"Get up, mutie!"

Marie had finally been able to fall asleep only hours before, and now she was being awakened by a loud banging and a hateful voice yelling at her. When she opened her eyes and saw the bare, concrete ceiling and walls, she remembered where she was and everything that had happened yesterday to her and Logan. Logan had been seriously injured, and no one had told her anything about him. Did they take him to a hospital? Was he lying in a prison cell like this one, untreated and bleeding? Was he dead? NO! She wouldn't even think that. Logan was ok. He had to be.

The repetitive banging and yelling continued as the guard standing at the cell entrance hit the bars with his nightstick.

"C'mon. Get up. You're not our problem anymore."

"What about my husband?" Marie muttered, sitting herself up. "I need to know how he is. You have to..."

"I don't *have* to do anything. You want something; you talk to them," the guard said, indicating someone standing outside her field of vision.

When Marie stood and walked to the barred doorway, she saw five men standing there. Their black uniforms were unmarked, but they gave the impression of military personnel. Logan growled deep within her, and she could feel his instant distrust.

"Turn around," one of the men said, a tall man with blond hair and nordic features.

She did as she was told and backed up to the bars when instructed to do so. She felt hands grab her arms and handcuff her wrists behind her back, then she heard the door to the cell creak open.

"This way."

She was lead past the crowded cells, through the booking room, past the reception area, and out into the sunlight. There were more men in similar black outfits flanking a nondescript, black van. There was an older man in a suit, his back turned to Marie, giving orders to two of them.

~I don't like this, darlin'. First break you see, run for it,~ Logan's voice whispered to her consciousness.

Silently, she nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly with his assessment. Slowly, she began to fiddle with her gloves, trying to pull the fabric through the handcuffs and off.

When the older man turned, she felt Logan's shock and fear mingle with her own. His mustache was gone, his red hair had lightened and thinned out, but he was instantly recognizable. She had seen him in Logan's dreams. He had been there, had been one of the doctors that tortured Logan. He had been one of the few to have a name.

"Cornelius," Marie growled.

The older man's face transformed in surprise and shock as he pushed his way towards her, waving the uniformed men away. "How do you know my name?"

"I remember you," she replied, ramming her knee into his most vulnerable spot and breaking off in a run.

She could hear the man collapse behind her as the others, seeing her flight, shouted and started to run after her. Her pace was slowed by her bound hands, and she hadn't made it halfway down the block before she was tackled. Unable to bring her arms out to break her fall, she plowed head first into the concrete sidewalk, passing out before she even felt the pain.

Marie slowly awoke to the voices of two men standing over her. She kept her eyes shut and her breathing even, feigning sleep so she could get her bearings.

She was on a metal table from the cold, hard feel of it, and judging from the breeze of the air conditioning, she was a lot less covered than she was used to. In fact, it felt like she was only wearing one of those thin hospital gowns.

There were leather straps at her head, shoulders, hips, wrists, and ankles to hold her down. There was no way to test the strength of her bonds without giving herself away, so she lay still and listened.

"You said she had a head wound?" asked a man with an old, scratchy voice.

"Yes, a pretty nasty one, but it's gone now," said a familiar voice, Cornelius from the police station.

"Fascinating. And you said she *remembered* you?"

"Apparently. She knew my name. Weapon X must've told her about us."

Weapon X? That name sounded so familiar to both her and Logan. Is that what they used to call him when he was under their control?

"That doesn't explain her healing abilities. I think this has something to do with her mutation. You said she was rumored to kill with a touch. What if the way that she kills is absorbing the memories and powers of the person she touches?"

Oh, hell! They knew what she could do. She had to get out of here before they started running experiments on her like they'd done to Logan.

"An intriguing theory. Too bad we don't have any mutants in the facility to test her on."

'Yeah, too bad,' Marie thought. 'I'll just be going now.'

"Not true, there is one mutant."

"Weapon X?"

Logan? Logan was here?

"He was always intractable and difficult to manipulate. If we could transfer his abilities to her, she would most likely be easier to control. We could then remove the adamantium from his corpse and feed it into her body."

NO!!! They couldn't... She wouldn't... She'd die before she hurt Logan. They'd never get her to touch him.

"We'd have all the abilities that Weapon X has now with a more malleable mind."

'Malleable, my ass,' she fumed. 'You even try to hurt Logan, and I'll rip your throat out.'

"Don't forget the added bonus of her natural mutation. We'd have the ultimate upgradable weapon. Any needed skills or abilities could be acquired with a simple touch."

"But professor, we don't even know if these are her abilities. We can't take the risk of losing Weapon X until we're sure, and we don't have any other mutants in the compound right now for tests."

'Yeah, you tell 'em, Cornelius,' she thought.

"Who said anything about testing her on mutants? There are plenty of soldiers around here with desirable abilities."

