Summery: Based on the book by Richard Adams; Logan couldn't remember life beyond the camps. But when a new subject is pushed into his cage, along with her little daughter, he's about to realize how life on the run is. Extremely dark, not for the faint of heart.

Warning: This story may have content that is too much to handle for some. Reader discretion is strongly advised

OMG, next chappy! Huzzah! As before, review and tell me what I'm failing at!!

Logan belongs to Marvel. Sadly.

Logan: Last time I checked, I didn't belong to anybody!

Of course Logan. You keep thinking that.

The screaming was loud enough to overpower even his roars.

Logan sat against the left wall and listened, partially out of morbid curiosity, and partially because he felt he had to. The screamer was a female, mid-age, maybe 35. It sounded like they were doing the electric tub test.

He grimaced. Next to the Water Chamber test, Electric Tub test was just as traumatizing. The test subject was stripped and placed in a tub half filled with icy cold water. Then, the water was drained, and the subject was roughly dried. After that, clampers were placed on various parts of the body; for men it would be just various parts of the body: the arms, the nipples, the legs, the ribs, the underarms, any place a clamper would fit snuggly. For women on the other hand…well, the test was ten times as disturbing: clamps would be fitted on the breasts, the clitoris or labia, the underarms, the neck (in rare cases, the lips as well)

And then, the electricity would be turned on…

The pain would be downright unbearable, but the scientists (being the kind people they are) would only increase the electricity to a certain point, so that the subject wouldn't be killed by the electric overload. This doesn't mean nearly half of the people in the experiment didn't meet a horrible end. Actually, more then half of them were killed when their hearts couldn't take it, and subsequently exploded. The next half were left with horrific scars and loss of feeling in the electrified spot. What the scientists were trying to learn as beyond Logan. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know.

The screaming stopped, and was replaced with pathetic sobbing. There was a loud clang! She yowled in pain.

'Bastards overturned the tub.' Logan bit back a snarl. The girl was still crying, and the doctors were talking as if nothing had happened.

She was moving….the pained pants, the shuddering whimpers, the dull smack of her wet hands against the cold steel floor…She crawled into the nearby corner, and panted, hugging her arms tightly around her burnt breasts. She couldn't remember ever feeling so…helpless. She yowled again when the nurses

Her nose caught a strange sent: masculine, angry…she sniffed again, slightly confused…

'Hopeless?' she question.

She placed her mouth gently against the steel wall, and took a deep breath.

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

Logan blinked. Her voice was soft, barely functioning, barely audible, but there.

"Yeah. You okay, sweetheart?"

"I-I don't know…my…" She wracked her mind, trying to come up with the words that didn't sound so graphic.

"It's okay, you can say it. I've been here a while, nothin' surprises me anymore."

"T-those men…they put those clamps on my…my body, and…" Her voice started to shake with sobs again.

"Why are we here? What are they doing?"

"I dunno, honey. Halfa me wants to say we're here because these bastards 're bored, but you think they woulda killed us by now."

"They have my-my daughter….oh my god, what are they going to do to her, they're going to kill her-"

She was beginning to panic. He could hear her heart pounding in his chest, the sent of blood rushing through her veins. She was panicking.

"Calm down." He ordered sharply. He winced at his own whisper; he hadn't meant to sound to unkind. "You're gonna hurt yourself, and they really are gonna kill her if you're dead."

"But-but-"

"Listen to me, honey. When they took her, which direction did she go?"

"Um…." She was still panicking. Logan could hear her wheezing, and cursed darkly. Panicking created a stronger blood flow, which caused adrenalin, which caused her to try something stupid and get shot by the trigger happy guards. "Stay with me. Which way did they go?"

"The-The left…they took her in the hallway with the green stripes on the walls."

Logan let out a sigh of relief. He had been in the facility long enough to learn where every hallway led: the hallway with the green stripes was the medical examiner's room. Here, subjects went for basic physicals and checkups. The hallways straight ahead, with plain, steel walls, lead to the underground kennels: those who were too dangerous to be around anything, and (for some reason unknown to Logan) couldn't be killed, were sent to the underground. The hallway where they had just come from (the one with the red stripes) lead to the Kennels and to the sleeping quarters of the Guards.

