Scent.

It was the first sense he called upon when waking. It could provide him with a multitude of information before he even opened his eyes. He inhaled lightly, slowly, and a barrage of smells assaulted him. A familiar sweet and slightly flowery scent with hints of lemons, and something else met his nostrils. Something exotic, and hot. He inhaled deeply, air filling his lungs, filling his mind with the scent. He liked that scent. A whole hell of a lot. Dirt, and a lot of it. Trees. The somewhat harsh scent of pine. Water. The harsh, reeking scent of burning jet fuel. His eyes ran with tears as they flashed open and immediately his lungs rejected the fumes with several hacking coughs.

Then, a new scent mingled with the others; a coppery, tangy scent, like a new penny.

Blood.

He conducted a quick scan of his body, but there was no pain. If the blood was his, any pain he'd experienced was fleeting. His eyes flashed open, instantly scanning for a threat, for the slightest hint that danger was near.

But he could detect no immediate threat. No, the threat had already come, leaving wreckage strewn about the forest. With a sudden flash, it all came back to him, and he jerked upright. They had just been arriving at the site of their mission when a surface-to-air missile had exploded from the pine forest below. Though Storm was an excellent pilot, they hadn't been expecting to run into such danger, and she had been unprepared for offensive maneuvers. It was supposed to have been a recon mission only, no engagement scenarios had been discussed at their briefing.

The missile had blown through the rear of the jet and destroyed the navigational systems and engines. They fell from the sky in a wicked tailspin, gathering more and more speed until the blood had drained from their brains leaving them unconscious. None of them had been able to eject in time.

Logan's eyes darted around the forest frantically, searching for any sign of Rogue or the others. Adrenaline and something feral instantly flooded his veins, making his heart beat faster, his senses more alert. Blood flow increased to his muscles and he flexed them in anticipation of tearing this enemy into tiny bloody bits of flesh and bone. With a metallic twang, his claws unsheathed and he stalked through the wreckage, flinging pieces of the crumbled wreckage aside as if they weighed no more than tissue paper. Suddenly, he froze. A small intake of breath, a moan, and the sound of debris shifting slightly caught his ear. He strained all his senses toward the sound, and when he heard another cry, he bolted forward toward the sound of distress. Metal sheeting, insulation, and other various bits of jet were thrown out of his way as he closed in on the sound.

“Rogue? I’m coming, just hold on!” If he was any other man, his voice would have sounded scared. But he was the Wolverine. He was not scared.

He neared the origin of the sound, and he froze, momentarily stunned by the sight that met his eyes. Rogue was covered in blood. Her dark hair was matted to the left side of her face, the white streak stained pink by the amount of blood coursing from a gash in her forehead. Her eyes were shut tightly, a grimace of pain etched over her sweet, abnormally pale face. Her black leather uniform was shredded and burned. A thin piece of metal from the jet fuselage was sticking out of her chest, just under her right breast. It was close to the spot where he had inadvertently impaled her seven years ago. She'd just been trying to wake him from another one of those goddamn nightmares. Logan shook his head and tried to focus. Blood was seeping from the wound in her chest. He tried to concentrate on assessing her injuries without letting her know how badly she was wounded. Her breathing was labored and bubbling, like she was underwater. Her right femur had punctured her thigh, and blood pumped out, seeming to slow before his eyes. Femoral artery, Logan thought. Fuck. Fuck!

She was still strapped in to one of the jet's passenger seats. A moment of panic set in as he realized how close she was to dying, how close she was to being beyond his help. He knelt down and unlatched her seatbelt harness and then ripped a piece of the tattered remains of her uniform and quickly tied it tightly above the wound in her leg, unsure if it would do any good at this point.

She groaned as the pressure of the tourniquet met her raw and exposed nerve endings, and his eyes went to her face. A slight breeze lifted a strand of clean hair away from her face and her eyes opened. Clouded by pain as they were, he wasn’t sure if she knew where she was, or if she even knew he was there.

“Logan?” She said, weakly.

He jumped at her voice, and immediately leaned closer to her face. “I’m here, kid.”

“How-?" a strangled gurgle interrupted her and blood seeped from her mouth. She closed her eyes for too many seconds. Logan shook her arm, panic setting in. Her eyes fluttered open at the movement. "How bad?” She asked again, her breathing growing noticeably worse.

He knew by the scent of her blood and the sound of her slowing heart beat that it was bad.

“It’s hardly a scratch, kid. You’ll be back to your old self in no time.” And she would, he thought. One simple power-sucking touch and she’d be back to normal. “This is going to hurt,” he said, sheathing his claws and grabbing the metal shrapnel jutting from her chest.

Her eyes closed again, and she seemed to nod ever so slightly, in acknowledgement of what he had to do.

“On the count of three. One, two-” Abruptly, Wolverine jerked back his hand, and the metal came free from her chest, blood gushing from the empty space. Rogue let out a harsh cry of pain, and tears seeped out of her shut tight eyes. He grimaced at the sound, and immediately placed pressure on the wound. “Sorry, kid. I had to take it out, it’ll heal faster.”

Even as he spoke, he could feel his energy being sapped through his fingers where they met her exposed flesh through the shredded remains of her uniform. His veins strained against the pull of her body, and he dimly heard the snap of a bone righting itself, and the slightly sickening sound of flesh mending. The light at the edges of his vision began to fade, and his nostrils were filled with the same sweet, hot scent as before. Fuck. When did she start smelling so goddamn good? Logan had only realized how fucking good she smelled two days ago, the night of their briefing for this mission. But the beast within him, the Wolverine, had known it for seven long years. That was the last thought he had before he succumbed to the black.

Two Days Earlier

Logan eased shut the front door of the mansion of Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters as quietly as possible. At just past two in the morning, he didn't want to risk waking any of the students or staff as he returned from his visit to the bar. Despite the vast quantities of whiskey he'd consumed this evening, he barely felt the effects of alcohol as he made his way up the stairs. After the briefing with Charles and the other team members earlier this afternoon, he'd very much wished he could just get blindingly drunk like any other poor bastard out there. Though he knew why he was going on this particular mission, it didn't mean he had to like it. He'd been experimented on before, had some notion of what they might expect if they ran into any danger. But still. Fucking labs.

There was a small amount of light coming from the hallway at the top of the landing, but he hardly needed it with his advanced sight. Suddenly, the sounds of distress met his ears and he froze, his foot just reaching the top step. He'd noticed no signs of a danger when he returned on his motorcycle. He sniffed, trying to detect the presence of any potential threats. Amid the various scents of students, teachers, wood polish, and food, Logan detected her. He let out a loud huff of relief as he realized there was no immediate threat to the school or its inhabitants. He could always pick her out of a crowd, no matter how many people were there.

Making his way along the corridor reserved for teachers and staff, he found her room and put his ear against the door, straining again for any further signs of distress. Muffled cries and the sound of tossing and turning, then, "No. No!"

Genuinely worried now, Logan reached for the door knob and was mildly surprised to find it locked. Without hesitation, he unleashed one claw, inserted it through the locking mechanism destroying it with a quick twist, and strode inside Marie's bedroom.

He inhaled deeply. Every inch of the place smelled like her. And he allowed himself to admit just how much he liked that.

He turned his attention to her bed, where he found her turning restlessly, tangled in her bed sheets, muttering and jerking her head from side to side. He went to touch her shoulder to wake her, but noted she was wearing a simple white camisole that left her shoulders and arms bare. Shuddering slightly as he noted the shape of her breasts pressed against the semi-transparent material, he forced himself to ignore the bolt of arousal that ran through him and look at her face. Though she had managed to achieve some control over her power over the last several years, he wasn't sure if that control extended to an unconscious, nightmare-having Rogue. Instead he opted to reach out to one entangled thigh and shook gently. "C'mon kid. Wake up. You're havin' a nightmare."

A strange sense of déjà vu overcame him as he realized she had likely done something very similar when she found him in the throws of a flashback seven years ago. Of course, that had ended with his adamantium claws buried to the hilt in her right chest. He glanced down at her again, and as expected, found no signs of scars from that encounter. She'd healed without a mark, thanks to her mutation's ability to absorb his healing factor.

No signs of waking, and she muttered another louder, "No!" Logan shook her again, slightly rougher this time. He didn't like this. He could smell her fear and it put him on edge. "Kid, wake up. I'm here. Nothin's gonna hurt you."

Without warning, she bolted upright and let out a harsh roar and punched him square in the jaw.

"Shit," he said, touching the tender spot. "Nice left hook, kid."

"Holy shit. Logan?" She shook her left hand, rubbing the knuckles where they'd made contact with his face. "What are - what are you doing in here?" Her eyes were wide and blinking rapidly as she raked over his form, and her breathing was ragged.

"Aside from getting punched in the face?" Even in the dark, he noticed a slight blush appear on her face. "I just got in. Heard you moanin' in here. Thought something was wrong." Poor choice of words, he thought looking at the blush grow deeper. Maybe he should have said 'crying' instead. Moaning had - other connotations. Suddenly, he was picturing just what other connotations were associated with the word, and he felt himself growing painfully erect within his jeans.

"Ah," she said, her breathing slowing somewhat. "Well. I'm okay. It was just a nightmare." She looked up at him, bringing her knees up to hug them into her chest. "One of yours, in fact."

He jerked his head up, startled out of the direction his thoughts had been taking and stared at her. "The lab?"

She nodded.

"Fuck, kid. I'm sorry." Though it had been seven years since he'd transferred his powers to her to prevent her from dying on Liberty Island, he knew she still had some of his memories and instincts that rose to the surface on occasion. Like tonight. He sat on the bed next to her and she scooted away so she wasn't touching him. "I thought you had some control?"

She nodded, "I do. But I'm not sure I'm really in charge right now. Feelin' a little shaky."

"I don't blame you. Those nightmares are shit." She nodded at his words and he could hear her heartbeat slowing a bit from the panicky rhythm when he first found her.

"Wanna talk about it, kid?" He told himself he was just making sure she was okay. It certainly didn't have anything to do with him wanting so stay here next to her, drinking in the delicious smell of her, or taking in the sight of much, much more skin than he was used to seeing on her. The Wolverine within him was growling his approval. Yes, comfort, mate. Logan shook off the thought with a growing amount of difficulty.

"Nah. You know the deal. Men in goggles, that horrible underwater tank. The men in uniform, celebrating with that goddamn champagne. Same shit as usual."

"Shit. Today's briefing probably didn't help any."

She nodded again. "Yeah, the thought of going to investigate this lab must have brought it on." She shuddered very slightly, but he felt it and throwing caution to the wind, put his arm around her, his hand resting on her bare upper arm. He was still wearing his leather jacket so there was no direct skin contact other than his hand.

"Careful, I don't want to hurt you."

He felt her tense at the contact. "Look kid, you can't hurt me, remember? And even if you do, I'll heal up in no time." He started moving the hand on her shoulder in small circles, willing her to relax.

She sighed and leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder taking in the smell of him. Leather jacket, cigars, some whiskey, and something else wild. Something male and powerful. She liked it and felt a rush of arousal flood her body. She felt like she hadn't smelled him up close in years. And with a slight shock, she realized that was probably true. He was often away from the mansion on more dangerous missions, and she'd been at college for four of the past seven years. Marie had really only started seeing him more frequently just six short months ago, after she'd officially been made a senior member of the team.

After graduating from college, she'd come back to the mansion to help teach and to complete some more schooling of her own. More martial arts and fighting classes, more intelligence training, even aviation classes to learn to fly the jet. Mr. Summers-Scott, she mentally corrected herself, had been training her on the more advanced features of flying the new Blackbird.

The Mutant Registration Act had been stalled in legislation for years, but now it seemed as though it was gaining momentum again. Tension was once more rising amongst mutants and humans, and as a result her training intensity had increased as well. She'd been out with the senior team several times now, and was feeling less and less like a former student, and more like an integral part of the X-Men.

She inhaled his scent again and settled more firmly against him. He felt warm and strong, and made her feel comfortable, despite the negligible amount of clothing she had on. He was right, she couldn't hurt him. She was in total control of her skin right now, and she could touch as much as she wanted to. The thought of touching Logan's skin deepened her arousal and she enjoyed the liquid heat that was spreading through her. She remembered how attractive she found him the very first time she laid eyes on him. His back was to her in the cage. One arm clutching the chain link fence, chest heaving. He'd made an impression on her that started as hero-worship and grown into friendship and mutual respect.

He couldn't help but notice the smell of her arousal. It was intoxicating, and it made him hungry for a taste of her. He inhaled deeply and let the heady scent of her fill his lunges. Just a kid, she's just a kid, Logan told himself. The Wolverine growled his denial. She was twenty-four. She hadn't been a kid in years. He just hadn't been around to see her grow up. The thought of an all grown-up Marie sent his imagination into a wild overdrive where they were doing all kinds of very grown-up things together. Fuck. Was it just because he hadn't had a woman in awhile? Was that it? No. I want her.

"Are you nervous?" She asked, her voice slightly muffled from where her face was pressed into his chest.

He jerked, wondering if she'd somehow been reading his thoughts. Then he realized she was probably talking about the upcoming mission to investigate a lab that was rumored to be experimenting on mutants. "No. It's just a simple scouting mission. Just gathering intel. We'll be fine."

"Logan," she lifted her head and looked into his eyes. "I'm scared. Something about the labs - it makes me cringe inside. Makes me feel sick."

He stared back into her face, and turned her shoulders so she was facing him head on. Her legs had become untangled from the sheets and he tried not to notice how very high her silk sleep shorts had ridden. "I would never let anything happen to you. I'll take care of you," he ground out the last five words, emotion filling his voice as he remembered the last time he'd said them to her. On the train right before Magneto had ripped it apart in search of Rogue. He wondered if she remembered too. He'd almost failed her that time.

"Promise?" She responded, smiling.

"Yeah. Yeah, I promise."

Her eyes darkened and she drew in a harsh breath as she noticed the ferocity of his gaze. Then, without warning, he brought his hand to the back of her head and kissed her, savagely. Tasting her sweetness and the last remnants of her fear, he found it was quickly replaced by the taste of her desire. After a moment's hesitation, she met him just as fiercely, matching his passion with each kiss. He licked the corner of her lips then bit her bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth. She groaned and the sound of it sent fire pounding through his veins. The Wolverine within him was thrashing, growling, begging to be released. But he couldn't let it out. Not yet. It was too soon.

He moved his other hand down the smooth line of her neck to cup one full breast. He growled as the smell of her arousal thickened in the air around him, and he thumbed her nipple through the cotton of her camisole.

Marie could feel herself spinning. Oh god, this was happening. The roughness of Logan's stubble as he rubbed his jaw down her neck made her shiver. It was like he was marking her, rubbing his scent on her. She arched her back, offering herself to him. He made a wild sound as he grabbed her hips and dragged her onto his lap so she was straddling him. The hard feel of his arousal against her core sent another
wave of pleasure, even stronger this time, coursing through her body. He bent his head down to suckle her nipple through the camisole, his breath hot against her. Marie moaned, and he smiled to himself at the sound. This. This was exactly what he thought of before when he said he heard her moaning.

She rocked her hips. Once. Twice. And he bit her lightly on the breast in response. She sucked in her breath and he lifted his head to taste her again. Their tongues met and the flavor of Marie filled his senses. Her hands were on his chest, pushing down the sleeves of his leather jacket and he obliged her by ripping off the jacket and tossing it to the floor. Their lips met again and she ground against the hard ridge in his jeans, her breath catching. Ah, fuck, Logan thought as he smelled her wetness. He should really stop this soon. It was too fast. But maybe, he groaned as she bent her head forward to lick the side of his neck, maybe just another minute.

Marie worked her lips down the column of his neck, tasting the salt of his skin. When she got to the collar of his shirt, she brought her hands up to start unbuttoning it. Logan let out low growl and brought his hands up to cup her ass and grind her into him. She could feel her wetness seeping through her sleep shorts, could smell herself and it only made her hunger for more. She was losing her control and began to feel frantic as Logan ground himself against her.

"Fuck, Marie."

He said her name. The world was suddenly spinning and she was overwhelmed by the surge of lust and possessiveness she felt. With a shock, she noticed the pull of Logan's skin against hers, everywhere they touched. And she jumped off him, horrified at her lack of restraint. She'd almost lost her entire focus. She felt her defenses slam back up as she tried to calm down and regain control.

He was breathing hard and staring intensely at her. She rubbed her hand over her lips, still feeling the burn of his lips against hers. Several silent moments passed. "I'm sorry," she said.

"For what," he snarled back.

"I lost control."

"I shouldn't have kissed you," he rasped out.

She sobered, instantly. She had been referring to her losing control over her power. She felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown on her. He regretted touching her. She was just some kid. An idiot who'd had her first taste of real desire and arousal and had rubbed up against him like some cat in heat. She felt instantly humiliated and moved away from him.

"You're right. You should leave now. It's late."

He looked at her, still breathing hard, his face unreadable. He bent to pick up his leather jacket on the way out and managed not to slam the door on his way out.

Fuck. That was not how he'd wanted that to end. Logan was furious with himself. For pushing her too fast, and at the stupid-ass comment he'd made about not wanting to kiss her.

He stalked back down the hall and passed a surprised Iceman who was just coming up the stairs, bowl of ice cream in hand. He smirked at Bobby as he realized which room Logan had just come from. It gave him more than a smidgeon of satisfaction to note the jealous look on the kid's face. Though he and Rogue hadn't been in a relationship in years, it irritated Logan more than slightly to know that Bobby had experienced Marie's kisses before he had. Had touched her before he had. He ground his teeth together, snarling and stalked past Bobby, down the stairs and out the front door. He had to get the scent and taste of Marie out of his system before their mission. He had a promise to keep, and he needed a clear head to do it.

Marie woke to the sound of a sickening cracking squelch, like a gunshot heard underwater. Her eyes darted open as she realized Logan's hand was pressed into the healing wound in her chest, touching her bare, nearly healed skin. A rush of heat went through her as she tried to separate the rush of thoughts and emotions pouring into her, from her own. She could feel his fear, his ferocity at finding her nearly dead. Could smell his blood and hers mixed together, staining the fabric of both their uniforms. She jerked her head as she caught a clear image of the Wolverine unleashing inside her. She was suddenly murderous with rage. Who would dare touch her? She is mine to protect, and they had endangered her. They will be hunted and slaughtered, I will bathe in their blood, I will-

She jerked upright and broke the connection Logan had made, breathing hard, trying to focus. The visceral images of Wolverine slaughtering those who had dared harm his mate-

Marie wiped the blood out of her face with her free hand, keeping one hand over the material covering Logan's chest, feeling the steady, though somewhat slow, beat of his heart.

I'm Marie, I'm Marie. Marie chanted to herself as she tried to rebuild the walls of the Wolverine persona within her mind. She tried not to let the bloodlust of Wolverine overtake her as she continued to heal. She had learned a measure of control over her mutation during the past several years, but she was prone to losing that control during especially stressful events. The ache in her leg was growing more faint, and the stabbing pain in her chest was nearly gone. The blood flowing from her forehead had stopped as well, though she could feel its sticky remnants in her hair and on what was left of her uniform.

A few minutes seemed to pass and Marie could feel Logan's heartbeat growing stronger. She let out a sigh of relief. The Wolverine within her quieted somewhat and she stood up.

The others. She must find them so they could get back to the mansion. The reconnaissance mission was obviously a failure. Their jet had somehow been detected and shot down.

They knew we were coming. The thought flashed quickly through her brain, and the Wolverine in her head growled his agreement. She went cold inside at the thought of the possibility they had been betrayed by someone they trusted.

Marie turned and glanced again at Logan's unconscious body. His chest was rising and falling at a normal rate. She inhaled deeply. She could no longer smell death on the air. But there was a new scent. Greasepaint and gunpowder. She froze and the Wolverine bared his teeth and growled a warning in her head. This threat smelled somewhat familiar to him. Marie cocked her head straining her temporarily heightened senses for the sound of footsteps, for the rustle of fabric, the crack of a branch. She bared her teeth at the breeze when no other sounds accompanied the new smell. Cautiously, she moved slowly toward the wreckage of the jet, hoping to find Storm or any of the others alive so they could get the hell out of there.

Suddenly, a strange sound met her ears. A small popping noise emanated from the cluster of aspen trees to her right, and she brought her hand up to her neck which was suddenly stinging. A wave of dizziness passed through her and she nearly fell to the earth. But the temporary gift of Logan's healing abilities kicked in once again and she remained upright. Carefully feeling the source of the stinging, Rogue felt three tiny darts and immediately jerked them out of her neck, throwing them to the forest floor. Then she heard it and jerked her head toward the sound of muffled cursing.

"Again. Medium strength."

And again, she felt the sting of a dart at her neck. This time, the wave of dizziness lasted longer, but still she was able to reach up and pull out the tranquilizers.

"Fuck. She's still upright, sir."

"Maximum strength dosage this time. Fire at will."

Rogue jerked herself toward the direction of the voices, prepared to attack. But it was too late. The sting of the tiny darts was everywhere; her neck, her chest, her arms. And this time, the dizziness prevailed and darkness awaited her when she hit the ground.
__________

Marie found herself swirling in a sea of white mist. Phantom images and sounds flashed before her but seemed to be just out reach. She tried to stretch out one hand in an attempt to clear the smoke but found her arm remained at her side. This isn't right, she thought. At the thought, the smoke seemed to clear from her head a little and she could feel herself laying on her back. On a cold, hard surface. She opened her eyes and stared directly into the harsh beam of surgical lights. She tried to jerk upright then groaned - no, tried to groan at the instant headache it had caused.

There was a sore patch at the base of her skull. Again, she tried to lift one hand to touch the sensitive spot but found her arm unresponsive to her commands. She couldn't even move her eyes except to blink them.

She began to panic. What had happened? Was she paralyzed? Where was she? Where was Logan? Her mind was spinning, and she could feel something was very, very wrong.

Oh, god, she thought as the memory of the crash came flooding back to her. Her broken leg, the shrapnel in her chest, Logan healing her, the tranquilizers.

The blood drained from her head and she saw dark spots at the corners of her vision. She was in the lab. They'd shot her full of tranquilizers and taken her to the lab they'd been sent to investigate.

Get up.

The command came without warning and she wanted to jump at the sound of it in her head. Instead she watched, horrified, as her legs swung over the edge of the table and her arms pushed her to a standing position on the floor. She did not move at all afterwards. She noted to her horror that she was naked but she could not move her hands to cover herself. Straight ahead she saw several men in uniforms in the next room. Others were in white lab coats. All of them were staring at her. She felt ill, her stomach roiling.

Raise your right arm.

The command sounded in her head again and her traitorous arm complied without a moment's hesitation.

Drop your right arm and bend over.

She could not refuse the command. It was impossible.

Sing, "I'm a Little Teapot."

She sang and heard laughter coming from the men in the other room. Humiliation crashed over her and she continued to sing.

Stop singing and stand up straight.

Her mind raced frantically, trying to summon any strength that may have remained from borrowing Wolverine's powers. She searched for him in her mind and found no trace of him. No trace of Bobby, no hint of Magneto. A bolt of pain shot through her brain as she tried to keep searching. There was nothing, not even any barriers where they used to be. The pain increased. It was like they had never been in her mind. She wanted to scream from the pain, but she kept looking, hoping, for any sign, any hint they were there.

"Stupid girl. That won't work."

She stopped searching and the pain ceased at once.

This time the words came over the intercom speaker from the wall to her left. It was an older male's voice. Marie detected a slight southern accent, but there was no charm in this man's voice. It was all honeyed slime.

You may speak freely, but you may not move.

It was though an invisible hand had lifted itself from around her neck. She rasped out, "What have you done to me? Where's Logan?"

"Tsk tsk, Marie. Where are your manners?"

"It's Rogue, to the likes of you."

You must say please and thank you and address the man as "sir" every time you speak with him.

Disgust exploded in her mind at the latest command. She tried to grit her teeth in resistance, but could not disobey.

"Please, what have you done to me, sir? Where's Logan, sir?" Rage coiled in her belly at her forced deference.

"Now, that's better," the man said. Marie could hear the smirk of smugness in his voice. "Well, Marie. Let's just say you're participating in the final phases of very important, very historic clinical trials. These trials must, of course, be conducted before our global launch initiative. We wouldn't want to flout regulations now, would we?" Another round of laughter could be heard from those in the room with the man. She wished she could see which man was speaking. So she could burn the image of him into her brain. So she could focus on killing him. Violently.

"Please, sir. Don't clinical trials usually have volunteers?" Marie ground out. She hated herself for her lack of ability to deny the commands.

"Well, seeing as animals like you don't usually volunteer, they've been in rather short supply since we - well, finished the last round of tests."

Animal. He'd called her an animal. "Thank you, sir. Please, where's Logan?"

The intercom speaker crackled once then went silent.

You may not speak. Go to sleep.

She collapsed to the floor and her mind descended into darkness.

The Previous Day

Marie slept in later than usual that morning. Usually she was up at six on weekday mornings to get ready for teaching, or for more of her own lessons. As today was Friday, that meant she was due in the Danger Room at eight o'clock for one final scenario before their mission to the lab tomorrow. She didn't much care if she was late to her training session this morning. She knew Logan would be there, and she wasn't quite sure how she felt about seeing him right now.

After she'd been awakened from her nightmare by Logan, and all that had transpired afterwards, she found herself tossing restlessly for hours, unable to sleep. She kept replaying the things he'd said in her head, feeling a fresh round of embarrassment each time she heard, I shouldn't have kissed you. Kept reliving the feel of his lips on hers and hearing him say, Fuck, Marie, and feeling another surge of arousal at the memory. With nothing but Logan on her mind all night, she had tried relentlessly to quiet the refreshed Wolverine inside her head. She had not been successful. The latest transfer of Logan's energy, though only for a moment, had added several nuances to Wolverine's behavior in her head. In addition, he was more dominant, louder in his opinions, and goddamn him, a whole hell of a lot sexier. Marie bared her teeth at the thought, then swore loudly as she realized that was all Wolverine.

Looking at the clock on her nightstand, Marie blinked rapidly trying to clear the gritty feeling from her eyes. It was 8:11. The Danger Room training session was already in progress then. She sighed and rolled over, pulling the sheets over her head and forced herself to try and shake off the memory of last night.

A loud knock on her door made her jump and she sat up. Was it Logan? Coming to bring her to the training session? Her heart raced and her stomach jumped at the thought.

The knocking continued. "Rogue? Are you there?"

Marie let out a huff of air, blowing some errant hair out of her eyes. She was both relieved and disappointed in finding out who was knocking on her door. "Go away, Bobby." She was not in the mood to deal with him. Marie didn't know whether or not it was the fact that she had just been around Logan, but Bobby seemed like such a child. It was one of the reasons they'd split up; Marie had wanted someone more mature, someone who was more forceful in their actions. And that someone just wasn't Bobby.

More knocking, louder this time. "Rogue, come on. Open up. I know what happened last night."

Marie narrowed her eyes. How the hell did Bobby know what had happened last night? There was no way he knew Logan had been in here. It's not like he could smell Logan in here. Not like she could. "Fuck. Off." She responded.

Apparently not caring for her tone, Bobby turned the door knob and strode in to the room. Marie jerked the sheets back over herself, outraged at his boldness. "What the fuck, Bobby?" The Wolverine in her head was growling menacingly as Iceman looked at her. Bobby stood close to the open door, arms crossed.

"The lock was busted," he shrugged, foolishly unconcerned at the death glare Marie was giving him. She hadn't realized at the time that Logan had broken through her lock to get to her. Not that it mattered, she told herself. Anybody can get through a damn door in this place. "Come on. Suit up. We're all ready and waiting for you."

Marie noted that he was in his black leather uniform and felt a smidgeon of guilt for not showing up for the training session. "Can't you guys just do it without me?"

Bobby shook his head. "You know we can't. The Professor wants us to have one final run-through before the mission tomorrow."

Another stab of guilt. She had just made it on the senior team, and here she was fucking it up already. She owed this school so much; her control over her power, her friends, the roof over her head. And she was acting like a spoiled child. She let out a sigh. "Okay. Give me two minutes."

Bobby smiled at her response, but didn't move from the door.

"Um. Can you get out while I change?"

Bobby winked as he turned to leave. "Nothin' I haven't seen before."

Marie felt herself blush mildly at his words. Though they'd never gone all the way, they had done their fair share of fooling around, just as she had been learning to control her powers. The memory of Bobby's hands on her breasts flashed briefly in her mind. The Wolverine thrashed wildly at Bobby's words and her memories. "Oh, shut up." She told the beast.

She could hear Bobby laughing out in the hallway. Well, that worked out nicely. That had applied to both of them. Marie bounded out of bed, stepped into the black leather uniform that was hanging in her closet and laced up her boots. A quick trip to the bathroom to grab a hair tie and she left her room, pulling her streaked hair into a high ponytail. "Okay, let's go."
______________

"Well, that sucked," Kitty said as she, Bobby, Marie, Storm, and Logan left the Danger Room.

Marie nodded in agreement but didn't speak further as they headed down the hallway. Their communication and coordination had been awful, their timing off. All of which had resulted in a failed training scenario. She had kept getting distracted by trying to look at Logan throughout the simulation, damn him. He hadn't looked at her once the entire time. In fact, he hadn't said a single word to her after she'd arrived with Bobby. Unless you could count the loud sniff he'd made upon their arrival, "About time."

"Well you know what they say, 'bad dress rehearsal, good show,'" Storm replied, trying to raise their spirits. Glancing at the others, Marie could tell it hadn't had any such impact. "Regardless of how well that session went-"

"It sucked," Kitty interrupted.

"Regardless of how that went, we need to remember to stay focused tomorrow. Even though it's a reconnaissance, intel gathering mission only, we need to stay alert. Anything can happen when you're in the field." As team leader for this mission, Storm was determined to maintain a positive attitude and ensure they had a successful mission. She didn't need any negative thoughts influencing the outcome tomorrow. "Okay. Any final questions before tomorrow?"

Everyone looked around but no one said anything. Marie briefly caught Logan's eye before he growled quietly and slid his gaze past her to stare out the window. Marie sucked in her breath at the small pang that went through her at his actions.

"Alright then. See you all tomorrow morning. We're taking off at ten o'clock sharp."

At those final words, the team disbanded; Kitty and Bobby linked hands and headed off towards the grounds, while Storm turned to Logan and said, "Logan? A quick word?" He hesitated briefly then nodded and the two of them strode off towards Storm's office.

Marie was left in the hallway, at a loss for what to do next. She didn't have any other classes or lessons on Fridays. Usually, she and some of the others would head into town for lunch or other errands. But none of that sounded appealing to her today.

The Danger Room session had lasted a grueling three hours, but somehow she wasn't tired. She felt a restless energy that she thought might be leftover from the brief contact with Logan. "Ugh!" She said out loud, thoroughly annoyed that she couldn't stop thinking about him for two minutes.

