."

"Wow…"

"…and before you start denying culpability...let me assure you that… First, yes, I was using birth control; Second, I have not slept with anyone else; Third…."

"Pregnant?" Logan ran a hand through his thick hair, "I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly enough that night to insist on being more careful. I’m sorry for that, Ro. I’m not sorry about that night, though, and I’m not sorry about this child. We just need to work out the details of how to deal with this."

Ororo stared at the man in amazement. Logan was regarding her intently with an unreadable expression in his golden-hazel eyes. With very little effort, he had managed to derail her carefully planned speech; how dare he not act like a typical man! As she sat glaring at him, she realized that this was not as horrific a situation as she thought. Yes, she was pregnant and single. Her baby’s father, however, was an incredibly handsome, sexy, and intelligent man whose sense of honor and responsibility left her at a loss for words. Far from denying his role in the situation, he was calmly talking about how they should deal with it…together.

Logan laughed ruefully, "I guess you’re thinking that I’m about as far from good father material as you could get, huh?"

The fleeting glimpse of pain in his eyes tugged at Ororo's heart, "You know I was prepared to be furious with you. I still want to be. But how can I?" She paused, considering her words carefully, "Logan, eighteen months ago, before Alkali Lake, I would have not considered you as remotely able to handle the responsibility of fatherhood. Somewhere along the way, you have changed…well changed is the wrong word…settled, maybe?"

Ororo continued to speak, her voice firm and sure, "But since making your commitment to us that day at Alkali Lake, I have seen your dedication to keeping the children safe. Teaching them to defend themselves and each other. Working with and training us to try to make sure nothing like Alkali Lake ever happens again…and IF it does, making sure we are prepared to handle it.

"Logan, I believe, with all my heart, that same dedication will be there for my…our…child. In fact, for the first time in three days, I feel like I can look toward the joy of being a mother without the fear of handling it entirely alone. Besides, all I have to do is look at Gryphon to know you’ll be a wonderful father," Ororo added with a mischievous grin, alluding to Logan’s pet Macaw.

Logan chuckled slightly at that but was not ready to be distracted from the seriousness of the subject. "Ro, you would not have been alone. You know that. No one here would have allowed it. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to be the kind of father a child of yours deserves and to protect you and our child ‘til my last breath," Logan reached for Ororo and pulled her into his arms. "Everything will sort itself out in time. The details that don’t take care of themselves over the next few months, you and I will resolve."

Ororo relaxed in his embrace and Logan rested his head against hers. For a few moments, he wanted nothing more than to hold her and think about the future and how, if he had his way, he would make it ‘their’ future. One thing still circled the back of his mind like a vulture. Ororo’s attitude after their night together had been chilly and distant. That was something he would have to question her about, but now was not the time.

- - -

A lone figure, dressed in camouflage fatigues, put away her high-powered binoculars and eased back into the forest. It had been no easy thing to keep herself downwind of Weapon X and the woman. A smile lit her features as she turned and walked briskly but silently back through the forest. It would please her commanding officer to know that they had a ready-made advantage to use against the Wolverine. Major Patricia Dunst began altering her capture plan to include two objectives instead of one. The silver-haired woman would be expendable once Weapon X was back in custody and under control. Until then, she was a valuable asset.

------

Chapter 2

The site known only as ‘The Facility’ was located far off the beaten path in upstate Maine, near the Canadian border.. A vast underground complex, it had been a top security Bio-Weapons research laboratory and containment center for nearly twenty years. Massive pine and hardwood forests spread out around the few visible buildings on the surface. The road ended in front of a guardhouse that controlled access to the area beyond. Behind the guardhouse was a parking area for maybe fifty vehicles, mostly empty. To the far side of the parking area there was a large helicopter pad, empty for the moment. Set slightly apart, two three-story, concrete buildings that served as barracks, were currently lightly occupied. Behind and centered between the two barracks was a rather large, rambling stone cottage. Connected to it by a shaded walkway, sat a small, square concrete building, where two highly armed and proficient guards watched monitors and guarded the only access to the entrance of an elevator that was the only access to the main underground complex.

Augustus Stryker sat at the wrought iron and glass table in the morning room just off the stone cottage’s kitchen. Outside the floor to ceiling windows, he could see the distant forest, dark and ominous. Closer in numerous bird feeders and small flowerbeds attracted both birds and butterflies. Overall, this was one of the better facilities he had been housed in, certainly superior to the stone and steel complex he had inhabited for years outside of London. He now reveled in the New England surroundings, fleetingly forgetting that the path his brother took with the American military had been his reason for embarking overseas in the first place. Stryker’s thoughts moved from his surroundings to the work being conducted in the laboratories below.

Predator, as he had mentally labeled the alien creature, was proving strong-willed and more resilient than he hoped.. Certainly capable of intelligent thought, as evidenced by the complexity of the equipment found in his craft, the species had a primitive savagery Stryker found hard to grasp. Normally he equated aggression with a lack of mental faculties. The lack of communication and response from the creature led him to theorize that its primitive kind had stolen the technology and learned to utilize it for predatory purposes. He frowned. The military, not surprisingly, was not interested in his theories, only in the alien’s power, ferocity, and resilience. Formidable in size, its strength was equally impressive and it seemed to have thermal visual abilities, spotting its captors even in total darkness. So far, no drugs seemed to affect it, no food to tempt it, and no punishments to phase it. From the beginning, it had been an enigma and he had asked McDaniel to restrain it for a physical examination. Judging from the external reproductive structure they found under its rudimentary clothing, it was male, but that was all he had been able to determine before it had begun to snap chains in an effort to kill him when he touched the genitalia. Blood, tissue, and waste samples would have to wait as cooling the room they kept it in was not enough to keep it safely immobilized.

Stryker sighed in irritation and returned his gaze to the outdoors. Impatience was not a virtue; it was one of the few vices he acknowledged. Colonel McDaniel and the officer detailed to locate Weapon X and devise a capture plan would be joining him soon and he took comfort in that thought. He finished his coffee and walked through the large, well-appointed kitchen, down a short hall and into a large, comfortably furnished bedroom. Always prepared and meticulous, the suit he intended to wear was hanging just inside the dressing room, along with matching shirt and tie. Stryker brushed an imaginary speck of dust from the jacket’s sleeve.. The suit was a light shade of charcoal, a color chosen to show authority but not to intimidate.

"You know," Augustus said as he exited the dressing room and walked over to the large mahogany dresser, "the chance to work on this project could be the highlight of my career." His clipped, British-tinged accent hung in the air as if awaiting an answer.

"This project would go nowhere if it weren’t for my work," a deep, masculine voice with a noticeable Southern drawl responded softly.

"Nonsense!" Stryker was firm. "Your work is merely providing a ‘launching point’ for this project. You cannot compare apples to oranges. Weapon X cannot begin to touch the complexity of this alien creature. Once I have what I need from it, your ‘creation’ can be used for random experimentation and testing - if it is destroyed in the process, no loss. Since the thing cannot be controlled effectively, it is of very little use in the field. I intend to make sure Predator does exactly what I need it to."

"Perhaps, but finding the way to break Weapon X would bring me peace as well," the other voice responded, sounding somewhat testy. Augustus stopped to look in the mirror hanging above the dresser as he adjusted his tie.

"My work with the alien DNA and Weapon X will be groundbreaking - no - actually earth shattering." He stared directly into the mirror, "Yours will only be known as the beginning to my end. Rest easy, dearest William, I will bring you justice. I promised you that the night I found out what had happened to you at Alkali Lake... Your death…" There was an ominous pause and Augustus’ hand shook slightly on his tie. "We climbed out of that well of despair together, you and I, and reason prevailed as reason always should. Just remember, while I encourage your help, I will also be doing this my way…I ask that you respect that. Have patience; you’ll see."

Augustus smiled warmly.. He really did not need his older brother’s approval or assistance. It would be nice to have both but not mandatory. Encouragement never hurt, however and he decided to proceed as planned no matter what ‘help’ he received. Turning away from the mirror, he walked back toward the kitchen just as the door chime sounded. Rounding the corner of the hall, he opened the glass-paneled door and bowed slightly in welcome.

"Ahhh, Colonel McDaniel, please - come in. I will make a fresh pot of coffee. Where is Major Dunst?"

- - -

The young man looked over as his superior officer emerged from the woods. "Major, good news. We have more information."

Major Dunst took the clipboard from him and glanced at his partner. The other was scribbling down notes as fast as he could with one hand as he held the earphones from the audio surveillance device tightly to his ear with his other. She quickly read over the transcript and a gleam appeared in her eye.

"They actually said this?" She watched him nod and her heart gave a leap. "Radio the others. I will need three snipers, a dart gun, the restraints, the SUV, and female civilian clothes for a disguise. Tell them to meet me…" She grabbed a map and double-checked the location. "Meet me five miles down the road at that grocery store on the corner. Pronto!" Patricia tossed him the map even as she turned to double-time it back to her car. She would not need to mount a frontal assault on the mansion now. Luck was smiling on her.

- - -

Jean Grey could not resist going to Ororo’s attic bedroom. The news that she and Logan had given them a few moments earlier had floored her. She and Scott had been having tea with the Professor on the balcony outside his private suite when Ororo and Logan had asked to speak to the three of them. All three had been surprised since there had been no previous hint of a relationship between the two team members. Surprise had quickly given way to delight and an impromptu ‘baby news’ party planned.

Jean knocked on Ororo’s door and pushed it open to find her friend trying to decide which of two blouses to wear with her floating peasant style skirt and sandals. Jean smiled, emerald eyes sparkling, "Either one, dear. You look dazzling no matter what you put on."

Ororo smiled and for a moment looked almost shy, "I want to look my best. Logan was unimaginably supportive and even excited over the baby."

Jean sat on the edge of the bed, running her hand over the gold colored silk blouse laying there. She hesitated because what she was about to ask was really none of her business. Logan and Ororo were dear friends, however, and she did not want either of them to be hurt…especially by each other.

"Ro?"

"Yes."

"Forgive me for intruding…But you and Logan? I mean, you’ve barely had anything to do with him for a couple of months now. Even Scott commented one day that he wondered if the two of you had had some sort of disagreement."

"Nothing to forgive, sis," Ororo said with a twinkle in her eye. "I’ve thought of talking to you before now." She pushed both blouses out of her way and sat down on the bed, cross-legged and facing Jean. "This is embarrassing for me. I slept with Logan one night because I needed proof I was still an attractive and desirable woman. That was not fair and he did not deserve to be used in that manner. "

Jean grinned, "So typical Ororo emerged. You were uncomfortable and you retreated to the cold, distant aloof goddess we’ve all come to know and love."

Ororo laughed, the sound musical, "Oh yes. Then I felt worse for treating him that way since I was the one to seduce him. He even gave me several opportunities to walk away. So…as I felt even worse for treating him so poorly during the days afterward, I got even more distant. Admitting I’m wrong is not one of my strong suits."

Jean laughed and stood up, "Understood. And now?"

"Jean, he was wonderful and kind and caring. Quick to take responsibility and assure me that he wanted to be involved totally with our child. All things considered, I cannot make myself go on believing this child is an accident or mistake. No matter what happens in our future, the night this child was conceived involved more ‘love’ than I have experienced in a long time. We may not have been ‘in love’ but he was loving, caring, and considerate towards me. Then and now." And maybe I could love him, she thought. Ororo picked up the gold colored silk blouse, put it on, and tied the ends loosely around her waist, leaving the pretty tank top that matched the flowing peasant skirt peeking out. Looping her arm through Jean’s she tugged the stately redhead toward the door.

"Let’s go. I am looking forward now to sharing my news with the rest of our family. And," she grinned in delight, "I’m starved."

- - -

Humans were dangerous, far more dangerous than he had anticipated. K’Ha’Lon-ka shivered, trying not to let them see his movement. When he escaped, he would make sure to take some of these creatures with him. He had been distracted on the landing and they had taken advantage of it. They had laughed at him; he knew what laughter was since the mate of his mother’s mother had told him of Earth many times. Laughter meant lack of honor. There was certainly no honor here. They had tied him down and probed him. He growled softly at the thought of their touch, especially the one that dressed differently in a long cover, the quiet one that had come in after the others and probed him the most. K'Ha'Lon-Ka had tried to kill him for that.

None of these creatures was intelligent enough to be dangerous, except maybe the Quiet One. Most were animals and he would gladly collect their pelts and skulls as the bounty to win back his love’s affection. They may carry weapons but they would make easy prey. The only challenge he could anticipate was escaping and he knew with certainty he would be able to do that as soon as his limb healed. Slowly K’Ha’Lon-ka flexed the still-mending muscles of his upper arm. Soon he would be ready.

The Quiet One, the one who softly commanded the others, that one was foremost in his mind. It had been the one smart enough to confiscate all of his armor. It had given him back his helmet and filter when he had feigned difficulty breathing but the remainder of his gear was still with it. Given enough time, this Quiet One might figure out the weaponry he had and use it against him.

This was the individual who had finally determined cold was the one thing he could not overcome. K’Ha’Lon-ka shivered again. The confining space was kept at a temperature just on the edge of his ability to function and he did not like it. To protest too loudly was to draw attention to his weakness so he simply pretended to sleep when they took away life-giving heat. Food was of no importance; he could go for a long time without it. Those sharp stinging objects pushed fluids under his skin but none of them had been toxic, not to his blood. Without his medical kit, it had taken longer for the bone to heal but his physiology would prevail – his kind was supreme for a reason. Still, the fact that the Quiet One had figured out how to hurt him, probe him, control him, made K’Ha’Lon-ka as uneasy as the low temperature.

The best he could do was bide his time until his limb returned to full function. As long as he played dumb, they would consider him less of a threat. He could fix his ship; the damage had not been severe. He just needed his computer to calculate some of the part adjustments and his computer was in his forearm bracer - with the Quiet One. A loathing crept through him quite unlike how he normally felt about prey. This one, this Quiet One, would be his ultimate prize.

- - -

Walking with Logan to the garage Ororo paused, the talk she had just had with Jean still fresh in her mind. They were going to meet with Jean and Scott before going to pick up supplies for the celebration, but her heart felt twinges of guilt so she tugged on Logan's hand, pulling him to a stop.

"Logan, I wanted to apologize…"

He quickly put a hand up to stop her. "There's nothing to be sorry about. You've made me a very happy man."

She felt him squeeze her hand and was startled to see adoration in his eyes. "I'm glad we're going to be parents. I'm glad you want me to be a part of your life." He softly kissed her, a quick brush of love against her lips.

All the things she was going to say fled in the face of that short, honest speech. She did not remember feeling the floor under her feet as he walked with her the rest of the way towards the car.

- - -

"I can’t get over it. This is just so…" Scott threw the jeep into park and cut the engine. "I still can’t believe it." His face lit up with a broad grin and Ororo laughed from the back seat.

"Come, come, Scott. Next you’ll say I’m already glowing." She cut her eyes to Logan, wondering if he was changing his mind about any of this. His facial expression matched Scott’s to her relief and she grinned as her heart skipped a beat with pleasure as she remembered that last little kiss Logan had given her. He really wanted to be a part of her life…their life. "It’s still a little new to me, too, you know."

Logan climbed out the back and held the door for Ororo. "I wasn’t paying attention or I could have told you a while ago." He reached for her hand and kissed it warmly as she stepped out.

Jean exited the front and walked around to hold Scott’s hand as they headed across the parking lot for the store. "Can you tell if a woman’s pregnant?"

Logan nodded as he wrapped his arm around Ororo and closed the door. "Scent’s different."

"So what’s on the menu for the feast? We have to have…" Scott began.

"Watermelon," stated Ororo firmly. "I have a craving for fresh fruit."

There was a general round of laughter. Jean’s hand jerked a little in Scott’s grip and he turned to look at her. To his surprise, she stopped walking and slowly sank to the asphalt, her eyes rolling back in her head as she fell.

"Jean!" He slid his body between her and the hot pavement, patting her cheek to no avail. Then he noticed a tiny dart protruding from her neck. "What the…?"

A nearby woman in a Laura Ashley floral print dress made an exclamation and trotted over. "What happened? Here, I'm a nurse. Let me look at her."

Before the other three could protest, she stood over Scott and Jean, rummaging in her purse. She whipped a gun out and held it against Scott's head.

"Look around, Wolverine."

Logan’s eyes flicked to the left and right. Two snipers, partially hidden by large vehicles, were positioned with crossfire on them, targets already acquired. He tensed his forearms but did not release the blades.

"Step back toward the SUV behind you or your friends will die. It's as simple as that." The woman's voice was cold and brooked no argument. When he did not move, she added, "You're government property. I have no use for them."

Slowly, angrily, Logan drew away from Ororo and began to step backwards. He knew what kind of people they were dealing with and knew the odds were not in his favor that some nasty surprise was not in store for them.

"No!" Scott started to raise a hand but the gun moved from his skull to point at Jean's.

"No." Logan growled out the word and tried to catch Scott's gaze. His eyes then flicked briefly toward Ororo and Scott gave a small nod.

"I..." Ororo moved toward him, but the woman cocked the hammer and shoved the gun harder against Jean’s temple so she stopped.

Logan stood still as the men behind him put restraints on him, strapping his arms in place, forcing his hands to rest directly under his chin. If he popped the blades now, he would only harm himself. As they securely strapped his legs together, he glared at the bitch in the dress.

She smiled. "You really shouldn't talk on an open balcony. There are many ears in the world. When I said we wanted our property back I meant all of it…Every little bit."

Logan's eyes widened but before he could yell a warning to Ororo, the man behind him slipped a gag in his mouth. Another dart hit its mark and Ororo slumped to the ground. Four men grabbed him and threw him in the back of the SUV but not before the struggling Wolverine caught a glimpse of two men forcibly escorting Ororo to another car.

A small crowd of people started to gather as the SUV and the car drove off. Seething, Scott watched the woman dig into her purse again and pull out a badge.

"National security," she stated crisply. "Everyone go about your business." When they had disbursed, she disarmed the hammer and put her gun back in her purse. "There's one more sniper on the roof of the store. I suggest you simply take your woman and go back to the mansion. Do not follow. Don't try anything or the white-haired woman dies."