"Professor, no, that's going too far."

"Actually, I think that it's an excellent notion."

The men left her to her thoughts in the silent room. After what felt like days, but was probably no longer than an hour, she finally dared to peek at her surroundings. The room was white. She was surrounded by a stark white ceiling, walls, and floor. There were pristine countertops lining the walls on which expensive equipment sat.

Pulling at her restraints until her wrists and ankles were raw and sore did nothing to improve her situation. The bonds were tight and strong. Lying there, she could feel the tingle as her wounds healed, and that reminded her of Logan. If she was still healing, then he was probably still injured.

She wished in that moment, more than she ever had in her life, that she was a telepath. They needed help, and there was no way they were going to get it. Jean and the Professor were too ethical to constantly monitor other people's thoughts. The professor would have to be in Cerebro and looking for her before he would realize they were in trouble.

Damn Jubilee and Remy! Why had they been flirting and carrying on like teenagers when she needed help? It must've been a day since the phone call and no one had shown up to rescue them, so she could only assume that Jubilee hadn't realized the urgency of her message before they were cut off.

Her mental rantings were interrupted when Cornelius, a man who had to be in his mid-seventies, and a middle-aged, mousy woman entered the room. She recognized the two new people from Logan's memories as well: the professor and Hines.

"So, the gang's all here," she drawled.

Hines and Cornelius were pushing a stretcher on which lay one of the anonymous, black-uniformed men. He was obviously drugged and the sleeve on his limp left arm had been pulled up to his shoulder, exposing his skin.

The gurney was pushed against her bed, and she knew instantly what they were going to do. As she struggled fruitlessly against her bonds, she knew she couldn't prevent it. They were going to force her to absorb this man.

"No!" she yelled. "Cornelius, you said this was wrong. You said you wouldn't do it. Hines, help me. You can't do this!"

Her protests fell on deaf ears and as she watched, the professor lifted the soldier's arm and placed it over her own. She felt the connection open instantly, and although she squirmed and fought with all her might, she couldn't get away from that touch.

Derek. His name was Derek Michael Tucker, and he hated mutants. The only good mutie is a dead mutie. If they could be experimented on, made to work for humans before they died, all the better. He fully supported the professor until earlier today, when he was drugged at his duty post. Now he was furious, raging at her. He wouldn't be dying if it wasn't for her and her mutie skin.

Derek had been chosen because he was a munitions expert. The professor thought those skills would be useful for his ultimate weapon to possess. Of course, Derek was flooding her mind now with all the painful, explosive ways he wanted to kill her. Blowing her up was too quick a death. Maybe he'd just blow off a hand or a foot a let her bleed to death. Maybe he'd just burn her with a fire bomb and let her suffer for days as she slowly died.

Soon the flood of memories slowed to a trickle and stopped. The body was pulled away, and she was left alone in the room again, tears wracking her body.

Over the next few days, she writhed in insanity.

Derek was so strong, stronger than even Logan was, and he hated her. He and John were instant friends, and they joined forces to take over her mind. It would have been so easy to just give up control, to find a quiet corner of her mind and hide forever, but Logan wouldn't let her.

~Don't give up, Marie. Fight them,~ Logan urged, but his voice was so faint in comparison to Derek's, and Derek was helping John.

'I can't. They're too strong.'

~You're no quitter, darlin'. This is your mind. You're the strongest one here. You can do this.~

The battle raged within her. Logan fought beside her and even Erik's and David's faint remains tried to help, but the bulk of the fight still fell to her. Eventually, she was able to cage Derek and quiet his voice to a low whisper. With Derek reigned in, it was easier to return John to his own confinement. Finally back in some semblance of control and exhausted from her ordeal, she slept almost fifteen hours before waking again.

They were waiting. They came in to monitor her, test her, ask her questions about her new personality, but mostly they were waiting. That morning, almost a week after she'd regained her senses, she knew that the waiting was over.

They entered her room, like they had a week and a half ago, pushing a gurney with another body on it. It was Logan.

"NOOOOO!!!!" Marie screamed, thrashing on her bed. "No! I won't! What did you do to him?!? Go away! No!"

For his part, Logan lay insensate on the stretcher, dressed in a matching hospital gown to her own. Her healing ability had gone away at some time during her psychotic episode, and once she came back to her senses, she assumed that Logan would heal and they'd escape. When days passed with no sign of him, she'd begun to worry. There wasn't much that could keep Logan down.

Now, looking at his limp form, she knew they must have drugged him, and now they were going to force her to kill him. Terrified to her very core, Marie redirected her pleading to her husband as the professor pushed Logan's gurney next to her bed.

"Logan!!! Wake up! Logan, please!"

The professor picked up Logan's exposed arm, and Marie shrieked in a burst of mind-numbing panic, "LO-GAN!!!!"