"Food. When in doubt, eat." Her stomach growled in response as she suddenly realized she'd skipped breakfast that morning. She strode toward the cafeteria, suddenly ravenous, boots echoing in the empty corridor. With the students still in their last class before lunch, she would have no trouble grabbing something quickly before they swarmed into the lunchroom for their midday meal.

After grabbing some food, she found herself almost to a table when she looked down at her tray. A cheeseburger, a roast beef sub, and a bowl of pork and green chile stew. Marie realized that the Wolverine had wanted meat and she had subconsciously been grabbing what he wanted. She set the food down in disgust and went back for something lighter. She suddenly felt like punching something. She smiled as she ate her food quickly and then headed down to the gym. She was going to get the Wolverine out of her head, if only for a few minutes.

______________

Logan followed Storm into her office where he shut the door behind them, a scowl on his face. He had an idea of what she was going to say to him, and he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it.

"Logan. What the hell was that?" Storm said sharply, surprising him.

"What the hell was what?"

"That ridiculous display in the Danger Room. You were distracted the entire time. I need this team, the entire team, to be able to focus tomorrow. I know it's just a scouting mission, something to break in the newer members, but the rumors surrounding this lab are no joke. I need everyone on point. Including you."

Logan said nothing in response. He couldn't deny the truth of Storm's words. He had been distracted. It had started when Rogue hadn't shown up for the training. She was always on time. It worried him, more than he'd wanted to admit to himself. After several minutes of pacing and having an internal mental battle, he started towards the door, intent on bringing her downstairs to join them. It was likely his fault that she wasn't down here in the first place. But Bobby had been closer to the exit, given him a smug look eerily similar to the one Logan had give Bobby last night on the stairs, and announced that he would go and get her. It didn't matter that he knew Bobby and Kitty were together. The thought of Bobby going into Marie's bedroom made him grind his teeth in jealousy and the Wolverine inside wanted Bobby's blood.

Then, throughout the entire Danger Room exercise, he'd been too focused on Rogue's actions, her movements, the smell of her. Though he'd left the mansion last night, it had done nothing to clear Marie from his mind.

"Is it Rogue?"

Logan jerked his head to stare at Storm, his eyes narrowed.

"Come on, Logan. Anybody who's seen the way you two look at each other knows there's something between you."

"Nothin' is going on," he growled. "She's just a kid." But his words sounded hollow, and he knew he didn't believe that anymore.

"Are you looking for someone's permission? Because you don't need it. She's twenty-four, and you're-" She broke off at the sardonic look on Logan's face. "You're old enough to know that she's a grown-up, perfectly capable of making her own choices. You two have always cared about each other, protected each other. Even if you don't want to admit it, even if you don't want to act on it; straighten this out before tomorrow. That's an order."

Logan grunted in mild amusement at her last words. Storm was right. He needed to find Marie and work this out. It was past time he let her know how he felt about her. He muttered a thanks and turned to leave the office, intent on setting things right.
______________


Marie was soaked in sweat and breathing hard, but she didn't stop moving. Though it was surprisingly flexible, the black leather of her uniform really didn't breathe. She'd have to talk to someone about that, see if they could find an alternate fabric for future missions.

She kept moving, light on her feet. Punch, right cross, jab, front kick. Knee strike, bob and weave, left hook, turn, elbow strike, back kick. The satisfying smack of her gloves and boots on the free-standing punching bag gave her mind something to focus on, other than Logan and the Wolverine in her head. She'd been down here for a good thirty minutes, trying to work off her nervous energy, trying to get Logan off her mind. At noon on a Friday, she had the entire place to herself.

"Nice moves, kid." Suddenly, Logan's voice broke her concentration. She turned towards the entryway to the special skills corner of the gym, where he was leaning casually against the door frame.

"What the hell do you want?" She growled, turning back the punching bag to continue her set.

"Thought we should talk," he said as he drank in the site of her. Her dark hair was twisted up, the finer hairs at her temples were damp with sweat. The black leather uniform left nothing to his imagination as he looked at her. It hugged every full curve and led his eyes to follow the line of her toned body from her calves to her full breasts. Suddenly he wanted to strip the leather off her and sink himself deep inside her right there on the damn gym floor. He shuddered at the intensity of the feeling that ran through him at the thought of moving inside his Marie, marking her as his. The beast inside was growling his approval.

"Not sure -" she punched the bag, "you - and I -" hard right hook, "have - anything -" left jab, "to say!" She kicked the bag hard enough to knock it over and Logan smiled to himself. Fuck, she was attractive right now. All fired up and angry. Her face was flushed from exertion and her eyes sparked with violence.

Marie bent over to upright the bag and he clenched his jaw at the site. She turned toward him, breathing hard. "How did you know I was down here anyway?"

"I smelled you. I can always smell you." He noted to his pleasure that her eyes darkened at his words and the scent of her arousal suddenly flooded his senses. She was mad at him. Oh, yeah, definitely pissed. But she still wanted him. He moved away from the door frame and started walking towards her, slowly. Stalking her. As he moved closer, he noted she moved in sync opposite him until they were circling each other, eyes locked.

"You lookin' for a fight?" He said, grinning.

"What makes you think I want to fight you," Marie responded as she started undoing the Velcro of her kickboxing gloves.

"Instinct." Logan said cockily.

"You know what? Maybe I do wanna fight you." One glove dropped to the ground, followed quickly by the other. She started unraveling the tape that protected her hands beneath the gloves and that too dropped to the floor. Anger was bubbling inside her. Anger at herself, at Logan, at the damn incessant Wolverine inside her head.

"One condition," he said as they stopped circling each other. "No powers."

"Fine, no powers. Like I want any more of that damn Wolverine inside my head than I already have," she snarled.

"Okay, kid. Show me what you've got."

She'd had it, her anger spilled over at his words. "I'm not a goddamn kid!" She dropped quickly to one hand and with a hard kick swept Logan's legs out from under him. He landed on his back with a loud thud and grunted at the satisfied look in her eyes. She danced away from him, hands up in a blocking position, bouncing lightly from foot to foot.

He hadn't learned to fight like Marie had - all technique and floor mats and gentle introductions to new styles. He'd learned the hard way - learned by following his gut, his instincts, learned by getting his ass kicked more than a few times. Although - he did a swift kip up and grinned at the look of surprise on Marie's face - he had learned a few new tricks since joining up with the X-Men.

He saw a look of uncertainty come over her face as he could practically hear her thoughts racing. She wasn't likely to want to punch him, not with the adamantium covering his skeleton. She would have better luck if she could get him down on the ground again. They circled each other again, Logan weighing his options. He didn't want to hurt her, but he didn't want her to think he was going easy on her, either. He'd have to focus on more wrestling-like moves, less combat moves.

Marie darted forward, pulled to one side and landed a vicious kick to his ribs. He grunted, surprised at the quick dart of pain, and she'd darted back again before he could counter.

"Like my steel-toed boots?" She asked, unable to keep the smugness out of her voice.

"It tickled." He growled back at her. The Wolverine within him wasn't one to be beaten. Especially by his mate. He exploded forward, taking her off guard, and quickly threw her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. One hand banded across the backs of her thighs and slid up to cup her grabbable ass. She shrieked and twisted in his arms, but he held her tight, smiling as he could feel her anger rising again. He stalked over to a pile of exercise mats against the wall and tipped her over so she landed on her back with a bounce. He quickly dropped down on the mat and approached her, crawling forward on all-fours.

Marie had frozen in place at the look on his face as he moved towards her. It was pure, raw, animal hunger. The Wolverine was out. And he wasn't playing any more. Suddenly panicked at the intensity of his expression, she scrambled backwards, trying to get back on her feet, but felt her head bump the wall adjacent to the mats. She was cornered and had nowhere to go.

Wolverine continued to stalk her and he could hear her breathing, feel her heartbeat, smell her sweat. He was excited at the chase and he was ready to demonstrate his dominance over her. He was on her in an instant, and flipped her over onto her stomach with one arm. She tried to push herself up again, but stopped when she felt his hand running up her calf, over the backs of her legs, between the junction of her thighs. A rush of liquid heat flooded her body and she let out a moan as his fingers worked their way between her legs, over the sensitive bundle of nerves at her center. His other hand went to her hair where he snapped the black elastic hair tie, let her hair loose and ran his fingers through the damp strands, inhaling her scent.

He brought her up on her knees in front of him as he leaned close to her ear. "I. Want. You." he ground out, the words nearly unintelligible by the desire that clouded his mind. He ground against her, and she felt the hard length of him. A shudder went through her and she leaned into him, throwing her head back and exposing her neck. He growled, satisfied at her display of submission and bent his head to lick the skin of her neck. He bit the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met and she exhaled loudly with the stinging pleasure of the bite. He brought one hand around to unzip her uniform down to her hips, heedless of their semi-public location, and plunged his hand inside to palm her full breast. As he cupped and kneaded her breast, thumbing her nipple until formed a hard peak, his other hand reached down the front of her uniform to feel the wet slickness of her. He let out a low rumble as he felt and smelled how ready she was for him and Marie moaned as he slowly moved one finger inside her, circling her clit with his thumb. He nearly lost his mind at the feel of her as she said, "Oh, fuck. Logan."

Marie was lost in a sea of sensation. Her skin tingled where Logan touched her, without drawing on his energy. Her anger had been replaced so quickly by lust that she felt dizzy. That is, if she'd even really been angry in the first place. Hearing Logan say he wanted her let loose of coil of emotion she hadn't known she'd had pent up. He slowly began moving one finger inside her while still lazily circling her clit, and her knees would have buckled if he hadn't held her tight against him with his other arm. Faster and faster his finger moved, in sure, smooth, steady strokes until the pressure and sensation of it all broke and crashed over her, and she jerked back against him and cried out her release. Not giving her a moment to recover, Logan turned her to face him and met her lips in a ravaging, branding kiss. He plunged his tongue into her mouth and groaned at the silky feeling of hers meeting him, still feeling the tiny shudders of her ebbing climax go through her body. He bit her bottom lip lightly and moved back, feeling the beast within him growl in satisfaction at the look on his mate's face. Flushed cheeks, slightly swollen lips, and a dazed look in her eyes.

Logan moved off the mat, gently zipped up her uniform, and helped her to her feet. At the sight of the disappointment on her face he grinned, held out his hand to her and said. "Come on. I'm not nearly done with you."

One Day After the Crash

The Wolverine bellowed, roared, raged. The veins in his neck stood out, his muscles straining against the adamantium chains that held him. There was no way for him to slice through them with his claws. The only way he was getting out of there was if they fucking let him out. He'd rubbed his wrists raw over and over again as he tried to find the tiniest fault in the metal. But he kept healing, and he'd found no weaknesses in the flawless surface of the adamantium. He could do nothing but growl his frustration. He was at the complete mercy of his captors. And fuck, he was pissed.

Logan ground his teeth in frustration. It had been eighteen hours since the Blackbird had crashed. Eighteen hours since he had found Marie covered in blood, and smelling like she was an inch from death. Eighteen hours since he had blacked out after giving Marie his healing ability. Eighteen hours since he had fucking seen her, smelled her, and known she was okay. He felt sick inside at the thought of her in a place like this. She'd already experienced enough of his memories from when he had been experimented on. Now she was going to have nightmares of her own, and his beast was mad with fury at the thought. He'd said he would protect her. Promised her. And now once again he found himself unable to get to Marie.

The room he was held in was bare. There were no windows, and only one door which also appeared to be made of adamantium. A cement floor, cement walls, and a fluorescent light bulb. Fucking great, he thought. The only thing he needed to make the cell more depressing was the mind-numbing buzz of a fluorescent light humming incessantly twenty-four hours a day. There were tiny holes dotting the cement walls at regular intervals. Logan wondered if there were cameras in there. He released the middle claw on each hand and growled again at the thought of being watched.

The intercom suddenly crackled to life. “Come now, Wolverine,” a mocking voice said. “You don’t think growling at us is going to get you out of there, do you?”

At the first sound of the voice, Wolverine released the remainder of his claws and quieted immediately, his ears straining for any hint of familiarity. He inhaled deeply, searching for any shred of scent that would allow him to identify the persons who had done this to him and Marie. But whoever was speaking to him over the intercom was out of range of his sense of smell.

"What do you want with me?" Wolverine ground out through gritted teeth.

"Well now, that's an interesting question," the man with the slick voice said. "To be honest, we hadn't expected to be able to acquire you when we shot down your jet."

Logan clanked the adamantium chains in response. Clearly, they had been planning on capturing him if they had adamantium chains bolted deep into a cement floor.

"We were hopeful, but not optimistic," the voice said dryly in response to the sound of chains jangling. "We've tried tranquilizers on you in the past after all."

Logan's body jerked involuntarily at this statement. Were these the same bastards that had put the adamantium on his bones in the first place? He searched his mind for any recollections regarding his imprisonment. Aside from the brief flashes of the procedure where they'd lined his bones with metal, and escaping through the woods, he couldn't remember anything. Nothing about the voice, or this room was familiar.

"What with that healing ability of yours, they do tend to wear off pretty quickly. Turns out, when someone sucks almost all the life out of you, the tranquilizers do a nice job of keeping you docile. For a time, anyway."

Having the man mention Marie made his blood boil. "Where is she? Where's Rogue? What have you dicks done with her?" He could barely speak for the rage he felt coursing through him.

"There's no need to be so rude, Wolverine. She's alive, so you can stop growling at me." Logan ceased growling immediately, as he hadn't realized he'd been making any noise.

"I want to see her."

"You'll see her if we want you to see her."

A crackle of static over the intercom as the voice stopped talking momentarily . "What about the others?" Logan asked, feeling a stab of guilt for not thinking of Storm, Kitty, and Bobby. He needed to keep this asshole talking so he could get as much information about their situation as possible. The more information he had, the better his chances were of getting them out of there. He didn't know how long it would take for Charles and Scott to assemble a team to rescue them. He was going to try and get them out of there as soon as possible. Unfortunately, their knowledge of the lab's security and size were limited. After all, that was why they'd been sent here in the first place, to investigate the assholes running this facility.

After a moment, the voice came over the speaker again. "Oh, they're just fine. Recovering nicely from the crash. We want everyone else in excellent health before we begin. But you, " Logan froze, sensing a change of tone in the man's voice. "You're already in perfect health, aren't you, Wolverine?"

A faint hissing noise reached Logan's ears and he saw the holes that dotted the walls were releasing a colorless mist that was spreading rapidly throughout the room. He jerked frantically at the chains, trying to avoid breathing in whatever the hell that was, or letting it touch his skin.

"What the fuck is that?" The gas moved inexorably forward to where he was positioned in the center of the room. He braced himself for the first sign of any reaction to the mist on his skin, but felt no pain. He tried to avoid inhaling it as long as possible, but after several moments found himself unable to resist breathing any longer. The mist moved smoothly through his nasal passages and lungs. He'd expected pain, but the gas seemed to be relaxing him into a stupor. No, it was relaxing Logan into a stupor. The idea of figuring out a way to escape seemed to be unimportant as the gas continued to be absorbed by his body. For some reason, he wasn't healing and rejecting the effects of the drug. That was the last thought Logan had as he succumbed to the blissful languor of the mist.

The Wolverine was raising his head, sniffing the air, and stretching, feeling the last bonds of his captivity drop away. The man had been keeping him chained down, only letting him out when he felt like it, usually when he was mating. Or fighting. He was an animal that survived on instinct. And right now he wanted his mate. And to kill the strange noise coming from the tiny box on the wall across from him. He let out a guttural roar that shook the light bulb above.

"Now, Wolverine. What fun would it be if we told you?"

_____________

Colonel William Stryker released the button to the intercom and looked at the monitors displaying Wolverine's cell. The animal was roaring, rattling the adamantium chains that held him. There were no coherent sounds coming from the cell any longer. The animal was truly in control. Stryker smiled as he realized his work of more than twenty years was finally going to be validated, was finally going to be used control the mutant plague that had infected every corner of his world. Since he had first discovered the presence of mutants and seen what they were capable of, his entire professional life had been dedicated to one thing; the eradication of those mutant freaks.

He turned to the two male lab attendants who were in the control room with him. Vasquez and Farris were two fairly obedient peons. They did what he asked with few questions, and that's exactly what he was going to need in the next few months. Complete obedience. "I want regular dosing every twelve hours, unless he starts showing any signs of human actions. In that case, dose him immediately. Split up your shifts; this animal needs to be monitored at all times. Testing will commence in twenty-four hours so make sure he eats something."

"Yes, sir," the first technician responded.

"And get a sample from TS183. Did you hear him? 'Where is she? Where's Rogue? What have you dicks done with her?'" Stryker scoffed as he repeated Logan's words. "It seems like the Wolverine may have found something he wants, even in his animal state. That could prove useful in the coming weeks, and I want to see exactly what effect she has on him."

"Yes, sir. Anything else?"

Stryker hesitated then nodded. "Yes. Come to think of it. Prepare to wake up TS79 - but don't get him up just yet. We may need him, considering his history with the Wolverine."

"Very good, Colonel."

Stryker turned to leave the control room, feeling confident in the path before him. Final testing would validate the pharmaceutical and implantable technologies he'd developed over the past twenty years and would make it possible for the global implementation of Project Vanquish.

He owed so much of this to Wolverine. Well, Wolverine and TS110. Between the two of them, he had the information and data to build the foundations of his two weapons. Once the Mutant Registration Act passed, they would be able to start compelling mutants to identify themselves. Identification would lead to implantation and control, by any means necessary. If that wasn't enough to make him celebrate, Stryker had received word that even in the unlikely event the MRA didn't pass, Project Vanquish was to be given the green light, regardless.

"Oh, and fellas?" Stryker said, turning back to the lab assistants. They looked up from their laptops and waited expectantly. "Make sure you record everything. This is important work we're doing here."

"Yes, sir," replied Vasquez.

Farris spoke up as Stryker was preparing to exit the control room. "Sir? One question regarding the documentation."

"What is it, Farris?" Stryker said, one hand ready to key in the code to open the door.

"Do you want us to document everything for Wolverine under TS184? Or his original identifier?"

Stryker thought for a moment then smiled. "Let's use the original. After all, we do owe so much of our success to TS01."
_____________

Wake up.

Marie opened her eyes instantly at the command that echoed in her mind. She looked around and found she was in a different room than where she had previously awoken. When she'd been naked and humiliated in front of those men. She felt her anger rising at the memory and she strained to sit up, but as she had feared, she was unable to do so under her own power.

She remained on the thin cot, staring up at the cement ceiling. What had they done to her? Why couldn't she move her body on her own? She felt a pang as she thought of Logan. What had they done to him? And what had they done with the others? She suddenly remembered feeling that they had been betrayed; been set up. She remembered the Wolverine in her head agreeing with her. She also recalled trying to reach him in her mind and finding nothing. For all the complaining she'd done about having bits of the people she'd drawn energy from over the years, she felt suddenly bereft at their absence.

Tentatively, she tried to reach out once more for any sign of Wolverine, Iceman, Magneto. But once again streaks of pain shot through her skull. And once again, there was nothing there. She felt empty. Alone.

You may move freely.

Marie exhaled in relief and immediately rose from the cot and began pacing the room. To her relief, she looked down and found she had been clothed in some plain gray sweatpants, and a gray tank top. As she wasn't naked anymore, she'd take it, though the thought of someone dressing her while she was unconscious was deeply disturbing.

As she paced, she noted the room had no windows or bars, just one very solid looking door, the thin cotton cot over a narrow metal bed frame, and a metal toilet in the corner of the cell. Cell. It was an appropriate word to describe the place, since she felt like she was in prison. The only other accessories in the room were a camera in one high corner of the ceiling, and what appeared to be an intercom speaker, which was also high out of her reach.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and felt the stinging sensation of tears gathering in her eyes. She would not cry. She had to remain strong and try and figure out a way to get to Logan and the others. She stopped pacing and closed her eyes momentarily. Fuck. The others. She didn't even know if they had survived the crash of the jet. She raised one hand to nervously run her fingers through her hair. It seemed clean. The last she remembered, it had been soaked with her blood. She shuddered at the thought of someone washing her and wondered just how long it had been since they were shot down. She rubbed the muscles in her neck and suddenly remembered the sore spot at the base of her skull. She raised one hand to check for any remaining pain, but there was no remaining tenderness or sensitivity. Whatever the injury had been, she must have had enough of Logan's healing ability left over to take care of it.

The unexpected static of the intercom made her jump. "TS183," it was a man's voice, though a different one than she'd heard in the other room. "Stand and face the opposite wall with your legs spread and your hands on your head."

Marie didn't much care for the tone in this voice. "What the hell is TS183? I thought you were callin' me Marie."

"You don't have a name anymore. Not in here. Now get against the far wall and don't say another word."

Marie felt her anger bubbling to the surface. "And if I don't?"

"We can make you," the voice said, simply, letting the threat speak for itself.

Even knowing it was true, Marie wasn't about to make things any easier on the people who were keeping her captive. "Fine. Then make me."

The speaker crackled and the man was silent. Feeling shaky but confident in her decision to not take orders, she grabbed her head as a command exploded in her mind.

STAND AGAINST THE FAR WALL. SPREAD YOUR LEGS AND PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD. THEN DO NOT MOVE UNLESS WE TELL YOU TO DO SO.

Her legs carried her to the opposite side of the cell of the door and she let out a scream of fury, the sound echoing in the bare room. Her hands rested on her head and her legs were spread. She did not move further. What the fuck had they done to her?

Her heart began to race as she heard the door to her cell open and the sound of footsteps approach. If he touched her, he was dead. She would suck the life from before he had a chance to yell for help.

"So, TS183. Not so cocky anymore, are you? You'll be a good girl, won't you?"

Marie immediately felt a flood of disgust at the condescending tone in his voice. "Fuck. You." she replied through gritted teeth.

The man laughed and turned her to face him. He was middle-aged, and had the look of someone who'd once been an athlete but had let himself go. He didn't seem to realize it though, and oozed superiority as he looked her over. His dishwater brown hair was slicked back and Marie had the impression of a used car salesman. Sleek and slimy. That's what she felt when she looked at him. He wore a white lab coat with the name "Farris" embroidered in black thread over his left chest. Disappointment spread through her as she saw he wore purple nitrile gloves. She wouldn't be able to drain him, not unless she had skin contact.

"Just need a couple different samples from you for today," Farris said as he took out several vials and needles from a small caddy he carried and set them on the floor.

"Don't you fucking touch me," Marie snarled as he moved to grab one arm.

Farris looked at her, eyes cold. "I'll do whatever I damn well please. You should consider yourself lucky all we need from you right now is samples." He jerked her am down from where it had rested on her head. "And you'll do whatever I tell you to do." He tore open an alcohol prep pad and rubbed it over the vein at the crook of her left arm. He then efficiently inserted a needle, and proceeded to withdraw several vials of blood. She couldn't wince at the swift pinch of the needle. Couldn't move as he swiftly placed a cotton ball and bandage over the puncture. Couldn't fight back.

Farris put the syringe and vials carefully back in the caddy, then brought out several clear test tubes and a packet of cotton tipped applicators. He ripped open the sterile packaging of the applicators, separated out one swab and turned back to face Marie. He had a sick grin on his face as he said, "Open your mouth."

A small ribbon of fear was working its way through her stomach and up into her chest. She kept her mouth shut and stared daggers at him. There was no way she would willingly comply with his order.

Farris snorted lightly through his nose at her defiance and barked out, "Vasquez! A little help."

A moment of nothing, then -

OPEN YOUR MOUTH.

Tears of rage stung her eyes as she felt the command rip through her mind. As she obeyed.

Farris inserted one of the applicators into her mouth and swabbed the interior of her cheek, placed it into one of the empty test tubes, then sealed it. He repeated the process several more times, then patted her cheek twice. "Good girl. Two samples down, one more to go. Now shut your mouth."

Close your mouth.

Marie stood still, more than happy to heed the command to close her mouth. Her breathing was slightly shallow as she tried not to think about the other sample he would take from her. She waited, staring ahead at the cement wall, waiting for Farris to tell her to do something else. Instead, she felt one finger ease its way under the elastic waistband of her sweatpants and panic ripped through her. She was utterly defenseless and completely incapable of fighting back. She felt her tears spill over and saw them drip down to stain her tank top.

The waistband her of pants was pushed down to her knees and humiliation stung her cheeks as she felt the cold air of the cell against her bare skin. She braced herself for an assault, and was mildly relieved that she only felt the dry touch of several cotton swabs between her legs. Those too went into test tubes and they were quickly sealed and placed in the caddy. Farris picked up his samples and moved to exit the cell. Pausing before the door, he turned to Marie and said, "See you tomorrow, TS183."

She heard a click as the door was unlocked remotely and exhaled with relief as she heard Farris exit the cell.

You may move freely.

Marie immediately pulled up her sweatpants and roughly wiped the tears from her face. Breathing hard, she turned frantically around in the cell looking for something to punch. Her eyes settled on the thin cot and she launched herself onto the metal bed frame. She screamed in fury, letting her fear and rage and frustration rip through her. She slammed her fists into the cot over and over again, screaming until her throat was raw, until her screams subsided into sobs and she lay curled in a ball, unmoving, exhausted. She wished Logan was here with her. She wished Wolverine was in her head. She wished she knew how the hell she was going to get out of there.

"Come on. I'm not nearly done with you."

Marie took Logan's hand, as her legs were still somewhat weak after her climax. He helped her off the pile of exercise mat but didn't let go of her hand. As they walked through the abandoned gym toward the exit, he rubbed his thumb along the base of her wrist. There seemed to be a line that connected her wrist to her stomach, as each caress sent a little flutter of sensation straight through her. When they were about to exit the gym and head out to the hallway, where Marie could hear the chatter and footsteps of several hundred students, Logan turned to look at her, his eyes heavy with lust. She was unexpectedly nervous as she realized what he'd said earlier. He wanted her. Really wanted her.

"Last chance, kid," his voice gruff.

"I'm not-"

"I know you're not a goddamn kid. Old habits," he said as he brought one hand up to her face and brushed her jaw with his thumb.

Marie leaned into his hand and closed her eyes. Everything about the way Logan touched her made her feel right. It made her bold to know that he wanted her. It wasn't just that she'd learned to control her power and could actually enjoy the sensation skin contact again after so long. She had touched Bobby enough to know the difference. The Wolverine in her head made a low rumbling sound at this thought and she muttered, "Shut up."

Logan frowned at her and she shook her head quickly, realizing the poor timing of what she'd said. "Sorry. Not you. Wolverine - I mean, the Wolverine in my head."

He laughed and moved his thumb to her bottom lip, which was still slightly swollen from his kiss. "Must be weird," Logan said, his tone serious. "Weird to have a bit of me in your head."

Marie nodded. "There are times when it's a bit inconvenient, for sure. But then," she moved one hand to brush the fabric of his uniform directly over his erection and he sucked in his breath, "there are other times when I don't mind so much."

"Oh-yeah?" he asked, his voice catching as she moved her hand more firmly to slide along the length of him. "Like when?"

Marie smiled and leaned into Logan, standing on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "Like now. I know what you like, Logan." She lightly bit his earlobe and smiled at the quick intake of breath she heard from him. "Though some of it was rather shocking for a seventeen year old girl to see."

Logan growled at this, "You mean you've known what kind of sex I've been into since you were seventeen?"

"Mmm-hmm." Marie couldn't help but smile up at him, a wicked glint in her eyes.

"Fuck," Logan ran a hand through his hair, then looked her up and down. "Well then. Let's go." I'll just have to show you something different, he thought to himself.

A thrill shot through her at his words and they left the gym and walked together through the mansion. She kept looking at him, trying not to pay any attention to the whispers from the kids that walked the halls on the way to their next class after lunch. But some of the comments cut through the cacophony and Marie felt herself blushing.

"Professor Logan and Rogue!"

"-holding hands-"

"Aw, man. I wanted to hit tha-"

Logan stopped abruptly and turned his head sharply to glare at the teenaged male student who'd just spoken.

"What was that?" Logan barked out.

"N-nothing, Professor!"

"You're goddamn right 'nothing.' Get your ass to class."

The boy nodded and zoomed past them superhuman fast, students' papers whipping up into the air as he flew by.

"Goddamn horny teenagers," Logan ground out and Marie had to bite her lip not to laugh. Seeing as they were about to presumably indulge in their own horniness, she found the situation quite funny.

Logan heard every single word of what the students were saying about him and Marie, and he couldn't care less. He did care when some snot-nosed hormone-crazed teenager said he wanted to "hit that" when talking about Marie. He felt the Wolverine within him howling to claim her, to mark her so there would be no question of who she belonged to. On this topic, he and the Wolverine agreed. He needed her. And not just because he could smell her and wanted to taste every inch of her, make her scream with pleasure as he rammed home again and again until she came while he was deep inside, feeling her pulse around him. Though that certainly had a great deal of appeal. He shook his head to clear the vivid and gratuitous images that had appeared in his mind and pulled Marie along through the throng of students up the stairs and down the wing where the faculty resided.

As they reached the door to Logan's bedroom, he wrenched it open, pulled Marie in after him, slammed it shut and turned the lock.

"Strip," he said, his voice gravelly.

"What?"

"Take-off-your-goddamn-uniform."

Marie saw the look in his eyes and recognized he was struggling to control the Wolverine. She didn't want him to struggle. Not with her. So she decided to comply. For completely unselfish reasons.

She unzipped her boots quickly and stepped out of them. Then she looked up at him and slowly started unzipping her uniform. The click of the zipper seemed deafeningly loud in Logan's room. His eyes were focused on each inch of skin that was exposed by the parting material, his breathing heavy. Her breasts were still confined in a dark gray sports bra, and he saw a hint of her dark green underwear at her hips. When the zipper had reached just below her navel, she dropped her hands and waited for another instruction.

Logan growled at her hesitation, "I said, 'strip.'"

"You don't want to do the rest?" She teased.

Logan jerked his head. "You don't know how close I am. To letting him out. Don't tempt me."

Marie reached up to run her fingers through his hair, her nails lightly scraping against his scalp. "What makes you think I don't want you to let him out?"

Logan inhaled sharply at her words. As far as he was concerned, that was all the permission the Wolverine needed. He wound one hand in her long hair and brought her close for a bruising kiss, his tongue seeking hers and to his satisfaction she met him stroke for stroke. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, bit down gently and grinned at the sound of her breath catching.

Desire to taste her was pounding through him and Wolverine brought his hands up to each side of her uniform and ripped it clean down the center. Marie drew a swift breath of surprise at the suddenness of the action, but let out a sigh as Wolverine dropped to his knees, pulled down her dark green boy shorts and cupped her ass and brought her to his mouth. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of her and started to taste her. He licked slowly, his tongue moving in firm long strokes to the crest where he flicked the sensitive bud twice. He loved the taste of her. Like peaches soaked in wine; fresh, sweet and briny like something from the sea.

"Oh, holy fuck."