Scott watched her get into a nearby car and drive off. Slowly, deliberately, he stood with Jean in his arms, carefully making no threatening movements as he took her back to the jeep. He knew what the woman meant when she said 'every little bit' and his mind readily grasped the danger his friends were in even as he racked his thoughts for ways to get them back.

------

Chapter 3

Scott looked up from the computer screen as Jean moaned slightly. He had gotten her back to the mansion and checked out by Hank as quickly as possible. Dr. McCoy had assured him that other than being nauseous and possibly having a headache that she would be fine in a few hours. With the doctor’s consent and help, he had brought her back to their room and gotten her settled in bed. Then he started using all his acquired hacking skills and every contact the Professor could think of to try to track their attackers. The Professor had yet to achieve any results using Cerebro to find Logan and Ororo. For the moment, he was resting before trying again.

Scott had gotten a good look at the blonde woman’s license plate. They had not been concerned enough about their identities to try to camouflage them. It had been a Government plate so really did not tell him much. Moreover, he did not expect to have much luck searching for the number, especially since the woman had mentioned ‘National Security’. Scott would not let himself think hard about failure. There was too much at stake. Ororo was one of his best friends, a long time companion and confidant who had become something of an older sister figure to him over the years. Logan’s friendship, and more importantly…his respect, had been hard won. It was in Scott’s nature to set extreme value on those things that he had had to work for the hardest. He would not leave Logan or Ororo and the baby to suffer the horrors of being research subjects for the ‘government’. No matter what it took, he would find them.

Movement behind him made him turn to look at Jean. She was now sitting up and leaning against the headboard of the bed, her eyes red rimmed and bleary.

"Hey, babe. Welcome back." Scott walked over and sat on the edge of the bed beside his wife.

"I feel like hell. What happened? We were going to the store to get stuff for an impromptu ‘baby news’ celebration, right?" Jean made a very inadequate effort to straighten her tangled hair.

"Yep. We got to the parking lot and walked into some kind of ambush. Someone shot you with a tranquilizing dart…"

"Oh my God! Scott! Logan and Ro…" Jean had inadvertently picked up the rest of the story via her psychic link with her husband. She tried not to be invasive so it was usually a very passive link. However, Scott’s distress was so strong it pervaded her senses via their connection. In the blink of an eye, the whole drama unfolded into her mind.

Scott looked away, his jaw clenched with fury and humiliation at the memory of his helplessness in the situation. Fearless Leader indeed. For the first time in a long time, he felt that he had failed his team and his friends. Jean leaned forward to wrap her arms around him and lay her head against his back. He could feel the warm, sunlit presence of her in his mind.

<We will get them back> Jean said through their link. Her mind voice was firm.

- - -

Stryker heard the commotion in the corridor before McDaniel and Dunst opened the lab doors to admit the five men struggling to carry their very angry burden. Just inside the room, the male mutant managed to wrench his way out of two of the men's arms and the other three collapsed on top of him on the floor, holding him down with their bodies and carefully avoiding his hands. The metal helmet that had been on his head clattered on the hard linoleum floor. Still restrained and gagged, the subject seemed to be fairly neutralized but the men were taking no chances, having heard from their commanding officer that it was extremely lethal.

"This will never do." Stryker lightly kicked the helmet aside and motioned to his lab orderlies; they began to arrange utensils quickly. "I should introduce myself. I am Doctor Augustus Stryker. I believe you knew my brother William." The mutant raised his head and his eyes focused solely on Stryker, much to the doctor's satisfaction. "Welcome to my lab. Playtime is over." Stryker pulled a small automatic pistol from his pocket and fired in one smooth motion. The bullet struck Weapon X right in the middle of the forehead and he instantly went still.

"Stryker!" McDaniel was outraged. "We spend all that time and money to get him and you…"

"Relax. He's not dead. Far from it." Stryker looked at his watch as he pocketed the gun. "Get him up on the table. We have about one minute to remove his clothes and strap him down before he wakes up. Do not remove the upper torso restraint. Just cut the clothing around it. Gifford, bring the claw restraint gloves." He turned to the only woman in the room. "You said you had another, a female mutant?"

Dunst lifted her chin, preferring to show the good doctor that she could be just as ruthless. "She's on her way. We had to dart her one more time on the trip. Why did we need to put those helmets on them?"

Stryker waived a hand. "It's precaution, really; since one of the mutants at the mansion is a powerful telepath, I needed to shield their whereabouts from him. Now that they are underground, I doubt he can find them. Ah." His eyes lit up when the man carrying Ororo entered the room. "Put her over there, please." He turned to Dunst. "Any idea what her mutation is?"

"No."

"Hmm, we should put a collar on her, just in case." He motioned and one of the orderlies ran to get the device. "It's a pity, really. You said she is pregnant?" Stryker watched her nod. "These suppression collars often cause miscarriages. Still, mutant fetal tissue is just the thing I need for my experiments with the creature's DNA."

"Sir?" One of the orderlies hovered over Ororo with a pair of surgical shears. "Shall I remove her clothing, too?"

"No. Wait until the male is awake. I want to give him something to watch."

McDaniel shivered slightly. William, the Stryker he had worked with, had been a cold, calculating bastard, too, when it came to mutants. This younger brother, though, was a completely new ballgame. He decided to get his own agenda over with so he did not have to see what effect that would have on the male mutant.

"Doctor, have you had any success with the training device for the alien?" McDaniel asked calmly. "I really would like to begin testing it with simple commands, now that its arm is healing."

Stryker rubbed his hands together, evidently pleased at McDaniel’s request. "Yes, Colonel. Here it is." He waited for the orderly to present the commander with a large heavy collar. "Lower the temperature in his cell to approximately 60 degrees and fasten this around his neck. Here is the remote." Stryker fished in another of his lab coat pockets and pulled out a small black object. "It's labeled according to temperature severity. Try not to break it. I only have the one remote so far."

McDaniel surveyed the instrument and smiled. One thing about the Strykers, they did produce results. "Thank you, doctor. Now you can get back to your testing and I can begin mine."

The male mutant was awake now and McDaniel turned on his heel to go, with Major Dunst in his wake. The muffled growls from the male as Stryker’s men began removing the female's clothing followed them halfway down the hall.

- - -

Ororo shivered with cold. Sometime between being taken in the parking lot and waking up in this small cell, her clothes had been taken and replaced with a thin jumpsuit. At least the material was not horribly rough, she thought. Normally temperature changes did not affect her. Therefore, she could only assume that the thin metal band fastened around her neck was yet another version of a power suppression collar. So far, she was able to keep her claustrophobia at bay. It helped that, although small, the cell was brightly lit. She was also distracted by her concern for Logan, Jean, and Scott. Ororo knew that Logan was probably detained somewhere else in this facility. She could only hope that the people that took them had followed through with their seeming disinterest in Jean and Scott. Ororo had barely marshaled all these thoughts when she heard the distinct hiss of gas from a hidden vent. Her last thoughts before slumping to the floor of her cell were of her unborn child.

- - -

The next time Ororo awoke, she was in a different cell. She sat up carefully, battling dizziness and nausea. She allowed her eyes to roam the parameter of the cell. When her eyes noted the figure lying on the floor in the far corner, she let out a small cry and staggered over to sink down by Logan. He was clad in the same type of neutral colored jumpsuit as she. The bulky restraints she had seen them put on him during the capture were gone. She ran her eyes over him trying to discern any injuries but not seeing anything readily apparent. Ororo did note, however, that he had not been fitted with a suppression collar. Then she saw his hands and she bit her bottom lip hard to keep from crying out.

Ororo gently lifted his left hand, the one nearest her. It was encased in what looked like a metal glove, minus the finger coverings. Instead, wide bands of metal ran between each finger. Ororo was sure they were designed to keep him from extending his claws. She moved his arm slightly so she could look for any kind of lock or release catch. Ororo felt sure if it had any kind of locking mechanism she would be able to defeat it. Many years spent as a thief had given her prodigious skills in the arena of lock picking. Glancing across Logan, she noted with dismay that blood was seeping from around where the ‘glove’ fitted around his wrist. Clenching her teeth, Ororo realized locks did not join the thing. She could barely discern a small raised spot in both the center of the palm and wrist. The device was ‘locked’ by two welded pins, one that ran from the top piece, through the palm and locked into the bottom piece, another pin ran through the wrist. The shape of the ‘gloves’ kept his hands arched at an uncomfortable looking angle and the fingers spread slightly.

Moving him to the shelf that appeared to serve as a bed was out of the question. Ororo settled herself with her back against the wall. From that position, she could see the entrance to the cell. She did not know if she would have any chance to protect him if they came back, but she sure as hell would try. It took some effort, but she managed to shift Logan so that his head rested in her lap. Stroking his hair gently, she closed her eyes and mentally apologized to her Goddess for the mayhem she was going to cause at her first opportunity.

- - -

From a control room above the cell, Augustus Stryker monitored the two mutants. Cameras kept every inch of the cell in view. In addition, the control room was positioned so that he could see directly into the cell from the top or into the cell’s adjoining laboratory. He wondered idly what the ceilings of the cell and the lab were made of that allowed for both the lighting and his easy view into itÖhe made a mental note to find out later. One entrance into the cell, the one across from where the two mutants lay, was obvious and looked out onto a brightly lit corridor. Another entrance, disguised into the wall at the back…in fact the white haired woman was leaning against it...opened directly into a laboratory. Stryker was quite pleased at the clever arrangement.

"He should be waking up soon," the deep Southern voice of William drawled in his ear, the voice almost sibilant with pleasure and anticipation.

"Yes, we shut off the gas just before putting the woman in. He will regain consciousness soon," Augustus replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. He really was not in the mood for another argument with William regarding how they were going to proceed. He thought he had made it clear that he was running the operation, not William. Fighting a headache, he returned his attention to the pair in the cell.

- - -

The first thing Logan noticed as consciousness crept back in was that he was no longer alone. Almost as quickly, he recognized the scent. It was Ororo. Even with everything they had been through in the last several hours, she still smelled of forest and fresh rain with the barest hint of cinnamon mixed in. Logan mentally smiled. The cinnamon scent was her favorite cologne. It was excruciatingly expensive and she hoarded it like a miser. He had gotten her a new bottle for her last birthday. She had almost cried. The memory faded as he next became aware of a thundering pain in his head, centered just behind his eyes, and an echoing agony in both hands and wrists. Logan knew the headache would subside soon. His body would rapidly clear the noxious knockout gas out of his system.

Logan tried to shift, starting to use his right arm to brace himself so he would not awaken Ororo. Almost immediately, he had to bite down on his lip to keep from crying out at the pain that shot from his hand and wrist up the length of his entire arm. He levered himself up rapidly in order to get the weight off his arm and swore as Ororo’s eyes blinked open.

"I’m sorry," he said through gritted teeth. "I didn’t want to wake you."

"Is alright," Ororo mumbled, still a bit disoriented with sleep. Suddenly her eyes widened, "Logan, your hand… it’s bleeding again."

Logan nodded and shifted to lean back against the wall next to her, keeping his shoulder brushing hers. He tilted his head back to rest against the wall and concentrated on willing the pain in his hands and wrists to go away. Guilt over their predicament consumed him. Ro did not deserve this. The last thing he wanted was for his previous life to affect the people he had come to care about. However, there seemed no way around it short of leaving them for good, once they got out of this mess. He turned his head slightly to glance at the beautiful woman leaning against him. In his soul, he knew there was no way in hell he could ever leave her and their unborn child. His future was inextricably bound to hers, the baby’s, and their friends who had become family at Xavier’s mansion.

"Logan?"

Logan looked at Ororo and she nodded at his hands, "What can we do?"

He shrugged, "Don’t know yet. Painful and unpleasant but not life threatening. They’ll probably heal enough for me to deal unless I keep trying to move them." He paused and looked around the cell and out into the brightly lit corridor beyond, "For now, we’ve got worse problems."

Indeed, as she watched, Ororo noted that fresh blood did not seem to be seeping from around the wristband or from under the knuckle guards of the ‘gloves’. She absently noted that the metal gloves had the same highly polished, cold sheen as his claws. It made sense that they would use adamantium as the claw restraints. It was the one material that the aforementioned claws could not cut through like butter.

Logan jerked his head up and Ororo heard it soon after; a soft hissing noise announcing more gas. Helpless to stop the flow, they could only wait for what would happen next.

- - -

McDaniel nodded as he watched the scene below him. Things were going smoothly with the alien. It understood he meant business with the collar and was beginning to behave appropriately. Over the last few hours, several test runs had yielded telling results and he looked forward to teaching it more complex commands. As he stood at the window of the control room overlooking the 30 x 30-foot arena below, he began to see all sorts of applications for the new military weapon.

"Sir?"

Startled out of his reverie, McDaniel looked over at Dunst and cocked an eyebrow, then frowned and waved her to silence as his sat-phone rang. She nodded and waited patiently.

"McDaniel here."

"Mike, good to speak with you directly. My staff is wondering when we’re getting the spacecraft?"

McDaniel grimaced and made a face at Dunst. She laughed quietly understanding that the man on the other end was McDaniel’s superior out of Area 51, Major General Thomas. No doubt, Thomas and his techno-geeks at 51 were frothing at the mouth to get their hands on the alien spacecraft. She listened as McDaniel assured the man on the other end of the line that they only needed the vehicle for another two days before releasing it and having it shipped to Nevada.

As he clicked the off button on the phone and set it down, he indicated that Dunst should continue.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

He frowned, "I’ve always encouraged my subordinates to tell me what’s on their minds, Major. Why ask now?"

She looked down and watched as the alien was held at bay with temperature while the blood and gore that once was a dog was mopped up. "Sir, you don’t seem to have a problem with testing animals on that ‘thing’ below. Why were you so anxious to get out of Stryker’s lab? In fact, I haven’t seen you go in there since we got the collar and he got the mutants."

"You weren’t around for the last Stryker so I suppose you don’t know what is done to them in those labs." He shrugged his shoulders. "Animals and aliens are one thing. These mutants look…human. I suppose I’m showing my age when I say that I prefer to kill the enemy quickly. I don’t go in for psychological torture — or even prolonged physical torture just for the sake of torturing something - and that’s what Stryker will be doing to them, especially the male. That woman, she was almost normal. Now I wouldn’t hesitate to pull a trigger and kill her, Dunst, so don’t get me wrong; she represents the extinction of our species. But I don’t think I could do what our good doctor is going to do to her and still be able to sleep at night."

He looked back down into the arena and watched the alien prowl around, testing the walls yet again. "That thing down there is different; it’s an animal and we can train it as we please. Even Stryker said he didn’t think it was capable of creating the sophisticated weaponry in that craft we took down. He thinks this species stole it from another so it could hunt here. It does nothing but kill, so we’re having it kill for us instead of for itself. It shouldn’t bother the creature that much as it still gets to do what it likes to do." McDaniel turned back to Dunst. "Understand the difference?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir. I agree. Sir, we’re going to need to test the alien on a human target soon. Since Stryker now has controls on the male mutant so he can do his experiments, I don’t see why we can’t put the female in here. He said the fetus would probably abort anyway and that the female is generally useless to him since he had to collar her. Maybe we could give her a mercifully quick death and test the alien with a human-like subject at the same time."

McDaniel sighed. He had been thinking the same thing. It would be more merciful to put the female out of her misery and the alien was certainly quick to take out anything put against it. He could still picture the lovely hair and skin of the mutant; there was a danger in keeping something that human looking, that beautiful, here with all the men around. She should be dealt with, but in a more humane method than Stryker would use. Yes, he needed a human-like test subject and she would do nicely; it would be doing her a favor in the end. He nodded to himself even as he spoke.

"We’ll test it with a few more dogs first and then go and get her for a follow up. Make sure she is not wearing anything remotely military. I don’t want to give that thing any ideas."

- - -

Jean Grey sat cross-legged in the center of the king-sized bed in the suite she shared with her husband. The television was on in the background as Scott half-watched a news program. At the same time, he was staring at his computer screen — ever looking for some clue on how to find their missing friends. Jean had been casting a telepathic ‘net’ every hour trying to catch something that would help them or give them a clue of where to start. Far below, Professor Xavier had rarely left Cerebro long enough to eat or sleep. He was pushing himself into exhaustion but would not stop. After all, Ororo was one of his first ‘kids’ and he still felt an overwhelming amount of guilt that he had not been there for Logan sooner. That Wolverine had had to endure a living hell for so long weighed heavily on Xavier.

"...and world renowned Geneticist, Dr. Augustus Stryker, has relocated to the United States, following in his late brother’s footsteps…."

"Scott!" Jean’s attention was suddenly riveted on the television screen. "TIVO that back to the beginning of that story."

Scott obligingly picked up the remote and ran the news program back until Jean told him to stop. They both watched the story with intense interest. As it ended, Scott looked at his lovely wife with a raised eyebrow, "You aren’t thinking there were two of them, are you?"

Jean pushed her heavy red hair back and pulled her laptop in front of her, "That’s exactly what I’m thinking. Late brother? Geneticist. Come on, Scott. How many mutant-hating Strykers can there be? Realistically."

They both turned to their computers and worked in silence for several minutes. Scott was beginning to think this lead would once again bear no fruit when his web browser downloaded the page from his latest search. He took a deep breath and called Jean over. Together they perused the web page and all its associated links. Both felt sick to their stomachs at the implications in the information they had come across.

Scott sat back, "I’ll take this to Charles. Maybe now he can pull out some of the big guns and get us some kind of trace on this guy."

Jean nodded, tears glistening in her emerald eyes, "IF even a fraction of that one news article is true..."

Scott shuddered as he thought of the report done by an ‘undercover’ journalist regarding a prison in England that Augustus Stryker had been allegedly associated with. The atrocities outlined in the article were sickening and only served to heighten Scott’s fear for his friends. He looked up to see Jean staring out the window with tears running freely down her face. Ororo and Jean’s relationship could not be described simply as ‘best friends’. They had the same kind of bond one usually associated with close sisters. There was a great deal of love and respect between the two women though their interests and a majority of their personal beliefs were radically different. In addition, Jean’s earlier tempestuous feelings toward the Wolverine had settled into a strong, firm friendship. Scott smiled. His wife was not the delicate and fragile personality most people assumed. Now that she had a tangible lead, God help this Augustus Stryker if he were involved in Logan and Ororo’s disappearance.

