disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Marvel Comics Group. I expect to receive no monetary benefits from this work of fiction, though I reap much satisfaction. All other characters are MINE, but I can be persuaded to share if asked nicely.


Test Results
by Dizi

Chapter 1

Through the dirty window she watched. She was lucky to have a window and knew it well. Sister Meredith told her often. She was lucky they even took care of her since she was full of sin, though she wasn't certain how that was possible. She wasn't allowed to leave the Church or hospital, so how could she have sinned? But Sister Meredith said it was so and she had learned long ago it was better not to question Sister Meredith. As she liked having a window, it was best not say anything at all that might be considered ungrateful. Which really did mean anything.

Usually the only thing to see were people coming and going. However that was enough for her.

Today was a very unusual day, there was something happening. Something strange and wondrous.

There were people in funny clothes fighting what she could only guess were giant robots. A man with claws hacked at one of the robot's legs. Another man fired a red light from his eyes, knocking the head off the same one. A woman was flying and picked another up, throwing it to the street so hard it broke into pieces. She was sure there were more fighting the robots but those were the ones she could see.

Others were trying to help the regular people to safety inside the hospital. Those were the ones she wanted to see better, but the only one clearly visible was a large black man. There was something over one of his eyes which she couldn't make it out. In one hand, he held a very big gun which shot out a destructive golden light whenever one of the robots came too close. More interesting was his other hand - the one not holding the gun - did the very same thing.

He shouted words she couldn't hear, but she thought they were meant to speed the people along. For some reason, most of the bystanders crouched down in fear and just stayed there until he made them move. Of course, some of them had been hurt by the robots and he had to help them inside, firing the gun with one hand and dragging them with the other. He only had to get them close and orderlies would take them inside. Then he would start over again, making some people move and dragging others, all the while shooting at the robots to keep them back.

She recognized one of the bystanders as Dr. Corbin. Though she didn't know how good a doctor he was, she didn't like him. Not that she knew him well, the only people she saw regularly were Sister Meredith and Father Carson, but the two times she had been in his presence he had shown he didn't like her. That was enough for her to not like him back.

Now, Dr. Corbin was shouting at the man, distracting him from the robots. Her breath caught when something hit him - she couldn't see what it was - and he fell to his knees, blood coming from his chest.

And Dr. Corbin ran away. Just ran away and left him.

Holding her breath, she waited for someone to help him. He had saved so many, someone had to be willing to help him too...

Several minutes passed...

He finally collapsed completely...

Blood started pooling around him...

One of the robots saw him and raised a hand...

...and a man in a long brown trenchcoat jumped between his injured comrade and the robot, flinging something small that exploded on contact. He paused to shout in the direction of the hospital, continuing to toss the objects he pulled out of his pocket, keeping the robot back while a couple orderlies finally ran to the black man.

She turned away from the window. He was badly hurt and probably a mutant. The doctors wouldn't help him until the other injured were taken care of. There were too many for them to get to him in time. He would die.

Sister Meredith and Father Carson didn't like her helping those they called undeserving. They didn't understand. She needed to do it, she couldn't stop, couldn't wait for the 'special' people they wanted her to help. So she wasn't supposed to go down there, wasn't supposed to be around 'normal' people. Every time she did, they would lock her away, take away her window and replace it with a closet in the basement. She'd only had it a week this time...

But she'd been feeling the need and would have soon done it anyway. At least she would know he would live.

Then she would accept her punishment without complaint. As she always did.


There was a crack in the ceiling. Bishop stared at it unblinkingly, concentrating on keeping conscious, listened to his breath rattle and gurgle though his damaged lungs.

The battle with the Sentinels was still ongoing. His teammates would come but he knew they wouldn't be in time. He had lost too much blood and he had heard the damn doctor say he was too badly hurt to be saved. Too hurt for them to try. Too hurt for them to waste needed supplies. Too much a mutant to be worth the effort was what they meant.