Marie wound one hand in his hair as he continued his assault. Each stroke of his tongue sent a pulse of pleasure through her, but despite thrusting her hips to try and increase the speed, he maintained the same steady, slow pace. "Logan, I - can't - please!" She looked down and met his eyes through a lock of dark hair that had fallen over his forehead. He would do what he wanted when he wanted. The animal was in control, and she was at his complete mercy. She let out a strangled groan as he moved one finger through her slick folds to slowly slip it inside her and continued his aggravatingly slow strokes with both tongue and finger. Over and over, he continued to lick and slide his finger in and out. Her hips started to buck as she felt the waves of her climax slam into her, violently. She cried out with the crushing pleasure and her legs did collapse this time.

Logan managed to catch her before she fell to the floor and strode over to the bed where he tossed her onto her back. She sat up and watched as Wolverine wrenched off his own uniform and stood in front of her, naked, his erection straining upwards. Marie sucked in her breath. He was beautiful. Muscles rippling, he was an incredible specimen of masculinity.

She moved over to the edge of the bed and looked up at him. She could tell the animal was still in control; he was breathing hard and his eyes were wild. He released one claw and slowly moved close to her. He gently pulled away the fabric of her sports bra away from her breasts and carefully sliced through it. He sheathed the claw and Marie reached up to remove the remains of her bra, wanting him to see all of her.

Wolverine inhaled deeply as he looked at her. She was incredible. Smooth pale skin, full breasts tipped with pink areolas. Toned arms and legs with a flat stomach and round ass. And she wanted him.

Feeling confident based on how he was looking at her, Marie reached up and wrapped one hand firmly around his erection. Wolverine let out a strangled sort of sound and closed his eyes briefly, his head thrown back. Emboldened by this reaction, she moved her thumb around the base of the head and stroked slowly, watching as tiny pearls of fluid appeared at the tip. She mimicked the same slow pace that he'd worked on her and to her satisfaction, his growling became more coarse, his hips moving in counterpoint to the movement of her hand. Marie leaned closer to him and as her tongue touched the smooth head of his erection and she tasted the salt of him, Wolverine let out a guttural growl and jerked her up off the bed so that her legs wrapped around his torso, his erection pressing hotly against her core. His face was buried in her neck and he scratched his rough cheek against her throat. She barely noticed the rasping of his jaw against her skin. She felt empty and throbbed with a sort of aching pleasure that pulsed with her heartbeat. She felt a sense of urgency and moved her hips against him as he bit the tendon on the side of her neck and then laved the stinging spot with his tongue.

He sat on the edge of the bed, Marie still wrapped around him and looked at her. She licked her lips and at that moment he positioned himself at her entrance where she was slick and ready.

"Yes. Please, Logan."

He couldn't wait any longer. He slid into her, and groaned as her tight slickness enveloped him. He reached a barrier and froze. Stunned. She couldn't be a virgin. She couldn't. She'd been with Bobby. He knew it. He looked at her, the question etched into his face. She nodded and without hesitation he drove himself to the hilt.

"Virgin. Mine," he ground out. It took every ounce of control he had to restrain the beast from pounding into his Marie, feeling the heat of her move all around him, smelling the tiny amount of blood that accompanied breaching her hymen. But he wouldn't. He would let her become accustomed to him. Virgin. He couldn't quell the surge of possessiveness that consumed him at the thought. Untouched. By anybody except him. And that was the way it was fucking going to stay.

After the stinging subsided, Marie took a moment to concentrate on the feeling of Logan inside her and she felt herself begin to pulse around him. He groaned as she rocked her hips once and she felt him slide a fraction deeper. A quiver of sensation had her wrapping her legs tighter around his waist and she rocked her hips again.

"Fuck. Marie. I can't hold on - any - longer," he said through gritted teeth.

"Don't," she responded and moved her hips again, feeling him slide out and then in again. She inhaled sharply at the sensation and threw back her head as Logan grabbed her hips and began thrusting into her, first slowly, then faster and faster. Her sensitive tissues began throbbing in time with his movements and she moaned when he suddenly withdrew from her. But he quickly picked her up and placed her on the bed on her hands and knees. She looked back over her shoulder and saw the wild look of the Wolverine in his eye. He came up behind her and mounted her, one hand in her hair, the other against the wooden headboard. Marie let out a strangled cry as his strokes hit an entirely different angle within her and she felt the beginnings of another climax. Each stroke and thrust of him pushed her closer and closer and when he moved his hand from her hair to touch her clit, she exploded violently into tiny shards of pleasure and her vision began to swim as she lost control.

Logan felt his mate pulsing around him with her release and he relinquished control to his beast. He moved faster, and deeper then felt the pleasure come deep within his shaft and he roared his release, his claws releasing themselves into the wooden headboard, as he spilled himself deep into Marie. He collapsed, retracting his claws and curling Marie against his chest, his heart beating slow and hard.

"Mine."

"Yes, yours."

Wolverine lifted his head, straining to identify the faint sounds that reached his ears. It was a female. And she was in severe distress. He cocked his head to the right and listened again. There was a long stretch of silence then she screamed again, louder this time, and longer, her scream becoming hoarse as it continued. Then she was silent. He recognized the source of the sounds this time. Mate. He growled loudly as he realized his mate was suffering and she was without his protection.

He pulled against his bonds, muscles bulging, trying to free himself. He grabbed the chains, jerked hard, and roared as he struggled to break free. Again and again he yanked on the chains, the veins in his muscles straining with his efforts. He thought he felt a slight give from where the chains were bolted deep into the floor, but ceased his efforts immediately as he heard noises coming from beyond the door.

There was a clicking noise, the door swung open, and a man entered the room carrying a tray and a small bag. Wolverine sniffed hard and growled again. The man had the smell of his mate on him. The man would die for touching her and causing her pain. There was no question he would kill the man. It was just a matter of when.

"What are you growling at," Farris said as he set the tray down and slid it towards TS01 with his foot. He wasn't coming within slicing distance of those claws. He'd seen what the animal in front of him was capable of.

Wolverine sniffed again, and smelled meat. He was ravenous and bent down to grab the food, devouring it, chains straining as they barely allowed him enough slack to reach his mouth.

"Fuckin' animal," the man said.

But Wolverine didn't care for the sounds the man was making. All he cared about was eating so he could have enough energy to break free and get to his mate.

Farris watched as the TS01 ate. He would only have a few moments to act and take a blood sample once the powerful drugs in the food hit the animal's bloodstream, and he would need every precious second he could get. He watched closely, looking for the faintest sign it was working. A few moments passed and he noted the animal's eyes fluttered. There. It was working. Farris prepared to act, his hand on the caddy by his side.

Wolverine felt a sudden drowsiness envelop him as he finished the last morsels of food. At first he thought it was just normal sleepiness that accompanied eating a large meal, but there was something pulling at him, luring him into darkness. The sleepiness felt wrong and he growled at the man who was watching him, but it was too late. He collapsed in his chains and lay unmoving on the cold cement floor.

Farris moved without hesitation. He swiftly drew out another set of vials and a new needle from his caddy. He ripped open an alcohol prep pad, rubbed the skin at Wolverine's elbow and quickly inserted the needle. He filled one, then two, then the final third vial with the animal's blood. He pressed lightly on the insertion point where the needle had been and was about to retrieve a small bandage when the incision closed before his eyes. He scoffed at himself. He shouldn't have bothered to swab the incision point with alcohol, seeing as any stray bacteria that entered would be quickly destroyed by the animal's healing factor. His mistake had cost him a few of his precious seconds. He needed to move quickly.

Farris packed the vials into his caddy and hastened to leave the reach of the animal's adamantium claws. His time was more than up. A shrill twang suddenly rent the air and Farris jumped as he felt the air move across his face. He had just missed being sliced open by three perfect adamantium claws by a fraction of an inch. The animal was laying on the floor, his arm was stretched out, claws reaching, teeth bared. A rumbling growl met Farris' ears as he backed away, hands shaking.

"V-Vasquez! The door."

He told himself he hadn't sounded scared. No. Not scared at all. The heavy bolts of the door were remotely unlocked by Vasquez and he scrambled through out of the cell as soon as he heard the click of the lock, his eyes never leaving the animal's outstretched claws.

Farris breathed a sigh of relief as he slammed the door shut and heard the bolts re-engage. He headed down the hallway, legs slightly rubbery with adrenaline. Now that he had the samples of TS01 and TS183 he needed to get them to Vasquez in the lab for processing as soon as possible. Colonel Stryker wasn't one to stand for any delays. And if Farris wanted to achieve his goals, he was going to need Stryker to be pleased with his work so that he didn't suspect anything. What he was planning wasn't strictly approved as part of their main work in the labs. But he had support from others on the outside, and they were willing to pay a lot of money for this product.

Farris headed towards the lab with his samples and smiled. He would be able to begin his own work very shortly.

_____________

Jorge Vasquez adjusted the microscope specimen slides and refocused the lens again. He hadn't been sure about the initial conclusions of TS183's third sample type, but after looking at a second specimen, the characteristics of some of the cells' shapes and movements in the sample were unmistakable. He would have to let Colonel Stryker and Farris know the results.

After speaking with TS01 shortly after its capture, it appeared as though Stryker had suspected something may have transpired between the two animals based on the way TS01 was behaving. Vasquez sighed as he realized this sample confirmed his superior's suspicions.

Vasquez wasn't sure how he felt about announcing his findings to Stryker and Farris. It seemed like such a violation of their privacy. Sometimes he still felt sympathy for the animals they held and experimented on, even though he'd been participating in the Vanquish research for more than three years. He had trouble separating the people from their other abnormal abilities, and he suspected that both Stryker and Farris knew this. And to have them suspect he had difficulty carrying out some of the more delicate orders weakened him. Stryker and Farris would tell him that they weren't people, just animals. Highly intelligent animals, yes; but animals nonetheless. If he was going to succeed in this position, he would have to put aside his moral and ethical objections and plough ahead.

Having given his resolve somewhat of a boost, Vasquez pressed the button that rang the intercom to Stryker's personal quarters. Stryker used to reside offsite, but he no longer ventured away from the facility since they'd been nearing the global launch for Project Vanquish.

"Colonel Stryker?"

A few moment's passed then the intercom crackled to life with Stryker's response. "Yes. What is it, Vasquez?"

"Colonel, you asked for an update once we'd had a chance to perform an initial evaluation on TS183's samples."

Vasquez could swear he felt Stryker's excitement through the speaker.

"What did you find?"

"Sir, it appears that TS01 and TS183 have been - " Vasquez broke off, and to his extreme embarrassment felt the heat of a blush rise up his neck. Damn. He couldn't believe he'd hesitated when delivering the results to Stryker.

"Spit it out, Vasquez," Stryker barked as Vasquez hesitated.

"Yes, sir. It appears TS01 and TS183 have been, well, intimate," Vasquez blurted out.

"I'll be damned. Do you mean they've been mating?"

"Yes, sir," he said, relieved that Stryker had understood him.

"How recently?"

"Well, sir, it's hard to tell exactly. But it would have to have been within the last five days, and it's likely to have been more recent than that."

"Excellent. This should prove useful in the coming stress tests we have planned for both subjects."

"Yes, sir," Vasquez said frowning. He was unsure what use the knowledge that the two tests subjects had been having sexual relations would be.

"Vasquez, that's damn fine work you've done in there. Keep analyzing the rest of the samples from each subject and keep me updated of any new developments. Oh, and prepare TS183 for an in-person visit. I'd like to talk to it about a few things."

The intercom crackled as Stryker finished speaking and Vasquez sighed in relief. He'd done well. Now he just needed to prep the girl - no, the animal, he told himself for a visit from Stryker. He almost felt sorry for it. Stryker was a ruthless bastard, who was only concerned about his own goals.

Vasquez typed in some commands to the central computer and watched the monitors showing TS183's cell to ensure she was complying. Once he confirmed she was following the orders, he turned back to the microscope and switched out the samples. He sighed loudly and continued to note his initial findings in the lab book. It was going to be a long night.

_____________

Marie remained on the cot for what felt like hours. She had screamed, punched, and then sobbed herself into exhaustion. She felt hollow, drained. She was terrified at what might happen to happen to her.

She didn't know what these assholes had done to her. She kept trying to figure it out, turning everything over in her mind. But none of the pieces of the puzzle seemed to fit together. They were able to control her every movement. Did they have a telepath? Someone like the Professor who was able to influence a person's mind? Somehow, she didn't think so since she was still able to control her own thoughts and feelings.

Marie thought back to when she had first woken up beneath the surgical lights with all the people watching her. The man had talked about clinical trials and the global launch of something. And he'd said something else about regulations. Regulations. Shit. Did that mean he was government? Marie felt sick to think the feds might be behind this. If she was right, that meant their time fighting the Mutant Registration Act was likely coming to an end, and that war was around the corner.

Her mind suddenly bought one particular detail of her time in the lab into the forefront of her thoughts. Surgical lights. She sat up quickly and placed her hand against the base of her skull, once again trying to feel any remaining tenderness. Had they cut her open and done something to her? What kind of technology could force a person to lose control of their own body?

Get up and stand in the center of the room facing the door. You may not move. You may speak.

Marie closed her eyes tight in fear. Not again. Not so soon. What did they want with her now? Farris had said he would see her tomorrow. And even though she'd been on her cot for awhile, surely she couldn't have lain there through an entire night. She was becoming used to hearing the command sound inside her brain. She hadn't even jumped this time.

Her body carried her over to the middle of the cell and she waited, trying to brace herself for what was next. A few minutes went by and she heard the click of a lock being disengaged and the heavy metal door swung open. The clip of shoes echoed inside her cell and Marie found herself looking at a man in his late fifties or early sixties. He had a closely cropped goatee and mustache that were sprinkled with gray hair. He wore a dark military style trench coat that didn't hide his round middle. His eyes were ice blue and Marie shivered involuntarily as she looked into them. They were cold, calculating eyes and Marie realized this man would not be swayed from achieving his objectives.

"Good evening, TS183."

Marie clenched her jaw at the sound of his voice. It was the man who had spoken to her over the intercom when she'd been naked. His words were full of the same slimy sweet tone that was full of mockery and self-importance.

"Oh, is it evening? Kinda hard to tell in my windowless cell - sir!" She barked out the last word reluctantly as her brain forced her mouth to comply to her previous orders. Once again, she felt anger building within her. Whatever they'd done to her forced her to carry out the command she'd been issued when she'd been naked in front of those men. She felt her anger burning and felt her strength return. She'd take anger any day over the impotent fear she'd felt just a few minutes ago.

"Ah, nice to see you remembered your instructions from before. Tell me, how do you feel?"

"How - how do I feel?” Marie was incredulous. This asshole was chatting to her as if they were passing each other on a neighborhood street, talking of nothing more serious than the weather.

Stryker raised his eyebrows at her indicating she should continue.

"I feel like I want to kill you. I feel disgust when I look at you and I can't wait to wipe that goddamn smile off your face. I feel like once I get out of here I'm going to enjoy destroyin' everything you've ever worked for, sir." Marie ground her teeth together as the man laughed at her.

"My, my. Well, I suppose I did ask." Stryker paused and looked at TS183. The animal was quite worked up. And he supposed he would be too if their situations were reversed. "I wonder if I should introduce myself," he said as he began to walk around her, his hands clasped in back. "I suppose it's only fair, even though animals such as yourself aren't deserving of the same courtesies as humans."

Marie glared at him. What kind of a man was he to believe such things about mutants? She was still human, she just had some extra enhancements.

"My name is Colonel William Stryker, and I'm in charge of this little operation. Well - " he hesitated, "Little is a bit of understatement. I wouldn't want you thinking I'm boasting, but our facilities are quite extensive. And after years of research, we're finally ready to proceed through the final phases of our project. And you, TS183, should be proud to be part of it."

"Proud? Proud? What kind of a moron are you that you think I should be proud to be held prisoner and experimented on, sir?"

Stryker stopped circling her and stared at her over the rims of his glasses. "Don't test my patience. I can make this a one-sided conversation in a matter of seconds if I want to."

Marie glared back at him, but didn't say anything further. She didn't want her ability to speak to this asshole taken away from her, even if she had to say 'please' and 'sir.'

"Please. Why me? Why am I here? What do you want with me?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but we didn't necessarily want you in particular," he said as he resumed his pacing. "There's nothing special about you, really, other than your mutation's ability to absorb the powers of others. Though I will admit, having that ability will be quite handy during our final round of tests."

"So why the hell did you shoot down our jet, sir?" Marie was hating the sound of her voice continuing to address the slimeball as 'sir.'

"When we found out we were to paid a visit by the infamous X-Men, we determined we couldn't risk the slightest chance that any evidence about our work be uncovered. At the same time, we'd - run out - of viable test subjects and your arrival simply couldn't have been any more timely."

Stryker stopped his pacing suddenly and asked, "Tell me, TS183, how long have you and the Wolverine been mating?"

Marie forced herself to remain neutral at his words though she was completely taken off guard. She would have smacked the smug look off his face had she been able to. "I don't know what you're talkin' about, sir."

"Come now, TS183. Of course you do. Imagine my surprise when I heard from the lab following their initial analysis of your samples. The Wolverine and Rogue," he said mockingly. "Who would have guessed? We always thought Jean Gray was more his type. I guess it just goes to show you never really know what someone else is thinking"

His words stung somewhat. After all, she'd thought the same thing about Logan for years.

"Please, what does it matter?" Marie found some satisfaction in that her tone held as much scorn as possible when she said, 'please.' He hadn't liked the way she'd said that. Not at all.

Stryker leaned close to her ear. "You think you're smart? You think - "

"Please. I know I'm smart," Marie interrupted and to her satisfaction, she saw his face flush with anger.

Stryker, his patience gone, grabbed her shoulder in a cruel grip. With his bare hands. Marie couldn't believe he was being so stupid. He'd just touched her skin without any kind of protection. She instantly focused all her energy on draining the life out of him. She braced her mind for the assault of Stryker's memories and emotions. But nothing happened other than a sliver of pain that started at the base of her skull. She tried again and felt the stab of pain work its way through her skull, from the base of her head through the center of her brain and down the front of her temples. She screamed at the horrible sensation and stopped trying to use her power.

Stryker smiled as she stood in front of him, breathing hard. "I'd rethink the term 'smart' if I were you. You are nothing but an animal. An animal whose sole purpose is to do the bidding of its masters." He squeezed her shoulder hard until she cried out with pain. Satisfied, he released her and stepped back to admire his results. The animal was still breathing hard, but did not meet his eyes again. He saw to his satisfaction the marks of his fingers were dark red against her pale skin. "Now. I'll ask you again. Only this time, you will tell me the truth. Vasquez?"

Marie braced herself for a command. This was the second time that somebody had asked for Vasquez to do something while they'd been in the cell with her. What did that mean? Did they need Vasquez to order her to do things?

You will answer his question truthfully.

Stryker looked carefully at her then said, "How long have you been mating with Wolverine?"

"For one day, sir," and she felt humiliation wash over her as she saw him grin.

"Well. Not quite what I expected, but we'll see how that comes into play during testing." He strode away from her towards the door and called over his shoulder, "Get some rest TS183. Tomorrow's going to be a big day. After all," he said as he turned to face her. "We're just getting started."

Marie woke once again to a command ringing inside her mind.

Wake up and stand up.

She groaned and rubbed her eyes, feeling like she'd only just fallen asleep. After the events of the past three days, she was more than exhausted. After one sleepless night caused by a misunderstanding between her and Logan, then another night filled with nothing but Logan, then almost dying in a plane crash and being brought back by Logan's healing ability, then tranquilized and brought to this lab where they had done something to her that made her obey commands inside her mind. Marie sighed loudly. She badly needed deep, healing sleep, but apparently this would not be the night she got it.

Her legs swung over the edge of the cot and she stood up not moving further. Not having any windows made it impossible for her to tell what time it was, nor how much time had passed between now and when Stryker had left her. In the dim light of her cell, she saw a tray of food that had been placed just inside the door and desperately wanted to run over and devour whatever it was. After all her body had been through, she desperately needed fuel to replenish some of her strength. She didn't care if it was boiled Brussels sprouts and a pile of wet cat food on that tray. She was starving and would eat anything. She felt her stomach rumble and groaned at the pangs in her empty belly.

You may move to eat. When you're finished eating, stand up, do not move, and do not speak.

At the words, "you may move to eat," Marie dashed over to the tray. To her relief she found a bowl of chicken noodle soup and two pieces of bread. Kneeling next to the tray she tore a chunk off the bread and dipped into the broth then shoved it into her mouth, not minding the burning temperature of the soup one bit as she tasted the savory broth. Chewing quickly, she sighed in relief at the feeling of something landing in her stomach and she repeated the process of tearing the bread and dunking it into the broth several more times before she started spooning soup into her mouth. She took several gulps from the water cup that sat behind the soup and continued eating, feeling a mild sense of relief as the food filled her stomach.

She was finished with the meal all too soon, and once she processed this thought in her brain, her legs immediately brought her to a standing position. She closed her eyes in frustration. It would have been nice to have a moment to let her meal settle. As she realized the assholes running this place had something else in store for her now that she was finished eating, the bread in her stomach suddenly turned to a ball of lumpy dough at the thought.

The sound of the click lock disengaging from the door drew her focus, and she waited for who or what would come through it.

But after a moment, no one appeared and Marie frowned. This made her even more nervous. Then -

Step through the doorway, turn left, and proceed down the hallway.

Intrigued now, she obeyed the command and pushed the now unlocked door to leave her cell. There was nobody there to greet her or escort her down the hallway of the lab and she felt a sense of apprehension at being able to leave her cell after what she had experienced thus far. Marie exited her cell slowly and turned left as instructed. As she walked down the hall, she passed other cells and noticed some of the doors had slits in them, presumably to deliver food or other items to the prisoners inside. She noticed that as she made her way down the hall several different pairs of eyes stared back at her. Not every cell had someone staring out at her, but she felt a sense of horror at so many looking back at her. She tried to count the pairs of eyes to figure out how many mutants were being held here. It would come in handy once they were able to escape.

She felt an odd, uneasy sense of familiarity as a pair of fully black eyes stared at her from the fourth cell down after she exited her room. There was something disturbingly familiar about the eyes and she shivered involuntarily as she heard the sounds of a low growl escape the mouth of the occupant of the cell. She continued forward down the long dim hallway, unable to disobey the command she'd been given.

Finally, she reached the end of the hall and stopped as there was nowhere else to go other than through the cell in front of her. But her body was unable to proceed with any further movement. At least, not until she received any additional instructions.

Marie tried to brush off the feeling of being watched, but was unable to do so. The back of her neck tingled, like the remnants of some prehistoric instinct warning her of danger.

Enter the room in front of you and shut the door behind you. Then you will not move.

Marie heard the click of a lock disengaging and she passed the threshold of the room, pushing lightly on the door as she entered the cell. Her breathing was ragged. Her nerves were shot. She didn't know what to expect and couldn't think of how she would be able to defend herself against this newest threat given that she couldn't control her own body.

Taking a quick look around, she found this cell was even more sparse than hers, if that was possible. Where she had a cot over a wiry metal frame and a toilet in the corner, this cell offered none of those luxuries. There was only a single fluorescent light bulb high up in the ceiling and drain in the center of the room.

Marie allowed her eyes to move upwards from the drain at the center of the cell. Here. Oh, fuck. He was here with her. The anxiety flooding her body lifted a little and she let out a sort of muffled sound since she wasn't able to speak. Marie turned and squeezed her eyes shut as she closed the door of the cell. She heard the locks reengage and she turned back to face the center of the room. Though her heart lifted at the sight of Logan, she didn't want him to be here with her. Not while she wasn't in complete control of herself, not while she didn't know why she was in here with him.

He was completely naked, standing in the center of the room. She saw that he was chained, the links disappearing into the cement floor beneath him. She could do nothing but stare at him. She looked at Logan and he stared back at her. There was something alarming about his gaze. It took her several seconds to realize what it was, but she finally figured it out. He was completely feral. A prickling of unease worked its way up her spine. There was no Logan in the eyes she looked in to. Instead, it was the Wolverine who was in complete control. Marie shivered as she met his gaze. He growled and she couldn't help but respond, feeling warmth flood her insides, though she wasn't able to move towards him.

You may move and speak freely.

Marie let out a sigh of relief. They weren't going to make her do anything against her will at the moment.

She move towards Wolverine slowly and stopped as he emitted a ferocious growl. She'd never dealt with the Wolverine exclusively. There had always been an element of Logan in control, even when they'd been fucking or fighting.

"Logan? Can you hear me?"

She spoke cautiously, tentatively. Not wanting to aggravate him, she continued to walk towards him, slowly placing one foot in front of the other.

Wolverine growled, smelling the touch of others on his mate. She had been hurt, the dark purple bruises at her shoulder indicated someone had touched her hard enough to leave a mark. He was the only one who was supposed to mark her. He inhaled and found she reeked of fear. He didn't like that scent. He longed to make her smell of sex and him, and the two of them together.

He realized she might be too scared to realize that he wouldn't hurt her. With a degree of difficulty, he ceased his growling and tried to soften his gaze. She seemed to respond somewhat as the scent of fear had diminished slightly when he took another sniff. He let out a huff of satisfaction as his mate moved closer to him, her hand outstretched. He could do nothing more than allow her to touch him. His bonds would not allow him to move more than a few inches.

Marie eyed the chains and manacles that held Wolverine. They must be adamantium too or he would have cut through them easily. His breathing had slowed, but it was still deep, his chest rising and falling with every breath. He kept sniffing her. She thought maybe he didn't like something about the way she smelled. But there wasn't anything she could do about that now. It wasn't like she was able to pop into the shower for a leisurely scrub.

As she neared him, she continued to hold out one hand and moved it towards his face. He made no further noises of discontent and she rubbed her hand along the side of his jaw, enjoying the raspy feeling his beard against her palm. He seemed to enjoy it too and let out a low rumbling sound as he closed his eyes briefly.

"God, Logan. What have they done to you?"

He didn't respond. He just kept making growling sounds deep in his chest as she continued to run her hands over him, checking for injury. She thought maybe they'd done something to prevent him from healing, much like they'd been able to prevent her from using her powers. She found no signs of damage, though, so maybe they hadn't done the same thing to him as they had to her. She moved in close and wrapped her hands around his torso, enveloping herself in him. He couldn't hold her, but she took comfort from inhaling the warm scent of him, and being close to him.

She couldn't help but notice he was erect. She felt him, hard and pressed against her stomach as she moved her hands along the planes of his back. She didn't know if it was her presence, or the fact that she'd been lightly touching him, trying to make sure he wasn't hurt. But there was no denying he was aroused. Marie tried not to pay any heed to her own feelings of arousal that were quickly spreading through her body. This was not the time to indulge in some hot and fast sex. This was the time to figure out what she was doing in here with him. Figure out why she was being allowed to see him.

She jumped at a sudden clicking noise that came from the manacles around Wolverine's wrists and it was swiftly followed by the clanging of chains as they fell to the cement floor. The manacles must have had a remote locking mechanism on them, much like the locks on the cell doors. She looked up at Wolverine intent on getting him to help her try and break out of the cell. But she didn't get to ask him anything. The Wolverine was looking at her like she was a five course meal, and he was a man who'd been without food for days.

Wolverine felt his bonds release and he moved swiftly. He crushed his mate close to him and lifted her head to taste her lips. She'd eaten recently, and he felt some relief at that. But it wasn't enough to assuage his feelings of rage at others touching her, hurting her. He needed to comfort her, mark her. As much as for her as for himself. And she needed him to do those things, even if she didn't realize it yet.

He bent to kiss her again and growled in satisfaction she responded back, her mouth opening and accepting the stroke of his tongue against hers. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and bit it. He knew she liked that. At her moan, he moved his hand to cup her breast and thumb her nipple into a hard peak beneath the cloth that covered her. He scraped his jaw along her throat several times as he continued to massage her breasts, enjoying both the sensation of his beard against her smooth skin, and knowing he was leaving her covered in his scent.

Marie let her head fall back at the slight sting of Wolverine against her throat. She shouldn't be giving in to his touch. She shouldn't be enjoying the warm feeling of arousal that was pulsing through her with every stroke of his hands. Shouldn't be wanting to forget about everything, just for the feel of him moving deep inside her. They needed to take advantage of the fact that he was not chained and try to escape. But she found she was unable to fight the desperate urgency that was taking over her mind and body. She needed to feel safe. Needed to feel warm and protected, if only for a few minutes. Right now Wolverine was in charge and running on his instincts. Maybe she should trust his intuition.

Wolverine felt the instant his mate fully submitted herself to him and he growled in satisfaction. He bit her hard at the junction where her neck and shoulder met and held her there. He inhaled deeply. The scent of her arousal thickened and he moved one hand toward the joining of her thighs where he roughly pushed down the fabric covering her legs. She was wet, her entrance slick with wanting. He moved his mouth away from her neck and licked the spot where he'd bitten her. It was red and he knew she would wear the mark for days. She was breathing hard as she looked at him, and he felt a sense of pride at the passion in her eyes. He had chosen well. She was strong and capable, and they would defeat their enemies together. He stroked one finger through her wet folds and found the sensitive spot at her crest where he rubbed tight circles around it. His chest rumbled with his pleasure at the sounds that were coming out of her mouth. He moved his other hand up the flat planes of her stomach beneath the thin material that covered her and she raised her arms as he slid the fabric up and over her head. Her breasts bounced as they were released and he bent to bite one nipple, grinning at the sharp intake of breath from his mate at the sensation of his teeth.

He released her and lay out the clothes on the cold cement floor and brought his mate towards him as he kneeled down. He needed her. He was hard and throbbing, his control slipping, and he could restrain himself no longer.

Marie could feel nothing other than the lust that was coursing through her. She felt like a mindless animal as she kneeled in front of Wolverine, hands splayed against the fabric of her sweatpants that covered the cold floor. Her breathing was ragged and she ached inside. She needed to feel his hard length plunging in and out of her, making her forget where they were. She felt exposed, her sex throbbing in anticipation. Then, a feeling of pressure as the head of his cock eased inside her. The incredible slickness of her allowed him to sink deep into her and she moaned as the emptiness within her eased. He didn't hesitate but immediately began thrusting in and out of her. The sounds of flesh smacking and her moans and his growls filled the cell. He increased his speed and grabbed her hips to control the angle at which he pounded into her. Marie felt fire spreading through as he moved faster and faster within her. She squeezed her inner muscles, enjoying the feeling of friction building as he continued to piston in and out of her. He let out a harsh growl when she tightened around him and he moved faster in response. Moving one hand away from her hips, he reached between her legs and flicked his finger against the sensitive spot at the junction of her legs. She threw her head back at the pleasure/pain and he rewarded her for this display of submission by flicking the spot again.

Marie roared as her orgasm slammed into her. She bucked her hips wildly against Wolverine with the force of her pleasure. He didn't slow his strokes, but continued the same punishing rhythm as he grabbed her and pulled her up against him. She was unable to stop the pulsing pounding wet hardness of him from driving her over the edge again, and this time, he roared with her. She felt the length of him tighten inside her and then pulse wildly as he came. He moved slowly within her several more times as her walls continued to milk every drop of him from his shaft. Finally, he withdrew and Marie collapsed against him where he turned her to face him, curled one hand on her breast and bent forward to nuzzle her neck.