- - -

Ororo was not sure whether hours or days had passed but a regular pattern was beginning to emerge now that she thought back on it. They would gas the room, take Logan away, gas the room, and bring Logan back. When he awoke and began to move around, the gassing would begin again. Actually, during the first two or three times Logan had disappeared, another gas would seep into the room, an acrid-smelling substance that had burned her lungs and made her cry out in pain. As soon as she slumped to the floor coughing and gagging, a fan would blow and suck the poison from the room. She had not been sure why they were threatening to kill her and then letting her live, but after the first few incidences, they seemed to tire of the game.

Each time Logan had come back, they had left a small tray of food, barely enough for her to eat, let alone feed both of them. Taking only what she needed, Ororo had left the rest for Logan, but, by the time he started to move around and show interest in the food, they would take him and the tray away before he could eat. Several times she had tried to speak to him, tell him how they would make it through this, but he would weakly raise a bloody finger to her lips and she would fall silent.

Tears in her eyes, she had tried to wipe away the blood from his badly abused hands but he had pulled them gently away. In fact, the more times he disappeared, the more he pulled away completely until even touching him as he lay semi-conscious would cause him to automatically jerk away from her loving fingertips. She had realized after the first disappearance that they were abusing him; his haunted eyes told her what he would not say aloud and she cried inside, knowing there was nothing she could do to protect him. While he was gone, she took to cradling her arms around herself and rocking in a seated position. Logan was drawing away from her and she desperately needed the healing power of touch now so she had tried to give it to herself.

The last two times he had returned, Logan was so pale and drawn she knew whatever they were doing was slowly killing him. He would retch and nothing would come up, not even spit. Barely able to crawl, he had tried to move near her. It seemed that, although he refused her hands on his skin, he still needed to see her, smell her, and know she was safe. It was small comfort to her. She had wanted to wipe away the blood that smeared his face and neck but he had shaken his head; he had not let her look under the jumpsuit either. She had grown frustrated at the wall of silence he was building and her heart sank at the thought of him becoming so distant from her.

Normally it took him a shorter amount of time to recover from the gas than it did her. Now it was taking him longer and longer just to move from where they were dumping him on the hard floor. This last time, she had been able to stroke his hair for a long moment, watching his chest work hard for even the tiniest bit of air, praying to the Goddess that each time his breath expelled, it would not be for the last time. She needed him; she loved him. Strange how such a situation drove home the fact that she had grown to care for him more deeply than she ever had for Kurt. This was a love she had not even realized was forming and now it was being taken away right before her eyes. Her heart had clenched at the thought of losing him. His warm eyes and touch had meant so much that night. She had blinked back tears trying to remember what it felt like to kiss him and hold him. Her fingers had trembled their way through his blood-encrusted hair as her mind replayed that loving night of passion. It seemed so far away now, as if from a different life.

She had expected the gassing again. Logan had begun to twitch at her touch and she knew his healing factor was bringing him around. Although she had tried to gently hold him down and allow him some rest, he had struggled to lift his head and look around for her. The second he did that, the hissing noises started again. She had cried out and flung herself on him as if to protect him from their abuse. In her ear she had faintly heard the words "I love you, Ororo" before the darkness took her. She awakened alone.

In turmoil now, thinking over what had been happening; she paced the floor of the cell. Every now and then she looked up at the reflective ceiling tiles that let light through from the other side but showed her nothing in return. They were watching. They had to be. They always knew when Logan recovered. His words haunted her. Were they the last ones she would hear him say? Would they finally find a way to kill him? Take him from her?

A metallic click sounded behind her and she spun around, fists up and ready for anything. The wall of the cell opposite the door was slowly opening, revealing a completely different side of the complex from the concrete cells she had seen so far.

- - -

It burned. K'Ha'Lon-Ka knew the device contained some kind of refrigerant to bring his temperature down quickly but he could not remove it. The metal encasement would not give. It burned with cold and made him feel weak for the first time in his life. No matter what kind of force he tried, it would not break. Still it burned with a coldness that seemed to freeze his skin off, seemed to freeze his brain to a numbness that scared him. He had never known this kind of fear before and was beginning to wonder now if he would survive this planet and see his beloved again.

Nothing like this thing existed on his planet; punishment like this was never used. Those who broke the law were allowed a challenge or accepted their atonement. This went beyond punishment; it was torture and was not considered honorable. A hunter never tortured his prey like this. A quick kill was homage to the prey hunted. If prey proved itself worthy, it was allowed a challenge, a face-to-face battle with the hunter. He was not given this opportunity. All they offered him were beasts without minds.

K'Ha'Lon-Ka knew what they wanted: they wanted him to kill for them; they were trying to train him to kill what they wanted. He shook his head in disbelief. Not only were they dishonorable, they were monsters. There was no honor here, no fight in their dead hearts, and no bravery in their blood. They had taken his ship. They had taken his freedom.

They had taken his armor. They had just now taken more of his blood. His eyes looked up into the red mass of heat from the lights in the room above him and they burned with hatred. These monsters tortured him and wanted death in return. Well, he would give it to them. The next human to enter this round room would die, no matter what it took. He hoped he would have a chance to get the Quiet One before they took him down with the device again.

- - -

Once the wall was fully open, Ororo realized she was gripping her fists so tightly she had drawn blood from her palms with her own nails. Three soldiers, stationed behind the wall, were now aiming their weapons at her.

"This way," one of them ordered, as if she were nothing more than a dog.

Chin up, she decided to take advantage of the situation and learn all she could while away from the cell. With all the dignity in her, she strode past the other two men and followed the one who had spoken, ignoring the assault rifles pointed at her as she moved. She knew she might be able to take them but there was another life within her that she had to think about now and ‘might’ was not good enough anymore.

The room was much larger than she had supposed but she was given little time to look around as she was led to an examination table. Still in that tone of voice that considered her nothing more than an animal, she was instructed to sit upon the table. The whiteness and brightness of the place was startling and her eyes took a moment to adjust. It was a laboratory. Clean and stark in appearance, it nevertheless felt dirty to her as she watched the furtive glances of the three men and understood what they wanted to do with her. Her eyes grew cold; they grinned at first, and then turned away as her gaze continued to bore through them.

There was a muffled undertone of voices and she realized there were more men in the room. Partially concealed by a hospital style curtain suspended from the ceiling, she counted several pairs of paper booties normally worn in an operating room just visible below the hem of the white cloth. One man stepped from behind the curtain and tore off bloodstained surgical gloves before picking up a phone and pressing a button. He pulled down his surgical mask in order to speak more clearly.

"We’re just about done taking out what you asked for, sir. Any last additions?" There was a pause, "Yes, sir. Will do."

He hung up and poked his head around the curtain, "He says he needs the thyroid again and the prostate this time." Turning back around, the man was going to strip off his gown when he spotted Ororo watching him. "Good. Thanks for bringing it in. I’ll take care of it." He picked up a tray on a nearby table and carried it over to a table nearer Ororo.

When she noticed the syringes and the catheter tube, it dawned on her that they wanted her blood and urine.

She frowned, "You don’t need that. I can urinate in a small cup for you."

"Okay, that’s pretty much it for now, then," said another man as he walked from behind the screen and inadvertently pulled the curtain with him.

The sight rooted Ororo in place on the table. Several men hovered over an operating table, shoulder to shoulder. Occasionally one would hand something bloody and indescribable to another man waiting behind him with a cooler for the object. They reminded her of vultures, picking the prey beneath them clean with their sharp beaks. Then she spotted the far end of the table. Two feet, two very familiar feet, were just visible out from under the pack of surgeons and her mind began to reel with the possibility of what they were doing. One of the feet twitched in a spasm and she felt hot tears fall from her eyes. Oh, Goddess! They were taking his organs! They were ripping Logan apart from the inside!

She lurched forward off the table, cheeks flushed with anger and horror as she moved to strike down the men, but a cruel blow smashed against the side of her head and she fell to the floor, stunned. One of the soldiers had struck her but it was the surgeon who was now on top of her, wrenching her chin up so she could look at the table where Logan lay.

"Do that again and we’ll take out his heart." His hot breath seared her skin as his menacing voice continued, "I need to get you back to that cell, bitch, and I don’t want any problems. If you’re not back in there in the next few minutes, he won’t see you on the monitor when he comes to. If he can’t see you, he’ll fight and I prefer to take the bastard apart when he’s not fighting, got me?"

She blinked. Suspended over the operating table, right above where Logan’s head would be, was a monitor that showed the cell she had been in. So, that was it. She had been gassed at first to show Logan they could kill her if he did not cooperate. He had let them cut him open so she would be safe. No anesthesia, no compassion, they had simply hung her life over his head in order to make him obey and allow them do their worst to him. She forced herself to nod and the surgical man pulled her up and off the icy floor. She stumbled when he pushed her toward the opening to the cell.

"Put it back. We have what we need from it."

Monsters, she thought numbly, they were nothing but monsters. The wall closed behind her before the reality of the situation sunk in. She turned and smashed her fists against it, enraged at what they were doing. Anger blinded her vision and she shook with it, desperately wanting to rip them apart as they were doing to Logan. She tore at the collar around her neck and her palms left it slick with blood from her earlier wounds. Finally exhausted, she leaned against the wall and waited for the next horror to unfold.

The door behind her opened suddenly and she flew at the nearest man that entered.

A fight ensued and she gave as good as she got for a moment before lack of food and exhaustion gave them the edge over her they needed. Bruised and battered, she was led away, locked in the arms of two huge soldiers on either side of her.

A sudden pain made her gasp and double over slightly and they jerked her upright and off her feet. A chill crawled up her spine; had she hurt the baby by fighting? Was it just a muscle spasm? She tried to focus on the sensation but it left as quickly as it had come. She had looked forward to having the baby, to Logan entering a new part of her life; now her world was slowly falling apart. Dimly she wondered what kind of torture she was headed for now and if they would cut out Logan’s heart for what she had just done.

- - -

Scott wanted to roar or break something as the Professor put the receiver of the telephone back in its cradle, shaking his head at Scott as he did so. Yet another dead end in their search for Logan and Ororo. Scott exploded out of his chair and stalked over to the window that looked out upon the estate’s pristine front and side lawn. It had been two days since the attack at the grocery store. Scott and Jean thought they were onto something when they had stumbled across the existence of Augustus Stryker. However, nothing else had been forthcoming on the man.

Scott was sleeping less and less. Repeatedly he read the article that they had found on the internet. He tormented himself with the images the article invoked of gruesome experimentation on ‘lifers’ at the prison that Stryker had been associated with on a ‘research project’. When he would finally sleep, he would awaken suddenly, hearing his friends’ agonized screams in his mind.

Scott looked back at the desk as the Professor’s phone rang again. A forlorn voice caught his attention, "Cott, step up?"

Scott smiled and walked over to the large, elaborate bird play stand that had been moved into Charles’ office. A large, beautiful Blue and Gold Macaw parrot stood on the top ‘branch’ with one foot up…pleading for Scott to pick him up. The bird belonged to Logan. The Professor had had Scott move the bird to his ‘temporary’ cage that was in the smaller of the sunrooms near the back of the mansion. Most of the parrot’s days were spent on the play stand in the office.

Scott extended his arm, "Step up, Featherbutt." The bird’s actual name was Gryphon but almost everyone referred to him by the nickname Logan had given him.

Gryphon rested his large, rather intimidating beak on Scott’s forearm briefly, merely checking to make sure his new ‘perch’ was not going to move suddenly. Then he stepped onto his arm and immediately leaned against his chest, silently begging to be petted, and scritched. Scott cuddled the bird closer and gently ran his free hand up under the bird’s wings. Gryphon seemed to sigh and tucked his head against Scott while enjoying the attention.

Scott tuned out the Professor’s voice as he spoke with yet another of his mysterious contacts on the telephone. For the moment, he devoted his attention to the parrot that was now cuddled down comfortably in his arms. Gryphon lifted his wings slightly so that Scott could continue to rub the wing muscles underneath. Both he and the bird were startled when the door to the office flew open and Jean came in.

She stopped by the Professor’s desk, tapping her foot impatiently. Today she was clad in blue jeans, white Keds and one of Scott’s old dress shirts. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail and her glasses sat precariously on the bridge of her nose. Scott thought she had never looked more beautiful.

Charles spoke for a few more moments and put the phone down with a sigh. Jean moved around his desk and clicked on his e-mail program. Her eyes shone with excitement.

"I found a forwarding address not too far from here. In Maine."

Scott came over to watch the information Jean had ferreted out download onto the monitor. Even Gryphon tried to watch what was happening; having picked up on Jean’s heightened emotions. He squawked excitedly, "Wanna nut."

Absently the Professor reached into his top desk drawer, took out an almond in the shell, and handed it to the bird. As soon as the information was downloaded and clear, the Professor hit ‘print’ and then switched to a GPS program. In moments, he and Scott had decided on a landing area for the Blackbird. Jean had disappeared to suit up and ready the jet. Scott left the Professor to call the other members of the team. He returned the macaw to the play stand with a last gentle rub down the bird’s brilliant blue wings.

"We’ll have your dad home in no time, Gryphon." Scott assured the bird before quickly exiting the office.

- - -

Chapter 4: unbeta'd - read at your own risk...

Ororo realized she had not been paying attention to the twists and turns in the hall and she berated herself. This was her opportunity to find out more about where they were in order to make good on an escape later. Too late, she found they were at the destination and she had no way of knowing where the cell was that she and Logan had been held in. Her heart clenched at the thought of Logan, but she forced herself to remain focused.

They shoved her against a metal wall that opened suddenly. She fell through and into the room beyond. Before she could regain her balance, the wall closed once more. It was dark except for a small grate in the wall to one side where light shone through; she knelt down and peered into a strange room. Animals of all sizes, shapes, and degrees of ferocity were growling, snorting, and barking in it. She realized the grate was actually a door that was part of an entrance chute. She drew back against the opposite wall. Did they mean to put one those vicious dogs in here with her? Ororo felt around realized the room she was in was tiny. She gasped and fought her claustrophobia. They were going to kill her in a coffin-sized room.

A familiar hissing noise started above her head and she crouched low to try to stay in the normal air as long as possible. The wall to her left, opposite of where she came in, opened and she dove for the chance to escape, rolling to her feet, and immediately assuming a defensive posture. Immediately the wall closed again and she realized she had been tricked. She was now in a large arena. Ororo glanced upward and saw the observation booth high above her head. Faces looked down but not at her and she stared in the direction their gazes and gasped. A large, formidable male form with a strange, shiny, helmet on its head was rising slowly from a seated position on the floor and moving rapidly in her direction. He was huge. Large claws extended from the tips of his enormous hands and his skin was different, more like a mottled black and brown exoskeleton. It wore some type of leather and netting over its torso and its ‘hair’ was woven into dreadlocks with what looked like tiny skulls hanging at the end of several of the plaits. Fleetingly Ororo wondered if he was also a mutant and being used and abused as she was. His next advance, however, forced her to focus her mind on keeping herself and her child alive.

With surprising agility, he lunged and she narrowly had time to dive to the side and kick out at a knee, throwing the creature off balance. Quickly she stood and made ready for another defensive move. There was no way she could take him down head on. She would have to counter attack and tire him out before she went for a vital spot. With deadly grace, she and the creature did their ‘dance’ around most of the room and she found to her dismay that she was the one beginning to tire. Claws had raked her back on the last dodge and she was biting her lip to keep from screaming in pain.. He feinted and Ororo instinctively moved opposite only to find one of his large hands was now wrapped around her throat. Desperate to save her child, she lashed out with a foot and caught the helmet on the chin. That was when she noticed the collar. There were angry burn marks around his neck underneath it and she realized it probably dealt out punishment; the scientists must have put it on him. He must be a mutant and they were abusing him, too, like Logan. She felt a strange sense of pity for him as she would for any tortured life force even as she struggled against his grip. With an awesome show of strength, she felt him lift her from the ground and hold her out in front of him as he touched his helmet and stood completely still.

- - -

K'Ha'Lon-Ka waited a heartbeat or two for the sensors in his helmet to readjust from the kick. At first, he had been more than willing to kill the human but her defense surprised him. Admittedly, he was impressed. The little female not only fought but also fought well and with courage that he found lacking in the other humans. Honorably, she had not made a sound, even when he had drawn her blood. He rescanned her structure as he held her up in front of him. She was graceful, delicate, but strong, and he absently wondered what kind of worth her bones and pelt would bring. Then his eyes focused on her reproductive area. She was a gestating female. Stunned, he almost dropped her. Had they no honor at all? As he gently set her down, he realized there was a collar around her neck, too. Just what was going on here? First mindless animal opponents and now a gestating female. Was she one of their own or was she being controlled as he was?

Pain tore through his neck and K'Ha'Lon-Ka gasped behind his mask. Even as his mind numbed with cold and they screamed at him repeatedly to kill, he refused, sinking to his knees in a gesture of respect. Could she put him out of his misery? No, she was like a child and did not have the strength. Would she understand why he did not kill her? No, they did not grasp that kind of honor here.

He watched in disbelief as her hand touched first her collar and then his. Did she understand? He heard a soft sound come from her throat and she knelt in front of him. She must not be human, he thought dimly as the collar grew even colder. Helpless now, he fell sideways to the floor and wished that her grip were far stronger. She was merciful; she must know what torture was like. She was not trying to kill, only to heal. Her gentle touch reminded him of his intended, the future mate he would not see again.

The arena door opened and he heard the sounds of the humans running in. To his surprise, the little female rose and stood protectively over him. She was honorable, a true warrior, he realized as he watched her fight. In the end, they stunned her with the same stick they used on him and dragged her away. He vowed then that if he freed himself, he would find and free her as well.