Anger rolled through him, but he suppressed it. The more excited he got, the more blood he lost. Even through the bandage they had grudgingly applied.

He wasn't going to die without a fight. In this situation, that translated to being calm and still, keeping his blood pressure low to keep as much in his body as possible. Not that he could move. His limbs were weak, lethargic from blood loss.

The pain in his chest was fading. So was his vision. It didn't matter. He would keep fighting until there was nothing left...

Bishop didn't feel the light touch on his arm, a soft stroke. The pain was back suddenly, intensified ten-fold. He didn't recognize that it didn't originate from his bleeding wound but from his arm because his whole body was affected. Unable to stop himself, his eyes closed and his back arched. He thought something had ruptured and he was dying.

When the pain disappeared as suddenly as it had started, Bishop thought he was dead, deep inside he knew it.

Then he slowly became aware of his surroundings. He could hear crying from the lobby, the nurses and orderlies rushing to and fro outside his curtained off cubicle. He could feel the uncomfortable hospital bed under him. And when he opened his eyes, he could again see the crack in the ceiling.

Lightheaded from shock but feeling no pain, Bishop slowly brought his hands to his chest and felt for the wound. Nothing. Nothing at all.

In disbelief, he ripped off the bandage. He was whole. Except for the bloody gauze and tape in his hands, there was no evidence of an injury. In fact, several scars he'd had for many years were gone as well. If he wasn't good as new, he was better than before.

Looking around, he saw the curtain separating him from everyone else was open. Someone had been in here with him. Perhaps someone had healed him and left? If so, they were strong, very strong. In the past he had never been so close to the brink of death as today. He had been hurt before and probably would be again, but this was the worst.

Getting up quickly, he pushed through the curtain only to see nothing out of the ordinary, no one out of place. Damping down his disappointment, he told himself to let it go. Whoever it was didn't want to be known or they would have stayed a little longer.

As he went back out to rejoin the fray, Bishop knew he would be back to search for the healer, if only to give his thanks.


He put the binoculars in his pack having seen all he cared to. The fight on the street wasn't his and he didn't give a damn about it. Let them kill each other and those hypocrites in St. Catherine's.

Except for her.

She'd been there too long, suffered too much. His fault or not, he felt responsible and didn't like it. He was tired of being responsible for others, thought that part of it was done. Now he found out it wasn't.

The last three weeks he'd watched what happened here. Seen what her life was like. Watched what they did to her, and what they didn't do for her. Then he'd planned.

He wanted to sneak her out, see them freak when their prize was gone. With the battle on the street, he had a gut instinct he had to move soon. Whether it was a sign, a premonition, impatience, or something else didn't matter. He'd learned to trust these feelings. Tomorrow his plan would be in motion, everything now in place. The day after at most, she should be in his hands. But if he felt it necessary he would go in and find her somehow, guns blazing if absolutely necessary.

Looking out the window from an empty apartment in the building across the street, he whispered a promise to someone who couldn't hear him. "Soon, Marissa. Just a little longer and you'll be free. Then the hard part begins."

to be continued.


note: I have lots of plans for this story. However I got stuck after the first arc. See, I worked up a full history on the OC's but didn't plan out the rest of the story very much. So I've only got three chapters written. They've been written for quite a while because I'm just not totally sure what exactly should happen next. I haven't even figured out an ending like I usually do.

The rating is set for a little bit of adult connotation and language, nothing graphic. I really just wanted to be safe in that regard.

Special thanks to HuntressX. The idea for this story came from not really her but a character I gave to her for her story "Future Hope". After I donated it, the idea for the character came to life in my mind. She very kindly gave permission for me to use the character in a different way than she is. Which is inevitable as we do write differently. Hence, if you've read her story, Marissa will sound a little familiar but she's older in mine and her life takes a totally different direction.

Next chapter coming next week. Staying with the Tuesday schedule at this time.

Thanks for reading and the support,
Dizi