Wolverine inhaled deeply and was pleased at the scents that met him. She no longer smelled of fear. She now smelled like him, and her, and sex. He liked that smell much better. He crushed her to him again and he lay back on the ground, laying her flat on top of him so she was protected from the cold of the cement. His arms were wrapped tightly around her. He would protect her. They would not take her from him.

Marie must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, a command was roaring through her brain and her eyes flew open. Wolverine growled beneath her, obviously disturbed by her movements.

DRAIN HIM. NOW.

"No, no, no! I can't!"

But even as her mouth formed the words, her hand moved to his chest. A searing pain went through her brain as she tried to resist the force of the command. Her hand shook but she couldn't fight it. Her hand rested on his chest and she felt the draw of his energy, his power, his memories tingle at her fingertips. She braced herself for the flood of emotions and cried out as everything rushed in. But unlike other times, she wasn't overwhelmed by the thoughts pouring into her. As soon as she felt the flow of energy begin, it was like they had been muted. And as everything rushed through her, the thoughts were quickly silenced.

Wolverine jerked as the sounds of his mate in distress roused him from his sleep. He didn't understand what was happening. There was no scent of another person or threat in the room, and yet she suddenly reeked of fear again. Her hand was on his chest, which he liked, but then he felt it. A pull that drew his strength from him. He rumbled in confusion as darkness encroached on the corners of his vision. What was she doing to him?

Wolverine's head slumped, suddenly relaxed, and Marie sobbed as she continued to take his energy. Finally, another command sounded in her brain and she obeyed it immediately and the flow of power ceased. Her hand jerked away from his chest and she knelt forward, trying to hear his heart beat. After several moments she heard a slow rhythm begin and she let out a hitching sigh. He was still alive. She closed her eyes in relief.

Place the manacles back around his wrists.

Marie's brain was spinning with what had happened. She wasn't overwhelmed by the persona of Wolverine. And as she tried again to find him within her mind, there was nothing but a dull pain as she probed at the corners of her brain where he should be. How could that be? She had just absorbed enough of his life force to nearly kill him.

Unable to resist the command, she reached over to where the chains lay and slowly placed one manacle around Wolverine's wrist. The click of the lock immediately reengaged and Marie saw a tiny green light where the edges of the metal cuff met. As she reached for the second one, an idea suddenly came to her. And it would help her to figure out just a little bit of what they'd done to her. She grabbed the other manacle and before they could order her otherwise, she brought the rough edges hard against her forearm and dragged it downwards in a searing cut before she placed the second cuff around Wolverine's other wrist.

STOP!

The command bellowed inside her mind, but it was too late. The metal had been much sharper than she anticipated and she goggled at the amount of blood that came pouring out of her forearm. She could see a tiny layer of yellow fat at the edges of the gash, the smooth pink lines of muscle. And, oh. Wow. Was that bone? It didn't matter. If she had absorbed any of Wolverine's healing factor, she would be healed up in no time. If not? Well, she didn't really know. She hadn't thought this all the way through.

She waited, the pain in her arm throbbing along with her heartbeat. She held her arm close, looking for any sign of healing, but nothing happened. She closed her eyes, suddenly dizzy and she was distantly surprised at how much blood was running down her arm onto her bare chest.

Suddenly, she felt as though a floodlight had turned on in a darkened room in her mind and she gritted her teeth as an barrage of thoughts crashed down on her. It wasn't only Wolverine. It was Bobby's and Magneto's memories and emotions too. All at once. It was too much and she held her hands to her head trying to slow the rush of everything went through her. Distantly, she noticed the cut on her arm began to knit itself back together, the flow of blood slowed, then stopped. Just as suddenly as it had turned on, the flow of thoughts ceased and all was quiet in her mind. Marie was breathing hard, exhausted, but pleased with herself.

The voices in her mind weren't gone. They were being controlled, like she was being controlled. She didn't know exactly how, but she would figure it out. She told Stryker she was smart.

Get up and exit the cell, closing the door behind you. Then walk down the hallway and enter your cell, closing the door behind you.

She didn't want to leave him. But she had no choice. Her legs carried her out of the cell and as she turned to close the door, she took one more look at Logan. His chest was rising and falling evenly. She saw her blood was pooled in the center of the cell near him, soaking into the sweatpants and tank top she'd left on the ground. They hadn't given her an order to get dressed, so she was leaving the cell naked. She closed the door gently and moved down the hallway, trying not to meet the eyes of any of those who peered out at her.

When she passed the cell with the black eyes, she shuddered again as she heard a loud sniffing noise then a louder rumbling growl escape the cell. She could feel its eyes on her, boring into the back of her neck. She was very aware of the blood dripping down her front and of the stickiness between her thighs as she passed the cell with the black eyes. The growling sounds continued as she walked down the hall and entered her cell. After closing the door behind her, she noted the food tray had been removed from her cell and a bowl of hot water and several clean cloths had been placed on her cot. To her relief, she also saw a pair of clean gray sweatpants and a tank top at the bottom of the pile of cloths.

As she cleaned the blood from her body and the wetness from between her legs, she started turning over everything that had happened. She was no closer to finding out exactly what they had done to her, other than knowing they could potentially reverse it. But how did that work? What exactly allowed them to keep her under such control? What was preventing her from accessing her own mind?

She frowned. And why had they allowed her into Wolverine's cell? What purpose had that served? Though she was grateful to have seen him and glad of the momentary comfort she had been given, she was suspicious of their motivations for allowing her to do so. Was it part of the clinical trials Stryker had spoken of? Somehow she didn't think so. She was so confused.

Marie wrung out the cloth and moved the dirty bowl of water off the bed. She looked over herself, making sure she'd gotten as much blood off as she could. The gash in her arm was completely healed, and she no longer felt the imprint of Stryker's fingers on her shoulder. She had healed, fully.

She was so tired. Maybe if she could get some sleep, she would be able to make more sense of the day's events. She sat back on the cot and collapsed into sleep as the order to do so blared through her mind. She didn't mind following this one, though.

And she slept.

Farris sighed in relief and nervously ran his hands through his slicked back hair. He had almost been entirely fucked. He swore loudly and slammed his fist on the table in the control room. He'd almost ruined everything. And on the first night, too. With Vasquez in the lab completing additional sampling, Stryker asleep, and the others off campus, he'd found his opportunity to get the content for his first package to send offsite to his patrons. He put the wheels in motion. Wake up and feed TS183, turn off all other security cameras, except for the ones in TS01's cell of course, dose TS01 with another round of inhibitors, and issue the orders for TS183 to leave her cell. He may have woken up TS79 sooner than Stryker had dictated, but he saw the potential advantage in waking him up early, and he took it.

Feeling his pulse slowly return to normal, he watched TS183 on the monitors as it re-entered its cell, cleaned itself, and then collapsed into sleep following his order to do so. He couldn't believe it had nearly bled out in the Wolverine's cell. He would have to be more careful with his orders in the future. She was already learning ways around the commands they were issuing; finding loopholes, figuring out her limits. Its limits, Farris thought, correcting himself automatically.

Shit, he thought. He was going to have to clean up the Wolverine's cell. He didn't want any evidence of what had occurred to be discovered. He let out a snort of disgust at the thought of cleaning up the mess in the cell and moved to the monitors to playback the encounter between TS183 and TS01. He had the potential to make a lot of money if he was able to keep this up. Who knew what kind of freaks were into watching this shit? Farris figured it didn't matter what kind of freaks they were. As long as they were willing to pay, he would be willing to provide new material.

Watching the test subjects' actions from just a few minutes ago play out on the monitor, he felt himself harden as the Wolverine cupped TS183's breasts and then bent down to bite its neck. Okay. Fuck. This is hot. He got it. His contacts would be happy with this. He quickly transferred the contents off the security footage and downloaded it onto his phone. A few keystrokes later, and the original files were deleted. He then edited the footage to show a loop of TS183 and TS01 in their cells and then uploaded the stolen files to the address specified by his contacts. With any luck, the money would start trickling in and he'd start receiving additional requests for new material. Being a lab technician had never really been so lucrative.

Ensuring the rest of his tracks were covered, Farris took one final look at the two newest subjects on the monitor. The Wolverine was still out cold from being drained by TS183. If he was going to clean up the rest of the evidence, now was his only chance. He quickly went around the room, gathering the supplies he would need and left the control room.

Farris navigated his way through the pristine white hallways of the administration portion of the compound, through the secured entryway to wing where the test subjects were housed. Moving swiftly, he glanced at the digital display where "TS183" glowed in soft green above its cell door. Good, that meant it was still sleeping. Their implantable technology linked to their computer systems and he was able to tell from the color of the identifier over the door that the subject was not currently a threat.

As he continued down the hall towards the Wolverine's cell, Farris stared straight ahead ignoring the hisses and threats that emanated from the inhabitants of cells with slits in their doors. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist. It was late. Usually, the other test subjects would be sleeping at this hour, by chemical or other means. He could only guess they had been roused by what had transpired moments ago when TS183 had walked the halls, covered in blood and the Wolverine's spunk.

He arrived at the Wolverine's cell and let out a sigh. TS01 was emblazoned in dark red above the cell door. Fuck. He was awake. Luckily, he'd thought ahead and grabbed what he needed before he left the control room. He brought up the portable tablet and confirmed with the live video feed that Wolverine was indeed conscious. He then remotely unlocked the cell using the tablet and pulled out the tranquilizer gun to load it with the maximum dosage. He took a deep breath and then entered the cell.
______

Wolverine woke surrounded by blood and jerked instantly to his feet. He inhaled sharply and let out a guttural roar as he recognized the scent. His mate's blood. His mate's blood. He roared his fury, yanked the chains that held him. Where was she? What had they done to her?

But then. Suddenly. He remembered. She had touched him. On his chest. Had hurt him. Had taken his power, his strength. He quieted his roaring and frowned, thinking. Why would she do that? He remembered the scent of her terror, and then the way she'd moaned as he moved in and out of her wet heat, demonstrating his dominance over her. She was his mate. She did not want to hurt him.

He growled as he came to the realization that someone was making his mate do things she didn't want to. He was going to rip them into pieces for hurting her. He would show her he was capable of protecting her and would lay their innards at her feet. Then she would be safe.

He stilled his body as his ears detected the presence of footsteps from outside his cell. A low growl escaped him and he released his claws with a metallic thwack.

A clicking noise, and then the cell door edged open to reveal the same man as before. This was the man that had the scent of his mate on him. This was the man who was hurting her. The man had a weapon pointed at him and the Wolverine let out a low rumble. The man was stupid. He could heal from all weapons, from all injuries.

"Goddamn motherfucker," the man made some noises, but Wolverine paid no attention. He was concentrating on the man's proximity. Hoping he would step within reach of his claws. He longed to gut the man, sliding his claws into his warm viscera, ripping upwards to split him in two. Wolverine waited, lip curled in a constant growling, watching.

Farris swore loudly as his eyes rested on the Wolverine. He was also covered in blood, which meant he'd have to do additional clean up. Farris brought the tranquilizer gun around and releasing the safety, pumped three rounds of maximum dosage into the chamber. He aimed the sight directly at Wolverine's heart and pulled the trigger. The effect was instantaneous. The Wolverine dropped to the cold cement floor with a heavy clang, instantly unconscious.

Normally, with his healing, a single maximum dose would be sufficient for about twenty minutes of downtime. But seeing as he was covered in the blood of the animal he'd been fucking, Farris figured he might be a little more aggressive and agitated than usual, so he's tripled the max dose hoping for as much time as possible to clean up. Not wasting a second of his borrowed time, he quickly grabbed TS183's stained clothing from where they lay in a rumpled sticky heap next to the Wolverine. Jerking his hands back as quickly as possible, Farris threw them into the corner by the door. Next he grabbed the damp towels he'd brought with him and roughly scrubbed the remaining blood from the Wolverine. His heart beating frantically, he mopped up the rest of the evidence of TS01 and TS183's encounter and left the cell. A cold sweat had broken out on his forehead and he hastily wiped it away, his hand shaking. He was really going to have to be more careful. Next time, he wouldn't be taking any chances.

Glancing down at his watch, he saw he had just five hours until the testing would begin. His back to the cell wall, Farris already heard the faint stirrings of the Wolverine. He'd barely had ten minutes to clean up the cell before the animal's healing factor had processed and rid his body of the tranquilizers. Shuddering at the roar of fury that reverberated through the door, Farris quickly returned to the control room to ready the subjects for the first round of tests.

__________


Wolverine woke slowly, his thoughts fuzzy and muddled. Something had been very wrong. He had been enraged, mad with fury. But then, a warm sleepiness had overtaken him and he could not deny its languorous pull. He'd woken again and not a few hours later had been hit again with the strange weapon that made him sleep, only this time by a different man than the one who harmed his mate. Now, he sniffed deeply and was confused by the sterility in the air. There was hardly any scent other than the harsh scent of alcohol, metal, and sterile materials. His eyes darted around the room and he let out of growl of rage and frustration. She was there, but out of reach. Cut off from his ability to smell her, he saw her through the clear glass that led to the next room. He lurched upright, desperate to get to her, but was stopped by the metal chains that bound his hands and feet to the cold metal table he lay upon.

A crackling rent the air and he did not understand the words.

"Begin."

The door to the room where she was swung open, and she reluctantly walked forward, towards him. He did not know why she so full of fear. The stink of it preceded the rest of her delicious scent on the air. In addition to her smell, he could see that she was terrified. Her entire body trembled with fright as she drew nearer him.

"Let him smell you. Rub yourself on him."

She didn't move. A lengthy silence passed.

"TS183, we will only ask nicely one more time. Rub yourself against him."

He saw her flinch at the words, but she still did not move. Then - she screamed, the sound of her anger and fright and pain echoing off the walls of the cold, sterile room. She brought her hands to her head and bent over for a moment before she strode forward to where he lay on the table. She had dark shadows under her eyes and he felt helpless. He could not protect her. Could not save her from what the men were doing to her.

"Please no, please. Please don't make me. No, no, no. Please!" She said as she bent forward to rub her herself over his naked body. Her hands stroked down the muscled wall of his abdomen and she let her hair cover his face. He breathed in her unique fragrance greedily, longing for the comfort of her scent to fill his mind. But she jerked away suddenly, only one hand remaining on his chest. She squeezed her eyes shut and he could smell the bitter scent of her adrenaline spiking, hear the thud of her heart kick into a frantic rhythm. Then, the same pull of her hand as before. He felt his strength draining from him, his veins straining towards her fingertips. Blackness started to creep around the corners of his visions, and the pull abruptly stopped.

His mate was breathing heavily, hand hovering just above his chest, eyes closed. He strained against the bonds again, hoping to reach for her and comfort her, but she jumped away from him at the sound of the chains clanking together. After a moment the blackness had completely receded and he felt somewhat stronger. But then, another crackling noise issued from the far wall.

"Kiss him."

She shook her head, violently. "No. Don't. Please. You can't mak-" but her voice was abruptly cut off and she made no more sounds. Instead she leaned over him and dragged her lips across his and he instantly responded. He growled, deep in his chest and moved to deepen the kiss. His tongue stroked hers, and he bit her bottom lip hard, the scent and taste of blood filling his senses. He smelled the scent of her arousal deepening and she opened her mouth to allow him deeper and he stroked his tongue over hers, allowing her to share in the taste of herself. She shuddered against him and he felt the wildness of lust take over.

Just as suddenly as he tasted her, she moved away from him again. Once more, she placed a single hand on his chest and drew his life through her fingertips. He blacked out, slowly came back, and then was subject once again to her pleasurable lips, her touch, then the agony of his power draining away. The cycle continued, each time her touch becoming exponentially more pleasurable and then more painful. She was crying, the salt of her tears stained her clothing and the scent of her misery and arousal mixed was heavy in the air.

Finally, she had wrapped her hand around his hard length, her hot wet mouth sinking down on him, simultaneously taking his energy, and he felt a part of him snap. His control gone, he lashed out with one of his fists, straining to push her away from him. His chest heaved with rage, his eyes full black with his desire to fuck her and fight her. She had jerked away from him, her mouth glistening. But he could not stop her from reaching toward him again. He let out a bellow of pain as the darkness surrounded him again, barely noticing her collapsing to the ground, blood seeping from her ears, nose, and eyes, her free hand clutching her head.

"That will be all for today."

And he submitted to the black.

The throbbing pain at the base of her skull was the first thing she registered. The pain pulsed, slowly, with her own heartbeat, which she was surprised was possible, given that it had been ripped out of her chest not long ago. She inhaled slowly and was surprised to find she was assisted by a breathing machine. Awareness burned behind her closed eyelids and she was suddenly awake.

Her eyes flew open and she thought for a cruel moment that she was back at the mansion in the med lab. The same sterile scent of isopropyl alcohol hung in the chilled air. Her arms and legs were strapped down and she was laying in a hospital bed, monitors beeping quietly to her right. There were no other comforts in the room. It was cold and empty with the exception of a room divider to her left.

Her eyes fluttered as she remembered the torture she'd been subject to; the torture she'd put Logan through. Stryker and the others blaring commands at her, forcing her to hurt him and then pleasure him. Over and over she'd touched him; tenderly and then cruelly, until finally she'd seen the snap in his eyes. The hate she'd seen in his feral face had caused a searing pain to go through her middle. They were making him hate her, and she couldn't do anything to stop it. She'd been trying to resist each command, forcing herself to try and disobey, the effort of which had exhausted her. She alternated between horror and reluctant arousal at the commands. The feelings were so opposite, they whirled inside her dragging her from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other until they'd collided and exploded. The resulting blast had put her over the edge and she scrambled to maintain any semblance of control or sanity.

As he roared with pain, Marie felt another searing pain. This time in her head. Her vision had gone dark and she'd fallen to the cold floor, one hand straining up to maintain contact with him, unable to release him though she could feel warm blood trickling out of her ears and nose. She thought she was crying too, until the last pinpricks of light she saw were tinted red. She thought she'd heard shouting, but the buzzing in her ears and the pull and swell of the darkness rose up and crashed over her, and then she'd heard nothing.

Flashes of remembered activity and frantic sounds echoed in her mind. She frowned as she remembered being lifted from the floor by men in white lab coats; they'd had gloves on. So they wouldn't touch her skin? Or were they simply practicing standard medical protocols? She would never know. The feeling of being rolled swiftly down a long hallway. Then last thing she remembered was being connected to several different machines and a needle inserted into her arm, then darkness again.

Her head hurt. She didn't want to think about what had just happened. Shit, she didn't want to think about the last several days. She'd been through hell and back, and then to hell again. She wanted to think of something happy, something that made her feel good. She struggled, as she lay there, strapped down, breathing machine whooshing and clicking. The tube from the ventilator was irritating her throat and she wished it was gone. She wished for a lot of things at that moment. She wished she was back in her room at the mansion, in bed, with Logan's arms around her. She closed her eyes hard against the pain that went through her at the thought. He hated her. Hated what she'd done to him. How would he ever forgive her? How could she forgive herself?

She must be a masochist. Instead of trying to ignore the pain that cut through her every time she thought of Logan, she thought back to the afternoon she'd spent in his bed before the mission to the lab.

"Yes, yours," Marie said in response to Logan's growled words. He clutched her against his chest and she closed her eyes as the remnants of pleasure pulsed through her. Sunlight streamed through the window, the afternoon light filling the room with warmth. In Logan's bed, she was surrounded by his scent; wild forest, fire, and him. Exertion and the warmth of the room caused sweat to bead between her shoulder blades and trickle down to the small of her back. She felt Logan stir behind her and then felt the scratch of his beard as his face nuzzled her back and began to lick the beads of sweat from her skin. She arched her back at the languorous feeling that spread through her with each stroke of his tongue.

"You taste like you want to fuck me again."

Liquid heat spread through her center at his words and she groaned. "God. Yes. But we just finished, don't you have to wa-"

"Healing factor, darlin'," he interrupted. She could hear the grin in his voice.

"Darlin' huh?"

A rumbling growl signaled his assent of the name.

"Hmm. I think I like that. A whole hell of a lot more than 'kid', at any rate."

He continued to taste her, tongue swirling, his hands wandering up to tease her nipples. His fingers alternated between feathery light touches and harder pinches and her hips bucked involuntarily at the sudden sting. She felt the answering rock of his own hips against her back, and there was no denying he was more than ready for their next round. He kissed his way up her back and she closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of him, the sweet languid feel of his mouth. Then without warning, he bit her hard at the junction of her shoulder and neck where he'd done so earlier while simultaneously reaching around to thumb her clit. Pain and pleasure rode through her and she arched against him, feeling torn between the duality of the sensations that he was rousing within her.

He inhaled sharply as she felt renewed wetness slick between her legs. He moved one finger to dip into her and slid his finger around to spread the moisture up her swollen folds towards his thumb. She moaned as she realized that the impossible slickness between her legs was from her and him and what he was doing to her. The world suddenly spun a little and she felt dizzy with the sudden rush of thought that flooded into her. PleasurepainwantneedfeelssogoodsmellsgoodMarieminefuck. She jerked, startled out of her pleasure-haze. She'd lost control. She tried to move away from him, concentrating on turning on her guard again, trying to distance herself from him. But he wouldn't move away from her. Her breathing increased as she fought the panic of losing control. He needed to move away from her, or she'd hurt him.

"Logan, let go. I can't - I'm not in control right now," she said, still trying to pull away from him. He responded by growling deep in his throat and rubbing his thumb in a slow circle around her clit. Fissions of pleasure cut through her panic momentarily.

He leaned towards her, his breath near her ear. "Do you trust me?" He asked, his voice rough with arousal.

She hesitated momentarily, and he took the opportunity to stroke her again. Marie closed her eyes, thankful that they were lying on the bed. She knew her legs would have given out from under her had they been upright.

"Do you trust me, Marie?" Logan growled again.

"Yes," she moaned as his other hand returned to her breast, cupping her gently.

"Then take it, just a little."

"No! I can't. I don't want to hurt-"

"You won't hurt me. You've got to learn. Even if you slip up, lose control," he slid one finger into her, somewhat assuaging the empty ache inside. Her breath hitched as he circled her clit with his thumb and then pinched her stiffened nipple. "You can't hurt me. I'm not going anywhere."

She hesitated again. Unsure. The alternating pleasure and pain was clouding her mind. Reducing her to a pile of smoldering lust.

"Take it," he slowly removed his finger from inside her and then ground his hips against her ass, his hard cock seeking the warmth and wetness of her. She couldn't help it. She parted her legs and raised one knee up wanting to feel him inside again, stretching her, filling her. Moving in and out of her. She arched her back again, moving her hips towards him and he groaned as the tip of his head nudged her slick entryway. "Take it," he ground out through gritted teeth.

She closed her eyes and let go. Her control gone, she felt a rush of power. Logan's thoughts surged through her, her sensitive tissues were soothed, she felt strong, she smelled him, she smelled her, she smelled everything and heard everything. The beating of his heart, the blood rushing through his veins, the need to fuckfightfleerunMarieprotectfuckmatemineMarieyes pouring into her.

With a start, she resumed control. Her head was filled with lust, with the scent of him. The Wolverine inside her mind seemed to have become a part of her, the wildness she felt made her restless. And she knew what the Wolverine needed. Knew what she needed.

She inhaled sharply and turned toward him. He seemed unharmed from her pull, and a part deep inside her eased somewhat. His eyes were dark, despite the light shining through the window. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, seeming to appreciate her scent anew.

"Logan. Fuck. Me. Now."

He didn't hesitate. Her legs were already parted and he slid home while grabbing her ass, one cheek in each hand. As he moved in and out of her, his eyes stayed locked with hers. The intensity of his gaze almost frightened her, but the newly charged Wolverine in her mind recognized the look and knew what it meant. He was truly claiming her, marking her as his. As the intensity of his thrusts continued she stared back, just as intensely until her climax slammed into her without warning. Her moans of pleasure filled the room and she threw her head back as she felt Logan coming inside her, his hips pumping into her, filling her with his release, roaring -

"Rogue? Rogue, you awake?"

Marie was startled out of her thoughts by a familiar voice. Her body was remembering Logan's touch and she was surprised to find herself aroused by the memory she'd just been reliving.

She tried to answer, but stopped as her throat was unable to make the proper sounds around the breathing tube, a strangled gurgling noise escaping instead.

"You are awake. Good. Don't try to talk with that thing down your throat, trust me."

She was frozen in place, ears straining for more. She looked around and realized he must be behind the room divider.

"We're all okay. I've seen Storm and Kitty. They were more hurt than I was when we crashed. Have you seen Logan?"

A small knife pierced her heart and she let out a strangled sort of sob. Yes, she'd seen Logan.

"It's okay, don't try to talk. Just snap your fingers if you've seen him."

She barely managed it because of the restraints, but snapped her fingers once.

"Good, he'll be able to help get us out of here. The Profess-"

Bobby stopped talking without warning. The click of a lock disengaging drew her attention to the door. Hate coursed through her as she saw William Stryker step through the entry way, followed by someone in a white lab coat she hadn't seen before.

"Feeling better, TS183?"

Marie said nothing as she watched Stryker and the other man come towards her. The man in the lab coat fiddled with the breathing machine and she heard a click as it seemed to power off.

"Go ahead and try to breathe. Shallow breaths to start," the man in the lab coat said. Glaring at him while she did so, Marie took several shallow breaths.

"Good. Now there will be some discomfort as I remove the tube."

She coughed and spluttered as the tube was withdrawn from her throat.

"Why bother with the breathing machine?" She asked, her voice hoarse and raspy from disuse.

"It was necessary for a time," was the only response the man gave her.

"It was necessary," Stryker said, "because you're turning out to be more valuable than we first thought."

"I thought I was just an animal," she responded.

Stryker glared at her. "It seems like you still haven't learned your lesson. Farris!" Stryker bellowed.

You will always address this man as 'sir'. You will always say please or thank you whenever you speak to him.

Marie gritted her teeth as the command sounded in her mind.

Stryker smiled at her, apparently pleased with her reaction. "On the contrary. Your mutation is turning out to be a rather critical piece of our final test phase. The nature of your abnormality allows us to put much more stress on the suppressor implant than we otherwise be able to do. Most mutants only have one or two abilities that require subduing. And with yours, the possibilities are quite endless - "

Marie's head was spinning and Stryker's words became meaningless as she processed what he'd just said. Suppressor implant. They'd put something in her brain to keep her from using her powers. They must be able to control her remotely. That's why she was forced to obey them. She felt herself start to shake with suppressed rage. She was going to kill all of them for what they'd done to her.

" - upgraded your tech. Shouldn't be any more hemorrhaging of the brain with this chip model." Stryker continued. Looking at her, his cold eyes taking in the sight of her in the bed, he turned towards the man in the lab coat and asked, "What do you think Vasquez? Is she stable enough to proceed?"

Vasquez. She'd heard this name before. Turning her eyes towards the man in the lab coat, he made a few notations on a clipboard she'd not noticed before and nodded his head, avoiding her gaze.

"Vitals look stable. She's clear to resume testing."

Stryker smiled then spoke out loud. "Farris, let's speed things up a little, yes? We need to make up for the delay caused by TS183's incident."

It was like she wasn't even there. They were talking about here like she didn't exist.

A rush of feeling surged through her without warning, the muted feeling of Wolverine flooded her mind, but was gone before she'd had a chance to recognize it for what it was. This time, when she tried to find him within her mind, there was no pain. There was nothing. The ghost of a memory was all that remained. It seemed as though the new chip was working as intended.

She felt clear headed and the throbbing pain at the base of her skull had gone. She realized they'd somehow accessed Wolverine's healing factor from when she'd absorbed him and released it. The thought of having someone access her powers like that left her cold inside.

"Get some rest, TS183. We resume testing tonight."

Several hours later, Marie found herself back in her cell, clad once again in a pair of gray sweatpants and tank top. She sat on her cot, head in her hands, heart racing in anticipation of the next round of torture they had in store for her. Since she'd heard Bobby's voice in what she could only assume was the infirmary wing of the lab, and finding out that Kitty and Storm were alive, she'd become terrified that she would be forced to hurt one of them next. Different scenarios kept playing over and over in her mind, each ending with her eventually killing one of her friends after long hours of hurting them. They wouldn't heal like the Wolverine would. They would simply cease to be, their life force would be sucked out of them, by her poisonous, no longer controllable touch. Imagined scenes of Kitty gasping in pain, of Storm screaming at her touch kept forcing themselves to the forefront of her mind, and she began to rock back and forth in misery.

It was almost a relief when the command came.

Stand up, exit your cell, and follow the lab technician to the testing room. You may not react or communicate in any way unless you are explicitly ordered to do so. You will await further instructions once inside the testing room.

Marie complied, she had no other choice. She left her cot and, exited her cell, and followed the female lab technician down the hallway through a heavy door that led to a pristine portion of the lab that did not contain any cells. Down another corridor, the technician keyed in a code that opened to the observation and testing room. Not sparing Marie a glance, the technician closed the door behind her as she headed into the observation room.

This time, Marie found herself in the testing room, rather than the observation room. Last time they had waited until the Wolverine was conscious for her to enter the room with him. This time, he was already awake, chained to the wall, dark eyes glaring, a growl issuing from his chest. And he wasn't alone in the room.

Marie didn't know if Wolverine's animosity was directed at her, or at the huge shaggy blonde man that was staring at her, a feral possessive look in his dark eyes. He had dark eyes. Suddenly she recalled the eyes that had stared out at her through the slit in one of the doors on her way to Wolverine's cell. The same dark pair stared at her now, and with an internal shudder, she recognized Sabertooth. After Liberty Island, she, like the rest of the X-Men assumed that Sabertooth had been arrested or captured. But the X-Men had been unable to discern his whereabouts and now Marie knew why.

Sabertooth too was restrained, but he was chained up to the wall opposite of Wolverine forcing them to stare directly at each other. She could show no outward sign of distress, thanks to the orders she'd received. But internally, she was shaking. Terrified. What purpose could Victor Creed serve in this nightmare?

Minutes passed with no commands, with no sounds except the constant stream of growls issuing from each of the two men in front of her. Then, a blur or commands raced through her mind so fast, she became slightly dizzy.

Once the stream of commands had ceased, she walked forward to the table and placed her extremities in the metal cuffs on the table and heard the locks reengage. Marie waited calmly for the next round of instructions, confident her examiners would provide the appropriate instructions when they were ready to do so. Several moments passed, then a rush of feeling flooded her body. Arousal, such as she'd never felt, blazed through her veins. Her body was on fire, longing pulsed hotly inside her, her aching emptiness unbearable. She arched her hips in desperate search of release, rubbed her thighs together trying to make contact with her aching clit, but her restraints prevented her from achieving the desired effect. She tossed her head, eyes searching frantically about the room, hoping to find some means of easing the torturous, agonizing emptiness she felt. That's when she saw him. Dark, feral eyes glinting appreciatively at her, muscles rigid, chains taut as he strained towards her. She moaned as she locked gazes with him, her chest rising rapidly with the thought of his savage mouth sinking down on her aching nipples, teasing them with his tongue. She needed him. Why wouldn't they release him? Let him come to her and sink himself inside her. She could see that he was ready. His unrestrained cock strained upwards and she bucked her hips in response to the site. She could tell she was slick and ready. She waited, nerves on fire, want consuming her mind.