- - -

Logan forced his mind through a fog of pain and into consciousness. He did not move, though. Ororo had been right to try to keep him down. Every time he checked on her they knew he was recovered enough to gut him again. Slowly, he focused his hearing on his surroundings. He was still in the lab, on the table, and they had closed the coveralls he wore so he assumed they were done taking him apart for now. This time they must have taken more for he hurt from his throat to his groin and he only just kept himself from groaning at the pain. He would not give away the fact that he was conscious, not yet. Only a few heartbeats were near him. Good.. The way he felt, the fewer the better.

A door opened and another male came into the room. Logan heard a faint clink as he set something down, a metal tray.

"Here are the latest blood samples from the ‘thing’. We managed to draw much more than we did the last time. I love that damn collar, makes things so easy. I could cut its balls off and it couldn’t do anything to me."

Logan felt sympathy for the alien as he felt his own body healing from what had too recently been done to it.

"I heard them say they were going to test it against something else just as I left."

There was a grunt, "How many dogs are they going to let it rip apart before they try it on something new? Hey, help me with this before our ‘thing’ wakes up, will you?" Footsteps moved further away.

He opened his eyes the tiniest bit so he could see the monitor above his head. He had to make sure Ororo was okay. She and the baby were the only things keeping him sane right now. The cell was empty. They had taken her away. Rage threatened to cloud his vision and he forced himself to remain calm. He could not help her if he went berserk. There were other monitors off to his left; he should check them first. He moaned and thrashed a little, purposely turning his head in that direction. Then he went still again. The heartbeats in the room had flown to his side, but when he failed to move some more, they retreated again. One of the men had smelled like cinnamon. Ororo had been in here.

Definitely on edge now, Logan cautiously cracked his eyes to see the other views of the complex. He had seen one monitor with an image of the large creature he had heard the bastards with scalpels make jokes about; the military had a real live alien to play with. Sure enough, the alien was on the lower right hand screen but he was not alone. Logan’s eyes flew wide. Ororo was in the room with the alien and fighting for her life. Instantly Logan began to tear at the straps, the sharp edges of the metal gloves, intentionally left that way to cut into his skin, did a fast job on the leather restraints and he broke one arm free before the men knew what was happening. The other arm was not far behind.

The metal gloves were good for one thing, Logan thought as he ripped the IV out, rolled off the table, and crushed a skull between them. Another man jumped him from behind and he rammed himself backward, crushing the man’s pelvis against the operating table, and then finished him off with an elbow to the windpipe.

Allowed to release his aggression for the first time since they began ‘harvesting’ from him, Wolverine snarled as he shoved a metal-laden palm into the next man’s face, smashing the nose up and into the brain, killing the man instantly. The last man between him and the door tripped going backward and Logan threw himself on top of him, knocking the contents of a table down upon them both.

The man’s eyes were wide with fear and Logan raised himself up for the strike when he felt a curious burning sensation in his neck. Suddenly dizzy, he slumped on top of the man as the lights in the room dimmed and went out.

"What did you put in him?"

Between the two of them, they dragged Logan back to his confinement area and secured the wall.

Stryker was grim. "Did you notice anything wrong with his hands, Gifford? I thought I detected some holes in the gloves. You would not have cheated and used an alloy when making them did you?" Stryker advanced on the now cowering man. "I specifically said adamantium only."

"You thought." There was a sneer as a Southern accent immediately presented itself. "You aren’t the brains of this operation, you sniveling little Brit." Stryker grabbed a scalpel off a table and plunged it into the man, ripping into him repeatedly. A moment later there was calm once more.

He grabbed a fresh lab coat as he listened to his brother’s smooth Southern drawl reply. "You must admit, he’s impressive."

"I now see where you get the impulse to hack people apart with a scalpel." Stryker slammed open the lab door and strode angrily down the hall. "He wouldn’t have been capable of that much damage if you hadn’t insisted that we keep giving him the protein IVs."

"You were the one who needed all those organs. I can’t help it if he made short work of your staff."

"Yes, and I intend to make short work of you if you don’t butt out. We’re here for revenge, remember?" Stryker muttered softly, holding to silence as he passed a sentry.

The drawl returned, "Oh, no brother dearest, don’t blame this on me. You wanted to best my work. Remember? So much for your genius; you can’t even keep the Wolverine under control."

"Of course I can’t keep him under control as long as I have idiots who disregard my orders," Stryker hissed menacingly. "If we’re going to take out our aggressions on someone, I suggest it be McDaniel."

"Too true. Ten to one the little blonde bitch had something to do with it. She’s the dangerous one. Get rid of her and McDaniel will be an easier target."

Stryker nodded as he reached the control room door. "Agreed."

- - -

Then she saw, from the corner of her eye, Logan lying on his side on the floor near the bed-shelf. Without another thought for escape or the pain in her back and shoulder, she went to kneel by him. Since he was not awake to stop her this time, she opened the front of the coveralls that covered his chest and gasped at the sight. Ororo felt a keening wail of grief try to rise in her throat as her hands gently traced the network of not nearly healed surgical scars that crisscrossed his body. His hands, what little could be seen around the gloves, were a bloody mess.

Had they taken his heart in retaliation for her actions? She could not tell for sure. There were so many scars, so much damage. She eased him onto his back and rested her hand on his chest, above his heart and a real sob caught in her throat. Ororo could not feel a heart beat. With dread in her own heart, she leaned close trying to detect even a whisper of breath. There was none. At that moment Ororo felt her soul shatter as she curled as close to Logan as possible and sobbed. They may not have taken his heart but they had certainly taken hers.

"Oh, Goddess, please, not that, too…"

- - -

Patricia Dunst kept her eyes on the monitor and smiled as the white haired mutant wrapped her arms around herself in sudden pain. She knew Stryker wanted to keep the woman as leverage and for later experimentation. The woman, however, betrayed a weakness in Weapon X that Dunst felt needed to be eliminated. If her plan succeeded, the woman would be removed and eventually so would Stryker. McDaniel’s plan to use the alien was fine. However, if Patricia could bring Weapon X back online that would feather her own career cap nicely. She had no doubts about her ability to control the man known as Wolverine. She had studied the records in minute detail.

Stryker entered the Control Room and Dunst looked up briefly from the monitor she was watching. She inclined her head at the pair of mutants, "He’s not looking too good, Doctor."

Stryker strolled over and looked over the array of monitors with a clinical eye. Major Dunst intrigued him. Although he had met some very detached female scientists in his day, none showed the ruthless tendencies of this petite and beautiful blond woman. Too bad, she obviously had her own agenda and needed to be dealt with.

"True and he may yet die. It would be unfortunate were that to happen. I now see a number of other experiments we need to run using Predator’s blood. Perhaps a method of actually controlling Weapon X has inadvertently been discovered," Augustus touched a control to adjust the angle of one of the cameras.

Keeping her voice neutral, Patricia asked, "Why did you have the female returned to Weapon X?" To her ears, the question sounded merely curious and even a bit disinterested.

"It is an interesting psychological study to have that which will bend Weapon X to our will without undue physical force. As long as I have her, he will not fight. Since fighting is his way, this might ultimately break him to our purposes. If that doesn’t do it, eventually killing her anyway will." Stryker’s voice was cold but for a brief moment, Dunst thought she heard an odd inflection in his accent.

"My turn," Stryker turned his eyes on her. "Why did you and McDaniel take the female and put her in with Predator knowing I still had plans for her?"

"Dr. Stryker," a voice sounded from the intercom, "to surgery. We are ready to proceed with the abortion."

Augustus nodded regally at the woman as he crossed the room to leave. He was certain the seeds of his plan had been sewn in her psyche.

- - -

Scott tiredly finished the shutdown check on the Blackbird as his teammates exited the jet. Jean removed her shoulder and lap restraints, got up from the co-pilot’s seat, leaned down to kiss him, and made her way off the jet. Scott unfastened his own security restraints, leaned back against the padded headrest, and closed his eyes. The trip had been almost a total bust. They had indeed found the 1800’s Victorian cottage that the forwarding address matched. It had been on the outskirts of Van Buren, Maine. Unfortunately, there was no sign of physical occupation. Remy LeBeau had deftly let them in the door to search the place. The house was being kept clean and stocked with groceries. There were a few suits and personal items in the closet of the largest of the upstairs bedrooms but no other signs of occupancy. Apparently, the house had been rented simply as a blind and to be a forwarding address. More than anything, this convinced Scott that they were on the right track. Somewhere, somehow, this Augustus Stryker was involved in Logan and Ororo’s disappearance.

- - -

Ororo sat huddled in a corner of her cell. She was alone now, truly alone. Logan was dead. She had lost the baby, too. She barely remembered screaming against the gag, her feet strapped up at awkward angles as their hands invaded her to get to what they wanted. There had not been much pain. The contractions were no more than normal menstrual cramps but the pain of having life taken from her had torn her heart in two.

She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked gently. Her world was gone. No one knew where she was. She did not care what happened to her now except that she wanted to die. The thought was so foreign to her it should have frightened her, but her love for life had been shattered. All her hopes and loves smashed in a cruel twist of fate. She remembered the orderlies calling him Stryker, the one who had shoved his hands inside her to pull out her child. Was that not the name of the man who had put the metal in Logan and taken his memories? She wished he would take hers.

- - -

Stryker nodded to himself as he watched Dunst and her men lead the female mutant to the Arena. He pocketed a small remote as he moved to the door that led from his office to the control room. She had come to the conclusions he had anticipated. Schaeffer’s report had said that the woman in the group had not been harmed and that Schaeffer had earned the creature’s respect through a show of intelligence and strength. Dunst had figured that, as it was a female, the creature had not harmed the mutant and, since it had fought well, it had earned the creature’s respect. Dunst would now show the creature that she had power over the female mutant, thus earning the creature’s respect also. Too bad she had not read Schaeffer’s report more closely. Anything with a weapon was considered fair game to the alien and Dunst had not removed her holstered firearm.

"Such a pity. Ambitious people rarely get the details right, you know. Too much in a hurry to get their hands on the prize," drawled a lazy voice.

"You should know," answered clipped British tones. "It happened to you."

- - -

Rage surged through Logan as he lay motionless on the floor. He had heard Ororo come into the cell, had even felt her touch him and had smelled her scent, but the strange numbness that had flooded his body prevented him from moving. His head had felt like it was on fire and ice cold at the same time and his muscles would not cooperate no matter how hard he had tried to hold her and console her. She had cried, his ears had heard her sobs. She had thought he was dead. Then he realized something was wrong. She had been in pain and he had smelled blood. He had been unable to help her, protect her, and they had taken her away, forcibly. Now Logan could move. The strange numbness was gone but he lay motionless anyway, drowning in a sea of self-hatred.

"Think he’s dead?"

"No, look at his chest. He’s healed. Stryker says he’s just comatose."

"Stryker didn’t say we should continue harvesting organs on schedule. I mean, he’s non-responsive."

"He didn’t say not to either. Are you willing to second-guess him?

There was a pause. "No."

Logan felt them lift him up and begin to carry him to the lab.

"Damn, he’s heavy. I told you we should have brought the gurney in here."

There were several grunts and Logan felt them almost drop him.

"She was a lot easier to lift. Wonder what Stryker’s going to do with her now that he has the fetal tissue?"

Logan was stunned for a moment. Fetal tissue?

"We’re supposed to harvest all her eggs over the next two days."

"Can we have her after that? I mean, she’s pretty much done for, you’ve seen her. Might as well have a go at shagging her while she can still respond. Could be fun."

Logan did not remember what happened after that. When he could think rationally, again there was blood everywhere. He looked down at the mangled bodies on the floor. Shock and surprise were mirrored in their faces. His handsÖhe had to free them. Logan dropped the slick, surgical cutting tools he must have grabbed and let them clatter to the floor as he shot the claws repeatedly against the glove restraints. A half-inch tip was finally visible through the lower palm of one of the gloves and Logan began to use it to attack the welded seams on the opposite hand. He prowled the lab even as he hacked away at the metal. He found a table with stirrups that reeked of Ororo’s blood.

He tracked her scent to a back room and found numerous containers filled with his organs but only one smelled of her and he opened it. It was simply tissue now and would never have the chance to truly form into a perfect tiny being. It would never be able to hug, cry, or laugh now. No one could hold it and tell it not to be frightened. It would never feel pain. Logan wished he could have that kind of peace even as a tear dropped heavily down his cheek. What had they done to his family? He let loose a small keening wail from his throat before it changed to an ominous growl. Stryker still had Ororo. He would free her and then rip Stryker apart for taking such a gift from her. Leaving a trail of small metal shavings in his wake, he left the lab and headed down the corridor.

------

Chapter 5

Dunst squared her shoulders and motioned for the others to back away. She gripped the female mutant’s arm tightly to prevent escape but there was not really a need. The female was in bad shape and numbly followed where she was led. Dunst nodded and the door in front of her opened. The creature stood as she entered the arena, pulling the mutant with her. As the door behind her closed, Dunst lifted her chin. This thing respected strength and women so would not harm her. She repeated this mantra to herself as she watched the alien approach. It stopped, assessing her, she was sure. Well, she would show it her power and she would become its master.

She pushed the mutant in front of her and then grabbed its white hair and pulled backwards, forcing the mutant to its knees. Dunst kept her eyes locked on the alien as she drew her pistol and slammed it against the mutant’s skull, knocking it insensible. She let it fall to the floor and held up her now empty hand.

Dunst loudly voiced the command word for ‘kill’ that McDaniel had been trying to teach the creature. She pointed to the mutant on the floor and kicked its body. Again, she repeated the command and watched with pleasure as the creature moved closer, intent on the mutant’s body. It picked up the female mutant and looked back at her. Dunst nodded and said the word one more time. The creature turned and started to walk off with the mutant. Patricia felt her heart soar. She had done it. It would obey her. Her power over both Stryker and McDaniel secured, she gave an arrogant thumbs up to the watching faces in the control room above her, and then turned her attention back to the alien. It had set the mutant down and had touched its neck, then ran a hand down the female’s abdomen. It rose, making fists with its massive hands as it walked slowly back to Dunst. She held up a hand, palm facing it.

"Stop!" She commanded. It kept coming. "No!" she raised her pistol but it batted the gun aside easily. Frightened now, she glanced up at the control room. Why didn’t they activate the collar? A massive hand shot out and gripped her throat, tightening with incredible strength. She felt her eyes begin to pop out of her skull and her tongue thicken and fill her mouth. She couldn’t scream. Dunst tried to fire her gun but something was wrong. A white-hot pain wrenched her shoulder and she barely saw the creature fling aside an object that looked like her arm before she felt something grab her hair.

- - -

Stryker entered the control room and approached McDaniel. "I noticed your major absconding with my mutant again. I say, McDaniel, I must protest. I need her eggs now that she’s lost the fetus."

McDaniel’s cold gray eyes settled on the unwelcome visitor. "My title is Colonel and I suggest you use it, Doctor." He stressed the last word sarcastically before he turned back to the report in front of him on the desk. "I have no idea what you’re talking about. I did try to offer your mutant more merciful treatment than your lab had in mind. The fact the alien did not kill her still confuses me." He studied the report again and then rose to hit a button on a machine. The replay of the alien and the mutant fighting ended the same way no matter how many times he watched it. The alien actually knelt in front of her, refusing to kill. "I don’t get it. He was fighting her and was ready to strike. Why didn’t he?"

Stryker leaned over and peered out the observation window, sticking his hand into his pocket and gripping the remote tightly. "Perhaps we’ll find out now. That major of yours seems quite plucky, taking the creature on like that."

McDaniel hesitated only a moment before rushing to the window. "What are you talking…No! Dunst shouldn’t be in there! He’ll kill her!" He grabbed for his radio and started issuing commands as he fumbled for the remote to the creature’s collar. He clicked the slim black instrument again and again, pointing it at the creature. "Get her out of there!" he yelled into the radio. Frustrated, he dropped it and struck the glass. "Dunst! Get out now!" Again, he clicked the remote, unable to do more as the creature advanced on the Major.

Stryker eyed the scene with clinical detachment. "A bit brutal, but highly effective, don’t you think?"

McDaniel felt ill. Dunst might still be alive but he could not risk sending anyone in with that thing, not without the secondary control measure activated. He slammed a palm on the dial that controlled the atmosphere in the arena, twisting it harshly, knowing it would take twenty minutes for a room that size to cool down to the temperature needed.

Meanwhile the creature just kept ripping Dunst apart, piece-by-piece. He needed the alien alive, McDaniel said to himself. At all costs, it had to be kept alive. One final display below and McDaniel felt his guts rush to his mouth. Helpless to stop it, he vomited, all the while wondering why Dunst had gone into the arena and why the collar had not worked.

"Yes, a very effective demonstration." Stryker said absently as he continued to clamp his hand on the remote in his pocket.

- - -

K'Ha'Lon-Ka slowly pulled the filter tubes away and released the helmet clasps. He needed to examine her closely for damage and the shield would interfere so he raised the helmet and dropped it to the floor, kneeling beside the little female for a better look. He extended his outer mandibles and inhaled. There was blood, yes, but not enough. She was still alive; her heart was beating, though not as strongly as it had before. He glanced over at the now cooling body parts of the other female, the human. She would never breathe again; he had made sure of that. He turned back and touched the blood stained clothes on the little female. They had taken her embryo. She was no longer with child. He could now kill her and put her out of her misery but something in him hesitated. Her hands had touched him in an effort to heal. Perhaps she was like the females of his kind who loved life and children and fought with energy and passion to keep things alive. Her hair was so soft, he thought, and he absently ran his fingers through it as he waited for her to wake up, hoping it would be soon, before he could not communicate with her again.

He could feel the room cooling and grimaced. They had not activated the collar and he had been glad for the opportunity to rip the other human apart. Her structure was of no worth to him. Her skull and bones were not the same clean specimens as the female in front of him. Still, he wondered why the collar had not punished him. Did it no longer work? He sighed. It did not matter; they were going to take the little female away from him once the room cooled beyond his ability to function and he growled as he thought of her back in their hands.

- - -

McDaniel clicked the radio again. "Anderson, report to the control room, immediately."

He raised his head and watched the good doctor click his tongue reprovingly, still with his nose pressed against the window. "Anderson!" He stood on shaky legs and made it to the monitor station where he began to flip through the various camera views. "Shit!"

Immediately he felt Stryker breathing heavily over his shoulder. "More problems, Colonel?"