And the hallways of the black stripes…well, Logan didn't know about them. He'd never been down there, but he knew well enough that when a subject went down that hallway, he never came back.

"She's gonna be okay, darlin'. She's all right."

"How do you know?"

"Trust me…I just know…"

She placed her hand on the steel wall, and pressed her fingertips against the cold metal.

"Who…Who are you?"

He chuckled darkly, and placed a callused hand against his own side of the wall. He slid the appendage down until he felt the beckoning warmth of her fingertips. He pressed gently, and it seamed that their handprints burned into the wall.

"a friend…a friend forever."

Logan wondered what happened to the girl on the other side of the wall as he was led back to his cage. Newbies never really did last long in the Labs. A good majority of them were dead before the week's end.

And the kid? Logan winced at the thought. Kids were meant to grow happy and healthy, skin their knees on the ground, play outside with their friends, get sun tans in the most ludicrous of places, be a regular kid.

Life inside the labs was not a life for anyone. Especially a child.

They shoved him into the cage, and closed the steel door with a snap. One the guards peeked into the small, bared opening in the door.

"Your getting a cell mate today. Try not to eat it, okay?" He chortled deeply, and walked away with his partner (who was also breaking out into hysterics.) Logan watched them leave with narrowed eyes.

He got as close the door as he was willing and strained his ears:

"The girl doesn't have a chance."

"Naw, She'll be dead by nightfall"

"Hey, you never know. Number 10's bad, but I don't think he'd kill a-"

"Don't be naive. He's one of them, you can't trust 'em."

Logan hissed. The "them" the guards were talking about was a "mutant", a human with an advanced 'X' chromosome. No one knew how the mutations had happened, or why they occurred, but they did understand that the mutants were different, and that was a real problem with the irony of the fact was that most of the people in the camps were mutants. There was something in the DNA that made them more susceptible to catching the virus, or some crap like that.

"Sad. And she has that kid, too."

Kid? Logan sat back, and stared at the single beam of light that fell through the door's opening, his eyes darting back and forth. Soon after his departure from the water chamber, he deduced that the girl behind the wall and the mother in the hall were indeed the same person. Could it possibly be her, that strange looking woman that smelled so unique?

Perhaps...

He sat cross-legged at the entrance and waited. He would see soon enough.

"Get in there!" The voice roared. Logan was jostled from his doze when something fell into his lap with a shrill shriek, knocking them both over. Something else was tossed into cage, something small. It smacked against the back wall and screamed in pain.

The door was slammed shut.

"Number 10, meet Numbers 85 and 86!" said the gruff voice. The Something That had Hit the Back Wall whimpered, and crawled against Logan's back, hiding, clutching his dingy shirt with tiny hands. It buried its head in his back, and immediately began to wail. He placed his arm around it, hugging it close.

"Have a good time!" He laughed, walked away, his boots stomping against the ground.

The girl in his lap whirled around, grabbed her shoe, and flung it as hard as she could at the door.

"Pig! I hope you rot in hell!" She screamed, her voice raw and rough.

The little girl released Logan's shirt, and immediately clung to her mother, dropping next to the exhausted girl, and curling against her. The woman pulled her close to her breast, and looked up at Logan, her eyes weary.

"Thanks for the landing spot." She said quietly. She laid her head back down, and promptly blacked out.

Number 85 could remember life beyond the cages and knives and electric torture. She could remember living in the wonderful weather of her home country, where it was never too hot, or never too cold, and hostility against a brother or sister? Unheard of!

The humans were…they were often so close to barbarianism it surprised her.

And scared her.

"Is momma gonna be alright?" The little girl whimpered.

Logan had dragged the woman to the back of the cage, and had (very, very gently) examined the damage.

"I dunno, darlin'. Your momma's hurt real bad."

And she was. With only the top of her dress pulled down, Logan knew his work was cut out for him. It looked as if the scientists had dropped hot coals all over her skin. Her fur was pockmarked with circular, third-degree burns and what looked like small, thin knife marks. Her arms looked like they had been pushed into a blender, with deep cuts that still oozed blood.