Rolling her head to the side, she caught the eye of another restrained male to her right. For some unknown reason, that one scared her. His gaze was even fiercer than the other male, but Marie didn't like the way he looked at her. It made her fearful. She turned her eyes back to the first male, willing him to somehow free himself from the chains and touch her, fill her, ease her pain. She wished her examiners would release him so he could grant Marie her own release. She wanted only to comply with their orders. A resounding click filled the room and she moaned in anticipation as the man's bonds were released and he began stalking towards her, his towering blonde head bowed slightly as he sniffed deeply and reached for her.

There was only one instruction that sounded in her mind.

Mate.
_____________

Gemma Watson studied the biofeedback readings on the screen in front of her as the test began, frowning slightly at the rapid change of pace in the subject's heartbeat. At first, the rhythm had been pulsing rapidly, showing the panicked state of the subject. Then it had begun to slow, returning to a normal rate. A few seconds later, the heartbeat had started to increase again, but not to the same level of panic as before. No, this rhythm was more indicative of anticipation or excitement.

She turned once more to her protocol for the test, and then flipped through until she found the programming notes on page twelve. Proceed to the exam table in the center of the room and place your wrists and ankles in the manacles. From this moment on, you will no longer believe that you are held against your will. From this moment on, you are a willing, eager participant in all experiments. You will not question orders. You believe you are a willing participant. You do not desire to escape. You desire only to comply. Compliance will be rewarded. You will not conspire with any other test subjects to escape, nor aid them in any way. The only thing you remember about your time before the lab is that it was filled with pain and misery, torture at the hands of Wolverine. The Wolverine was working with the other X-Men to destroy you...

Gemma skimmed the rest of the notes and then closed the protocol, understanding the change in the subject's bio status. She hadn't had time to read all of the damn programming notes in this report before the test began, and she had admittedly not been paying the most attention at the design controls phase review meeting just prior to the start of the test. She'd been distracted by her discovery of Farris' extracurricular activities involving both TS183 and TS01 as well as several other pairs of test subjects, and had been trying to decide just how she wanted to proceed.

Gemma had discovered what Farris was up to when she was gathering her data to report on the Wolverine's reaction to the X29 serum. She was compiling data on his reaction, processing time, and any adverse effects noted and hand in the report to Stryker. Gemma thought the first blip in the video stream showing Wolverine's cell was just a fluke, a partially corrupt portion of the digital file. But no, there it was again. It looked like the file had been tampered with, a chunk of time missing. It was easy to discover what Farris had done. He hadn't covered his tracks very well at all, idiot that he was. Hadn't even bothered to delete the files on the backup server. She'd found dozens of recordings, each showing different pairings of the test subjects. It hadn't taken her long to find out he was selling the files, taking in an exorbitant amount of money for his efforts in the process.

She had two options; either turn him in, or blackmail him. Each option had its own set of perks and drawbacks. On one hand, she could stand to make a lot of money, and for once put that slimy bastard in his place. On the other, she would likely win Stryker's favor if she were to make him aware of any disloyalty in the ranks. She would have to come to a decision about Farris soon. His illicit mutant pornography films were rapidly gaining notoriety, and she did not want to be on the wrong side if things suddenly blew up in his face. Gemma let out a small sigh and turned her attention to Stryker, who was briefing the external team on the status of Project Vanquish via video conference.

"...and as you can see, with the upgraded suppressor chip we implanted into TS183, we now have the capability to shape the subject's thoughts, emotions, body chemistry, and memories. The previous chip model controlled only their mutation. But this latest model allows us to maintain complete control over the subject. If you recall from our previous briefing, our research found TS183 and TS01 had become intimate prior to becoming test subjects. Now," Stryker motioned towards the window into the testing room where TS183 and TS79 were writhing together on top of the exam table, "TS183 is following our commands to mate with TS79, a command which had it been given prior to the new implant, would likely have caused the subject great distress, perhaps leading to another hemorrhage. Now, she complies, and quite willingly by the looks of things."

A chuckle of appreciative laughter sounded through the video conference. Then after a brief pause one of the uniformed men addressed Stryker. "Colonel, while we certainly appreciate the demonstration, we are curious as to what purpose the presence of TS01 serves during all of this. Why have the subject in the room for the demonstration of the chip's functionality?"

Stryker smiled at the question, eager to answer. "Two birds, one stone, General. Our goal is to turn TS01 back into a weapon. The Wolverine was the most vicious killer ever produced in the Weapon X program. Ideally, we want to revert the subject back to that obedient killer state. But first, we have to destroy any thought of humanity from his mind. And we believe the quickest, most efficient way to do so, in conjunction with the constant dosing of serum X29, is to show the subject that his mate," Stryker filled the word with derisive scorn, "has chosen another. In this case, TS79 is the Wolverine's ultimate rival. Same visceral instinct for bloodshed, same healing factor, same enhanced senses and enhanced strength, though without the adamantium enforced skeleton, of course. Take Wolverine's mate away, take away the last vestiges of its humanity. From there, the programming can begin."

"Very good, Colonel. We look forward to the next briefing showing your continued progress," the General responded. "When do you expect to begin production?"

"Assuming the next few tests are successful, we'll be able to begin mass production on this model and begin global deployment within the month, General."

A rumble of appreciation from the uniformed men at the news that they were ahead of schedule had Stryker smiling in response. He'd been looking forward to their reaction all day.

________________

Wolverine sniffed and registered the waves of pheromones coming off his mate and growled. He was still leery of her touch after she'd last hurt him, but he could not help his response to the delicious scent of her. Her body was begging to mate. Hips rolling, nipples hard, he could smell her slick heat and he strained at his chains, desperate to be inside her again.

He looked over at the great shaggy blonde beast opposite him and let out another low ominous growl. He too was responding to the scent she was putting off and adrenaline flooded his body in anticipation of fighting his rival. Was this some sort of test she was putting him through to prove his dominance?

He met her gaze and she turned away, her eyes fearful. Wolverine was confused. Hadn't he proven to her that he would never hurt her? Even if he didn't understand why she'd hurt him before, he knew she would never willingly stray from him. They were mated for life.

The click of shackles being released echoed in the cold room and Wolverine strained forward, thinking he had been freed. But the chains had not been released. At least not for him. He watched, furious, berserk with rage as the blonde beast shook free his bonds and moved towards his mate. And then, she reached towards him, hand straining against he own bonds, lust clouding her eyes.

Wolverine howled and jerked in his chains. The pain of her touching the blonde beast cut through him. She had chosen another. She didn't want him. Didn't think he was strong enough. Didn't think he could protect her. He felt the man retreat even further inside his mind, the pain of seeing his mate take another was too much. Something within Wolverine snapped and he roared as he smelled the scent of his rival and his female rutting in front of him. He would kill them both. Her, for her betrayal, him for taking her away.

Over the next several weeks, Rogue was content to spend her days assisting her examiners with various tasks. Sometimes she was put into the testing room with members of the X-Men, where she would spend hours helping her examiners with their work. They said she was helping them, but Rogue imagined they were allowing her to take a small portion of revenge for how the X-Men had tortured her. She ignored the wicked lies her so-called teammates spouted as she tested them. People would say anything to avoid having her test them. But they only lied until she started touching them. Then they either screamed, or were silent. Teeth clenched with agony as she pulled their strength and powers from them, biofeedback machines beeping and whirring in the otherwise silent exam room. She was thankful for the suppression chip they had implanted in her which prevented her from being subject to the test subjects' thoughts and memories and powers. The examiners would scribble and type frantically as she touched the mutants, eager to record every detail of the tests. They would ask her to stop before she pulled too much from them. Though Rogue might want to kill them for what they'd done to her, her examiners didn't want her to finish them just yet. There were, after all, many more tests to complete.

The one called Shadowcat had pleaded with her more than the blonde man and white haired women had. The two of them had tried only briefly to persuade Rogue to let them go, but gave up quickly once she touched them and the tests began. They weren't like Shadowcat who kept begging Rogue to remember who she was and to fight back. But Rogue ignored her too. She knew exactly who she was, and exactly who she was fighting.

Other times her examiners had her test mutants other than the X-Men. It was important work they were doing, and the more she could help, the more her compliance would be rewarded. The number of mutants she'd worked with was too many for her to count now, but she paid it no mind. Her examiners knew what was best, and she would continue to test as many mutants as they needed her to. She did wonder why her examiners never had her test the Wolverine like she had the other X-Men. But she quickly put that from her mind. She was not eager to face him again.

After the tests of the day were complete, Rogue would come back to her room, do some light exercises to keep in shape, and wait for her evening meal. Some days, she was allowed a book to read. When she tired from the days' events, she would sleep.

Some nights she dreamed. Dreams with strange scenes, of Rogue working alongside her enemies, the X-Men. She supposed her dreams were just pieces of the day her brain put together after being subject to their lies, but she couldn't help but marvel at the remarkable continuity of those particular dreams. They weren't like other dreams, where disjointed events crammed themselves together in some semblance of a logical flow. It was more like they were memories. But that couldn't be. The X-Men were here enemies.

Some nights she dreamed of the dark intense man called Wolverine. In contrast to her memories where he had abducted her from Laughlin City when she'd been a girl, and conspired with the other X-Men to use her as a conduit to attempt to forcefully turn humans into mutants, in her dreams he was kind to her. Touched her gently, then fiercely, made her smile and made her body sing with pleasure. He filled her wish such enjoyable emotions and feelings. When she woke from those dreams, heart racing with phantom pleasure, hips arching desperately in search of the feeling of him sinking deep within her, she felt confused. But soon, the confusion passed as her examiners gave her another task, another mutant to test.

Now, as she bolted upright from her latest dream, heart racing, breasts and clit aching from unresolved longing, she tried to think about why she kept having these dreams. She supposed it was because he was an attractive man. Despite the fact that he'd stalked and tortured her relentlessly, he was still a powerful, commanding male.

In spite of the thrill of fear that went through her, Rogue idly thought of Wolverine as she brought one hand beneath the elastic band of her sweatpants and slowly stroked her center, desperate to ease the unresolved ache that had started with her dream. She'd had no release for weeks, not since she had been allowed to mate with Sabertooth. She had known that Wolverine was enraged at their coupling. But why he had been so incensed and violent, she did not understand. Why would someone who had tortured her so much care that she mated with a strong, fierce male? Maybe if she was compliant enough they would allow her to mate with Sabertooth again.

In her dreams, Wolverine's hazel eyes had flashed gold, pooled dark with arousal as they fucked fiercely in his bed. She closed her eyes and tried to recapture the feeling of the dream, stroking her clit slowly with one finger, she brought her other hand to her breast to roll one hardened nipple between thumb and forefinger. She imagined it was his hand cupping her breast, his strong fingers dipping into her wet heat to ready her for the slow steady invasion of his cock. She thought of his heated gaze, the feral beast lingering just below the surface waiting for his moment to emerge and dominate. She let out a moan as her fingers continued to stroke and pleasure spiraled outwards from her center, spreading languorously to her limbs.

Just as she was nearing her peak, she heard a muffled sort of sound coming from the hallway, then the click of the lock at her door disengage. She let out an exasperated sigh as she moved her hand away from her aching clit. She had been so close. Quickly righting her clothing, she felt a stab of shame for thinking of a man who tortured her while trying to bring herself to orgasm. Rogue swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, running her ringers through her sleep mussed hair. She stifled a yawn then frowned. It was odd for her examiners to come to her quarters while she was sleeping. Normally, they would come to her after she'd had her morning meal.

The door slowly swung open and revealed the towering, naked form of the Wolverine. His claws were extended and he was breathing heavily. He sniffed the air several times and then gave a wicked grin as he spotted Rogue near her bed. Rogue felt fear slam into her as he slowly started towards her, placing one heavily muscled thigh in front of the other until he was directly in front of her.

"What?" He rasped out, lips raised in a snarl. "This not the rescue you were expectin'?"

A fine tremor had seized her body. She could not move, could not think. She thought for a horrible moment she had conjured him from her dreams. But then another man came into the room. He was tall, stately, was sporting a cape and had a weird sort of helmet on his head. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but try as she might, Rogue could not place him.

"That will do, Mystique. No need to frighten the poor thing."

As Rogue watched, the Wolverine's form began to shimmer and shift. Scales rippled down his body and suddenly a tall blue woman with sleeked back red hair stood before her. Rogue took a quick breath as her fear slowly began to dissipate. Looking back toward the man with the helmet, she asked, "Who - who are you?"

The man slowly turned his head and met the eyes of the blue woman who tilted her head to one side as she turned her gaze to Rogue. When he turned back to face Rogue, he had a smile on his face. "I, my dear, am salvation," He extended one hand towards her in invitation. Rogue was confused. Were her examiners testing her now? Should she go with the man and the blue woman? Should she stay in her quarters? Maybe she wasn't supposed to be in a locked room. Maybe she should leave. But if she left, she wouldn't be complying with her orders. And she would not be rewarded.

The man slowly dropped his hand as he took in Rogue's indecision. "My dear, Rogue. Do you not know what has been done to you? Crimes have been committed against all mutant-kind in this place. These monsters have - "

The man broke off as the sound and vibration of a far-off explosion shook the room.

"Erik, they're here."

The man, apparently named Erik, let out a muffled curse under his breath. "Damn it, Charles. You're early."

"We need to hurry if we're going to use this." Mystique held up a small tablet computer.

"How much time is required to complete reprogramming and release our friends?"

"Only a minute to reprogram her. She won't need much since they already changed so many of her memories. Just a few tweaks to make her aware of what Stryker did to her and turn off the part of the chip that suppresses her ability to use her powers, and she'll be ready to go."

"And releasing the others? How long?"

"Seconds. All I've got to do is unlock their cells. The entire lab can be run from one of these tablets, but we've got to hurry Erik. If they get to the control room before - "

Rogue dimly recognized that Erik and Mystique's voices had become hurried, but she didn't hear any of the words. Rogue's brain had stumbled over the name Charles and a strange sort of feeling came over her. "Charles?" She interrupted, her voice shaking with emotion. "Charles Xavier?"

Erik turned back towards her and narrowed his eyes slightly. "Yes, Charles Xavier. Do you know him?"

"Yes," she said in a small quiet voice. "He tried to kill me."

"Did he now?" Erik and Mystique shared a quick glance. "Well then, let us depart this depressing place before he and his team of miscreants can lay their hands on you. Will you come with us, my dear? Will you help us stop the abuses enacted upon mutants by men such as Stryker and Charles Xavier? Will you help us fight for mutant-kind? Will you join the Brotherhood of Mutants?"

Rogue hesitated, unsure of what to do. On one hand, she did not want to disobey her examiners. They had treated her so well. On the other hand, if she had the opportunity to fight against the X-Men and defeat Charles Xavier, how could she refuse?

Another explosion shook the room, louder and closer this time and Rogue flinched with the sound. Rogue heard the echoes of men shouting and automatic gunfire, getting nearer by the second.

"Erik!" A note of panic had made its way into Mystique's voice.

Erik looked at the indecision etched into Rogue's face then back at Mystique. "We're out of time. Do it."

Mystique didn't hesitate, but quickly entered several commands on the tablet. Dimly, Rogue heard the sounds of cell doors unlocking and swinging open echo down the corridor. Then, a rush of information entered her mind and she gasped, stunned at how she had been abused and manipulated at the hands of Stryker and the government. Rage quickly filled her mind, but she had no time to dwell on it. Suddenly she felt another rush, one that coursed through her body instead of her mind. She felt the powers of scores of mutants flood through her. Strength consumed her, the power thrummed through her veins. It made her heady, and she began to laugh. She was going to destroy Stryker. She was going to destroy the X-Men. Nothing could stop her now.

Rogue knew now who Erik was. He and Mystique had saved her from Charles before, on Liberty Island. She owed him a great debt. One she was more than willing to pay.

"Shall we?" Erik said, once more extending his hand toward Rogue.

"Yes." Rogue took his gloved hand and the three of them exited her cell. Together, they turned to face the fight that was making its way toward them.

_______________________


Scott Summers lifted one hand to his visor and blasted an armed guard who had been pointing his gun at Jean. The man flew backwards and hit the concrete wall with a thud. Jean jumped as she turned, hands raised in preparation for an attack to see the unconscious guard sprawled on the floor behind her.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Scott said as he grinned at her. "Have you been able to locate our guys?"

Jean shook her head as she turned and followed Scott down the hall. "I can't seem to get a read on Logan or Rogue. But Storm, Kitty, and Bobby are down this way."

Scott nodded and they hustled down the corridor. They proceeded cautiously, mindful of the smoke and debris that filled the air as a result of the blasts from the Blackbird that had allowed them entry to the facility. "The others should be in place by now, we need to hurry."

As they rounded the corner, Jean stopped in her tracks and gasped at the sheer number of cells. "Scott. There's so many."

Jaw clenched with anger, Scott could only nod. It wasn't until they'd set foot inside Stryker's lab that they'd fully understood the extent and reach of the government's involvement in mutant experimentation. Seeing the number of cells in this wing alone made him sick. He could only imagine the horrors that had been enacted upon his teammates behind those doors. Glancing quickly had his watch, he faced Jean. "It's time."

Jean nodded and closed her eyes, trying to center herself. They were going to need every bit of their strength in order to make it out of this place in one piece. She opened her eyes just as the lights went out and they were plunged into complete darkness. A moment later, dim emergency lighting flickered on and the blast of an alarm sounded down the hallway.

"They did it. Let's go." Scott said, adrenaline flooding his body. Screams and yells from inside the cells met their ears as they started down the hallway. With their Beta team having successfully made their way into the main control room, Scott heard the locks of the cell doors disengage and many mutants came out on their own two feet. Other doors, though unlocked, remained shut, the mutants inside either unwilling, or unable to leave. Scott and Jean hurried down the hallway, directing those well enough to stand where the exit was. The Beta team would be rendezvousing with any survivors at the blast point to help them escape.

About halfway down the hall, Jean let out a cry of relief. Storm had appeared in one of the doorways, leaning against the hard metal frame of the cell door. "Jean! Scott! Thank goddess you're here."

The two women embraced quickly and Jean quickly assessed Storm for injuries. She had one arm in a cast and had several deep gouges on her arms that were nearly healed. "Storm, I'm so sorry."

Storm shook her head. "This is from the crash," she said, indicating her broken arm. "They drugged us. Kept us heavily sedated most of the time. I hadn't healed enough to be experimented on. Much. They wanted me in perfect health before - " she broke off, her voice full of bitterness.

Scott broke in, anxious to get out of this place. "Kitty? And Bobby? Are they here?"

Storm nodded and pointed to a few cells down. "There."

Scott darted towards the cell doors Storm had indicated and let out a sigh of relief as he saw both Bobby and Kitty slowly emerge from their rooms, sluggish looks in their eyes. Both appeared to have minor injuries, and seemed thinner than they should, but otherwise physically unharmed.

"It's good to see you both, but," Scott said over the noise of the alarm. The sound of shouting and gunfire was getting closer. "There's no time for pleasantries. Have you seen Rogue or Logan? Do you know where they're being held?"

"We don't know where they're being held," Bobby's speech was slurred, and Scott saw him shake his head, trying to clear it. "I haven't seen Logan since the crash. But Rogue - Scott. They're controlling her, using her. Some kind of new tech. She doesn't know we're on her side."

Scott and Jean looked at each other and exchanged a dark look. The Professor had warned them they might encounter a situation such as this. Stryker was notorious for his cruel and extreme experiments on mutants, and neither Scott or Jean were surprised to hear about what had happened to Rogue.

"Okay, we're running out of time. We need to find those two and get the hell out of here. Storm, can you take Bobby and Kitty? Colossus and Nightcrawler will meet you by the exit. Jean and I are going to find Logan and Rogue."

Storm nodded and turned to go, but Bobby stopped her. "No. We can help. We can fight, Scott."

"No offense, Bobby, but you guys look like shit. You can help by following orders and getting yourselves the hell out of here."

With difficulty, Bobby followed Storm and Kitty down the hallway towards the exit. He'd have to figure out a different way to get to back to Stryker.

____________________

Hearing the faint strains of gunfire and screams, Wolverine lifted his head, sniffing deeply. He smelled smoke, fire, fear. And - he sniffed again - beyond the scents of men, he smelled her. He let out a growl and lifted himself into a crouched position and waited. He couldn't yet smell the blonde beast she had chosen over him, but knew as the sounds of fighting grew louder, that it wouldn't be long until he would face them both.

The past several weeks had been hellish. After witnessing the brutal betrayal of his mate choosing another, his days had been filled with torturous experiments. He'd been drugged and sliced open repeatedly. Each time he'd wondered if this time they would cut him deeply enough to kill him. But his healing always kicked in, and they always cut him deeper the next day. The man was buried so deeply within his mind, Wolverine thought he might never emerge. Even without the strange mist that regularly filled his cell, Wolverine did not feel the man trying to take over. It seemed he was content to let the Wolverine remain in control.

After several minutes the light in his cell went out and an alarm blared through the halls. At the same time, the locks on his restraints clicked and fell to the cold concrete floor and he heard the bolt to his cell release. Wolverine growled his satisfaction at his freedom but remained still, waiting for his prey to come to him.

Finally, the door to his cell swung open and in stepped two individuals. One female, and though she had a pleasant sort of scent, Wolverine dismissed her as a viable mate immediately. She was clearly already claimed, taken by the man that accompanied her. The two of them smelled like each other and it made a part of him ache as he remembered covering his mate with his scent.

Growling at their intrusion, the female spotted him in the darkness called out to her male companion. "Scott! In here."

The male came rushing toward Wolverine and, feeling threatened, he released his claws with a metallic thwack. The man froze in his tracks and moved one hand towards his red-covered eyes.

"What the hell, Logan? We're getting you out of here."

Wolverine growled again, this time in warning. The female frowned, but the male continued to speak.

"Time to go, Logan. Do you know where they're keeping Rogue?"

One of the words rubbed Wolverine the wrong way and he let out another menacing growl. He didn't like the way it made him feel, and sure as hell didn't like the man saying it. A strange sort of pressure momentarily filled his head and he jerked his head toward the female, lip curled in a snarl of warning.

"Scott." Jean's voice sounded odd. "Logan isn't in there."

"What? What the hell do you mean?" Scott whirled back to face Jean who look as confused as he felt.

"I mean, Logan isn't in there. This is Wolverine. He's in a feral state."

"What - what the fuck?" Scott ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "How the hell are we supposed to get him out of here if he doesn't even recognize us?"

"I don't know, Scott. Maybe we can - "

Whatever Jean was going to say was interrupted by the sound of a loud blast in the hall directly outside the cell. Scott and Jean jumped at the noise and reverberation, but Wolverine calmly turned toward the opening of his cell. He had smelled them getting closer. Smoke and debris rolled in through the entryway and using it as cover, Scott and Jean both moved to either side of the open door, backs to the wall. Scott quickly glanced out the door to get a reading on their situation and let out a low, "Shit," while swiftly moving back to the cover of the wall.

Jean whispered back to him. "What? What is it?"

"Magneto," Scott said, his voice tight with anger.

"Shit," Jean agreed. "I thought he was locked up."

"Must've gotten out."

"Why is he here?"

"No idea, but there are others with him. Mystique, I think. A couple others I couldn't see clearly. And Sabertooth."

"Shit," Jean repeated. With Magneto's abilities and Sabertooth's strength, Wolverine was essentially out of the fight. "Was Magneto a prisoner?"

"No chance."

"How do you know that?"

Scott turned to Jean and gave her a sardonic look. "You know many prisoners that have capes and their own custom helmets?"

"Fine. No need to be so superior about it."

"I can hear you, you know," Magneto's deep voice came out of the darkness and Scott looked at Jean, a chagrined look on his face.

"What do you want, Magneto?" Scott called out.

"It is not what I want. It is what she wants," Magneto responded, the smile evident in his voice.

"She? Who is 'she'?" Jean asked

"'She' is me," and Rogue stepped into the cell.

"Rogue," Jean said in a hushed voice as she stepped away from the wall, stopping awkwardly half way to hugging her. Her momentary joy of seeing her teammate alive was quickly squashed when she took in the cold look in Rogue's eyes. Wolverine growled low and menacingly as Sabertooth, Magneto, and Mystique stepped in behind Rogue. Sabertooth returned the growl, but did not move.

Scott had also stepped away from the wall and faced the newcomers. "Rogue. What are you doing with Magneto? He tried to kill you."

A humorless laugh escaped Rogue's lips and she turned her cold gaze toward Scott. "That's rich, comin' from one of the X-Men."

A frown creased Scott's forehead and he turned to Jean looking for an explanation. Taking the hint, Jean concentrated and subtly began to probe at the edges of Rogue's mind, but before she'd gotten anywhere, she felt a massive psychic wave blasting her back. She stumbled slightly with the sheer strength of the push and gasped as she looked once more at Rogue.

Stay out of my head, Jean. Rogue hadn't opened her mouth, but her voice thundered through the room, causing the occupants' very bones to vibrate. It appeared as though Rogue had acquired some new powers while she'd been held captive. But why would anyone want to give her more power?

Scott took advantage of the stunned silence to try and reason with Rogue. After witnessing her behavior for himself, it was obvious she had been brainwashed by Stryker. How could he persuade her to trust them? "Rogue, this isn't you. Stryker did this to you. You're our friend, we're on your side."

"I know exactly what Stryker did to me. And believe me, he'll pay. But I have unfinished business with ya'll as well."

"Rogue, we just want to - " Jean started.

"Cram it, Red," Rogue said, cutting her off. At her words, a crackle of energy formed at her fingertips, then quickly dissipated.

Magneto spoke in a hushed, almost reverent tone at her additional display of power, "Marvelous."

Now deeply concerned, Jean met Scott's eyes. They were going to have to fight her, something neither of them wanted to do. It was two against four. Bad odds in any normal situation. Too bad it wasn't a normal situation. In this case they had really, really bad odds.

Trying a different angle, Scott tried once more to reason with Rogue. "Rogue, the Professor can help - "

"The Professor can help? What can he help with, Scott? Can he help try and kill me again?"

Magneto and Mystique shared a smile before turning back to face the entertainment in front of them.

Rogue stepped forward and grinned. "I'm done talkin'."

At her words, Wolverine and Sabertooth both jerked their heads towards the door and growled. But before anyone had the chance to act, several guards burst in behind them and began firing their weapons. Shouting broke out as Jean and Scott dove for cover. Rogue remained still, with the exception of lifting one hand in the air. At once, the tranquilizer-laden darts that had flown from the guards' guns froze in midair. The guards, looking stunned, did not move. It was more than enough time for Rogue to act. One hand forced the darts to drop harmlessly to the ground, while the other hand shot a bolt of crackling energy in the direction of the guards who screamed as their bodies were flung backward into the hard concrete wall behind them. They dropped to the floor, unconscious.

Wolverine took advantage of the distraction to charge Sabertooth who roared as Wolverine's claws slid into his abdomen. Scott yelled for Jean to duck as Sabertooth retaliated and hurled Wolverine into the wall past her. Wolverine hit the wall hard, but landed in a crouch and quickly lunged for Sabertooth again. Scott moved his hand to his visor, intent on disrupting the fight between them, but Rogue, her eyes drawn by the movement, jerked her head toward Scott and his visor was torn from his face. The visor flew into her open hand and she crushed it, turning it to dust in her hands.

"Argh!" Scott yelled as a blast of light shot momentarily from his unprotected eyes before he closed them tight. Jean watched the scene in front of her unfold, horrified at Rogue's display of new powers. Scott could no longer help, crippled by the destruction of his visor. Wolverine and Sabertooth continued their brutal fight. Healing instantly as they ripped each other open and tore each other apart, blood began to pool on the floor of the cell. Sabertooth held Wolverine up to the wall and drove his claws into Wolverine's neck. Wolverine howled with pain but managed to sink his claws into Sabertooth's belly. Jean tried to separate them, but was stopped by Rogue who shot another bolt of energy from her fingertips and Jean was knocked backwards to the floor, a grunt of pain escaping her lips.

"Jean!"

"Scott! I'm fine. Just stay down."

Wolverine now had both adamantium claws buried to the hilt in Sabertooth's stomach who was howling with agony. Slicing each set of claws in the opposite direction, Wolverine split Sabertooth down the middle, his guts spilling out over the cold concrete floor. Wolverine flicked the blood off each claw and turned toward Rogue, intent clear in his wild eyes.

Jean lifted her head from the floor and watched as the tableau in front of her played out, wondering what could possibly have happened between the two of them to cause the type of violence she sensed within them both. Wolverine charged forward, claws raised. Rogue remained motionless until the last possible second, waving her hand upward. Wolverine flew into the air, immobilized by Rogue's power. She splayed her hands and Jean watched, horrified, as Wolverine's limbs began to stretch, the cracking of bones on adamantium filled the room. The Wolverine growled with pain and Rogue waved her other hand causing the dozens of tranquilizer darts that still littered the floor to fly up and drive themselves as one into Wolverine's flesh. He dropped to the floor instantly with a metal clang, a pained look frozen on his face as he passed out.

Against the opposite wall, Sabertooth was stirring, his healing factor having kicked in enough to repair some of the damaged caused by Wolverine splitting him in half.

Rogue strode over to where Jean lay on the ground and crouched down so they were eye to eye.

"I want you to give Charles a message for me. Tell him, I'm comin' for him. Him and the others. Can you do that, Jean?"

At a loss for words, Jean could only nod. She couldn't reconcile this Rogue with her friend of so many years. Couldn't figure out what had happened to make her act like this.

"Rogue, my dear. I think you've done well here. But we had best be on our way before reinforcements arrive," Magneto said, gently.

Rogue nodded and with one last look back at the unconscious form of Wolverine, stepped out of the cell with Magneto and the others.

As they left Jean's sight, she let out a ragged breath, relieved at their absence. She hated to admit it, but they were vastly unprepared to deal with Rogue's new - abilities.

"Jean! Are they gone?" Scott said, voice frantic in the dark cell.

"Yes, they're gone."

"We've got to get out of here too. The others. They're waiting for us to evacuate before phase three can begin."

"C'mon," Jean said, as she helped Scott to his feet. "Wolverine's unconscious. I can levitate him to the Blackbird. Hold on to me."

Jean lifted Wolverine into the air and Scott grabbed her shoulder as they headed out of the cell.

"We're going to need to regroup. This thing with Rogue is more serious than I think even the Professor could have guessed," Scott said as he followed Jean down the hallway.

Moments later, once they were all on the jet, Kitty darted forward, eyes frantically searching for her friend. "But. Where's Rogue?"

