Logan groaned. Healing ability or no he was in deep trouble. His healing ability was already maxed out because of the previous weeks of no food and torture. After they caught him they had taken him to the torture room for what seemed like days. They tossed him into his cell when they were done and he lay there, gasping, blood bubbling from his lips. He had never remembered such pain, even in the nightmares he had never felt pain so real. The only thing that kept him sane was the image of the girl in the cell next door.

She was so frightened when he opened the door but then this look flickered across her face. Like she understood. He had only had a moment to look at her but she was strong. She hadn’t been broken. He just hoped she got the hell out of there before it was too late. His lungs screamed for air, his vision swam and he closed his eyes. If only he could sleep, he could heal.

He woke feeling disoriented. He was relieved when he was able to move his fingers, when they had tried to detach his arms they cut through the nerves and when they had dumped him back in the cell he still hadn’t regained feeling. He still hurt. A small groan escaped as he tried to sit up. He licked his cracked lips. He was so thirsty.

He spent an unknown amount of time sleeping and healing. Every time he woke up he made himself go back to sleep so he could heal. His body was running low on reserves and he was weak feeling when the door to his cell opened again. “He’s still alive.” One of the guards said to the other. They slammed the door back shut and Logan lay there bewildered. Were they just going to leave him there till he died? He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or angry.

The Wolverine surged to the forefront when he registered the smells in the air. When the door opened it had gusted in air from the hallway and he could smell the girl. Why hadn’t she run? Had they caught her already? Why was he laying there and taking it instead of raising hell? Logan moved to sit in front of the door. Whenever they came back to check again, he would be waiting. That way he could at least get the one who opens the door. He cursed his weakness.

Closing his eyes he remembered how he was captured. It had been an unusually hot spring day. He remembered the fighting, the innocent children, they were being slaughtered just because of their DNA. He had never been one to get involved but someone had to stand up for them. He had joined the army of mutants. He had known the risk, his mutation had given him an edge, but the humans had the numbers.

He briefly thought of the other soldiers, did they count him as dead? Did they even look for him? How many times had he gone on rescue missions to retrieve them? Wolverine growled, he didn’t want to go down the path of pity. He was going to get out of there, somehow he will. He was close before. Wolverine was not meant to be caged.
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