They watched in disbelief as military men fought an enraged Weapon X, the scene eerie in its muted silence. The display from the security monitor indicated the fight was raging in front of the arena door that Dunst had dragged the female mutant through.

"He must have recovered and killed the rest of my staff," muttered Stryker testily. Then, in an entirely different voice, he barked out, "He tracked her here. Open the arena door. Let the fight go in there. He won’t rest until he finds her and now we can at least contain them all in one room."

Before McDaniel could recover from hearing a Southern accent from Stryker, the doctor reached over and hit the door switch with his free hand. Instantly, the melee fell into the arena and the door closed behind them, sealing them in. Stryker ran to the window as McDaniel headed to the door of the control room to grab the armed guard outside. Sergeant Hicks and his crew were just about to enter and both the Colonel and Hicks’ men skidded to a halt.

"Sir, there’s been an accident in the lab, the male mutant’s on the loose, and none of our radios are working."

"Get in here and grab hold of that damned crazy doctor," McDaniel roared.

- - -

K'Ha'Lon-Ka watched the door open again but was surprised to see a fight spill into the room instead of the usual humans and their shock sticks. His eyes narrowed. The one in the center, the one killing, and maiming the rest of the humans was not human. He quickly glanced at the little female and back. This one’s bone structure looked similar to humans but its composition was anything but and its heat signature was akin to the little female’s, only different all over instead of just around the skull and eyes. The room was still cooling and he was finding it harder and harder to move but he rose and placed himself between the combatants and the soft-haired female, determined that she not be harmed any further. There was something on the male’s hands, some kind of metal and it used it to great advantage but even K'Ha'Lon-Ka’s eyes flew wide when one of the metal gloves sheared in two and claws emerged from the warrior’s now free hand. The weapons the humans were firing at the male were suddenly cut into pieces and so were the humans. Bodies now piled around him, the remaining male turned to K'Ha'Lon-Ka, who backed up a step in recognition of such lethal weaponry. He extended his lower mandibles and let loose a roar of challenge, knowing he was too stiff to take the male on in a fair fight but wanting to try for the little female’s sake.

Logan blinked. What faced him was unlike anything he had ever seen before and he muttered, "You are one ugly motherfucker, aren’t you?" before catching a glimpse of what lay beyond the creature. "No!"

"No! Please…"

Instantly, Logan maneuvered around the slowing creature and half-scooped Ororo off the floor, keeping his claws at the ready in case the alien attacked. Her arms around his neck felt wonderful and he closed his eyes just for a second. Then he straightened and helped her to a sitting position, all the while keeping the other male in sight.

Ororo made a feeble motion toward her collar and then tapped the remaining glove on Logan’s hand. Puzzled, Logan watched as the creature nodded and sat down.

"Logan," she began, "he’s been collared just like me. They punish him with cold. That is why the room is so cool. As soon as he is down, they will come in and take us. They are afraid of him."

"I don’t blame them," Logan replied, "Ororo, I…"

"Logan, I had a miscarriage. They took our baby." She began to cry and he sheathed the claws on his good hand to wipe her tears away.

"I know. I found out." He clung to her for a moment then broke away and stroked her hair. "I’m going to cut your collar off. We need to get out of here."

She pointed to the creature. "Help him too."

"Ororo," Logan began, wanting to make it clear to her that she was his main priority but was interrupted.

"Rrrrorrrroooo." They both looked at the alien, and he nodded, satisfied that he had their attention. He pointed to himself and tried not to shiver with the cold; this was something important he wanted to do before the humans came and took these two away. "K'Ha'Lon-Ka."

Logan’s sensitive hearing caught the subtle nuances of clicks and purrs but knew his tongue could never reproduce them. He frowned and tried anyway.

"Khhhaakkkknrrrrkhaa?"

The alien gave a brief nod. They now knew his name — at last, he was able to communicate with something other than the humans. He pointed to Ororo and repeated, "Rrrrorrrorrroo?"

Her eyes softened and she reached out to him as she nodded in affirmation. He touched her warm fingertips with his own frigid ones then, with difficulty, pointed to Logan.

"Logan. His name is Logan." Ororo made sure to pronounce clearly but did not speak loudly.

"Lllgnnnnn." The effort was brutally taxing and K'Ha'Lon-Ka felt the room spin a little as he fell to his side. "Rrrrorrrroooo."

Logan eyed him but nodded, "I see what you mean, Ro. I’ll free him too. Hold still."

When he popped the claws again, the creature flinched and growled but Logan ignored him, choosing to concentrate on delicately cutting the band from around Ororo’s neck instead. Immediately there was a commotion above him and Logan realized for the first time there was a control booth filled with men staring down at them.

"Damn!" he hacked at the other glove and moved toward the creature, pointing to the collar around K'Ha'Lon-Ka’s throat. A gunshot rang out and Logan clearly heard the words, "I’ll get your bitch for that!" He turned and dove for Ororo, wanting to shield her from any other bullets. A volley of thunder erupted and he gasped in agony as bullets ripped into his back.

- - -

"Let go of me!" Stryker protested. "Someone has to have the good sense to watch those three! Gas the arena!"

McDaniel frowned. The British accent was back but there was still something wrong with the good doctor and he wasn’t going to tell his men to let go until he knew what it was. "It would take too long to concentrate gas in that amount of space. They can’t get out. I’ve electrified the exits." He noticed that Stryker still had one hand clutched in a pocket. "Search him." He looked over at the guard that had followed Hicks and his men into the room. "Watch those three. Let me know if they show any signs of trying to escape. We only have another four minutes before the alien collapses. Make sure they don’t attack him if he falls."

"Yes, sir. Sir, what do I do if they do attack him?"

"Fire a warning round through the porthole. The male mutant won’t want his female shot and will break off to protect her," growled McDaniel, his voice tightly clipped with anger as he tried to explain the obvious. "I don’t want the creature hurt, got me?"

"Yes, sir!" the guard moved to the glass and McDaniel returned his focus to the doctor in front of him.

"ÖRoger that. Come to the arena and block the exits, now!" Hicks disengaged his radio. "Sir," Hicks held out the small, black remote as he spoke. "Stryker was using this. It looks like some kind of frequency inhibitor. Our radios work now that it’s off and I’ve stationed all available men at the arena exits. They’re ready to storm the place when the alien goes down."

"Good." McDaniel took the remote and glared icily at Stryker. "A very effective demonstration, Doctor? Is that what you had in mind?" He backhanded Stryker. "Dunst didn’t deserve that kind of death!"

Stryker grinned, a trickle of blood now coming from the corner of his mouth. "You don’t think so?" The Southern accent was back. "Was it a more ‘humane’ treatment, a ‘kinder’ death than I would have given the mutant female?"

‘You sick bastard!" snarled McDaniel. "What the hell kind of game are you playing?"

"The same one you are," returned cold British tones.

Stunned, McDaniel stood there for a moment, unable to reply.

"Sir? They’re talking, sir. Is that allowed?"

McDaniel’s head snapped around, "What?"

"The mutants, sir, they’re talking with the alien. Is that allowed?"

Dumfounded now, McDaniel and the others moved to the window. No one noticed Stryker slip his confiscated pistol from the table back to his pocket while the soldiers craned their necks, trying to watch the shocking sight below.

"I’ll be damned," mused McDaniel softly. He had a sudden insight into what Stryker had said and his own motivations now seemed…insane.

"Sir! The male cut the female’s collar off!" The soldier fired off a warning round before McDaniel could stop him.

"I’ll get your bitch for that!" Stryker roared through the other porthole. He emptied the clip of the automatic before the soldiers could wrestle him to the ground.

"Get him out of here!" ordered McDaniel. He pushed a button and deactivated the arena doors. "Hicks! Tell the men to go in and hold them at gunpoint but don’t fire, got it! Those mutants can communicate with the alien. I don’t want them hurt!"

- - -

Ororo felt Logan’s body jerk as the rounds tore into him. It had only just begun to dawn on her that he was here with her and still alive. Now they were wounding him again. The Windrider’s entire being began to quiver with rage. She had believed him dead, horribly murdered by the monsters that wore the guise of human beings. She had felt them finish murdering their child and she had been helpless to stop it. Ororo was not helpless now.

"No more!" Ororo’s strong, clear voice cut through even the sound of gunfire. Levering herself quickly to her feet with more grace and strength than she actually felt, Ororo stepped forward to stand in front of Logan and K'Ha'Lon-Ka. Her eyes were glowing white and a powerful wind built in the room. Lightning snapped from her hair and from the tips of her fingers as she raised her hands upwards. Later she would grieve for her loss of control and the many deaths she caused. Now, all she wanted to do was put an end to this.

There was nothing the soldiers could do as wind drove them backwards and lightning destroyed their weapons and in many cases, their companions. They watched in fear as the mutant woman raised her hands and eyes to the control room and lightning followed her gaze to strike repeatedly at the glass front, shattering and melting it. As a gunshot raked by her left shoulder, the woman returned her white-hot gaze to the soldiers. With no pity or remorse showing on her beautiful features, she sent bolt after bolt of blazing energy into their midst. Killing many and driving the rest back. One part of her mind reached out to control the atmosphere in the Arena, warming it from its previous frigid state. As the Predator rose from his seated position behind the furious Weather Witch, the soldiers broke and ran. They could not outrun the wind and their screams were heard as the wind lashed and tore at them, attempting to pull them apart as they had the life of the woman that controlled the maelstrom.

Still caught in her own whirlwind of rage, heedless of Logan’s call for her to stop and come back, Ororo rose on the wind, flying toward the Control Room. Cyclonic winds and streaks of lightening sought to ravage everything in its way. Landing gracefully amongst the chaos, her eyes sought out the one man that remained in the room. The force of the winds had pinned him behind a massive metal desk. By itself, the desk would not have been enough to cause fatal injury. Trapped in the confines of the Control Room, the cyclonic winds had repeatedly slammed the heavy piece of furniture against him, finally breaking his spine and doing considerable internal damage. There he waited, pinned against the wall; all pain now gone.

- - -

- - -

Ororo stepped gracefully around the chaos in the Control Room, stopping short of where the man half stood, half lay; pinned to the wall by the twisted mass of metal that had been a desk. The wind that still stirred was calmer now, merely a breeze that ruffled the beautiful Windrider’s silken hair. Ororo wondered if she could find it within herself to feel something for this creature in front of her.

Ororo was unaware that, in spite of the stained and torn coverall she wore and her wind whipped hair, she still looked every inch the Goddess. Tall, beautiful, coldly regal, she surveyed Colonel McDaniel. Her voice was measured and pitched low as she spoke. "My name is Ororo Munroe. I am also known as Storm. The man you call Weapon X or Wolverine, his name is Logan. Our child has died without a name. Did you bother to find any of this out before you had us kidnapped and tortured?"

In Ororo’s beliefs, names had power and significance. Normally one would not share their true name with an enemy. She wanted this creature to see and realize that the beings he had so casually allowed to be experimented upon, tortured, and ultimately thrown away were individuals, with names and identities, just as he was. Her blue eyes were still ice-cold as she gazed at him.

"Colonel Mike McDaniel." The effort to speak obviously stressed him. Ororo did not need Logan’s senses to tell her this human was dying.

"I have those that would grieve for me and will grieve for the life that your cruelty took from me and my mate." Her voice was still cold, still controlled. "Will anyone grieve for you Colonel Mike McDaniel?"

"Very few." McDaniel found the strength to answer honestly. "This service has consumed my life."

Ororo’s rage had spent itself into a cold flame that wound through her body and soul. "You are dying."

The man nodded his agreement, "I am dying. I would rather go by your hand than the alien’s." His gray eyes indicated the Control Room door. "They will come for you."

"Yes." Ororo’s eyes snapped fire. "Why should I offer you this mercy after what you have allowed to be done? After the life of my child was taken from me?"

"Stryker is insane. I see now that I am no better — equally insane in my own way. I allowed myself to believe that offering you to Predator was a more merciful death than allowing Stryker to do as he planned with you. I was wrong. Wrong about so many things." The speech exhausted McDaniel and his eyes closed for a moment.

"I pity you, Colonel McDaniel. I do not forgive you. Maybe someday, I will ask the Goddess to forgive me and allow me to forgive you. Not today." She started to turn but stopped at a small sound from McDaniel.

The gray eyes did not quite plead with her but still asked for a kinder release than the ones coming would allow. Ororo inclined her head, "I will not kill you, but I will delay my companions. Make your peace with whatever powers you believe in, if any. You will die here, alone." The Windrider turned on those words and left the room.

McDaniel murmured softly as his strength failed, "You are more gracious than I deserve and more Human than any of us here."

Outside the Control Room door, the Windrider leaned against the wall and waited. A tear slipped down her cheek as she thought of all she had lost, including the ability to forgive. More than her child had died in this place.

- - -

Much later, on the same day as the ‘wild goose chase’ to Maine, Scott finally sat down in a small den that was reserved for staff only. He stared blankly at the large, plasma screen TV. The current news program that was being televised did not register with him. The feelings of failure ran too deep. Jean and Remy were currently putting together plates of grilled cheese sandwiches and soup for the tired and very discouraged X-Men. The Professor sat nearby, in his wheelchair, sipping on a cup of hot tea.

Charles also looked exhausted and more than slightly worn by their ordeal. Like Scott, his imagination was in overdrive as he worried about his ‘children’. No one quite understood how he felt about those that came under his roof and therefore his care. From the aloof and standoffish Wolverine down to the smallest child attending the school, he loved them all with a devotion that sometimes exceeded what a parent could provide. Some, like Scott and Jean, occupied a slightly different space in his heart, but he set no less value on the others.

Jean and Remy came in carrying trays of sandwiches and soup that they distributed to Charles, Scott, Piotr Rasputin, and Hank McCoy. Rogue came in a moment later carrying a pitcher of iced tea and some cans of soda. She handed out everyone’s preference then curled onto the sofa next to Remy with her own plate. No one felt much like talking so sat quietly eating their meal, each preoccupied with thoughts and concerns about their missing friends.

Scott took another sip of his soup and widened his eyes as a Special News Bulletin flashed on the TV screen. Motioning for Jean to turn up the sound, he listened closely…heart thudding with renewed hope.

"Öout of a seemingly clear and tranquil sky, fierce and destructive storms have materialized over the Maine/Canadian border just west of Edmundston. This weather phenomenon, though devastatingly destructive, appears to be localized and not moving. At this time authorities do not think there is danger to the surrounding population…"

All the X-Men gathered in the room exclaimed at once, "Storm!"

Scott barely managed to set his dishes on the glass and oak coffee table as he leapt to his feet, "I’ll pull up the GPS and triangulate."

Charles nodded and looked to Hank, "Lets get to Cerebro. I can focus in on the use of her powers even if I cannot sense Ororo herself."

Remy followed them out, "I’ll make sure we have what we need on board the ‘Bird."

Jean and Rogue followed him with Jean calling back over her shoulder, "We’ll prep and pre-check the ‘Bird. Ready to fly in less than fifteen."

As good as her word, by the time the other team members were in their uniforms and on board, Jean had the Blackbird ready for take-off. Scott and the Professor had coordinated the data that each had acquired and Scott now had a very good idea of where they were going. He also had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as the location had nudged an old memory of Hank’s. McCoy told Scott and the Professor that he believed an old associate of his that had gone into bio-weapons research had been stationed at a facility in that general area. Any hopes that Scott had entertained that his friends were being passively held somewhere for some obscure reason vanished. The harsh reality of experimentation on mutants raised its ugly head once more.

Scott boarded the jet and took the pilot’s seat. Jean was good with the Blackbird but the jet was Scott’s baby. The only other person that could coax as much out of the X-jet was Ororo. He edged the jet carefully out of the hangar then sent her hurtling north. As Scott touched the controls to send the Blackbird soaring higher and faster, he sent his thoughts ahead of her. Please, he thought — Logan, Ororo, we are on our way, hold on just a little longer.

- - -

K'Ha'Lon-Ka watched the Weather Witch in awe. Never had he seen such tremendous power before. She could control the very weather, something his kind — even with their advanced technology — could not, and she wielded it with deadly force. Breathless, he realized she was so very Not-Human. So much power and so much compassion could not exist side by side in mere humans. They feared her; they had collared her, taken her child, and used a weapon on her mate. Her mate…K'Ha'Lon-Ka looked down at the other Not-Human. Sure enough, he was rising to his feet, even after taking the killing blows from the humans’ weapons. Shaking his head, K'Ha'Lon-Ka realized there was more to them than first observation revealed. If he had not been collared himself and had seen them display their powers while he was hunting he would have thought of them as extremely valuable prey, ones that, alone, would garner him the status needed to claim his chosen mate. But he had seen their pain, knew the humans had tortured them as much as they had him and it gave him a strange feeling, as if he considered them of his clan, capable of intelligent thought beyond that of prey — more like an ally. This was a foreign thought to him. He again checked the ceiling of the room, knowing he had seen her fly up there but sill finding it hard to believe.

"Mine."

K'Ha'Lon-Ka’s head snapped back to Llggnnnn, watching him point toward where Rrorrrooo had gone.

- - -

"Mine," Logan repeated. He had tried to catch Ororo’s attention to tell her he was okay but she had not heard him. Now he watched the alien stare after her and he wanted to make sure it was understood that Ororo was under his protection. He saw the alien nod and he released his breath, sure that Khaakkllkhaaa would not make advances on her.

"Don’t move, Khhaakkklnkhaa." Logan let one blade out and advanced on him, pointing to the collar. Noting the strange look on the other’s face, nervous flaring of mandibles, Logan held up his other hand to calm him. "Don’t move." Carefully he cut it off and let the metal drop, clanging heavily as it hit the floor.

He watched the alien pick up the pieces, try to bend them to no avail, then hold out a piece as if to ask for another demonstration. Logan flicked a claw out quickly, a blur of motion that sliced the metal like butter. He then began to hack at the glove on his other hand as he looked up.

"Since neither of us can fly, we need to find another way up there. Ororo’s alone and I can’t hear her."

"Rrorrooo." The alien pointed up and Logan nodded.