Jean felt a lump in her throat as she and Piotr restrained the unconscious Wolverine to a table with adamantium chains.

"She's not with us," Jean said, tersely.

"What? What do you mean she's not with us?" Kitty's voice rose with panic as Jean headed toward the cockpit, intent on getting them the hell away from the lab and completing phase three.

When Jean didn't say anything, Scott spoke up from one of the passenger seats. Someone had given him a strip of cloth to tie around his eyes. He sounded tired as he said, "Rogue's with Magneto."

"What the hell?" Was Kitty's soft reply. She took her seat as the jet rose into the air and turned back toward the lab. Dimly, she heard Jean and Storm executing the phase three protocol that Piotr had told her about on the way out of the lab. Though she took pleasure seeing the fireballs rise up and consume the building where she and her friends had been held prisoner for nearly two months, she was deeply concerned for Rogue, and for what the future held for her and her friends.

Doctor Hank McCoy moved closer to the electronic files open on the screen in front of him, frowning as he retrieved his glasses from where they rested on top of his head and delicately pushed them onto his nose with one blue furred finger. He needed answers regarding the current state of the man prowling about wildly in their isolation chamber, and he was convinced the rather extensive and meticulously documented notes on the experiments and torture performed on his friends would have those answers. After having retrieved several blood samples from a thankfully unconscious Wolverine upon his return to the mansion and running them through a battery of tests, he was puzzled as to why the drugs administered to Wolverine had not yet seemed to leave his system. Ororo, Katherine, and Robert, while undernourished and exhausted, and still recovering from their injuries obtained in the jet crash, had all seemed to recover relatively quickly from their drugged state.

By contrast, the man they held in med lab's isolation chamber in no way resembled the Logan that Hank knew. No, the beast that growled and lashed out violently with his adamantium claws if anyone approached the chamber was a stranger to them all. Hank alone recognized the feral beast in front of him and had been shocked to feel his own feral instincts rise quickly to the surface as he observed a conscious, deeply savage Wolverine. His deeper nature had quickly identified and understood that the feral animal Wolverine was in charge, even if it took his calm scientific mind more time to process the facts and data in front of him. The constant displays of violent aggression brought out conflicting instincts in Hank, and indeed it took a great deal of strength to ignore his feelings to either challenge the Wolverine for dominance or bow his head and avert his eyes to submit to and recognize the Alpha in front of him. To help focus on the task in front of him, he had instead retreated to the lab, out of sight and sound of the vicious beast snarling behind the impenetrable walls of the isolation chamber. He was determined to identify what was preventing Logan from coming to the surface.

From his initial review of the electronic files Piotr and Kurt had managed to liberate from the lab prior to it being firebombed into oblivion, it appeared as though the X29 serum formula's primary function had been specifically designed to prevent Wolverine's healing factor from identifying its chemical compounds as a threat whereby the body would immediately process it out of the system. No, the X29 serum appeared to mimic nutrients and other trace minerals needed in order to maintain essential bodily functions such as the immune, nervous, and circulatory systems. So, rather than seeing an unknown potentially threatening foreign substance, Wolverine's body had essentially absorbed the serum without it being recognized as a danger by his healing factor. Hank had simultaneously marveled at the ingenious design of such a drug, and been horrified by the amount of time and dedication it must have taken in order to engineer something specifically meant for a mutant such as Wolverine.

What Hank did not understand was that according to information in the lab's files, the X29 serum required regular dosing every twelve hours to maintain its effectiveness. It had now been three full days since the X-Men had returned from the lab, short one of their members, and yet the Wolverine was very obviously still very much present and in charge. That led him to ponder the secondary function of the serum.

The chemical formula for the X29 serum was a complicated combination of compounds, several of which he was unable to identify. However, based on his findings in the lab's research files, after preventing the body from identifying it as a foreign substance, the secondary purpose of the serum was intended to suppress higher brain function. Indeed, in most humans, the serum, if administered, would simply reduce them to an automaton-like state of obedience. Yet, in the case of Logan, it had merely suppressed his more rational human mind allowing the restrained animal beneath to reign. For all intents and purposes, it was what the scientists working for Stryker had wanted, though what motivations they had for doing so, Hank would rather not entertain.

His prime objective over the past three days had been to identify what was preventing the serum to be processed out of Wolverine's system. However, frustrated by his lack of progress on identifying why the serum appeared to still be in effect, he sighed loudly and instead turned his attention to the other records obtained from the lab, which until now he had only spared a cursory glance. Aside from the vast electronic records on the X29 serum, Rogue's file had the most data. His heart hurt for Rogue as he read over the horrors enacted upon his friend, all in the name of science and policies approved and funded by their own government. He could scarcely imagine her terror and horror at what she was made to do while under Stryker's thumb.

After he'd heard the retelling of his colleagues' rescue from the lab, they were convinced that Rogue had been a victim of brainwashing. And after hearing of her actions toward Scott, Jean, and particularly Wolverine, he was inclined to agree. The question was, just what sort of torture had she been subject to, and how could they reverse it so she came back to them, back to herself?

He clicked to view the next set records under Rogue's file and froze as he saw a complicated series of diagrams depicting what appeared to be a microprocessor. Quickly scanning the schematics, he clicked to the next set of records, which detailed a highly complex, even more advanced version of the chip. His shock at the advanced technology that had been developed with the sole purpose of suppressing and controlling not only a mutant's powers, but their mind as well, quickly turned to anger as he continued to read through Rogue's file. The first generation suppressor chip had known deficiencies and unintended side effects when implanted into a test subject, the least of which was headache. The first gen model had also been linked to the deaths of scores of mutants who'd had the chip implanted into their brains, usually as a result of severe hemorrhage to the brain. Despite knowing this, they had implanted this first model into Rogue and according to their records, it had nearly killed her as well. Her brain hemorrhage and subsequent surgeries to remove the defective chip and install the second generation were extremely well documented. Hank continued to click through the records detailing what Rogue had been made to do under the influence of the more advanced suppressor chip, reading faster and faster until he came across the description of her last major programming.

...From this moment on, you will no longer believe that you are held against your will. From this moment on, you are a willing, eager participant in all experiments. You will not question orders. You believe you are a willing participant. You do not desire to escape. You desire only to comply. Compliance will be rewarded. You will not conspire with any other test subjects to escape, nor aid them in any way. The only thing you remember about your time before the lab is that it was filled with pain and misery, torture at the hands of Wolverine. The Wolverine was working with the other X-Men to use you and destroy you. The X-Men, led by Charles Xavier attempted to use you as a conduit to force the mutation of innocent humans on Liberty Island seven years ago to fulfill their own selfish agenda. After you were kicked out of your parents house shortly after your mutation manifested, Wolverine stalked and followed you at the bequest of Charles Xavier to the Canadian town of Laughlin City. Wolverine captured you, beat you and mercilessly tortured you, until you agreed to help...

Hank forced himself to stop reading the notes detailing the programming of his friend's mind. He was having difficulty separating the scientific part of his mind which was committed to learning as much about the technology Stryker had developed as possible, from his more personal self which was distraught at reading what had been done to his friends. It wasn't until he came across the protocol for the test that immediately followed Rogue's brainwashing that he let out a roar of rage. His realization that Rogue had essentially been raped, both body and mind, forced to subject herself to copulation at the foul hands of Sabertooth, forced to believe she was helping her very captors by draining the powers of other mutants incensed him. His massive blue chest heaving with anger, Hank unleashed his fury, roaring deep in his chest as he swung one large blue arm over the contents of his desk. The wireless keyboard and mouse, his coffee mug, the notes on the samples from Wolverine's blood, all came flying across the room to land with a spectacular crash on the opposite wall. Coffee slid down the wall in rivulets and landed on the broken shards of his ceramic cup with a steady dripping noise.

"Am I interrupting?" Hank barely recognized the soothing tones of Charles Xavier over the roaring of blood in his ears. He swung himself to face the entry to the lab and took several deep breaths, willing his inner beast to calm itself.

"Charles. My apologies for the mess," Hank said as he knelt to retrieve Wolverine's blood sample results from the coffee soaked mess on the floor.

"No matter, Hank," Charles said, as he waived one hand in dismissal of Hank's outburst. "I take it you may have found some new information about our friend in the isolation ward?"

Sighing, Hank shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. Everything I've discovered about this so-called X29 serum indicates its effects should have subsided days ago. And everything I know about Wolverine's healing factor indicates he should have no traces of it left in his system. And yet," Hank paused, thinking over what had been done to Rogue, wondering if Wolverine had been subject to similar torture. "It's almost as though Logan is unable to retake control."

Charles was quiet for a few moments as he pondered the possibilities. "Unable? Or perhaps, unwilling." The sound of Charles' electric chair hummed as he moved closer to the screen where the instructions from Rogue's last programming were still displayed. "I wonder if something similarly horrendous has happened to Logan which has caused him to retreat into his own mind."

Hank turned to face Charles who was looking back at him, blue eyes clear with intent.

"Hank, I think it is time I paid a visit to our dear friend, Wolverine."
______________

Charles Xavier wheeled his chair into the room containing the med lab's isolation chamber, Hank following close behind. As Charles had suspected, Wolverine was awake, restlessly pacing along the four walls of the enclosure. Wolverine abruptly turned to face the front of the room. Seeing Charles and Hank, he emitted a low growl of warning and then continued his frenzied stride, keeping one eye on them at all times. Charles noted that Wolverine remained nude, though they had placed some of Logan's clothes on the bed prior to Wolverine regaining consciousness.

As Charles moved closer to the chamber, Wolverine ceased moving and turned to face him. His shoulders were hunched with tension, muscles flexing with anticipation of a fight, his lip was curled in a snarl. His physical aggression seemed to increase as he placed eyes on Hank, who in turn seemed to be having difficulty reigning in his deeper instincts. Charles, ignoring the displays from both mutants turned his gaze to Hank, "My friend, I think you should go. I believe your presence may be causing our friend some distress.”

"I suppose you are right, Charles," Hank said through gritted teeth. "But, are you sure about this? It could be dangerous."

"I believe we have no other choice if we are to have any chance of getting Logan back," Charles said, calmly.

Hank nodded and without another word turned and left. As soon as Hank was no longer in sight, the Wolverine seemed to relax an infinitesimal degree. Charles could only suppose it was the underlying feral nature of Hank that had seemed to make Wolverine bristle with anger, though he certainly wasn't expecting a hug from the creature that will still pacing restlessly in the chamber.

"Logan, I hope you can hear me. I apologize for what I am about to do, but I do not see any other way. In time I am hopeful you will forgive this intrusion."

Closing his eyes, Charles began his work. A small, focused push was all it took and he had penetrated the intense instinct-driven mind of the Wolverine. Charles found himself in a clearing, surrounded by a vast, evergreen forest. A thick layer of snow lay on the ground and ,as he looked up, the sky above was cloudless and an intense dark blue, a shade he couldn't recall seeing before. Wolverine was in front of him, claws unsheathed, furious at the intrusion. A tense moment passed as Charles tried to calm the violence he sensed within Wolverine.

Wolverine. I am Charles Xavier. I am a friend of Logan.

Wolverine began to pace, snorting at his words. The claws remained out.

I am here to help him. We need him, Rogue needs him.

Charles was unprepared for the violence that erupted from Wolverine. He let out a howl of rage and charged Charles, his claws outstretched. But Charles did not move, he simply forced Wolverine to stop in mid-motion, claws a hairs’ breadth away from slicing into his neck.

Wolverine struggled, muscles straining, growling in frustration at his lack of ability to slice open the man who had dared mention her. But after several moments of being unable to move, his muscles relaxed and Charles sensed the violence within lessen. He released Wolverine from his mental hold and he immediately jerked away from Charles.

How? Came the reply, barely distinguishable through gritted teeth.

I have projected myself telepathically into your mind. You cannot physically harm me.

Wolverine sniffed loudly and continued to glare at Charles, but did not make a move to attack him further.

Following his own instincts, Charles asked, Wolverine, why did you react so strongly when I said Rogue’s name?

Another menacing growl issued deep within Wolverine’s chest and he resumed his pacing, snow kicking up under his bare feet.

Content to wait him out, Charles merely stood patiently, taking in the beauty of the trees, the intense quiet of the place. Finally, after several moments, Wolverine barked out two nearly unintelligible words. Mate. Betray.

Comprehension dawning in his own mind, Charles now understood the reaction Wolverine had when he’d mentioned Rogue. Wolverine, Charles said kindly, Rogue would never hurt or betray you. I know she cares for you -

Wolverine cut him off, abruptly snarling out, She chose Sabertooth!

Smiling sadly, Charles said, You cannot possibly think Rogue would ever willingly choose Sabertooth over you. Wolverine. I have sensed the depth of her feelings on multiple occasions. Do you understand what was done to you? What was done to Logan? To Rogue? You have all suffered a great deal at the hands of William Stryker -

Another growl at the mention of Stryker.

- And I need to talk to Logan so that we might have a chance at getting Rogue back.

Wolverine stopped his pacing, his body tense. Several moments passed, with no sound but the wind whispering through the pines.

Charles tried again. We can get her back, Wolverine. Please. Let me speak to Logan.

They locked gazes, wild golden eyes meeting calm blue, and finally Wolverine jerked his head in the far direction of the clearing. A cabin Charles had not previously noticed was tucked away at the far corner snug against the line of trees, smoke rising steadily from its stone chimney.

Turning back to face Wolverine, Charles smiled. Thank you.

Wolverine turned away from him and stalked into the woods, growling once more under his breath, Don’t thank me yet, bub. You haven’t talked to him.

Charles strode across the clearing, kicking up snow as he went. He had to admire the inner sanctum that Wolverine had constructed for himself. The woods and snow really were quite beautiful and serene. Before long, he was at the cabin door. Uncertain as to how he should proceed, Charles raised one eyebrow to himself as he brought his fist up to knock on the wooden door.

There was no answer, and Charles paused before bringing his hand to the door knob. To his mild surprise, it was unlocked and he swung open the door, expecting to see Logan sitting in front of a cozy fire. Instead, his eyes widened slightly as he took in the scene in front of him.

A dimly lit, smoke-filled bar, a cacophony of voices, music, and the punishing smack of flesh being pummeled assailed his eyes and ears as he entered the cabin. As the door shut behind him, he turned back to see that it had disappeared, leaving in its place a smooth, if slightly worn looking wall with a sign advertising Molson’s beer. Well. It looked like he’d have to figure out a different way out.

Turning back to face the center of the room, he pushed past the nameless strangers that crowded the bar, eager to see what held their attention. The closer he got, the louder and clearer the sounds of physical violence became. Charles found himself suddenly at the front of the crowd facing a shoddily constructed fight ring. Logan was currently getting his ass kicked by a monstrous bald-headed man. He had Logan in a headlock while viciously and repeatedly pounding one giant fist into his kidneys. Logan arched his back in pain as he dropped to the floor, spitting blood. The larger man grinned as he knelt down to grab Logan by the belt and neck to throw him hard into the chain link fence surrounding the cage. Logan fell to the floor with a clunk, panting hard. As Charles looked closer, he noted that Logan did not appear to be healing. He was covered in bruises, one eye was swollen shut, and blood spattered nearly every inch of his naked chest.

Charles smiled and leaned in close to where Logan was struggling to get to his feet. Ah. Here you are, Logan.

Logan jerked his head toward Charles, distrust written on his face. Do I know you, bub?

Charles sighed, his patience was waning. You do indeed, Logan. But I really must insist we hurry this up. My apologies. Again, he added as an afterthought and he grabbed at Logan’s wrist through the bottom of the chain link fence.

At once, the sounds and movement of the people in the bar ceased. Images rushed past Charles' mind, making him cringe with the intensity of Logan's feelings. Scenes of a much younger Rogue in a place very much like this calling out a warning as a man pulled a knife on Logan. Logan sitting with Rogue on a train, her head against his shoulder, whispering, “I promise.” Logan cradling a lifeless Rogue’s head in his hands at the top of the Statue of Liberty, begging her not to be dead. A now slightly older Rogue, beaming with happiness as she bounded out to meet Logan in the school’s entryway. His answering smile and feeling of relief at seeing her well and unharmed, followed by a quick stab of violent jealousy as Bobby grasped her hand and led her away. A bolt of lust as Rogue pulled Logan's dog tags from around her neck and pressed them back into his hand. Logan, watching Rogue from a distance as she returned from college for spring break, peace filling him as he watched her with her friends, telling himself he was content to see her happy. Telling himself he didn't need anything more from her. Logan and Rogue, in combat leather, fighting through a training scenario in the Danger Room, Logan rolling Rogue beneath him out of the way of simulated shrapnel, nostrils flaring as he breathed in her scent. Rogue punching and kicking a free-standing bag in the gym, sweating, anger filling her eyes. Then, Rogue straddling Logan, her breasts bouncing as she moved her hips in an ancient rhythm while Logan muttered, "Mine. My Marie."

Charles quickly moved past the intimate scenes in Logan's mind. He had no wish to intrude on such private matters. But he needed Logan to face what had happened to Rogue in the lab. So he kept pushing until - there.

Rogue was strapped to a table in between Wolverine and Sabertooth, hips rolling, moaning with longing. Through Logan, Charles could sense the eagerness of Wolverine to mate with the scrumptious, ripe creature who was writhing in front of him, putting off the most delicious scent. But she did not reach for him. She extended her hand toward Sabertooth and Logan felt his insides ripping apart with the pain of seeing her choose another after being with him, after swearing she was his, and his alone -

Goddammit! Logan had broken the physical hold and abruptly pushed Charles out of his head. With the breaking of his mental hold, the smoky bar surrounding them had disappeared, leaving the two of them in a rather cozy cabin with a crackling fire burning in the fireplace. Logan locked eyes with Charles, fury and misery pouring off him. What the fuck are you doing here, Chuck?

I'm here to get you, Logan. This self-inflicted punishment has to end. Come back to us. Back to Rogue. She needs you.

Logan turned his head away to stare into the fire. I failed her. I fucking failed her!

You did no such thing, Charles said quietly. You could not have done anything to prevent this. If anything, you should blame me for sending you to the lab in the first place.

Logan sniffed loudly. Don't be stupid. You had nothing to do with it.

And neither did you. The blame for what was done to you, to Rogue, belongs to one person, and one person alone.

Logan snarled as he said the words, William Stryker.

Indeed. Sensing Logan's willingness for him to continue, Charles pressed on. Rogue is still being controlled, Logan. We were unable to rescue you both before Magneto interceded. She's still out there.

His jaw clenched, Logan ran one hand through his hair before clenching both fists at his sides and releasing his claws with a metal snick.

She needs you. And you need her, Charles finished softly.

Logan's fierce eyes met his once more as he nodded.

At once, the fire, the cabin, the woods and snow, all fell away and Charles blinked rapidly as he found himself back in his chair, staring at a bewildered looking Logan.

Logan raised one eyebrow as he took in his naked self then turned to face Charles who was staring at him through the isolation chamber wall.

"Chuck. I don't know what the fuck I'm doin' in the isolation chamber, but somebody had better let me the fuck out of here before I lose my temper," he snarled, claws releasing with a metallic hiss.

"Ah, Logan. So nice to have you back. I'll have you out of there momentarily. Perhaps you'd care to dress yourself first? No?" Charles said, as he took in the exasperated look on Logan's face. "Very well."

Charles sent a telepathic message to Hank requesting the door to the chamber be unlocked and after a moment, a series of beeps echoed through the room followed by a hiss as the door opened. Logan stalked forward toward Charles, worry shadowing his eyes.

"Where is she? Where's Rogue?"

Charles sighed and braced himself to face Logan's anger when he answered. "Well, that's just the thing. I'm afraid I don't know."

To his surprise, Logan did not explode. He merely nodded and started toward the exit. "Well, we'd better get to work then."

"Logan?" Charles said as Logan's hand went to open the door to the lab. "Clothes."

"Oh," Logan looked down at his body, then back to Chuck. "Right." He turned back and quickly grabbed the clothes that were folded neatly on the bed in the chamber. Donning the familiar jeans, white undershirt, red flannel and belt buckle, he turned his thoughts to just how he was going to get his Marie back. Because there wasn't a goddamn thing on the planet that could keep him from her now.

"Don't worry, Darlin'. I'm comin' for ya."

Two weeks had gone by. Two goddamn weeks. And Logan was no closer to finding Rogue than he had been after Charles had performed that voodoo Vulcan mind-meld shit to bring him out of his self-induced personal hell. Impatient for the team briefing to be over, Logan ran one hand roughly through his hair, making it stand on end. Scott was providing yet another in-depth review of the information they’d gathered from the lab. Scott’s argument for reviewing the same damn information yet again, was there might be, could be, some information to help them pinpoint Magneto’s location, or give some indication of his plans. The only new bit of information they’d learned was that Stryker had been able to escape the lab before it had been turned into a smoldering pile of rubble. A fact at which Logan was both disappointed and pleased. Disappointed because it meant Stryker hadn’t been blown to bits. Pleased because that meant he would be able to eviscerate the slimy bastard himself.

Trying to keep his attention on Scott, Logan tilted his neck to one side and exhaled as his adamantium covered joints popped loudly. Scott brought up a different page on the display and he forced himself to keep his mind on the meeting. Scanning the new page briefly, he clenched his jaw, teeth grinding together, as Scott began to go over the data. They’d been over this same information countless times and their lack of any concrete leads regarding Rogue’s whereabouts was beginning to piss him off. Even with Cerebro, they’d had no luck in finding Magneto or the others. Something was protecting them or blocking them, preventing Charles from getting a lock on their location.

After Stryker drugged him with the chemical cocktail which had reduced him to a docile, useless simpleton, Logan had barely been cognizant of the torture he’d been subjected to in the lab. At the time, he’d only had a small element of awareness, but he was unable to care, unable to act. As a result, Wolverine had operated on instinct and taken charge, been in control, made the decisions. There were a few times when the pain of what Wolverine had been experiencing had been so intense, so brutal, it had penetrated even the hard shell of numbness created by regular dosing of X29. And once he’d been aware of what was happening, Logan had withdrawn into his mind even further. He couldn’t possibly see his Marie in pain, couldn’t understand why she hurt him, couldn’t accept she had mated with Sabertooth. The drug made it easy not to care.

So, Logan had retreated deep into the recesses of his mind and allowed his imagination to create a suitable punishment for failing to protect her. Again. He had been forced into his old life. A life, which after briefly knowing the warmth and acceptance of Marie, seemed cold, lonely, empty. His former drive to uncover his past now seemed like a hollow, pointless undertaking. He didn’t know what kind of a man he used to be, but he had been starting to realize the possibilities of what was in front of him. But now, that future seemed all but gone. He rejoined the underground fight circuit, but didn’t win. He never won, because the fight never ended. He accepted the brutal physical punishment of his opponents because it was deserved. He didn’t heal because he needed to feel the pain of his failing. He didn’t die because that was too easy.

But Charles had been right to come after him. He’d already wasted too much time. He’d wasted years denying his feelings for Marie, and had wasted days after escaping the lab where he could have been looking for her, too involved in his own self-pity. He was the fucking Wolverine. He was going to destroy anyone that came between him and his mate. Because goddammit, Rogue was his. And he needed her. And whether or not she knew it right now, she needed him too.

As Scott continued to drone on about the manifest of prisoners that had been contained in the lab and any possible connections to Magneto, Logan’s attention began to wander. To his pleasure and dismay, he found himself thinking about his last night at the mansion before their nightmare at the lab. It had been both the first and last night he’d spent with Marie before she’d been taken from him.

The hour was late and the light from a setting half-moon shone in through the open window of Logan’s room. The mansion around them was quiet, the last of its occupants having gone to bed many hours before. The soft sounds of a summer night floated in and filled the room, and Logan slowly stroked Marie’s side as she slept, reveling in her softness and warmth. Her soft curves were flush against the hard planes of his stomach and her legs were tangled with his. One arm propped his head up against the pillow as he leaned forward to breathe in her scent as her chest slowly rose and fell with the steady rhythm of her breath. It was different now; wilder and sharper after he’d covered her with his own scent. But still, that same bright and warm citrusy essence of Marie filled his head, and the beast within him rumbled with contentment and peace.

He’d lost count of the times they’d mated since he’d first claimed her earlier that afternoon, and they’d barely spent more than a few minutes without touching each other since. Logan had left her briefly to take a quick trip to the kitchen after the dinner rush. He had left a sated Marie behind, tangled in the sheets on his bed, her body limp with satisfaction. Though she had half-heartedly protested his leaving with a groan, she seemed to understand provisions were necessary in order to replenish their stamina.

When he’d bumped into Storm in the hallway, arms filled with bread, meat and fruit, she had given him a knowing smile as he winked and grinned back and continued on to his room. Still grinning as he’d entered his room - he’d really have to thank Storm properly for the little talk she’d given him - Marie had asked him what he was so happy about, her own smile echoing the stupid grin he knew must be plastered on his face.

“Nothin’, Darlin’. Just saw Storm in the hallway, reminded me I need to thank her for somethin’,” he said as he turned and closed the door behind him.

“Thank her?” Marie said as she pushed herself up and out of the bed. The deep chocolate and pale silver of her hair was tousled, her cheeks freshly flushed with the efforts of their latest joining, her bare shoulders draped in one of his red flannel shirts. “What for?”

The sight of Marie in nothing more than one of his shirts strolling towards him with her hips swaying caused a surge of renewed lust to run through him and he struggled momentarily to remember that she had just asked him a question. Marie reached his side and plucked a few grapes off the bunch he’d grabbed from the kitchen and popped one into her mouth. Mesmerized by her lips, he imagined them placing sucking bites along his chest as he buried his fingers in her hair. Maybe then he’d lean down to delicately take one of her nipples in between his teeth and she’d arch against him, making that low quiet sound of pleasure he’d discovered she made when he took her in his mouth. Logan felt his breathing quicken as his thoughts turned to even more delicious uses for her sweet mouth, and he realized with another grin that he was ready for her once more. He wondered for a moment if he would ever not want her. If he would ever not be ready at her slightest touch, the scent of her, the sight of her smile. He couldn’t imagine a world in which he wouldn’t. He only regretted it had taken him so many years to finally face what Wolverine had known from the start. That she was his. His match, his mate, his equal.

“For everything,” he growled in response to Marie’s question. He tossed the provisions he’d retrieved from the kitchen onto the coffee table and gathered Marie close to him. She looked up, a look of mild surprise in her face as he gently cupped her jaw with one of his broad hands. She turned into his palm and laid a kiss at the base of his thumb. Moved at the simple gesture, he leaned down and kissed her mouth softly. When he leaned back, Marie had a bemused sort of look on her face.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Ravenous,” he growled. “Come here.”

Logan grabbed the edges of the plaid Marie wore, bringing her tight against him. She let out a startled breath at the suddenness of the action, but quickly relaxed into him, her soft breasts pressing into the chiseled muscles of his chest through the fabric of his t-shirt. Feeling the soft weight of her against him, Logan brought one hand up and raked his fingernails through her hair until he cupped the back of her head. He tilted her face up to his and he looked into her brown eyes, delighting in the dilation of her pupils which signaled her growing arousal. The Wolverine within him was growling in anticipation at the sight and smell of her. She bore his mark at the junction of her shoulder, and draped herself in his garments. Whether she knew it or not, everything about her actions signaled her acceptance of becoming his. She hadn’t been afraid or shied away from his wildness; she had reveled in it, fed off it until she had been nearly as out of control as he had.

Her mouth parted slightly as Logan leaned down towards her mouth. His hazel eyes were locked with hers and he couldn’t suppress the feeling of satisfaction as she looked down at his mouth briefly before meeting his gaze again. Conscious or not, the gesture showed she was submitting herself to him. A surge of arousal spread through him as he wrestled with his inner animal. The Wolverine was once again awakening, stretching, longing to be sunk deep inside his mate.

Logan kissed Marie harder than he intended, the sharp edges of his canines sinking into the soft warmth of her lower lip. She groaned and opened her mouth to him. He tasted the sweetness of grapes on her tongue as she stroked against his. Her hands went to the t-shirt he’d donned at Marie’s insistence when he’d left the room, and raked it over his head. He reciprocated by reaching for the plaid draped around her shoulders and she shrugged out of it, willingly. Now that he was pressed directly against her, skin to skin, he was quickly losing his grasp on restraining the beast. The scent of her arousal was swirling around him and he growled deep in his chest as he continued tasting her, feeling her. He flexed the muscles of his abdomen and his hard length, though contained uncomfortably in his tight jeans, was settled against the softness of her stomach, pulsed. A low moan of awareness issued from her lips and she threw back her head. He couldn’t resist the sight of her pale smooth neck, and he leaned in close to inhale deeply before he grated his teeth along the column of her throat.

A groan rumbled through his chest as Marie ground her hips against him in a circular motion, the roughness of his jeans painful where the material rubbed against him. Her head fell forward against his chest and he felt the warm wetness of her tongue as she tasted him. He couldn’t prevent the impulse to sink his teeth into her and found himself leaning over her to place his teeth in the soft flesh at the nape of her neck. Reaching around with one hand, noting the groan of pleasure, the sharp increase in the scent of her arousal, he grabbed one of her lean, muscled thighs to wrap it around his hips and he began to rock against her. It was a pale imitation to how he would move within her in just a few moments, and he took satisfaction in her frustrated growl. She reached down, hands frantic to undo the button and zipper of his jeans, her hips still tight against him.

“Logan,” she panted. “Help me.”

Grinning at the sound of frustrated pleasure in her voice, he leaned forward to lave one hard nipple with his tongue at the same time rocking his hips forward. She inhaled sharply and her fingers stilled momentarily. “I think you’re doin’ just fine, Darlin’,” he responded as she slowly resumed her attempts to undo his pants.

“Oh, God. Logan. I need you.”

A growl escaped his lips as the words shattered the last of his restraint and he reached between them to unfasten his jeans. He tore them off and with a swift motion had backed Marie up against the wall and lifted her legs around his hips. She angled her hips forward as he braced one hand against the wall behind them. He worked his way forward, easing himself into her slick folds and she gasped as the full length of him settled deep inside her warm heat. Logan let out a deep breath. He didn’t move at first, but simply stayed still, enjoying the incredible tightness of her. The feeling her throbbing around him as she grew accustomed to him once again.

A pesky noise began to shatter the warmth and comfort of his memory. Finally, he recognized the noise as words. It was a name. His name. He shook his head to clear the last of his thoughts. Everyone was looking at him expectantly. Shit.

“Logan!” Scott yelled, slamming his fist down on the meeting room table.

“What?” He snarled back, disconcerted to find he had a fucking hard-on at their team briefing.

“Are you even paying attention?” Scott asked, his jaw clenching in anger.

Logan glanced around at the other members of the team, catching Storm’s eye in the process. She gave him a sympathetic look and she looked pointedly toward the display at the front of the room. Logan frowned. The display had changed. It no longer showed information on the other lab prisoners. Instead a news broadcast was flickering across the display. Logan looked up in shock as he took in the scene that was unfolding on live television.

