This was a fight for their lives. Jean felt the strange calmness of her teammates, and they knew this might be it. The end. Wiped out like they were nothing, genocide of homo superior. Scott blasted through men with his laser sight without a second thought, fighting alongside Logan like they had never been at odds with each other. So sad it had to come to this for them to put their differences aside. Storm killed troopers with repeated strikes of lightning.
She had feared death so many times, and now that it was here, she had that same peace. If she died, she knew she lived for something. People might desecrate her body, but her spirit would be free. They would cut her to pieces to find her Mutant origin, but she wouldn't feel pain. Being Mutant wouldn't matter anymore, and they would have to learn the hard way. This evolution couldn't be stopped. Their children would mutate, and they'd have to come to grips with the fact they were so ignorant to have attempted killing off what the future generation would become.
But for now, all they saw was a race of humans who were abnormal, who didn't deserve the right to live. Possible terrorists, threats to society. The X-Men knew they would lose, but they continued on as if the fight were turning around.

Jean sat in the holding tank with hands on her knees and head bowed. They had removed her suit, and put her in plain white clothes. It was specialized to keep her from reading thoughts, no chance to escape. She had to hand it to them, they did their research. In this place, she was powerless, her mind could move nothing, sense no one. There wasn't even the impression of a doorway. Just a vent in the far right corner that moved fresh air in. She wished she had died, instead of this. Now she thought of what they might do to her. Tests, interrogation, torture. Her life was in their hands, they could end it or prolong it as they saw fit.

If it was her imagination, she didn't care. The slightest sound came through the vent, but she made no move to acknowledge it. She would bet her own arm that they were watching. A flicker of hope bloomed in her chest, could that sound be one of her team? How many were captured alive? Digging fingernails into her legs, she pushed that far from her mind. It was possible she was the only one left. It would be too painful to know that people she loved were being kept away from her. She had to act as if they were all dead, that way if they tried to use any of them as bait, she wouldn't rise to it.
'They are all dead, Jean.'
Even if they paraded them just inches from her reach, she wouldn't look.
'Dead. All dead and gone.' She lay down and closed her eyes, letting the tears leak out as her face was hidden by her hair.

There was that sound again. It could be no more than a faulty air vent, but it sounded like an indignant shout. Food appeared in her cell, and she ate it like a good prisoner. No doubt they were keeping her tranquilized by putting drugs inside. The sound came at intermittent times, and she began to wonder who was just so bent out of shape that they couldn't keep their big mouth shut.
'Logan.'
A painful throb from her chest made her scramble on hands and knees to the toilet and throw up the food she had just begun to digest. Had it been hours or days since she thought of him, of Storm or Jean-Paul? Images of their faces came unbidden, making her lose more of the meal she barely tasted to begin with.

"Jean Grey."
"What, you haven't given me a number to memorize yet," she smirked, refusing to look her captors in the eye. "I kinda like 31415926535897, you know, like Pi."
The soldier shifted uneasily on his feet. "Pie?"
"You know, you're kind of stupid for a military man. P-I," she spelled out.
"Oh."
"I used to work for the government, too. But you knew that already, Solider Boy."
"I saw you on television," he replied.
"Never thought so many Mutants were out there, did you?"
"No."
"Why are you here," she asked.
"Do you have anything to say?"
"Here to take dictation? I have no comment." He turned to leave. "You may be in their good graces now, but if I were you I'd get the hell out of America. That's off the record, Solider Boy."

The man Jean had nicknamed Soldier Boy came and went every so often, seeing what she had to say. Sometimes he'd ask her straight questions, others he'd let her talk about what she liked. Though mostly it was obscure things that held no importance to her.
"Why don't you ask me about the rest of them?"
"Because I don't care to know," she sighed.
"Really, not even who we have?"
"You have me, what more could you hope for?"
"Why is that?"
"I'm sure in that file of mine there's a class level." A twitch of his foot confirmed that. "I'm the biggest baddest one you could ever have," she laughed.
"But you never commited crimes like The Brotherhood did."
"They were scared of me as well. And Solider Boy, if I wasn't drugged up and in this concrete box...you know what..." He paused, curious to know. "I could make you walk me right out of here, free and clear to live my life in peace. I could make you believe you were the second coming of Jesus, and then I could make you walk on water," she put a maniacal gleam into her eyes to scare him off, and it worked. But he would be back.

"Aliens exist, you know." Soldier Boy chuckled. "You know how I know?"
"No Jean, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me."
"Because I met them., and they look just like we do. You'd never be able to tell the difference."
"Why don't you bathe?"
"You want to see me naked," she smiled.
"Can't you answer a question?"
"Do I smell bad?" Soldier Boy chuckled. "That's a yes," she muttered.
"I was wondering if you were trying to get certain people to smell you, to know you 're here."
"There's only me."
"You know that isn't true."
"I'll take that bath now," she sank down on the floor.

She woke up in a different cell, senses screaming that something was not right. "Where am I," she asked the empty space. There was a pane of one-way glass in front of her, and she slammed up against it.
"Get Soldier Boy, I want to talk to him now!" She punched the glass until she had no strength left, and curled up on the floor. When Solider Boy came in, she regarded him warily. "What is this?"
"We had to move you."
"Why?"
"After you took that bath, Logan couldn't smell you through the vents anymore and he went berserk."
"If that were true, I'd find that hilarious," she replied with sarcasm.
"It is true."
"If it were true, you made a big fuckin' mistake, Soldier Boy," she chuckled, crawling over to her new bed.
"Why is that?"
"Because if he were alive and couldn't smell me or hear me anymore, you would have just really pisssed him off," she turned away and covered herself with a blanket.

"It's been two days, and you haven't eaten."
"I don't feel like eating."
"You have to eat."
"To keep up my strength," she gave a harsh laugh.
"I have a surprise for you."
"I don't want it," Jean muttered.
"It took a lot of convincing, don't look a gifthorse in the mouth, Jean."
"Soldier Boy, what is it," she sat up, the blanket falling off her shoulder.
"Look for yourself," his voice seemed to smile as he left the room.
Jean looked over her shoulder, and saw Logan standing with his hands on the glass in between them. 'Have they touched you,' he mouthed. She shook her head no. 'Let me see,' he pointed to her clothes. She lifted the shirt up under her breasts, her waist had gotten much smaller since capture. 'Around,' he drew a clockwise circle on the glass, staring closely at her back as she pulled the shirt up to her neck, and then held the long shirt as high as possible to show him her thighs as well. 'You okay,' she asked. He shrugged. She could see the tension in his shoulders, drawing them up to his ears in a defensive pose, his chest heaved from exertion. Logan raked his eyes up and down her body, trying to take it all in. Then he shook his head roughly, trying to master the quivering of his chin. 'Jean,' his shoulders shook, pressing his head against the glass. She went to the glass wall and put one palm to his, the other to his forehead as if she could smooth his hair back to comfort him.
Logan was gone the next day, but Soldier Boy came back.
"You shouldn't have done that."
"But I only wanted to see you happy."
"That was not happy, that was even more miserable than I've been."
"Where's Katherine Pryde?"
"Kitty?"
"Her power is moving through walls, correct?"
"If it says so in your files."
"Would she come here?"
"She's only nineteen, would you come here at that age?"
"She's been trained by you and Logan."
"That doesn't mean we'd teach her to come rushing in all by herself to save us. Ever heard of 'everyone for themselves'?"
"Ever heard of 'leave no man behind'?"
"But if your whole squad or platoon or what have you is dying one by one, what do you do? Do you try and carry all the bodies yourself? Or do you try and make your life count by getting out of there?"