"Come." He motioned with a jerk of his head as he shredded the last of the metal glove. Now with both sets of claws out and an unknown, but strong, ally behind him, Logan was ready to take on anything in order to get Ororo out of this place.

------

Chapter 6

Stryker was the first to recover once the winds had died down. He and several soldiers had made it to the stairwell down the corridor from the Control room but the winds had smashed the door into them, slamming half of them down to the landing below. One of the lucky ones, Stryker had managed to cling to the railings between the landings so he wouldn’t fall.

He unclenched his arms and legs from around the sturdy pipes and looked at his options while the soldiers with him groaned and began to move. The one underneath him, the one he had fallen on while tumbling down the stairs, had a broken neck but Stryker was more concerned for his own neck than checking over the wounded. More soldiers were rising to their feet, checking their bodies and weapons, thankful to be alive and Stryker decided to make a getaway before they could get organized. He began to step over a couple of bodies in order to climb back up to the Control Room landing when a hand reached out and grabbed his ankle.

"You’re a doc, ain’t ya? My leg, I think it’s broke."

Shaking off the man’s grip, Stryker gave him a cold stare as he started upward again, only to be met by another soldier standing in front of him.

"I believe the man said he had a broken leg, Doctor. Colonel McDaniel told us to watch you and I intend to watch you set his leg, got it?"

The lights flickered slightly as Stryker shook his head. "McDaniel’s probably dead. The mutants and the alien are on the loose. The first door they’ll check when they exit the Arena is the first door they see and that is the stairwell door below. I suggest we retreat to McDaniel’s office, use his private elevator and take the back corridors to the cottage elevator, assuming I left it unlocked." He patted his coat and came up with only his empty automatic. "I’ll need to get to the Control Room to get my keys."

The objects in question jangled in front of him and the soldier, Hicks, smiled grimly. "We emptied your pockets, remember?" He pulled his own pistol and pointed it at Stryker, "Fix the leg or we don’t go anywhere."

"We don’t have time for this!" Stryker snarled with a decidedly Southern drawl.

The door below them burst open and the male mutant and the alien rushed in, taking down anyone in their path. Surprised, Hicks hesitated only a moment before taking aim but the moment was enough for Stryker to take action as well. He shoved Hicks hard against the railing and grabbed the keys and gun from his hands as Hicks panicked and flailed for the railing to stop his fall into the melee below. Stryker gave a final push and the alien looked up and received the falling Hicks with a welcoming and deadly grasp. With no one else to stop him, Stryker quickly ran for the opening above, determined to make it to McDaniel’s office and lock the door behind him, staving off an attack so he could use the elevator.

As he tore through the doorway and turned left, he looked to his right and spotted white hair at the other end of the corridor, at the Control Room, and he fired on impulse, stunned that the female had already made it to the upper level. The shot rang against the metal doorjamb instead of hitting its target and the white hair quickly disappeared and a crash was heard. Stryker bolted for McDaniel’s office, jumping charred bodies and firing two more rounds behind him to keep the witch from blasting him with a bolt of lightning. Weapon X had jumped in front of her earlier so that meant bullets could kill her he reasoned as he fumbled with the knob on the heavy steel door. Footsteps were pounding behind him now and he just managed to slip in and bolt the door, resting his back against it as his eyes searched for something to pull in front of it as an added brace.

A sudden pain seared the back of his head and he jerked away, screaming in agony. Three claws protruded through the metal where his head had been and Stryker realized the warm feeling on the back of his neck was blood when he drew his hand away from the back of his skull. The claws began to tear furrows in the heavy steel and a terrifying growl could be heard on the other side of the door. Dizzy and nauseous, Stryker pocketed the keys and grabbed a spare uniform shirt McDaniel had hanging on a coat rack near the door, pressing it to the back of his head to staunch the flow of blood. He turned and tripped against the desk then moved for the elevator door. The button lit and he waited with desperation for the lift to come up as more and more of the office door shredded under the wrath of the Wolverine.

"Stryker!" Somewhere between a growl and a bark, the word shot out and flattened Stryker against the wall with fear.

Stall him, Stryker though desperately as he listened to the machinery. The lift was almost there. All he needed was a moment’s distraction. The door was almost open and he saw his death in the male mutant’s eyes. Behind him, the alien was crowding for his chance to get into the room.

"Go ahead and blame me for the experiments, Wolverine," Stryker spat. "I’d do them again in a heartbeat. But don’t blame me for the death of your bitch’s abominable child. That was your doing. You killed the baby, Wolverine. Your refusal to cooperate was the reason we had to gas the female so often." The elevator door opened and he quickly stepped inside and pushed the down button. "I trust you’ll sleep well on that thought."

The door had fallen and the male mutant advanced. He could see his words had struck home, though, as horror, not anger showed on its face. Stryker took advantage of the situation and raised the gun. Words wouldn’t slow down the alien and he took aim at the brute, managing to squeeze off several rounds before the door closed. Now he just prayed he could make it to the other lift before they caught up with him.

- - -

Logan saw the gun rise in Stryker’s hand and he threw himself in front of his new ally on impulse. One round impacted his head and the world went black for a moment. When he came to, he started, as the alien’s face was inches from his own.

"Khhaaakkklnkhaaa," he muttered, trying to assure the creature he would be okay. The big male nodded and helped him up. On the verge of blacking out again, Logan leaned against a table then realized Stryker was getting away. As if reading his mind, the alien went to the elevator and wrenched open the door, peering inside the confined space. He turned and pointed downward, making a click-growl noise.

Logan repeated the sound and then said, "Down."

The alien moved back and stood in front of him and Logan could see that it was thinking hard for a way to communicate. It held up three fingers and tapped the back of his head then pointed to the open elevator shaft.

"Stryker," Logan snarled. "His name is Stryker."

Khhaaakkklnkhaa also snarled. "Sstriiikrrr," he said, then pointed to the livid frost burns on his neck.

Before Logan could say anything else, he watched K'Ha'Lon-Ka stare and then move quickly to a table along a far wall of the office. It was laden with strange objects and Logan moved to join him in investigating the find, his head pounding and his legs still unsteady beneath him.

"Miiine," K'Ha'Lon-Ka purred as pointed to the items on the table. Logan watched as the alien began picking up objects, probably some sort of body armor he reasoned, since the creature was putting them on. Other objects, K'Ha'Lon-Ka stowed into a backpack he had found laying beside the table.

Logan gave him a brief pat on the arm and said, "Ororo," before pointing to the door. The alien nodded and Logan helped him grab the rest of his things before they moved toward the doorway. Both stopped quickly when Ororo appeared before them, a small cut bleeding on her forehead.

"Ro!" Logan exclaimed as he quickly passed K'Ha'Lon-Ka the equipment in his arms so he could gather Ororo in them instead. "You okay?"

She nodded and embraced him tightly. "He shot at me and I fell. I heard more shooting. Are you okay?" She drew back and gently wiped blood off his temple. "Logan, we’ve got to make it out of here and get help." Her hands trembled. "Neither of us can take much more."

"Stryker just escaped by going down. I think if we head down the stairs and to that main corridor we can find someway to get out of here." He moved toward the door again and felt his head throb painfully. "You’re right, darlin’, healing factor or not, I’m pushing the limits."

- - -

They were traveling upward now in a large cube-shaped device. K'Ha'Lon-Ka could feel machinery moving around him. The Not-Humans seemed to think this was the way out and he agreed. The farther up they went, the hotter it became, much to his liking. It was confusing to trust creatures that were not of his own kind, though. All his life his mother’s mate and his mother’s mother’s mate had told him that they were superior to all other things and could hunt all to prove their sovereignty. Now his mind began to grasp the idea that his mother had offered long ago:

Not all creatures are equal in weaponry or strength but some have minds and hearts like ours and can feel and think as we do. Be wary of hunting smart prey, my child. It is sometimes equal to hunting your own reflection.

At the time her mate had laughed, telling her they had no equals. Now K'Ha'Lon-Ka knew what she meant. These creatures, these Not-Humans, had proven that they could suffer as he did, feel for each other like he could for his beloved, and protect one another like he did for his clan.

He fingered the arm bracer that contained a laser device that could probably destroy them. They represented incredible power and possibly a danger to his species; by all rules he had been taught, he should strike them down. The male would not die easily; he had seen how formidable its weapons were when it had carved through the door that K'Ha'Lon-Ka was not sure even his knife could cut through. He was wounded, yes, making him easier prey, but he had been wounded taking the punishment of Sstriikerrr’s weapon to save K'Ha'Lon-Ka and that spoke of honor, something few creatures could understand. Rrroorrrooo, too, had honor; she had tried to heal K'Ha'Lon-Ka, had fought over him to protect him. K'Ha'Lon-Ka shook his head and let go of the bracer. He could not do it. He was honor-bound by a blood debt to protect them. A debt that he knew in his heart they would understand.

The machinery stopped and K'Ha'Lon-Ka stepped out first, determined to take on any dangers to the two smaller creatures. Two humans rushed him and K'Ha'Lon-Ka ripped them apart, glad for the excuse to take revenge on more humans for the pain and humiliation he had been forced to endure. A powerful tremor made the ground shake and K'Ha'Lon-Ka saw a doorway to the living world beyond the room of stone. He spotted a large, sleek craft in the blessed warmth of the outdoors and human-looking creatures coming out of it, dressed in strange clothing. There were several explosions and he powered up his weapon systems to defend the Not-Humans as he advanced from the shadows into the light.

- - -

Cyclops stepped off the ramp of the Blackbird and gazed around at the facility. The fierce, cyclonic winds that had almost kept prevented him from landing the jet had mostly abated. Scott desperately hoped this merely meant that the need to use her powers had passed and not that Storm was injured or dead. The pale light of a rising sun revealed the meager cluster of buildings. He looked around at them, missing little, and taking note of the Black Hawk helicopter on the landing pad just beyond the Blackbird.

Jean’s sharp hiss of warning caused Scott to whirl around and look at the guard post that sat at what was obviously the main entrance to the facility. Two men, dressed in military fatigues, approached them on the run, bringing up weapons as they moved. Acknowledging his nod, Jean put her hand up and the soldiers’ weapons flew from their hands. A second later, they stopped moving and dropped to the ground, unconscious from the psychic suggestion Jean had sent their way. Remy stepped off the ramp and walked briskly over to the fallen soldiers to secure them and keep them out of harm’s way. Scott then turned his attention to the barracks and the cottage, "Jean, please scan."

Jean concentrated for the briefest of moments then shook her head, "Buildings are deserted." Her face then brightened, "I’m detecting Ororo though." She waved her hand toward a square concrete hut set back from the other buildings. "That way."

Scott nodded once and turned his gaze to the buildings. In short order, they were leveled. Raking them with another blast from his visor, he made sure the rubble was decimated to the point that it would not provide cover for enemy forces. Rats would find it difficult to hide in what was left. At a gasp from Rogue and Jean, Scott turned to look at the buildings again. The right-most barracks building had been built over a large underground garage. Crouched in the hole, amongst the rubble, was some sort of space vehicle. It seemed undamaged by either Scott’s beams or the rubble that had rained down around it. Cyclops decided it was a mystery for later; right now, he had to find his friends. He turned his attention to the team.

Remy finished fastening the soldiers’ hands and feet and moved their weapons well out of range. He figured they should count themselves lucky that Scott was willing to allow Jean to render the two men unconscious. The Team Leader was as coldly furious as Remy remembered ever seeing him. Rogue joined Remy and the two of them went to stand with Jean and Scott. Scott nodded toward the other small building beyond the barracks, "Jean, we’ll need information on how to enter the research facility from anyone in there."

Jean nodded her understanding and moved toward the small, squat concrete building. She walked with confidence knowing that her teammates had her covered and would look out for her safety. Starting to step inside, Jean found her way suddenly blocked by a massive male figure. Much to her dismay, she squeaked a bit as the creature reached for her with impressively clawed hands. Before it could grab her or Scott could loose a shot from his visor, a familiar figure stepped out of the shadows and laid a slender hand on the creature’s forearm.

"Friend." Ororo stated in a much stronger voice than she felt like using. K'Ha'Lon-Ka looked down at the Windrider and stepped away from Jean. Standing in a defensive posture, he watched as the two females embraced.

"Ro, are you ok? What has been done to you? Where is Logan?" Jean knew she was firing too many questions at once but the sudden appearance of the giant creature standing near Ororo had rattled her. She cast a wary look over Ororo’s shoulder at the silhouette of the monster. It did not help that the creature’s face was a cross between a praying mantis and a crab’s. It looked like a refugee from a Science Fiction or Horror movie.

By now, Scott and the others had joined them. If he was taken aback at the image of the creature, he did not allow himself to show it, but he now felt he knew who owned the unusual space vehicle in the basement garage of the barracks. Scott stepped past the wary giant that guarded the hut to find Logan inside leaning against what appeared to be a command station of some kind. Two bodies lay at right angles to one another behind the bank of monitors. Scott was grateful that the shadows hid them from sight.

Scott approached Logan slowly, "Wolverine?"

Logan looked up and Scott took a deep breath. The look in the other man’s eyes stopped anything else Scott wanted to say for the moment. So many emotions flickered deep in the golden hazel eyes: pain and grief predominately. In addition, Scott could read exhaustion in Logan’s expressionless features. It was painfully apparent that his friend had lost a substantial amount of weight over the four days he had been missing.

Logan looked past Scott. He could hear Jean asking Ro questions although her voice was pitched too low for even him to understand exactly what was being said. Scent told him that K'Ha'Lon-Ka was still standing nearby, as were Remy and Rogue. He pushed away from the wall and started to take a step forward, swaying dangerously as his body sent him warnings regarding its status. Before he could lean back against the wall for support, Scott was by his side pulling Logan’s arm across his own shoulder. The Team Leader’s jaw was clenched tight with anger but he stayed silent as he helped Logan outside the building and down onto a bench beside the door. The second Scott stepped away; Ororo left Jean’s side and made her way over to sit next to Logan. The monstrous creature moved quietly to stand beside the bench making a noise somewhere between a purr and click.

Jean’s emerald eyes were flashing fire and she was shaking with fury as she turned to face her husband, "I need to get them home."

Scott tilted his head toward the huge being that hovered close to Logan and Ororo, "And it? Him? Did Ororo tell you anything about her new friend?"

Jean nodded and filled him in quickly and concisely on the little bit of information Ororo had given her regarding the alien. Ororo had wryly stated that there were yet some communication issues but that K'Ha'Lon-Ka could be trusted. His desire was to be quit of their world as soon as possible but he still needed to locate his ship and make repairs to it. Scott chuckled to himself, well finding the ship was not going to be a problem. Jean allowed Scott to digest what she had told him about the alien before reiterating that Logan and Ororo needed medical attention.

Scott kept his gaze locked on his two friends where they sat beside the control building and the giant alien that appeared to be guarding them. Ororo’s slightly alarmed voice brought Scott’s attention back to matters at hand and he walked over to them. Pausing by Remy and Rogue, he instructed them to keep an eye on the Black Hawk helicopter and reconnoiter the immediate area keeping an eye out for guards and trouble. Remy and Rogue nodded and each faded into the shadows to set up a secure perimeter.

Scott looked at K'Ha'Lon-Ka and this time was able to look past the creature’s appearance, "I’ve sent my people to look for your ship." He spoke clearly but not overly slowly.

"We need to find Stryker," Logan stated, trying to gently push Ororo’s restraining hand off his arm and get to his feet. He was hampered in this effort though, as K'Ha'Lon-Ka noticed the Windrider’s intention and settled one massive clawed hand on Logan’s shoulder, gently restraining him.

Scott almost smiled as he listened to the purr/click noise the alien made. "We’ll find Stryker. Is he the only one?"

"The only one alive," Ororo stated. Her voice was flat. Later she would pay emotionally for the killing use of her powers. For now, the anger was still close to the surface and she still felt no regret or remorse at the damage and deaths she had wrought.

Scott knelt in front of them, "Logan, you’re in no shape." He wanted to persuade the other man to rest. Scott could only imagine the horrors they had suffered and he now knew Logan well enough to know there was something else over and above what had happened. "This Stryker will be found and dealt with."

"I have to make sure, Scott. You don’t understand…" Logan paused to glare at Ororo and K'Ha'Lon-Ka.

"No, you’re right, pal. I don’t understand yet. But…I know that you and Ororo need to be seen to. At least she does." Scott allowed his eyes to drift over the Windrider’s disheveled and battered appearance.

"Logan, please," Ororo added her voice to Scott’s quietly spoken demand. "I need you. I cannot face everyone alone at the moment."

All were startled as a rough, but very human voice spoke hesitantly…feeling for the words, "K'Ha'Lon-Ka find Sssstrrriiikkkerrr." The alien held up three of his clawed fingers and tapped the back of his head to indicate to Logan that he knew what the man was saying and was promising to finish the enemy. Logan nodded his understanding. Scott wasn’t a cold-blooded killer and in the view of his culture neither was K'Ha'Lon-Ka. But K'Ha'Lon-Ka knew what had to be done and the doing of it met his own agenda.

"And I’ll help," Scott said firmly, switching to the Team Leader voice and making the decision. "Logan, don’t make me have to find some way to make you go to the jet." He flashed a glance over his shoulder at Jean then back up to the alien. Logan subsided with a sigh. He was just too spent to fight for the moment. For once, he was going to have to trust someone else. Scott met Logan’s eyes directly, "I promise. If this Stryker is responsible, he will be dealt with."

Scott turned to look at the alien. Jean had said that Ororo used the alien’s name and that though they pronounced it badly, the creature responded and appreciated their attempts. Scott pointed at himself and said, "Scott." He took a deep breath and pointed at the alien, "Khaallaawhatsit. I’m sorry…" He wished he could do better with the alien’s name but it was beyond him. Scott nodded at the guardhouse, "Can you show me where to go?"

The alien inclined his head, flaring his mandibles in what passed for a smile for his kind. He was amused and much appreciated these Not-Humans’ attempts to honor his name. He moved back into the building and toward the elevator. If Not-Human Lgggggnnnnnn accepted the male with the eye covering as leader, then K'Ha'Lon-Ka would assist him. In addition, he had his own trophies to gather for his trip home. Scott nodded toward the jet, indicating that Jean, Ororo, and Logan should wait there.