Against the backdrop of a building fully engulfed in flames, a beaten and bloodied William Stryker was currently being held up in the air, by the back of his neck. One eye was swollen shut, the other glared malevolently at his captor. The flickering light of the inferno threw a red light over the scene, and Logan’s insides clenched tight with fear as he realized who held Stryker. Her dark hair was loose and flared red from the reflection of the flames as it was caught in a breeze. Her dark eyes were filled with anger as she stared into the camera. She held Stryker off the ground easily, and Logan was stunned at this new display of power. He wondered again, for the dozenth time, how many mutants Rogue had been forced to absorb in the lab while she’d been under the impression she was helping them.

“Rogue,” Logan let out under his breath. God. Even now, she was so lovely.

Magneto and Mystique were not visible, but a towering Sabertooth stood back and to the left of Rogue. Logan let out a low growl of rage at the sight of Creed. He could sense the Wolverine’s rage, but the beast was deadly silent. Watching. Waiting. Logan focused all his attention on the screen, where Scott had just turned up the volume.

“… has to do is admit to what he’s done. Admit what he did to countless mutants. Admit what he did to me. Admit,” Rogue’s voice nearly cracked, “that the government has been condoning and funding experimentation on mutants -” Rogue’s voice was cut off as the broadcast abruptly ended and the two news anchors were suddenly brought into the frame. They both had stunned expressions on their faces, but the female anchor recovered quicker than her male counterpart and she hurried to clear her throat and address the audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the sudden and inappropriate footage that was broadcast just a few moments ago. It appears as though there is a developing situation near Arlington, Virginia-”

It was as though an unspoken command had been issued to the entire team as at once they rose from their seats and hurried toward the jet hangar. Scott led the way, followed by Jean, Ororo, Logan, Hank and Kurt. As they hurried toward their uniforms, Hank suddenly broke off from the group and headed toward the med lab.

Frowning at the departure, Logan barked out angrily at him. “McCoy! We don’t have time!”

“I have to retrieve something that is of the utmost importance. I believe if we are to have any chance with Rogue, I must be allowed to take the time to fetch it!” Hank growled the last part and didn’t slow his pace as he continued on.

Logan, I’ve asked Piotr, Bobby, and Kitty to join you as well. They have been notified and are on their way. They will meet you at the jet in just another minute. You have time to wait for Hank.

“Stay out of it, Chuck,” Logan muttered under his breath as he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. Adrenaline was flooding his body and he was ready for a fight. Though in reality he knew the few extra seconds Hank needed to fetch whatever it was he needed to fetch, would not make a difference, he was impatient to get in the air. Now that they knew where Rogue was, he wasn’t going to let anyone or anything stand in his way. He’d spent more than enough time without her. It was time to end this.

Logan clicked the ends of his utility belt together and knelt down to secure the latches on his boots. He was finished with his uniform before the others and clenched his jaw so he wouldn’t yell at them for their slowness. He knew, deep down, that they were hurrying. Bobby, Kitty, and Piotr bolted into the room, Piotr shedding his jacket and shirt even as he was still running.

Nobody spoke as they finished dressing and hurried to the jet, Hank loping toward them returning from the med lab. He had a thin and small, black, rectangular device clutched in his hand. It looked similar to a smart phone, but Logan had no clue as to why Hank might have needed to bring this particular piece of equipment along.

Scott and Storm headed to the jet’s controls and Logan tensed as the engines whined, preparing for take-off. He hadn’t particularly enjoyed flying before their jet had been shot down by Stryker, and the memory did nothing to relieve his discomfort as they rose vertically out of the underground hangar beneath the basketball court and screamed into the cloudless late afternoon sky.

Storm’s calm voice sounded through the cabin where the entire team had strapped themselves in, bodies pressed hard against the seats with the force of their speed. “We should be arriving in Virginia in a little over twelve minutes.”

Logan did some quick math. There were two-hundred seventy or so odd miles between Westchester and Virginia. If Scott and Storm could get the jet up to its top speed of 2,200 miles per hour, then Storm’s calculations worked out. Still, a lot could happen in twelve minutes and Logan sat anxiously, his jaw clenched, a low growl emanating from his chest.

Cyclops turned back from the controls to address the team, his red visor glinting in the sunlight. “Our first priority is making sure there are no civilians within the line of fire. Get any bystanders out of the way. Next we’ve got to secure Magneto, Mystique, and Sabertooth. Be cautious here. If Mystique is involved, she has the potential to be posing as anyone. And I do mean anyone.”

“We get it, Cyclops,” Shadowcat interrupted. Logan was a little pleased to hear the note of impatience in her voice. “We’re all well aware of what Mystique is capable of.”

Cyclops shot her an irritated look at the disruption, but continued in his briefing. “Stryker is next on the priority list. Ideally, the Professor wants him taken alive. He believes that any further threats on Stryker, even after what he’s done, may negatively impact public perception of mutants,” Cyclops looked pointedly at Logan

“And what about Rogue? Where exactly does she factor in your priorities?” Logan growled, threateningly.

“Obviously we want Rogue back, Logan. But I’ve seen Rogue in action since the lab. She’s not going to be easy to take down, especially since she’s been programmed to think we’re her enemy.”

Logan growled again at Cyclops’ use of the words, “take down,” and felt the burn of his claws between his knuckles.

Beast cleared his throat in attempt to diffuse the tension and all heads turned towards him. “I believe I may have a solution for this particular predicament,” he said as he held up the small black rectangle. When no one made a move to speak, he continued. “I’ve been spending the last two weeks combing over the files that Katherine was able to retrieve from the lab. Obviously, we know Rogue has had a suppressor chip implanted in her brain. Through this chip, the people at the lab were able to control her actions, emotions, and even her memories. Even so, they had to develop a way to control her via the chip, both quickly and easily. It is my understanding that they developed a program that was accessible by the main computers in the lab, as well as by remote means.” Beast paused a moment, and perhaps sensing the impatient nature of his audience, jumped to the most important part. “In short -”

Shadowcat let out a small scoffing noise under her breath.

“In short,” Beast continued, “I have created a program which I believe will be able to communicate with Rogue’s chip.”

“Communicate,” Logan said, afraid to let his voice reflect the small amount of hope he’d just felt flare to life within his chest. “What exactly does that mean, Hank?”

“It means, my dear Wolverine,” Beast said, tossing the black tablet to Logan who grabbed it quickly, “That we can turn off the chip.”

Logan turned over the tablet in his hands, the screen coming to life with the motion. There was only one option programmed on the screen, Execute.

“It will turn green when it is in range of Rogue’s chip,” Beast said quietly as Logan continued to examine the tablet. “Which should be ten to fifteen feet of the tablet. All you need do is to touch the button when it’s illuminated, and Rogue’s true memories should be restored.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Jean said, grimly. “I don’t know how we’re going to win this one, otherwise.”

“Don’t be so negative,” Shadowcat said quietly, her eyes catching Jean’s.

Jean shook her head tersely. “You didn’t see Rogue at the lab, Shadowcat. She’s absorbed too many mutants. She’s dangerous.”

“Everyone shut up,” Logan growled roughly. “I’ll be the one to deal with her. When we land, I’ll find Rogue. We all know I’m no use against Magneto, anyway.” Logan waited, sure that Cyclops would reject the idea, as obviously Rogue had absorbed Magneto’s powers as well. But Scott nodded his consent and turned his attention back to the controls.

They must have been closing in on Arlington, for the jet began to slow and Logan felt the plane start to descend. Wondering just how Cyclops and Storm had known exactly where to go, he noted the presence of several police helicopters and flashing emergency lights had likely helped point the way.

The wheels of the jet touched down and Logan was the first one out of his harness and to the loading bay. He took a deep breath and steeled himself to face Rogue, unsure of exactly what he was about to encounter.

______________________

Rogue heard the approach of the Blackbird long before anyone else, with the exception of perhaps Sabertooth. She supposed it was her absorption of Wolverine’s heightened senses that allowed her the advantage of hearing their arrival. She knew the X-Men would come. It was in their nature to interfere with business that was not their own. Even knowing the fantastically costumed group would eventually make an appearance, she had not been able to resist going after Stryker once they had learned of his next move. Stupid man. He hadn’t even been trying to hide from her. He was that arrogant, that sure of his own self-importance, that he hadn’t even bothered to have any security stationed outside his home.

Apparently, Stryker had spent the majority of the past two weeks across the Potomac in Washington D.C., trying to explain exactly what had happened to the lab he’d been responsible for when the X-Men had destroyed it, along with all of their meticulously documented research. Mystique had been able to impersonate an aid to one of the higher-ranking officials, and had learned that Stryker, though put through the ringer verbally, had been all but forgiven when he’d revealed the presence of a second lab deep in the Canadian Rockies. A second lab, who’s primary purpose, aside from continuing experimentation on mutants, was to act as a backup server for the data from the first lab. The Colonel had assured the officials that the data was secure, and they would be able to resume their production schedule shortly, even though MRA legislation was projected to fail in the Senate.

As the network of corruption ran deeper than anyone in the Brotherhood had known, they had changed their plan of attack. Instead of simply destroying Stryker, they would have no choice but to expose their unscrupulous government to the world. It had been easy to gain access to Stryker’s house and arrange for a suitable enough disturbance that would send a television news crew out to investigate and report on the fire that had erupted at the home of a high-ranking military official. From there, it had been a simple matter of getting Stryker to admit his role and the government’s role in mutant experimentation. Of course, he’d been a stubborn bastard and refused to say anything, and there had been the minor complication of the news crew’s live feed getting cut. So they’d had to resort to their contingency plan. It was a plan which Rogue had vehemently protested, but she had been outnumbered.

While Mystique had been undercover, Rogue had been busy shielding the Brotherhood from Cerebro. It had been easy once she found the right thread of power inside her. Magneto and Mystique had been content to leave her alone for the most part. From what she had been able to glean, Magneto had no concrete plans for her, other than to make sure she was willing to engage in battle when it came down to it. Her only real annoyance since escaping the lab was Sabertooth. Once she’d found out that Stryker had been responsible for her lustful feelings toward Creed, she’d had no desire to resume any kind of relationship with him. He’d tried to pursue physical contact with her almost immediately after they’d left the lab. That was, until she’d put him through the wall for touching her. Apparently, one of the mutants she’d absorbed had super strength. Still, she caught him staring and growling at her on occasion, and it was beginning to get on her nerves. Something felt deeply wrong about Sabertooth wanting to touch her, but she couldn’t pinpoint why she felt that way, other than the fact that Stryker had manipulated her into thinking she had wanted him.

Now, as the engines of the Blackbird whined with its approach, she glanced in the corner of the partially charred wall where Stryker slumped, unconscious for the moment. Sabertooth growled at her as he flicked his head toward the sound of the jet’s engines.

“Well,” Magneto said seeing Sabertooth’s movement. “Let’s get on with this, shall we? We wouldn’t want to keep the cameras waiting.” And the four of them turned to exit the burnt remains of William Stryker’s home and face the X-Men who’d come to stop them.

______________________

The fire he’d seen on the television had been put out. The house appeared as though it had been on fire several days ago, as no flames or smoke emanated from the charred cinders. Police, ambulance, and firetruck lights were flashing garishly across the windows of the surrounding houses, but the one in front of him had no windows left. They’d either been destroyed in the fire, or by some other means. Logan was doubtful that the firemen would have been able to put out such a blaze in little over ten minutes. Instead, his money was on Rogue using one of her acquired powers to put out the flames.

The news crew who had allowed Rogue’s threat to be broadcast had been busy interviewing the police when their jet had landed in the street, and more news teams had arrived since they’d left the mansion. Now, all cameras were pointed directly at Logan and the rest of the team as they left the Blackbird and headed toward the burned house. Logan had no clue if they were broadcasting live, or were simply recording the scene that was about to unfold. The house had a large cobblestone driveway which led to a three car garage. To the right of the garage, a stairway curved up to the first level of the two-story house. Nice digs for an unscrupulous son of a bitch, Logan thought.

Wolverine sniffed deeply. The smell of charred wood hung heavy in the air, and smoke filled his lungs. The light from a setting sun streamed through the smoke-laden air, but did not reveal either his enemies or Rogue. But deep underneath the smoky scented air, he could just make out her scent. She was close. He growled in anticipation of seeing her and released his claws with a metallic twang.

As though he had conjured her, four figures emerged from the house and began making their way down the staircase toward them. Cyclops halted and the rest of the team followed suit, with the exception of Logan who kept walking until he was slightly in front of Scott. Partially because he couldn’t resist the dig at being in front of Cyclops, partially because he hadn’t been able to stop himself from moving toward Rogue. He noticed Scott’s jaw clenched as Logan stepped in front of him, but he was silent.

“My dear friends. Such a welcoming bunch of faces,” Magneto said as he and the others finished their descent, taking in the eight X-Men who stood before him. Sabertooth had carried the unconscious Stryker in his arms where he was unceremoniously dumped onto the cobblestone driveway that lay between the two factions. Sabertooth looked up and growled at Wolverine, a smug grin frozen on his face. Wolverine curled his lip in response and rolled his neck to loosen the metal infused joints. He was going to enjoy shredding the smug bastard to tiny bloody ribbons.

“Magneto,” Cyclops said. “What do you want?”

“Ah,” Magneto replied, shaking his head slightly. “Again. It is not what I want. It is what we want. A shared goal. A common enemy.”

“Stryker,” Wolverine growled as he raked his eyes over the Colonel’s prone form.

“My hairy, barely intelligible friend is right. After all, have you not heard, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’?” Magneto said with a mocking smile.

Cyclops ground his teeth together but spoke calmly. “What do you propose then?”

“It’s really quite simple. There are enough cameras here to bear witness to Stryker’s confession exposing the deep and profoundly rooted corruption and bias against mutants that has permeated every corner of the government.”

“So. What? We just get Stryker to confess on live TV? Then what?”

As Cyclops and Magneto continued to discuss their ceasefire and plans to expose the government’s corruption, all Logan’s attention was on Rogue. He hadn’t laid eyes on her in nearly three months, and seeing her now calmed something deep inside him. Though he knew the fight wasn’t over, nor had it really even begun, he was confident he would be able to get back his Marie tonight. Mine, the Wolverine growled. Logan’s last clear memory of Marie was immediately following the jet crash, when she’d almost died. He knew that Wolverine had met her several times in the lab, but Logan had not been present. He’d only known that Wolverine had done his best to protect her, right up until he’d believed she’d betrayed them.

Shaking off the memory of their shared pain, Logan noted she did not appear to be on board with Magneto’s plan. In fact, her deep brown eyes were locked with Logan’s. Anger was pouring off her. As his eyes took in her, he noted she had both fists clenched at her side and a spark of energy seemed to arc from her hands. Logan glanced down at the black tablet that was secured in his belt. The display was still red, meaning he was not yet close enough to Rogue to turn off the chip and restore her rightful memories. But somehow, now didn’t seem like the right time. Who knew what would happen if it appeared that he was attacking Rogue while Cyclops and Magneto were still negotiating.

Suddenly, Rogue stepped forward and spoke, interrupting Scott. “No! I will not work with them.”

“Rogue, my dear,” Magneto said, attempting to calm her obvious anger. “If you will just list-”

“I will not!” Rogue said, her voice nearly ripping with the effort of her fury. “I’m done bein’ a pawn. To be used for whatever the hell someone else wants.”

And before anyone had a chance to react, Rogue dropped down to one knee, her fist opening to smack the cobblestone driveway where a giant wave of energy rippled through the stones and surrounding asphalt, throwing everyone back from Rogue by several feet. Logan too, was thrown, and he instantly sheathed his claws lest he inadvertently pierce one of the X-Men. But almost immediately, he felt himself being lifted through the air back towards Rogue. He tried moving, but as he’d suspected, he was frozen, unable to move a single adamantium covered bone in his body. His eyes moved rapidly from side to side, seeing as his teammates scrambled to get up and regroup. As he watched, a wall of ice began to encircle Rogue, sealing him in with her in a frozen barrier at least three feet thick. The surrounding noises became muffled though Logan heard the unmistakable sounds of fighting breaking out as he was suddenly dropped onto the now uneven cobblestone driveway, released from her hold. He took his time standing up, maintaining eye contact with Rogue as he did so. It was just the two of them. Face to face. At last. He grinned in anticipation, claws releasing with a metal snick.

“You. Wolverine. Beat me. Tortured me.” As she spoke, Rogue began circling him within the confines of the icy prison she had constructed and Logan automatically moved in counterpoint to her.

“Now that’s where you’re wrong, Darlin’,” Logan answered. His voice was the opposite of hers. Smooth, relaxed, friendly even. Chancing another glance at the tablet, he saw that it flickered green briefly, then returned to red. He was nearly close enough to deactivate her chip.

“You and I have unfinished business,” she said purposefully ignoring his endearment.

“You’re goddamn right we do, Marie,” he snarled back.

She flinched when he said her name.

“What? Don’t you like it when I call you that? I seem to remember you gettin’ all kinds of hot and bothered when I said it while we were fucking.”

“Stop it,” she hissed and he saw another spark of energy flare from her fingertips.

“You lookin’ for a fight?” He said, grinning at the memory that popped into his head at the words. The smell of her sweat-soaked body beneath the leather of the uniform as she punched the heavy bag, eyes sparking with anger. Glancing at her face, he noticed she frowned for a moment before resuming her slow circling.

“I was just a child when you kidnapped me,” She said, ignoring his question. “When you did unspeakable things to me. All for your own selfish agenda.”

“Nope. Wrong again, kid,” Wolverine couldn’t help notice with satisfaction that being called ‘kid’ had made her nearly as angry as when he’d called her by her name. “Name one thing I did to you. In detail,” he began to close the distance between them, inch by inch.

“I don’t have to. I know what you did.” A tiny shred of doubt had entered her voice. He could smell it on her.

“No. You don’t. Sorry to break it to you, Darlin’,” he said, putting an extra emphasis on the word, just to see her eyes spark again. “But you’re still bein’ manipulated.” He noticed her eyes flick down to the tablet at his belt, which was now illuminated bright green.

“What’s that?” Rogue asked.

Shit.

She moved one hand forward and Logan felt the tablet begin to fly toward her.

“I don’t think so,” and one heavily muscled arm quickly reached out to snag the tablet in midair before she could take possession of it. Without hesitating, he pressed the “Execute” button on the screen. The tablet vibrated briefly in his hands and then -

Nothing happened.

Frowning, he looked down at the tablet. The lone command was now grayed out. And it no longer provided haptic feedback when he tried to press the button again.

Her heard Rogue scoff. “What was that? Some kinda weapon?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Logan muttered under his breath as he tossed the tablet to the ground. He’d been so sure Hank’s technology would come through for them. So sure he would be able to get his Marie back. But the tablet hadn’t seemed to do anything. And he was afraid. Afraid he was going to have to fight her. Maybe even kill her.

“You know what? I’m done talkin’. I do wanna fight you,” Rogue said, eerily echoing his own thoughts. And she used Magneto’s power to throw him against the solid wall of ice, his head cracking painfully on the hard cold surface. She then threw him face down onto the uneven stone driveway and he felt a gash in his cheek open and close almost instantly as his healing factor kicked in. She held him there forcing his body to grind harder and harder into the unforgiving upturned stones and he grimaced with pain.

“No fair,” he grit out.

“Nothing about this is fair.”

“You’ve got that for damned sure."

“You’re right. It’s too easy. You don’t deserve easy. I don’t want this to be over too quickly.”

Just as suddenly as she’d flung him into the wall of ice, she released her hold on him. He was on his feet in an instant and they faced each other. Unmoving.

Looking at her, Logan knew he would not be able to cause her any more pain. If Hank’s program had failed, and she wouldn’t listen to him, he was at a loss for how he would ever get her back. The grief of losing her ripped through him and the Wolverine howled with agony. He sheathed his claws and knelt down in front of her.

“Do it,” Logan said, teeth clenched, preparing for the pain of her blow, trying to ignore the mad scrambling of his beast. He was using half his concentration to keep the Wolverine at bay. Preventing him from taking over and fighting.

She frowned and tilted her head to one side. “Why?”

“Because I love you too goddamn much to face another day without you.”

The blood suddenly drained out of her face. And Marie screamed. The sound tore from her throat as a tsunami of thoughts pulsed out of the center of her brain and crashed down on her. She was drowning in thoughts, emotions, memories. There were too many people, too many words, too much pain. Dozens of lives flashed through her simultaneously and she had no defense, no shield against their unending thoughts. She was lost.

Logan was helpless as he watched Marie sink to her knees, head clutched in her hands, her scream driving the Wolverine within him mad with fright. The tablet must have done its job, but had been delayed for some reason. Nobody had warned him of what might happen when the chip was deactivated. He’d thought only that she would regain her memories. He’d been stupid not to realize the absorption of scores of mutants would also have an impact on her. Marie continued screaming as she grasped her head. And without the Professor to help, he could think of nothing else to do as he clenched his jaw and grabbed a loosened cobblestone from the driveway.

“Sorry, Darlin’. Yer comin’ with me.”

And grimacing as he did so, he took the stone and knocked Marie unconscious, unaware of the chaos outside of the ice.

Marie sat on the hard bench that surrounded the border of the fountain, ignoring the ever increasing cold radiating out from the frozen stones that worked its way through the tight, too-thin fabric of her jeans to soak into the muscles of her legs. There was a certain calm she felt as the temperature of her legs continued to decrease. Maybe if she continued to sit here, they’d go numb.

She looked up and squinted as she was nearly blinded by the diffused, yet bright light of the early afternoon sun that hid behind ever darkening clouds in the sky above her. There’ll be snow soon, she thought, and shivered as a blast of icy wind picked up her hair to swirl it around her face. She turned her attention back to the fountain and saw a thin translucent layer of ice crusted over the top of the water, clinging to the small green plants that struggled to grow in the cold winter air. Suddenly feeling a misplaced wave of pity for the plants, she stuck one bare hand through the thin ice and let thoughts of fire flow through her. While she didn’t project any flames, the water slowly warmed from the heat emanating from her hand and the ice dissolved. Satisfied, she removed her hand, shaking the now pleasantly warm droplets from her fingertips, watching the ripples they caused on the surface of the fountain as they plunked delicately back into the water. Rivulets of steam rose from the fountain and a ghost of a smile formed at one edge of her mouth before she came back to herself. She shouldn’t have been able to warm the water. Shouldn’t have done it. She needed to fix her mistake. She tried to force back the panic that threatened to rise up and overwhelm her. It was a black abyss that threatened her momentary calm. She could feel its hungry edges nipping at her mind, waiting for the right moment to envelop her in its dark crushing depths. She’d been fighting it for months with varying degrees of success. But now, she wondered what would happen if she left it crash down on her.

One shaking hand outstretched, she channeled Bobby’s power and tried to focus on letting a small amount trickle through her to reform the fragile layer of ice that had been floating on the water’s surface. Instead, a blast of power encircled her and the entire fountain became encased in a thick layer of crystal clear ice. She jerked back her hand at the potent rush of force that had run through her and sat motionless, breathing hard with fear. The black edges of the wave pulsed hungrily in her mind.

Her fear compromised her control. The Professor had told her that during her excruciatingly slow and painful mental rehabilitation following the aftermath of the X-Men’s trip to Stryker’s residence. After her suppressor chip had been surgically removed, with help from the Professor they had identified at least twenty absorptions she’d acquired in the lab. That meant twenty personalities in her head. Twenty new powers to control. Twenty different sets of memories. She had spent hour after brutal hour practicing overcoming her panic at being in control of that many abilities, of that many people. Drenched in sweat and muscles trembling from exhaustion, she’d fought day after day to regain control of her mind, body, and power. Today was a day where she felt she’d made no progress. Though in reality she was leagues away from where she started after regaining consciousness, it didn’t feel like it.

Marie tried to slow her breathing, which had become quick and shallow as she felt the icy thrill of fear snake down from her head, down her chest, and into her stomach where it settled like a lead weight. She took several deep, calming breaths in through her nose, and after several minutes she felt her heart rate resume a normal, if slightly increased tempo.

“I think you mighta overdone it there.”

She tensed immediately at the sound of the voice. Marie was startled by the sound of the words that came from behind her, but she didn’t need to turn around to know it was Logan who spoke. Any other time, she might have heard his approach. But she’d been too busy involved in her own thoughts and fear to have noticed him. Maybe she would have been able to smell him too, if he hadn’t been upwind of her. In the three months since she’d been back at the mansion, she’d had very little contact with Logan. She’d been purposely avoiding him, and given the fact that he’d sought her out, she was pretty sure he’d had just about enough of it.

“What do you want, Logan?” Marie asked, staring determinedly into the ice-encrusted fountain. She couldn’t look him in the eyes without feeling an overwhelming wave of guilt and shame. During her rehabilitation, she’d had more than enough time to recall with disturbing clarity, her actions in the lab and behavior after she’d left with Magneto. It didn’t matter that she’d been unable to prevent herself from believing the false memories embedded in her mind, or from obeying the orders she’d been programmed to follow. She’d hurt him. In so many ways. She’d betrayed him. Tortured his body, played with his mind. And still, he’d come for her. That made it worse somehow. Why hadn’t he just given up on her? Said, “Fuck that,” and moved on with his life.

It made what they had shared before the lab seem like someone’s cruel idea of a joke. The fact that her mind had been manipulated, now forced her to think of her betrayal every time she looked at Logan. And she didn’t know how to reconcile the way she’d felt about him before the lab, with what she’d done to him afterward. She’d had a brief moment, a ridiculously brief moment of happiness with Logan. She’d felt at home with him, safe and loved in his arms, for a few hours. She had believed they might have a future together, that they would tackle the challenges of the world together. It had never occurred to her that the future she’d glimpsed so briefly would be taken away from her before she had a chance to realize its potential.

“Thought I’d see if you wanted to talk,” Logan said quietly, his eyes taking in the slight tremble of her shoulders. The temperature was in the mid-twenties, and she was wearing a dark pair of body hugging jeans, some scuffed hi-top brown leather hiking boots, and a faded gray sweatshirt that had seen better days. Her hair was loose around her face, the deep brown and white strands falling in relaxed waves to her shoulder blades. She looked beautiful, and fragile, and lost. It took half his concentration to prevent himself from tearing across the courtyard to wrap her in his arms. He knew she’d bolt if he made such a bold move toward her.

Marie scoffed. “Talk. Huh. What would you like to talk about, Logan? The weather?” She paused and tilted her head up to look at the sky. “Looks like it’s gonna snow soon.”

Logan clenched his jaw at her jaded response. “I don’t give two shits about the weather, Marie. We need to talk about what happened to you.” We need to talk about us, he almost added. But he was worried that she’d run away if he pressed her.

“I don’t think so,” she replied quietly, resuming her study of the icy fountain. “There’s really nothing to talk about.”

“Yes there is, dammit,” Logan growled back, his temper suddenly flaring at her lack of emotion. “Listen to me. Stryker used you. Magneto used you. I get it. You’re not the only one who’s been jerked around. It breaks you, makes you feel like shit, makes you doubt everything about your own self and what you thought you knew. Trust me. I know. But you should know this. You have to know this; it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

If she had any reaction to his confession, she didn’t show it. She was as stiff as ever on the stone bench. “Maybe that’s the only thing my bein’ a mutant is good for. To be used. To be somebody else’s pawn. Maybe it’s too much power for one person. Maybe I shouldn’t even have it.”

Wolverine growled at this, and his anger spilled over into Logan’s voice as he responded. “Don’t say that, Marie. You’re good for a hell of a lot of things.” He could feel his heart rate increasing with fear. He was losing her. But he didn’t know what to say to her to make her understand that what had happened to her, what she had done, didn’t matter one fucking bit to him. He just wanted her. All of her. “You’re good for me,” he said with a low growl.

She gave a short bitter laugh and shook her head as she stood up from the bench surrounding the fountain. “You know, it’s ironic that after what Stryker did to me, I finally have full control over my power. I can call on the abilities of anyone I’ve ever absorbed. It’s like the implant showed me how to use a muscle I never knew I had.” Marie held her right palm up where a ball of flame engulfed her hand. She uncurled the fingers of her left hand and a small sphere of ice grew from its center. She stared into the flicker and flare of the flame for a moment then flung both hands violently toward the ground where the ice shattered and the fire was extinguished as it bounced along the cobblestones of the courtyard.

Marie turned back to face him, her brown eyes startlingly empty. The first delicate flakes of snow had begun to fall. Logan had time to see the tiny crystals landed in her hair where they were frozen for a moment until they dissolved with the heat of her body.

“I’m not good for anyone. Leave me alone, Logan. Don’t come looking for me again.” And she turned back toward the mansion, leaving Logan staring after her, his chest ripped open, his heart lying unnoticed on the cold hard ground.
____________

Marie was sure of her decision. She’d only needed to see Logan one more time to know for sure; she had no future here. It was time to go. She had headed up to her room after her encounter with Logan by the fountain that afternoon and packed up her things. Maybe she was taking the coward’s way out. Hell, maybe she was a coward. But she couldn’t stand to be here, surrounded by these people who had cared for her, had saved her, couldn’t pretend to be happy and move on when she couldn’t. Not without being with Logan. And she couldn’t bear to have him look at her. That’s when she knew she had to go. She would not spend another seven years ignoring her feelings for him. She loved him and it ripped her up inside that she’d betrayed him.

She waited until the mansion had quieted, until there would be little chance of her being discovered as she sneaked out of the house like a guilty teenager, a few belongings stuffed into her old green bag. A part of her felt guilty for leaving without saying goodbye; she knew Kitty would be furious with her for sneaking out without so much as a word. But she couldn’t bear to have that discussion with her friends. She knew they’d want her to stay, but Marie knew she couldn’t, not with the way she felt about Logan. Marie didn’t know exactly where she was going, only that she needed to be far away from here. Alone. It was better that way.

She quietly closed the door to the garage behind her and flipped on the light switch just inside the door, brushing off the snow from her coat as she entered the slightly warmer interior. The snow had begun falling in earnest just past sunset, and there was an impressive ten inches on the ground so far. She moved down the rows of cars, thinking about where she might go and which vehicle might be best for getting her there. Maybe something with four-wheel drive to get through the snow. She was sure the Professor would understand her borrowing one of the cars. She wasn’t so sure Scott would feel the same way if she dared to take one of his.

“What the hell are you doin’, kid?”

Once again she had been caught unawares. The words, which had come from a darkened corner to her left startled her, and her duffel bag slid off her shoulder to the floor of the garage with a muffled thump as she jumped and struggled to calm her racing heartbeat.

“I told you not to come looking for me, Logan,” Marie said, avoiding his eyes as she bent over to pick up her battered green bag. She chose to ignore the return of her nickname on his lips. She was more furious with herself for not paying more attention to her surroundings.

“Who says I was lookin’ for you? Maybe I was just down here in the garage workin’ on my bike.”

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed him lounging casually against the hood of Scott’s Mazda, no tools or greasy rags in hand. She shook her head, disbelieving. “At two in the morning?”