Logan and Ororo stood up preparing to walk to the jet. Ororo squeezed Logan’s arm and stepped away and up to K'Ha'Lon-Ka. She reached up to gently touch K'Ha'Lon-Ka on the chest and a smile glimmered on her lips. K'Ha'Lon-Ka flared his mandibles again and reached out to gently stroke the silken white hair. Impulsively Ororo moved closer and did her best to hug the massive creature. K'Ha'Lon-Ka looked over her head to meet Logan’s eyes, inclined his own head and gathered the little female close for a brief moment. K'Ha'Lon-Ka owed these two a blood debt now, a debt of honor. Eliminating the Quiet One would not totally absolve him of that debt.

He absently stroked RRorrroooo’s hair again, wondering how he would keep this memory alive in his heart. As if reading his thoughts, Ororo stepped back and whispered something in Logan’s ear. Startled, Logan nodded and flicked out a blade. Stunned, K'Ha'Lon-Ka watched her hold out a long piece of her hair for Logan to cut it with his weapon and then offer this piece of herself to him. It was too much. He knelt in front of her and accepted it, awed that she should choose a precious part of her living self to go with him in his life and journeys. As he rose, he gripped it hard, resolving that these were indeed intelligent, powerful allies and understanding companions, not something to be hunted. He would protect them from his own kind if need be.

With the good-byes said, as much as it was possible to exchange that sentiment, K'Ha'Lon-Ka turned and moved back into the guardhouse. Scott looked pointedly at Logan and Ororo and then at the jet before following the massive alien into the darkness.

- - -

Scott sat in a comfortable, deep leather chair in a room that was obviously a Control Room. There were banks of monitors and computers surrounding the room. He sat behind what appeared to be the main control center. From there, he could look into a large laboratory and into a small room adjacent, probably a cell. K'Ha'Lon-Ka had indicated a need to do something on his own and Scott had easily acquiesced. He found he could not be concerned about the alien’s agenda. Especially now.

Scott took a deep breath and clicked on the icon on the massive computer screen simply labeled ‘Harvest 4’. Like ‘Harvest 1-3’, the view was of Logan on an operating table being methodically taken apart while the men gathered around laughed and joked. It was easy to see that he was not anesthetized when they began cutting. Directing it all had been a tall, elegant man that the others called Dr. Stryker. Scott closed his eyes, sick at heart and close to being sick in reality. Only rage kept him from losing the contents of his stomach as he listened to the casual conversations and clinical analyses that took place while his friend lay writhing in agony beneath their sharp instruments. Scott quickly stopped the images and his heart sank as he realized how many harvesting sessions had been performed when he looked at the final number.

Hands trembling, he decided to try the only icon that was not labeled ‘Harvest’, hoping it would be something else, something that would tell him how many of the military were in on this madness. Numb from seeing the horrors that had been perpetrated in this hellhole; Scott clicked on the last icon, the one labeled ‘Extraction’.

Stryker’s image flitted across the screen, directing the group of white coats hovering over another table. "Are you recording yet? Good. Tie that leg down better, Hawkins. I don’t want to get kicked. No, no anesthesia. Less waste of time. It can’t do anything anyway, not with the collar on. It’s fortunate that once the collar was fastened on, a miscarriage was inevitable; fetal tissue is almost always rejected when the mutation is suppressed and that tissue should prove invaluable to my research. I’d almost be willing to take the collar off, keep it sedated, and impregnate it again to get my hands on a bigger fetus but the risk is too great. We can always create our own embryos in test tubes. Pull the gag a little tighter, Easley, will you? It’s distracting to listen to that noise. Now, that the fetus is on its way out we can harvest all the eggs over the next two days and do an autopsy on what’s left. Here, I’ll reach in and make sure the uterus is dilated enough to be thoroughly cleared out…"

Scott involuntarily stood, shaking uncontrollably with outrage at the monstrous image on the monitor.

- - -

K'Ha'Lon-Ka looked up from his task of taking another trophy pelt and skull as a cry full of rage and pain resounded throughout The Facility. His collecting of trophies had taken longer than anticipated, as he was particular to sort out only his own kills. To take credit for another’s kill was dishonorable. Fortunately, some of the humans had still been alive and he had dispatched them; since he had delivered the killing blow, they were his. Incredibly, he had found the Quiet One’s second in command — the one that had controlled the collar and the shock stick — still breathing. Its eyes had opened wide when K'Ha'Lon-Ka had moved in on it and he took pleasure knowing he would be the last thing it saw. Finishing his grisly task quickly and putting the contents in the second of the large, flexible black bags he had found, he moved back toward the cry he had heard. It flashed through his mind that perhaps more of the humans had survived and the Not-Human with the red eye covering was in trouble.

K'Ha'Lon-Ka entered the laboratory to see the red-eyed one, the one called Ssscccotttt, raking the Control Room with his lasers. The supports of the Control Room began to buckle and K'Ha'Lon-Ka was barely able to grasp the Not-Human’s shoulder and pull him from harm’s way. He had seen how Lllgggnnnnn and Rrrrooorrrro had interacted with this one. There was respect and affection so this one must be of their clan. Therefore, K'Ha'Lon-Ka would protect him, even from himself. Ssscccootttttt nodded his understanding and appreciation at the huge alien and stepped away. K'Ha'Lon-Ka’s thermal sensors could see the heat of anger still roiling off him and understanding dawned. Somehow, the Not-Human knew what had happened to his clan mates in this place. He was probably a very strong leader with so much power coming from the red coverings where his eyes should be. Yet, he showed compassion for his clan, as a good leader should. These Not-Humans were so much like his clan.

He let Ssscccoottt lead him back into the shattered room and he watched the small square visdisplay light up with images of the Quiet One and what he did to Rrorrrooo and Llgnnnnn. Sucking in a disgusted breath at the torture he saw, K'Ha'Lon-Ka nodded and pointed to the Quiet One, the one Llgnnn had named for him. "Striiikeerrr." He tapped the burns on his neck and saw Ssccoottt nod sadly.

K'Ha'Lon-Ka reached into a pack he had stuffed with explosives from a weapons room he had located. Oddly enough, some of the rudimentary plastic explosives used here were not so incredibly different from ones used for mining and clearing on his home world. He pulled one of the charges out and showed it to Ssscccoootttt. He did not know how to communicate to him that this place was vile, unclean and should be destroyed. K'Ha'Lon-Ka hoped the other could understand.

- - -

Scott looked at the block of plastic explosive that lay in K'Ha'Lon-Ka’s massive hand. It only took him a moment to nod his agreement. This place had to be destroyed to the point it would be worthless to try and resurrect it. Taking a number of the shaped charges and detonators, he moved off in a different direction from K'Ha'Lon-Ka. The computer that he had used to view the horrific documentaries had also provided a layout of the complex. Scott had committed it to memory and assured himself that it extended away from the surface buildings and the Blackbird. He moved quickly and efficiently through the corridors, setting the charges at key structural points. Later, he thought, he would feel horror and shame at only making a cursory inspection for survivors. For once in his life, only rage, grief, and revenge motivated the Team Leader of the X-Men.

- - -

Scott and K'Ha'Lon-Ka had barely cleared the guardhouse when the first rumble of explosions could be heard. They quickly moved away from the immediate area. Scott had verified that The Facility extended behind the cluster of surface buildings. The explosions would not reach the area where the Blackbird sat. Scott was stopped suddenly as K'Ha'Lon-Ka put a hand in front of him and pointed toward the rubble of the barracks. A dark figure was making quickly for the Black Hawk.

Stryker! It had to be, Scott thought. K'Ha'Lon-Ka had confirmed that the man he had seen on some of the video footage was the Quiet One, Stryker. In addition, Stryker’s body had not been found amongst the dead. After seeing what that lunatic had done, Scott had looked very carefully, hoping to find his corpse.

Still, Scott hesitated to train his optic beams on the man and use them to kill directly. K'Ha'Lon-Ka made a soft whuffling noise and a low growl. His mandibles flared and he roared. The figure in the distance looked around and the terror on his face could be easily seen. Scott came to a quick decision. Time for the punishment to fit the crime.

Scott trained his sight on the Black Hawk and released the energy from his eyes. In seconds, the helicopter was a mass of twisted rubble. Seeing his potential haven destroyed, Stryker broke for the forest. Scott started as a low, nearly evil, human laugh rumbled from K'Ha'Lon-Ka. The alien flared his mandibles at Scott one last time, inclined his head in a gesture of respect before donning his helmet moving off toward the towering forest.

- - -

Stryker slumped against a tree, trying to catch his breath before moving on. His head hurt so badly from the wounds Weapon X had given him, throbbing relentlessly. The injuries were probably becoming infected from that damned mutant’s claws. Stryker put a hand up to the back of his head and winced at the amount of blood still oozing from the wounds.

"Your pet," Stryker said aloud. "Your fucking pet did this, William."

"I wouldn’t be in such a hurry to put the blame on Weapon X, dear brother. If I were you, I’d be looking for a way out of this. We can strike back at them. We can’t be prosecuted for what we did."

Stryker nodded at his brother’s logic. They could not be prosecuted. All they needed to do was survive. He reached in his pocket for anything, everything, and found only his pistol. He popped the clip and found there was only one bullet remaining. Not enough, he thought grimly as he rammed the clip back into its housing. He had to make it to a highway and hijack the first car he came across. A low purring noise sounded off to his right and he strained his eyes for some movement, pointing the weapon uselessly toward the dark woods.

"Striiikerrrr."

Stryker whirled around there was no one there. "I’m having hallucinations," he muttered.

"That’s rich," drawled William.

"Stuff it!" Augustus snarled.

"Striiikerrr miiine."

It was closer now and Stryker bolted, his terror showing on his face as he glanced back at his unseen enemy. A few panicked steps further, Stryker slipped on the thick debris of leaves and dead plants and skidded to a halt before he fell. Holding his breath, he listened for any trace of sound that would indicate he was being followed. Nothing.

"Now what do we do?" There was no answer. "William?"

The purring sounded above him and he pointed the pistol upward.

"Who’s there? I warn you, I’m armed!" he shouted at the canopy above.

There was a low, humorless laugh off to his left. "Donntt moooove, Striiikerrr."

"NO!" Stryker screamed. He saw the outline of the Predator come sharply into focus, seemingly out of nowhere and dropped the pistol. "No weapon! No weapon, no kill!" The smooth surface of the helmet gave him no indication of what the Predator was thinking but he remembered what it had done to Dunst and trembled. "NO KILL!"

K'Ha'Lon-Ka advanced and stepped firmly on the pistol. "Rrorrooo no weeeponnn. Striiikerrr miiine."

Stryker backed up, until stopped by rough bark behind him. "You’re not fit to judge me! I did what I had to do! My species is at stake! You can understand that, can’t you?" His voice alternated between rage and pleading, Stryker flicked his eyes left and right, looking for escape.

"Nice move giving him the gun."

"SHUT UP, William!" Stryker’s heart was thumping loudly in his chest. "I know what I’m doing!"

"Weapon X wouldn’t let a little thing like an unarmed enemy stop him, not when I was handling him. You should have used the bullet, Augustus. On yourself."

"STOP!" Augustus put his hands against his ears and tried to ignore the voice and the pain pounding throughout his head. He looked up and focused on the approaching monster and put his hand out in a warding off gesture. "GO! I won’t tell anyone about you. Leave me and I won’t tell. Please, leave me alone! I didn’t do anything to you!" Stryker screamed the last part out before he heard the throaty purr-click of the alien turn to a menacing chuckle once again.

"Miiine."

"I’m not some animal!" Stryker rushed forward only to be slammed back against the trunk of the tree behind him. "I’m not an animal! Let me live! NO KILL!" He screamed, his throat raw from the effort.

Two blades shot from his forearm guard and K'Ha'Lon-Ka realized they were yet one more thing he and the Not-Human Llgnnn had in common as he rammed the blades to trap the Quiet One against a tree, its neck pinned neatly between them. The Quiet One was not very quiet when he sliced its belly open with his circular knife in homage to the Not-Humans. He had seen the images the Not-Human Sccottt had shown him in order to find out if Striikkeerrr was the one remaining to be brought to justice. K'Ha'Lon-Ka sheathed the knife before reaching out to bat aside its flailing arms and legs in order to pull some of the entrails free from Quiet One’s body. It was what this human had done to Llggnnn and to Rrrorrrooo — pulled things from them on the inside, destroyed the little female’s young. He watched dispassionately as Quiet One’s screamed repeatedly, the screams escalating in agony only to drop off and start again. It was torture, he knew, but somehow…it was satisfying.

- - -

Scott boarded the Blackbird and moved toward the pilot’s station. Jean had unfolded the bench seating and Ororo lay there, carefully strapped in for take-off. Upon reaching the Blackbird, her incredible stamina and strength had finally given out. Logan sat in the nearest seat possible and only looked away from her long enough to meet Scott’s eyes as the Team Leader entered the jet. Alone of those that had been looking and seen the Black Hawk destroyed, Logan intuitively knew the reason for it. Logan sent a mental wish to K'Ha'Lon-Ka for a successful hunt.

They were barely airborne when Ororo cried out and simultaneously Logan smelled fresh blood, lots of it. It was Ororo’s blood. Jean unsnapped her safety restraints from the co-pilot’s station and raced to the back of the jet. Her examination was rapid and she reached for the emergency medical kits stowed in overhead compartments.

"Logan, I need your help," she snapped. "Scott, we need to be home…NOW!"

------

Chapter 7

Logan paced the small waiting area outside Medlab’s operating room. Ororo had started seriously hemorrhaging on board the Blackbird. Scott had pushed the jet to its limits in order to get Ororo back to the mansion and into surgery. All he could do now was wait while Dr. Henry McCoy and Jean desperately tried to stop the bleeding and save the Windrider’s life. Logan paused to gaze through the glass wall that looked into operating area of Medlab. Privacy curtains were drawn about the operating table where Jean and Hank labored over their patient. Logan leaned his head against the cool glass. He didn’t know whether to howl in rage or wail in grief as he replayed Stryker’s words in his mind.

The words continued to circle around and around in his head only now they had added another thought. "You killed the baby, you killed Ororo." Logan turned around so now his back was against the glass wall and slid to the floor, shaking with grief and anger; and with disgust at himself and his inability to protect anything he cared about.

It took him several minutes to realize that Scott had left the chair he had occupied since reaching Medlab and had settled in the floor beside him, not quite touching shoulder to shoulder. The Professor still sat in his wheelchair nearby, his head bowed, lost in thoughts of his own. Scott had, in spite of much protesting, sent Remy and Rogue off to report that the missing were found and that more information would be forthcoming later. He understood that they both wanted to be there but something told him that Logan needed space.

The only concession Logan had made since returning was to take a quick shower in the sub-basement showers and change into school-issued sweats and T-shirt. Scott had followed suit but had the foresight to bring a couple of the zip-up sweat jackets into the waiting room with him. As the other man’s shivering increased, Scott reached for the larger of the jackets and put it around Logan’s shoulders. Still saying nothing, he leaned back again, closing his eyes behind his visor and trying to keep tears at bay.

Though fearful for Ororo’s life, both Scott and the Professor were concerned for Logan’s mental and physical state also. Scott knew from experiences in the past that the older man was not invincible as much as they, and he, sometimes liked to believe he was. Logan’s healing ability had taken care of any immediately life threatening damage. Lack of good nutrition, however, had taken its toll and there were still surface injuries that needed tending. Visibly, the worst of the remaining injuries were his hands where the claw restraint gloves had been pinned on. As Logan flexed his hands, the injuries he caused as he cut and ripped the gloves free tended to open and bleed again. Scott was a good field medic and the Professor was better than good, but neither man wanted to push right now.

Scott’s observations were interrupted by the abrupt ‘snikt’ sound of Logan’s claws shooting from their housings. He looked over to see that Wolverine had his left hand held out in front of him and the claws fully extended. He was slowly turning his hand and looking at the gleaming, lethal claws. The wounds where the claws protruded were not closing as rapidly as usual and blood oozed from around the base of the metal. Scott watched Logan carefully. He knew that the combination of rage, grief, and self-recrimination sometimes resulted in a real desire for Logan to do himself harm.

Finally, Logan spoke, still staring at the extended claws, his hazel eyes dark and cold, his voice low and bitter, "These things are fucking useless. I could not save our child. I couldn’t save Ro. In fact, these fucking things are the cause of what happened. I’m government property. They’ll keep after me until they get what they want, destroy everything I care about. Everything I love…" Logan’s voice choked off abruptly. "If I hadn’t fought…" He slammed his head back against the window with enough force to crack it. "If only I hadn’t fought!"

Scott checked over his shoulder. Sure enough, Jean had been startled by the blow to the glass and had stepped out from inside the privacy curtain to head their way. He cocked his head slightly and sent her a mental message. She stopped, giving him a chance to calm Logan.

"Logan, I saw some of the video footage they made. Stryker must have had everything documented and I found it while looking for information on one of their computers. While…" here Scott choked, "while they were taking the baby, Stryker made a point of saying that the miscarriage was inevitable once Ororo was collared. He had every intention of killing Ororo after the fetus aborted and they had harvested her eggs." He paused again. Remembering the hideous images on the computer screen made Scott sick again with fury over what had been done. "Logan, he was only trying to hurt you further by what he said. He wanted to use that to break you. Let you believe you could have somehow prevented the abuse to Ororo. You couldn’t. Nothing could have. The man was insane." Scott hoped he had said enough to get through to his friend.

There was a long silence. Logan didn’t blink, didn’t move. Scott began to worry that he should not have shared the information when Logan slowly closed his eyes and leaned back gently against the cracked glass, slowly sheathing his claws.

"Logan?"

"Still here," Logan replied softly, dangerously. "Don’t get uptight, Scott. I won’t go ballistic. I’m too out of it. I just wish I’d done more than carve furrows into his skull."

Scott thought of the alien and his mirthless laugh after the Black Hawk had been destroyed. "I don’t think Stryker had long to live. Khhaa…whatever his name was…seemed pretty determined to serve him some justice the old-fashioned way."