He lifted one eyebrow and gave her an accusatory look. “You out here ‘cause you had a sudden hankering for a late night drive?”

“I don’t see that it’s any of your business what I’m doing,” she said as she quickly glanced at him then turned her head toward the box mounted on the side of the garage wall which contained the vehicle keys. But before she’d had time to decide which SUV she’d be taking, he’d pushed away from the hood of the car, stalked over to her in four long strides, torn the duffel bag from her hands, and had grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Dammit, Marie. Would you look at me?” Desperation and frustration made his voice hoarse, and Logan redoubled his efforts to restrain the tenuous hold he had on the Wolverine. He was pacing angrily, fear at losing his mate driving him wild.

“How can you want me to look at you?” She asked, her voice high with tension. “Don’t you feel disgusted by me after what I did to you?”

“Darlin’, it wasn’t you,” he said in a somewhat softer tone, urging her to meet his eyes with her own.

“But it was, Logan! How can you look at me? How can you want me?” She broke off on a sob and turning, wrestled herself out of his grip and turned her back to him. “I’m broken, Logan. I’m not like you. I’m not going to heal.” How could she make him understand that she didn’t know how to forgive herself? That without forgiveness, she would never be able to get past what had happened to her and all she had done.

Logan felt the slow burn of a knife slicing into his heart at her words. His fists were clenched at his sides, the burn of his claws itching between his knuckles, desperate to act for her, to fight for her. He could smell the salt of her tears on the cold, slightly stagnant and mechanical air of the garage. He didn’t know how else to reach her. How to show her that what had happened to her didn’t matter to him. He, of all people, understood how she felt. Violated. Out of control. Used. Hell, he didn’t want her to end up like him. Bitter. Alone. He wanted to help her get past the horrors of Stryker’s lab. He wanted her with him.

“Like hell,” he growled, his anger rising at her acceptance of her fate. He noted with approval the stiffening of her shoulders at his words. Maybe she wasn’t beyond caring just yet.

“What?” She asked softly, still not turning to face him.

“I said, like fucking hell.” And he grabbed her by the arm, wrenched her around to face him, and kissed her. He poured everything he had into his kiss; his desperation at losing her, his joy at being near her, the warmth and comfort she brought to him, his passion for her. He ground his mouth over hers and urged her mouth to open underneath the press of his tongue. He felt her shudder and he wound one hand into her hair, desperate to reach her, desperate to make her understand that he needed and wanted her.

Through the pleasant shock of his lips against hers, and the realization that he still wanted her, the black wave of fear threatened to crash down on Marie as panic, unbidden and unwanted, ripped through her at his closeness. She flailed about wildly in her mind for the right thread, the right power to cling to, to help her escape the fear. Without a conscious thought, she grabbed at the nearest one she could find. With a jolt, she felt a brief moment of pressing darkness, a moment of not being able to draw breath. The moment had passed almost as quickly as it had descended upon her and Marie found that Logan’s arms were still clasped firmly on her upper arms, his lips pressed tight against hers. He tore away from her, and stepped back, his claws releasing with a metallic snick as he looked around to get his bearings. He was breathing hard, turning around in circles until he recognized their surroundings. Slowly retracting his claws, he turned toward her.

Marie had transported them to her abandoned bedroom in the mansion. She hadn’t been certain of what would happen when she grabbed hold of this particular thread, it was one she hadn’t used before. But apparently she had grappled onto an ability that allowed her to teleport.

Marie’s breath was ragged, her panic coming off her in waves. It set Logan’s nerves on edge, made the Wolverine within snarl with frustration.

“Well. That’s new,” she said finally after several tense moments of Logan staring at her.

“What the fuck,” Logan said. “What the fuck! Jesus, Marie.”

“I panicked,” she said defensively.

“You were trying to leave me,” he ground out through gritted teeth.

Logan felt his feelings of fear and anger coalesce until he was shaking with his emotions. He tried to keep a leash on the beast, but it was no use. Wolverine was pissed as hell and there was nothing Logan could do to prevent him from stopping his fucking mate from leaving them. The animal burst forward with a surge of anger and Wolverine shook his head and released his claws. The time had come to claim her, to bind her to him, once and for all. He would not accept her fear of him any longer.

“What,” he growled, his voice deeper than she was used to hearing, “Will it take for you to understand? You are mine.” He circled her, his eyes flashing with the bright light of the moon that shone in through the uncovered windows of her room.

She felt momentarily trapped, but her need for punishment and forgiveness suddenly rose up and overrode all other thoughts, all other emotions. “Forgive me,” she whispered, feeling shame at even evoking the words out loud. Then a rush of relief as she expressed, finally, what she needed. “God. Please. Forgive me, Logan. Forgive me!” she cried as she dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands. She collapsed on herself with the outpouring of emotion, as she repeated, sobbing, “Forgive me, forgive me.” Her soul seemed to be leeching out of her eyes, her tears obstructing her vision as she waited for judgment.

After several moments, her sobs quieted and he crouched down in front of her. After sheathing the claws of one hand he reached out to gently cup her jaw, her tears dampening his palm. He raised her head so that he could look at her.

Slowly, she raised her swollen eyes to meet his. With a start, she realized it was Wolverine whose golden eyes gazed back at her. The beast was in control.

“The man has already forgiven you,” he growled. “But he doesn’t know how to make you understand. He needs you. I need you.”

“Wolverine,” she said, shakily.

A fierce, feral expression crossed his face, and he closed his eyes briefly, as if taking pleasure in her saying his name.

“What about you, Wolverine? Do you forgive me?” Marie asked, her voice hoarse with shed tears.

He paused for a moment, as if trying to determine exactly what to say. “I will not lie to you. Your mating with Sabertooth enraged me. It hurt me more deeply than I can possibly say to see you writhing with him,” He growled.

Marie felt his words pierce her chest and she closed her eyes tight against the pain of his confession.

“Open your eyes, mate,” his deep voice rumbled close against her ear. Haltingly, painfully, she opened her eyes again. His golden eyes were directly in front of hers. “What happened was not your doing. And it was not your fault. I know that you would never willingly hurt or betray me.”

The relief of hearing his words washed over her and she sobbed again, though this time in sheer joy as the oppressive weight of guilt seemed to lift from her at last. The energy she was using to hold herself upright abruptly left her body and she started to fall forward. Wolverine’s arms caught her against him and he inhaled deeply as he leaned forward into her hair.

“You can’t abandon me. You can’t abandon us. We will come for you. Always.” Wolverine’s rage had quickly dissipated, transforming first to relief that she was not leaving him, then to a furious burning lust at her scent, the closeness of her body.

She turned into his shoulder and took a slow deep breath through her nose. His familiar scent of woods and leather washed over her, calming her deep inside. She rubbed her cheek against his muscled shoulder and felt the heat of his body radiating through his worn leather jacket. She realized she needed to feel him against her. To feel his muscled form moving against her and in her, erasing the touch of Creed from her mind and body. Making her his.

“Do you want me to mark you?” his voice was thick with lust and he asked the question as his face was buried in her hair, his hands beginning to work their way to the fastening of the heavy wool coat she still wore. She felt an unexpected bolt of desire shoot through her at his words and she heard him growl as he smelled the change in her scent. It was exactly what she needed; to know that she truly belonged to him. She wanted to see him, smell him, and feel him all over her.

“Oh, God. Wolverine,” she moaned, her voice husky with her sudden longing. “Yes. Touch me.”

He needed no further encouragement, but hoisted her up with him so he was standing above her and tore her coat from her shoulders. Her sweater and t-shirt soon followed until she was clad only in her bra, jeans, and boots. Her own hands slid up under the layers of clothes he wore to feel the warmth of his skin against her fingertips, and she stroked the hard planes of his stomach with both hands. He rumbled deep in his chest at her touch. She needed to see more of him, so she tore off his leather jacket and the flannel he wore beneath until his skin was covered only with his sleeveless white undershirt. Her hands rose up to feel the strength of his shoulders, pleased with the feeling of iron hard muscles beneath the warmth of his skin. And she looked up at him, willing him to touch her.

He obliged the longing in her eyes and drove his face into the soft skin above her collar bone and growled, his deep chest vibrating against her own. “Mine,” he growled again, a hint of violence edging his words. “You are mine. Your body belongs to me.” He rasped his cheek against her neck and bent his head to bite down hard at the junction of neck and shoulder.

She jumped as she felt his teeth close down on her soft flesh. A tingle of pain rode through her shoulder along with the sense of being marked. A hot jolt of arousal ran through her, low in her belly and she moaned at the primitive feeling of him against her. Her head fell back and he growled at the movement, signaling his approval of her submission to him. His teeth remained clasped to the skin of her neck, and then she felt the warm wetness of his tongue begin to taste her. His hands were at her hips, rocking her against the hard ridge of his erection beneath his jeans causing a spiraling heat to pulse out from her center with each brush of contact. A desperate feeling began to build inside her. Arousal, yes. But it was coupled with another sensation; a frenzy of blinding need for possession. A need to both be possessed and mark his soul with her own.

He released his mouth from her shoulder with a swift motion and before she had a chance to breathe he gripped her around the waist and carried her over to the sturdy wooden desk that stood on the opposite side of her room. He released the claws of one hand, and eyes wild, cut her bra away from her skin. She didn’t flinch at his action, she knew he would never hurt her. She was surprised though, when he moved to unbuckle his belt and grasped her wrists with one of his hands. She looked up questioningly at the fierce expression on his face. His golden eyes met hers before she darted her eyes toward his mouth. The corner of one lip curled upward and she felt again a primeval sense of raw animal hunger emanating from him.

He used the soft worn leather of his belt to bind her hands together behind her back. The action thrust her breasts forward and he took advantage of the movement, leaning forward to capture one hardened nipple in his mouth. She moaned as his tongue rasped over the raised peak and she involuntarily jerked her hips where he held them pinned against the smooth wood surface of the desk. The warm, sweet, and earthy scent of her desire rose up and he inhaled, greedily. She was no longer afraid of him, despite his possession of her. She had submitted herself to him and trusted him to submit himself to her. In turn. She was the only one he would allow to dominate him, but first she was his to possess.

He continued his assault on her nipples, teasing and tasting with his tongue, and threads of sensation linked to her center and caused a pulsing aching sensation deep inside. He raised his head from her nipples after rubbing the coarse hair of his unshaven face along both breasts, the raspy hairs stinging slightly and leaving reddened flesh in his wake. He then lifted her, effortlessly, and turned her over so her chest and stomach were pressed against the surface of the polished wooden desk, legs hanging over the side where her boots rested on the floor. Her heart beat increased with anticipation as she felt him nudge her legs apart with one muscled thigh from behind her. She felt the warmth of him against her back as he leaned over her and reached underneath her belly and undid the fastenings of her jeans. He slid one hand down the flat smooth plane of her belly beneath the fabric of her loosened pants and brushed his fingers through the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. She could feel her slick moisture that soaked into the curls and he growled as his fingers found her and released a fresh wave of her scent. She tried to arch her hips against his hand, guiding his finger to play against the pulsing of her clit, but he held her locked in place by the weight of his body and she was unable to move.

“Please,” she found herself moaning, desperate for him to ease the pain of her throbbing in some small way. Hands bound, his weight behind her, she had no recourse, other than to plead with him to help assuage the ache that he’d started deep within her. He leaned back and removed his hand from between her legs and she groaned in frustration at his absence.

“Please, what?” he rumbled back at her, his voice thick with his need for her.

Marie felt his calloused hands move down her sides toward the loose waist of her jeans and froze, her breath caught in her chest as he slid them down her legs, exposing her to him. He rolled her pants to her ankles and nudged her knees apart again so that he was standing in between her legs. She heard the metallic clicking of his zipper being dragged down, the sound of his clothes being discarded, and waited.

“You didn’t answer me,” he growled. And he reached out with one hand to stroke over the bare curves of her buttock and down the back of her thigh. She felt her skin erupt with gooseflesh and she shuddered with the sensation, her cheek resting against the warming surface of the wood. She was at his mercy and she felt the thrill of it spark through her.

“I need you,” she answered and blew out a harsh breath fluttering her hair away from her eyes as one of his hands reached between her legs and cupped her sex.

“You need me to do what?” His breathing had become slightly ragged with his efforts to restrain himself from taking her too soon. He wanted her to admit what she wanted from him.

“I need you inside me,” she ground out, her breathing just as rough as his own.

He felt the curve of a smile on his face as he stroked one finger through her slick folds and she bucked against his hand. “Inside you, doing what?”

A frustrated groan tore from her chest and she cried out as he flicked her clit once.

“Fucking me!”

At her words, Wolverine could restrain himself no longer. He guided himself into her warm wet sex from behind, one hand planted on her back.

Marie groaned again as she felt, finally, his hard fullness settling inside her. She was tight and slick against him, and she tried to adjust her hips allowing him deeper. He stilled her movements with a slight pressure from the hand on her back and she ceased moving at once. The ache he’d started within her was pulsing deep and hot, poised to explode.

“Marie.” And he moved within her. A single slow, deep stroke. She felt the walls of her center clench and pulse against the motion. “Look at me.”

As difficult as it was, Marie slowly turned her head back toward Wolverine and opened her eyes. She gasped at the intensity within them and then moaned as he moved within her, deeply. Punishing and possessing her. Reminding her that she was his, and his alone. Erasing the mark of any other from her body.

“Rogue,” he growled as he thrust in again, filling her with an impossible fullness. And an answering wildness rose up within her as he called her to him.

“There will never be another,” he ground out as he began to increase the pace of his thrusts.

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation.

“Say it!”

“Never another. Only you.”

In one swift motion, he released her hands from the leather binding of his belt. He thrust again, this time allowing her hips to move against his and he growled with the pleasure her movements caused. He was spiraling out of control, lost in her scent, in her body. Sweat began to bead where their bodies met and the smell of sex filled the air of her bedroom. The mansion was quiet around them and the sound of their moans, and bodies moving against each other seemed impossibly loud in the deep quiet of the night.

“More,” she groaned as he continued to move with deep strokes igniting a blinding sensation of pleasure. He left her abruptly and she hitched her breath at the loss. But it was only so he could wrench off her boots and remove her pants from her ankles. He turned her in his arms so they were facing each other, faces flushed, bodies completely bare. He took in her appearance with satisfaction. Breasts flushed, the mark she bore at her shoulder, mussed hair, eyes darkened with desire. She scooted to the edge of the desk and reached for him. He gathered her by the waist and she wrapped her legs around his hips, guiding him inside her once more. They both groaned as he slid deep into her wet heat. He turned and pressed her back against the wall, bracing one hand above her, the other hand supporting her buttock, rocking himself into her over and over.

Her eyes met his again and she felt the steady pulsing pleasure coiling deep inside her, deepening with each thrust, each movement of his hardness. She tensed her inner walls as her climax crashed into her, and her hips jerked uncontrollably in his hands, opening herself up to him further. She threw her head back into the wall as she came and cried out with the force of her release. He clenched his jaw as Marie clamped down on him and he felt his own climax slam into him. Pleasure spiraled deep in his cock and he pumped his hips hard against her slickness and felt the pulsing of his seed pump deep inside her, roaring as he claimed her.

For several moments, nothing but the ragged sound of their breaths sounded in the room. Finally, heart beats returning to a more steady rhythm, he slowly withdrew himself from her, and she moaned as the movement caused several small aftershocks of pleasure to flicker inside. He moved them away from the wall and to her bed, where he jerked back the sheets and gathered her close to him against his chest.

“Mine,” he said quietly.

Marie let out a deep breath of satisfaction as she felt the warmth of Wolverine envelop her, the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back. He’d helped her find her way back to herself, and she slept, comforted, content for the first time in months.

Marie woke slowly, in degrees. First, she was aware of the softness of her pillow beneath her cheek. Next, the cool rush of air over her naked skin. Finally, the the feeling of a warm, hairy arm slung over her hip, whose hand was slowly moving in circles tracing invisible patterns on her skin. A heavy, delicious feeling of warmth and belonging crept over her and she almost surrendered herself to the addictive pull of sleep. Had it not been for the slow pulsing of longing between her thighs, she might have succumbed to the feeling of languorous relaxation and drifted off back to oblivion.

A muffled rumbling met her ears as she turned to face Logan.

“Mornin’, darlin,’” he said as she looked up at him.

“Morning, yourself,” she said smiling. He looked entirely disreputable. His eyes were half-closed, with either lust or sleepiness, Marie couldn’t tell. His jaw was darkened with the stubble of his beard, the prickliness of which he demonstrated by rubbing his face down the side of her neck. Her body broke out in goosebumps and she shivered at the feeling. “Ooh! Hey, that tickles.”

He grinned at her reaction and did it again.

“Logan!” Marie laughed as he captured her wrists in his hands and he continued to wrasp his beard down her throat and across the delicate skin of her breasts. His eyes were back to their normal hazel and she smiled as she took in the sight. “It’s good to see you.”

“Mmm,” he said as he leaned forward and nuzzled her neck. “I missed you, Marie.”

Marie sighed as he tugged her against the warmth of his body. “God, Logan. I’m sorry,” She still felt the relief of Wolverine’s forgiveness warming her insides, but felt she needed to talk to Logan, to explain herself to him too.

He stopped his slow journey down her neck with his lips and lifted his head to look her in the eye.

“There’s nothin’ for you to apologize for. I don’t ever wanna hear you say you’re sorry for what happened again,” he said, his voice suddenly stern. “You’re safe, I’m safe, and we’re together. None of that other shit matters.”

Marie nodded and raised her lips to his. After a long, deep kiss, Logan rolled on to his back and in one swift motion and lifted Marie so that she straddled the hard length of erection.

“Mmm,” she moaned, as she felt him slip inside her. He gripped her hips and began to rock her back and forth.

“God, Marie,” Logan growled. “Promise me.”

She couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. She was too busy enjoying the slow deep pleasure beginning to build with the movement of her body against his. “Hmm?”

“Promise me,” Logan said, his breathing becoming ragged. “No more apologizing.” He abruptly stopped her hips with his hands and she moaned as the friction she’d been so focused on building began to ebb away.

She tried to rock against him, but he dug in his fingers to stop her, even as he gritted his teeth against the pleasure of her tight slickness.

She finally understood what he was saying and looked into his eyes. A warm feeling of contentment washed over her as she realized, finally, what she wanted to say to him. It was something she had known for so many years, but had been sure he wouldn’t reciprocate, sure that he still looked at her as that helpless kid back on the Statue of Liberty, whom he’d promised to protect, no matter what. But now she knew. While he’d still do anything to protect her, would do anything to keep her safe, his actions weren’t based on a spur-of-the-moment vow to a 17 year old girl. It was because he loved her. “I love you, Logan.”

His hazel eyes were overcome with gold flecks for a moment and a low rumble sounded in his chest. “And you’re mine, Marie,” Logan said, reaching up to brush a thumb over her lips. “Promise me.”

She smiled at his words and moaned as he slid deeper inside her. “I promise.”

______________

Early the next morning, Marie headed down to the kitchen to grab a quick bite to eat. She had dressed for a lengthy session in the Danger Room, finally feeling ready to continue her physical training. She had a lot of new powers to learn to control, and she needed to quit picking out a random thread of power within her, every time she felt too stressed out to deal with the situation at hand.

Marie had kissed Logan softly enough to rouse him from sleep and whispered for him to join her when he got up. An absurd smile was plastered on her face as she relived a particularly interesting position she’d found herself in with Logan last night, when Bobby turned the corner ahead of her and stopped her in her tracks. The smile abruptly left her face and she swallowed past the lump in her throat at his sudden appearance. Much like she had Logan, Kitty, and Storm, Marie had done her best to avoid Bobby after she’d regained control of her mind. At the time, Marie had been too wracked with guilt to be able to speak to him, let alone any of the others. She’d barely left her room, and took pains to avoid any of the common areas of the mansion. Bobby, though, had been particularly persistent in trying to seek her out and discuss their time in the lab, and before her confrontation with Logan yesterday, she’d taken to only leaving her room at odd hours, determined to keep avoiding her friends. She’d suspected that Logan may have been helping to keep the others away from her, even as he’d done his best to seek her out on several occasions.

“Rogue, we need to talk,” Bobby said, his normally good natured face deathly serious.

“Bobby, what’s wrong?” She asked, suddenly concerned at the tortured look she saw in his blue eyes.

“Not here,” he replied in a hushed voice, motioning toward the closed bedroom doors of the staff wing. “It’s early, I don’t want to wake anyone up. Looks like you were headed to the Danger Room,” he said, taking in her attire.

“Yes,” she said hesitantly. She would have liked to get something in her stomach before heading down for a training session, but decided to hurry up and rip this band-aid off. Better to get this over with, she thought to herself. She would be able to apologize for torturing Bobby and Kitty, and would be able to resume a normal schedule of walking around the mansion. Besides, ever since she’d made her peace with Logan, and Wolverine the day before, she no longer felt the crushing guilt of having been made to torture her closest friends.

“Can we head down there and talk?” he asked quietly. “I need to tell you a few things.”

Marie frowned slightly at this. She’d expected for her to be the one doing the talking. But, knowing Bobby, he would probably give some big speech about how nothing had been her fault and he understood what had happened to her and him wasn’t her doing, etcetera, etcetera. “Sure. Let’s go.”

Bobby nodded and turned to head down the stairs to the Danger Room, Marie following close behind.
_____________

Logan hadn’t been able to get back to sleep after Marie had woken him with a kiss and the promise of violence down in the Danger Room. His imagination had quickly gone into overdrive, imagining all the different things he could teach her now that she had a personal arsenal of mutant powers in her belt. As he approached the Danger Room, he could hear the sounds of an intense fighting scenario taking place. A loud crash followed by a muffled, “Fuck!” met his ears as he turned the corner to the entryway. He grinned to himself as he thought of Marie all decked out in her gear, gettin’ all sweaty with the efforts of whatever she had programmed in to fight. The sounds of fighting intensified and her heard Marie grunt following another banging noise. She must have programmed in one hell of a scenario if she was taking a beating this bad. He entered the access code at the electronic keypad by the doorway and the grin slid off his face as the scent of Marie’s blood met him.

“What the fuck?” he asked taking in the sight of the Iceprick straddling Marie, both ice-encased hands closed around her throat, crushing her airway. She was choking and gasping for breath, her face turning an alarming red, her hands desperately seeking a weakness in the solid ice that covered Bobby’s entire body. Logan was able to process the small cut on her cheek, the blood dripping from her forearm before Wolverine let loose a bellow of rage and exploded from the chains in which he was normally kept.

With a roar, Wolverine charged forward, claws unleashed, and raised one arm as he prepared to part Icebrain’s head from his body. As he was about to strike, a quick look at Marie’s panicked eyes and the minuscule shaking of her head forced him to jerk back his claws, launch himself over Marie, and tackle the prick instead of sinking his claws through the icy armor that shielded Bobby. Wolverine let out an internal sigh of relief as he heard Marie coughing and sputtering as she gulped in air.

Wolverine and Bobby landed on the floor with a loud icy clang, and before Bobby could react, Wolverine repeatedly crashed the Icedick’s face into the hard floor. Shards of ice chipped away as Wolverine continued his assault until suddenly Bobby ceased struggling and his body went limp with unconsciousness. Breathing hard, Wolverine had to force himself to step back and refrain from gutting the boy’s now unconscious body, as it appeared his mate wanted him alive. He sheathed his claws and ran to where she was sitting, her face slowly returning to a normal shade of pink.

“Talk to me darlin’. What the hell happened down here?” Logan’s voice was dangerously low. Violence and fear was pouring off him, and Marie shuddered as she absorbed the waves of feeling he was projecting before she forced herself to concentrate and shut out the thread of the telepath that had risen to the surface of her mind.

She tried to speak, but coughed roughly as she tried to force the words out, her face in a grimace of pain.

“Don’t try to talk,” he said his voice slightly more gentle now. He brought up his hands to examine her neck, and he growled at the sight of the dark red marks that encircled her throat. “Can you whisper? Or does that hurt too?”

Marie tried to force air through her throat, but immediately stopped at the pain. She shook her head quickly and looked up at him as an idea came to her. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on loosening the thread of the telepath she’d felt earlier. Slowly, gently, the power came to her and she felt a thrill of satisfaction at her control. Opening her eyes, she grasped Logan’s hand in hers and mouthed the words, Trust me.

He frowned, but nodded and she let her eyelids flutter closed and recalled the last few insane minutes of her life. As the memories surged forward, she sent them rushing toward Logan’s mind. He inhaled sharply at the invasion and gripped her hand hard as he growled, but lessened his grasp as he sorted through the thoughts she’d just sent him.

After a moment, she released his hand, and calmly tucked away the line of power she’d just accessed.

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense, darlin’.” He said, confusion clouding his voice.

Marie nodded. It hadn’t made any sense to her either.

______________

Two days later, Rogue and Wolverine were strapped into two seats in the Blackbird, looking at each other from across the loading platform. They were surrounded by other members of the X-Men; Colossus, Nightcrawler, Shadowcat, Beast, and Jean Gray. Cyclops and Storm were piloting the jet, and the atmosphere was noticeably tense. Wolverine was popping his neck and clenching his jaw. Rogue was practicing releasing a crackling sphere of energy from her fingertips and then absorbing it back into her palms. Nightcrawler’s tail was whipping back and forth, obviously irritating Shadowcat, who had to phase out repeatedly to avoid being struck by it. Jean, Beast, and Colossus were quiet, but the tension rolling off them could have been cut with a knife.

“Touch down in ten minutes,” Cyclops said, and nearly everyone on the jet exhaled in relief. They all wanted to get this mission over with.

Ever since Bobby had attacked Marie, the mansion had been humming with activity, and the entire team was ready for action.

After the completely unexpected attack in the Danger Room, Logan and Marie had taken an unconscious Bobby’s up to the isolation chamber. There, Logan had tried, unsuccessfully, to convince Marie to absorb him to help heal her throat and the cut on her arm. She had refused, vehemently, insisting the damage was not that bad and she would mend on her own. She was never going to absorb anyone again, unless she was about to die and Logan was offering, of course.

After alerting Hank and the Professor to the situation in the Danger Room, they were stunned to learn that Bobby had been acting under the orders of one William Stryker.

Once Bobby regained consciousness, the Professor, after being denied by Bobby several times to explore his mind, had apologized and delved in despite his continued protests. Charles was determined to uncover what had caused Bobby to attack Marie unprovoked. After several moments, he had turned away from the chamber and looked up at Hank, a chilling look in his eyes that Marie had never seen before. “Hank, please prepare Mr. Drake for surgery.”

Utterly confused by this statement, Hank, Logan, and Marie had followed Charles out of the isolation area and into the med bay. There, he explained that Marie had not been the only one of them to have been implanted with a suppressor chip. Much like herself, Bobby had been subjected to two different generations of the chip, though neither of the surgeries had been documented in his lab file.

It turned out, Bobby’s first chip had been implanted nearly a year ago, when he’d had an emergency appendectomy while on vacation with Kitty in Spain. What Bobby and Kitty hadn’t known was that the surgeon who had operated on Bobby was part of a group of individuals recruited by William Stryker. As Bobby wasn’t exactly a low-profile mutant, the surgeon had easily recognized him upon first consulting with Bobby and immediately contacted Stryker for instructions. The first chip that Bobby had been implanted with was not the high-tech version later implanted into Marie, but was a step up from her first chip. This chip was able to control Bobby’s actions and speech, but not his thoughts, memories, emotions, or body chemistry. He had essentially been a prisoner in his own mind for close to a year.

It had been Bobby who had been under orders to keep Stryker apprised of the X-Men’s movements, particularly if they were sniffing too close to any of the two labs. After the mission to the surveil the first lab had been announced, he had contacted Stryker and relayed the details of the team members who would be on board, as well as when they were expected to arrive. It had been unfortunate that the crash had damaged the implant, but it allowed them to upgrade him to the newest model. He’d spent nearly a month of the time they’d been held in the lab recovering from the crash, as well as the additional surgery, before he’d been sent to a cell with the other prisoners.

Nobody else had realized that Stryker had been expecting them. Only Marie, who’d taken a recent hit off Wolverine’s heightened senses, had suspected that their arrival at the lab all those months ago had been anticipated. It had remained an open question, tumbling around in her mind, particularly late at night when she couldn’t sleep.

Now, Rogue caught Shadowcat’s eye and tried to smile encouragingly at her. Kitty professed her guilt to Rogue on multiple occasions in the past few days, saying it was her fault she hadn’t known anything was wrong with Bobby. Rogue had tried to explain how the chip worked; there was no disobeying the commands, no getting around the orders. It hadn’t seemed to help much, but the news that Bobby had been able to identify where the second lab was in Canada seemed to cheer her up somewhat.

The thought of revenge was on many of their minds as they slowly descended, the jet quiet as it entered stealth mode. Their goal was simple; get the mutants out, and blow the rest of the bastards to hell.

____________

Epilogue

The snowball hit Logan directly in the face, and Marie exploded with laughter at the sight of the bewildered look on his face. In the month since they’d returned from destroying the second lab, she had felt a lightness of spirit that bubbled up in the oddest ways. Ways like planning a snowball attack on an unsuspecting Logan, for instance. He wiped the remaining powdery snow off his face and turned to face her, one lip turned up in a scowl.

“You know,” he started, “I could smell you from the moment I got outta the car, Marie. So I knew you were planning somethin’. What,” he continued, taking a slow step toward her, “possessed you to throw a snowball at my face?”

She shrugged, unable to keep the grin off her face. “I don’t know, sugar. What possessed you to go on a mission without me?”

“I had to appear in front of Congress. Not exactly my idea of a fun time,” he growled, continuing his slow stride toward her. He took in her pink cheeks flushed with cold, brown eyes sparkling with mirth, and released the small amount of tension he’d held onto while absent from her. It would take more than just a month for him to relax when he was away from her. She’d been through enough in the past year, and he’d not been able to protect her from the worst of it. But the destruction of the second lab, the public exposure and subsequent arrest of Stryker and a number of corrupt government officials, and the failure of the MRA helped ease that anxiety somewhat.

His testimony in front of Congress had been part of a series of investigative hearings, all with the goal of identifying the extent of Stryker, and other government officials’ wrongdoing. Though an unpleasant experience overall, he was happy to participate if it meant that the tide of public opinion toward mutants gravitated toward one of sympathy, rather than fear. Logan’s least favorite part had taken place during his most recent testimony, in which he’d been sitting side by side with Magneto. The smug bastard had taken a plea deal, offering all the information he knew about Stryker and the other government officials, in exchange for immunity, despite his previous escape from captivity.

Turning his attention back to a pink-cheeked Marie, he grinned to himself, a feral look entering his eyes, as he thought of all the ways he could warm her up from the cold.

Smiling even more broadly at the look she saw in his eye, Marie put one hand on her hip and cocked her head to one side. “I think I know of a few other ways we could have some fun.” She held out one hand to him in invitation, and he reached forward encircling her in his arms. Despite the cold, she’d never felt so warm in her life.

The End