Logan opened his eyes and turned to the younger man. "And you let him? Quite a change for you."

"I told you, I saw the tapes. I…I couldn’t let…Stryker was a monster." Scott swallowed hard. "I couldn’t just let him go but I couldn’t kill him either. I figured Khhaawhatsit needed some say in what happened to the man."

There was an answering nod. "Makes it easier, I suppose. We can’t bring Stryker to justice but he can. I hope K'Ha'Lon-Ka caught up to him." Logan closed his eyes once more. "I hope he got what he fucking deserved for what he did," he whispered savagely.

Scott and the Professor exchanged a glance. Logan would deal with it in time. He had survived before. This time, however, there were people who cared and would be there for him.

All three looked up and Scott and Logan got to their feet as Jean stepped out of the surgery, her eyes glowing. "Ororo will be fine. It will take a while but she’ll be ok."

Jean pitched her voice lower and stepped close to Logan, "There is no reason why she shouldn’t someday be able to have children." Scott couldn’t suppress a smile as Logan wrapped Jean in his arms and swept her up in tight hug. As he set her on her feet and turned to the surgery entrance, Jean laid a hand on his arm, "Not now. NOW, I am going to look you over, we’re going to get a good meal into you and by then Ororo should be ready for company."

Logan stiffened and glared at Jean for her refusal to allow him to see Ororo. A warning growl started deep in his chest. Scott looked wary but Jean simply tapped Logan’s chest sharply, "Do not growl at me, Wolverine. I said NOT right now. She needs to see you in perfect health, got me?"

Jean and Logan glared at one another for another heartbeat and much to everyone’s surprise, Logan lowered his head and backed down. Realization that Ororo needed rest and needed to see him strong and on his feet won out. The Professor smiled and wheeled his chair out of the waiting area. He would go tell the students and other X-Men that both Logan and Ororo were home and, in time, would be fine.

Scott reached out to tap Logan’s arm, "Hey, pal, lets get some food and appease my wife by getting you checked out. Otherwise, neither of us will hear the end of it." Logan managed a grin as Jean made a face at Scott.

- - -

In the safe depths of space, a lone ship started for home. The blue-green planet was falling rapidly behind him and K'Ha'Lon-Ka reflected on the image. If he had known what would happen, would he still have come? Yes, he nodded to himself. Far from just bringing home trophies that would win his right to court his beloved, he had secured relations with another intelligent species. His clan did not recognize any as being equal to themselves but these creatures were different and had changed his views about other beings.

He would not be forgetting them soon, either. He reached over and picked up a particularly striking skull. The Quiet One’s death had been quick, too quick really, but a hunter’s code must be obeyed and torture was not encouraged. Three perfectly parallel cuts marred the otherwise noteworthy specimen. To K'Ha'Lon-Ka, though, the marks were the valuable part of the object. It would forever remind him of the warrior with his fantastic weapons always at the ready, the one who healed, who had freed him and saved him from Stryker’s weapon, had marked his prey and then let K'Ha'Lon-Ka have the right to claim it so he could have justice. He leaned forward and picked up the lock of the little female’s hair. She was terrifying and wonderful, powerful beyond words and he would do anything for her as he would for her mate. Without reservation, she had offered him a small part of herself, tried to heal him when the humans were doing their worst. He fingered the soft lock gently. These had been creatures like himself, trapped in a nightmare created by the humans. The fact that they shared the planet with those monsters only heightened his respect for their courage.

He would keep the skull and the lock of hair out of his offering, of course. They belonged to him and he to the ones he had met. There was a blood debt he owed them and he would keep his silence. His clan would not recognize them as anything but highly valuable prey, since they did not yet have the ability to travel off the planet, live on other worlds, or even eradicate the weaker humans to claim their own territory on the planet. He knew better. Conquests and military superiority did not mean the ultimate intelligence to him anymore. They had proved that to him with their compassion, pride, and understanding, things his mother had stressed but he had never seen clearly before. He would keep their existence a secret from everyone. Besides, he thought to himself as he remembered the way the one with the red eyes had easily leveled that war machine of the humans, his kind would have quite a surprise in store should they decide to take these new creatures on.

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Chapter 8 (final chapter)

Scott Summers could not help but wonder how the day could dare be so beautiful. A few fluffy white clouds dotted the intense blue of the sky. The trees surrounding the small clearing danced to a gentle breeze, the brilliant hues of autumn beginning to show in the myriad colors of the leaves. The water of the lake, barely ruffled by the wind, glistened like a blue-grey mirror reflecting the clouds and the sky. Scott, Jean, Rogue, and the Professor had joined Ororo and Logan in the clearing to help say good-bye to the tiny spirit that had not survived that summer’s ordeal. It had taken some time for Ororo to heal physically and for both her and Logan to get to a place spiritually to allow for this gentle good-bye to their unborn child. Piotr Rasputin waited in the shelter of the trees to wheel the Professor back to the mansion. He had yet to come to know Logan and Ororo well and preferred not to intrude. This was not a true memorial service since there had not been a chance for memories of the loved one to develop. Ororo and Logan had chosen merely to do a ‘passage’ ritual to assist their unborn child’s spirit in its crossing to the other side.

Scott felt his throat tighten as he looked at the faces around him. It seemed such a short time ago that the people standing within the circle cast of rosemary sprigs and rose petals, had been rejoicing with the news of a pending birth amongst their own. The Professor, solemn and sad, clad as usual in his impeccable suit, waistcoat, and tie, sat in his wheelchair gazing at the lake. He only now and again looked to Logan and Ororo where they stood slightly apart. Jean and Rogue stood next to him, arms about each other, tears flowing freely. Scott longed to shed tears also but his ‘gift’ did not allow for it. Instead, he grieved silently for his two friends and for the spirit that he had been deprived of knowing.

Standing tall, proud, and as beautiful as the Goddess herself, Ororo picked up a small basket from the ground at her side and stepped forward to the edge of the lake. She gracefully cast a handful of ashes, made from the collection of offerings she held in the basket, on the tranquil surface of the water. The surface rippled as if an unseen hand had gently brushed it. Though spoken softly, her words were clearly heard by her friends and by the man that loved her more than life itself.

"The wheel of life turns,
The cycle of rebirth continues.
Those beyond life,
You are remembered today.
Gifts of love and hope,
Are offered whole heartedly,
To those we remember,
To those we do not,
To all of those we have lost.
Dark Lady and Dark Lord,
In your gentle embrace,
Our dead you have taken.
All threads of life are cut,
All threads are woven anew.
May the wheel turn,
And begin the cycle again.
We give freely…

Juniper for love," Ororo reached into the basket to draw out a scant handful of juniper twigs to cast on the lake. This action was repeated for each offering. "Yew for rebirth, Bay for strength, parsley for cleansing, Alyssum for happiness, Basil for peace."

With a catch in her voice, she finished, "May our blessings be received. You are remembered."

The Professor’s contribution had been a small stone that now sat at the foot of an ancient willow tree. The only word carved on the stone was "Beloved Spirit". They had not had an opportunity to know whether their child would have been a girl or boy. Therefore, Logan and Ororo had settled on the name Spirit. Ororo walked to the stone and cast a mix of the remaining ritual offerings around the stone. As she finished, Logan stepped over to take a small handful of ashes from the basket, casting them onto the water as Ororo had done. This was not his faith but it was hers and she believed in it strongly. He was content with that. Turning from the lake to the willow and the tiny marker it guarded, Logan began to speak, his voice ringing deep and clear in the solitude of the clearingÖ.

"Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow;
I am the diamond glints on the snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain;
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die."

Logan’s voice broke on the last line and he turned away from the others to gather his thoughts and still too raw emotions. This small service had brought home to him how very much he had wanted the child that they had lost because of the insane cruelty of a handful of men and women. Ororo’s gentle touch on his arm and a look into her tear glistened blue eyes was all he needed. He took her in his arms, holding her tightly and resting his head on hers. As they stood there together, each of their friends made their way over to the stone to leave their own wishes and thoughts or gifts.

Jean stood silently by the stone with her head bowed for a moment. Then she placed a perfectly formed, yellow Peace Rose next to the stone, "I cannot tell you how much I wanted a chance to know you, to hold you. Godspeed, little Spirit." She walked over to Logan and Ororo and hugged them both before leaving the clearing.

Next, Rogue walked over and knelt by the stone, "Spirit, your name says so much. Though never met nor held, you will be remembered." Rogue left a tiny, carved figurine of a winged ‘spirit’ or angel tucked into a small depression in front of the stone. She stopped only long enough to lay a gloved hand on Logan’s arm and nod solemnly at Ororo then followed Jean up the trail to the mansion.

Scott wheeled the Professor’s chair close to the willow and the memorial it regally guarded. At Charles’ signal, Scott stepped a few feet away to give the other man some privacy.

Charles gazed at the tiny stone. When Ororo and Logan had told him their news, he had been surprised and then overwhelmed with happiness at the thought of a baby coming into the lives of everyone at the mansion. He now sincerely and deeply felt the loss, as if it had in fact been his own grandchild. Mentally, he reached out and touched on the myriad minds that occupied his home, sending each one a gentle but mostly unfelt mental caress. Then he looked up, startled. A gaggle of wild geese soared overhead, their honking disturbing the peace in the small clearing. Charles smiled as, on the wind, he caught the barest touch of an unknown Spirit – gentle, glowing and at peace. His mind turned to the old stories he had been told as a boy of how the wild geese escorted souls across the Bridge and he nodded his farewell and a wish that this particular Spirit might be allowed to return someday.

Charles had Scott stop him near where Ororo and Logan stood, still holding one another; "There are no words to express my sorrowÖand angerÖover what happened to you both. I am here, should either of you need anything." Inadequate words he felt, but then how could words be anything other than inadequate at a time like this.

Ororo leaned down to kiss his cheek and Logan briefly rested his hand on Charles’ shoulder, "Thank you, Charles," he said softly, for once not using one of his many nicknames for the Professor. Piotr Rasputin stepped out of the forest and over to Charles. He looked down and nodded gravely at his friends, and then taking charge of the wheelchair, he carefully maneuvered Charles out of the clearing and onto the trail that led home.

Scott made his way over to the willow and dropped down onto his haunches to rest a hand on the top of the stone. He had no strong beliefs one way or the other but found himself hoping that Ororo’s words from earlier would come to pass. That perhaps the ‘cycle of rebirth’ did continue and that Spirit would yet have a chance to live someday. Scott had no doubt that Ororo and Logan would make fine parents, so the wish he left at the stone was for them to have another opportunity. At least one positive thing had come out of the horrors they had endured, their love for one another. Scott did not know if they had said anything to one another yet, but to the rest of their friends the feelings they had for one another were obvious. He wished them the best. He sent one more message to Spirit, "Look after them."

Gently caressing the stone one last time, he stood and walked over to his two friends. For several moments, he simply stood with them staring out at the lake. In the end, Scott could think of nothing to say that had not already been said in one form or another. Logan and Ororo returned his gaze and he saw understanding in both sets of eyes, the blue and the gold. He reached out, gathered the Windrider into his arms, and just held her. For now that was all he had to offer. Ororo returned his embrace, hugging him tightly then stepped back and kissed him on the cheek. She turned away then, wrapped her arms around herself, and returned her gaze to the lake.

Scott then turned to Logan. The other man looked tired still and worn from the too recent ordeal, the hazel eyes more haunted than ever. But, he was also somehow more at peace also. Scott hoped that was Ororo’s doing. He knew that they had spent almost every moment together since returning to the mansion.

"I can’t fix this," Scott said, all the sorrow he felt for them and Spirit edged his voice.

"No, there are some things that all you can do is live with and let time heal if it will," Logan replied, understanding what Scott had meant. All of their friends felt varying degrees of anger and sorrow for what had happened. For Scott, there was also the feeling that as Team Leader he should have somehow prevented it, been able to find them quicker.

Scott nodded toward the lake and the tall, regal woman that stood staring across it, "Will you stay? Here and with her?"

This time Logan smiled wryly, "My life is here now, Junior. And yes, IF she’ll have me."

Scott returned the smile, gripped Logan’s arm briefly and tightly, then turned, and made his way toward the trail that would take him home and into the comfort of Jean’s arms.

- - -

Logan hesitated to break into Ororo’s reverie as she stood staring across the lake. She had suffered so many things in the hideous confinement of the Facility, including the loss of their child. It had only been in the horrible moment of the baby’s loss that she had realized how much she had wanted and already loved their child. Once free and able to act, nothing could stand in the way of the Windrider’s fury over the loss of the baby and the abuse that he had suffered at the hands of Stryker and his minions. That loss of control disturbed the woman deeply. More deeply still, she was disturbed by her lack of guilt over the deaths she had caused. He could have told her that the fact that she was concerned at all meant something, that she did care, did feel guilt. Ororo was not yet ready to hear those things so, as much as Logan wanted to ease it for her, he knew there was little he could do. He could be at her side, listen to her, hold her when needed, but only she could resolve the conflict she felt over the deaths she had caused.

As if reading his thoughts, Ororo turned slightly and held out her hand. Logan walked over, took her hand in both of his, and brought it to his lips for a gentle kiss. He too had issues that needed dealt with over what had happened at the Facility and what had been done to him. What was it they said? Been there, done that. He would cope with it. He always did. Logan also felt that if Ororo was at his side, he could handle anything that came his way in the future. Her strength throughout everything that had happened was humbling. If Logan had a ‘touchstone’ in his life, Ororo was it.

Now she turned haunted crystalline blue eyes from the lake to him, "What now?"

"In the broad sense, now, we heal and we do what we can to make sure this doesn’t happen to anyone else," he stared deep into her eyes and hesitated. What if it was only the fear, pain, and horror of the moment that had drawn her closer to him? Could he survive knowing her love was different, not as deep? He gave a mental shake of his head. Even if she did not feel quite the same, there was love between them. Logan felt he could live with that. It would be enough to be near her, to protect her and always love her.

"Do you still love me?"

Ororo’s voice startled Logan out of his thoughts. He could not recall ever having said those words aloud to her. She was watching him intently. Logan took a deep breath. This was it.

"With all my heart, darling Ro," he said returning her look. Before Logan could continue, Ororo launched herself into his arms, holding on to him for dear life and raining kisses on his face. Laughing under her assault, Logan scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the old willow, sinking with her into the soft grass beneath its cherishing branches.

Ororo moved long enough for him to get comfortable with his back resting against the tree then settled on his lap. Logan brought his arms around her and pulled her tight against his chest, "Does this mean..." he began.

"Yes. It does mean…I love you. You are my heart and my soul mate, if you’ll have me." Ororo hesitated. After all, she had not done a very good job of protecting their first offspring. Logan might prefer to find a more…proficient mate. She reached passed him to gently brush the memorial stone with her hand. In addition, there was still the horrible way she had treated him after the night they had spent together.

"Logan…" again it was Ororo’s voice pulling him back from his thoughts. Her eyebrows were drawn with worry and fear lurked in her sapphire eyes.

"IF I will have you! I love you, Ororo. I want to live with you, marry you, and someday have children with you." He finally replied and saw her eyes light with joy and love.

Then once again, she was frowning, "Logan, it is not that…"

"Then what? The baby? Darlin’, Scott told me that night that we thought we’d lose you that from the second they put the collar on you, the child was lost. Nothing either of us could have done, even had the collar been immediately removed. Jean told me later that the disruption it causes is irreparable." Logan paused. He had suffered enough himself, feeling responsible for Ororo’s near death and the loss of the baby. Scott’s words had helped him considerably and later Jean had only affirmed what the other man had told him. Logan still felt a tremendous responsibility for all that had happened. It was, after all, his connection to Ororo that had caused them to take her in the first place.

Ororo pushed back from him so she could look him in the eyes. The warmth and love radiating from the golden eyes made her catch her breath. She reached up to place her hand along his face, "Thank you for that. But there’s something else…" his eyes darkened with concern and he went still. Ororo did not want to hurt him but had to say what was on her mind. She had nearly lost the chance to ‘make things right’ during their captivity.

"After the night we spent together, my behavior was abhorrent. I was cold, distant, and even rude. I was embarrassed by my reasons for going to your bed. I mean I wanted you but more than that, I wanted to feel wanted. You didn’t deserve that and never once did you treat me as if I were just an evening’s…recreation. And you never changed the way you treated me afterward so I felt horrible about how I was treating you and that made me more embarrassed and I got even more distant…" Ororo broke off in confusion as Logan began to laugh softly. Here she was, trying to apologize and explain her behavior and the man was laughing? More nervous than she remembered being in her lifetime and he was laughing. For a moment, her eyes flashed fire.

"Whoa, darlin’! It’s ok. I understand. Neither of us handled things as well as they could’ve been handled. As long as there are no regrets…" the relief in Logan’s voice was apparent.

Ororo reached up and pulled his head down into a fierce kiss. When she let him go and leaned back against his chest, she said softly "Never any regrets about that night. It was the beginning of realizing something that I should have known long ago," she paused smiling into his eyes, "that I loved you and always will."

Logan chuckled softly. In the midst of tragedy and horror, they had found one another. Ororo was his peace and his battle cry. She was everything needed to make his life complete. Logan no longer felt the intense need to remember his past in its entirety. His memories of Augustus Stryker’s lab were all too clear. If clues and information came his way, so be it. His need to go searching was stilled. He glanced at the stone marker. Someday Logan would bring his and Ororo’s children here and tell them about the Spirit that had brought their parents together and fulfillment to his life.

End

Footnotes: The Passage Ritual was found at a lovely web site. I apologize that I do not have the link to provide as my computer chose that time to sputter and die. I do want to thank the authors of the ritual.

Footnotes: The poem that Logan quotes, ‘Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep’ is one that I came across many years ago. The author is listed as Anonymous. This poem has seen me through some trying times and means a great deal to me so I chose to use it to express Logan’s feelings. My thoughts and thanks go out to the author of this beautiful poem.

Final Note: I chose to use a Wiccan approach to the Ritual of Passage because that is the belief system with which I am most familiar. I intend no insult or bias for or against any other belief system. I respect all and sincerely believe the world would be a boring place without such diversity.

Blessed be,

Alisa