He reached into the dark corner, and pulled a small, neatly folded package out. At one point during his stay at the Labs, he realized that not all of his injuries were going to heal as fast as needed, so he had begun stealing rolls of bandages from the labs. The techs didn't seam to notice (or didn't seem to care), so he stole enough to last him a good while. Logan chuckled darkly; it was nice to have some reason to use it. He began to tear off strips and tie them around her chest.

"You see that bowl over there?" He pointed to the corner next to the door. A small, metallic bowl sat there, seemingly blending into the wall.

The little girl nodded her head.

"Good. Get it fer me, will ya, honey?"

The little girl padded to get the bowl. Logan noticed her staggering limp, and withheld his curse.

"Here." She whispered, setting the bowl next to him.

"Good girl. Now, you keep as quiet as you can, okay? I gotta concentrate."

She nodded. Logan smiled lopsidedly (it didn't ease the little girl's apprehension, though.) and began his work, cleaning and wrapping as many wounds as he could.

It seamed like hours before one of them said a word.

"Yeh know, I never yer names." He said absentmindedly. The little girl, who was gently dozing at this point, looked up at him, her grey eyes seaming to widen.

"My name's Thanatopsis. " She said quietly. "And momma's name is Amelie."

"Thanatopsis, eh? Isn't that a poem?" Logan knew full well it was a poem. He had heard it many, many times, he was even able to recite a few of the lines. But he wanted to keep the girl talking. Keep her mind focused on something other then the current predicament

She nodded. "Yes. It's momma's favorite poem. But I like the name Calypso better."

"Calypso?"

"Yes. My name is Thanatopsis Calypso Gabriel. Momma…Momma says that's what her mother would have named me."

"Oh. Was your grandmother in the camps with you?"

"No. Gramma's back on Momma's home." Calypso's eyes seamed to widen, and she leaned forward, a childlike exuberance sprinkling her voice.

"Momma says that once we get out of here, she'll take me to her home, and we'll meet her family. She says that it never rains there!" The little girl giggled.

Logan nodded. "You've never been there? Where were you born?"

Calypso giggled again.

"I was born-" Suddenly, Calypso's eyes rolled in the back of her head, and she slumped over, crumpling into a small pile.

"She was born in the camp."

The gruff voice startled him. Number 85 gingerly sat up and looked at the elder with weary eyes.

"She was born in EveningFall a year after I arrived there." She looked at the now snoring child, and grimaced.

"oh." Logan wished he could have said more, but what more could he ask?

"Did your husband die in the camp? Is he here now, on the list to go into the black hall? Or was it some deranged prison member that had his way with you, that touched you in the places that 16 year old boys only dream about at the junior prom?"

Besides, he was too busy staring at the now crumpled form that was Calypso. Number 85 followed his gaze, and grinned.

"Narcolepsy." She whispered.

"Excuse me?" He asked, confused.

She continued to stare at the child.

"She has Narcolepsy. Had it since she was born. The doctors, they wanted to do tests on her, stick her full of needles, that whole bizz. And I told them that if they even attempt, I'd tear out their eyeballs and eat them."

She threw her head back and gave a short bark of a laugh.

"They didn't try again. But, they did put us both on 24/7 watch. Even when I went back to the mines, they always had a guard nearby." (The Mines was an underground canal that those in the camps worked in. There were several different sections, some working coal, some working in oil, and some working in salt. From the look of her reddened paws, Logan suspected that she had been a salt hauler)

She sat up on her haunches, and examined the bandages. She frowned at first and then smirked.

"Pretty good. You a medic?"

"No. Just been around long enough to know what I'm doing."

She nodded, raising both eyebrows.

"Looks like it." She looked around the cell, crossing her legs pretzel-style. Lines were criss-crossing her face and her age was starting to show. Dark circles wound round her eyes, and her eyelids look so heavy.

"What are we doing here? What did we do, what did we say? It doesn't make sense, why are we here?" She pulled her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around her dusty legs, burrowing her head down.

"Calypso…you know, she's never seen a blue sky before? Never heard the birds sing, never got to play with other kids her age. The moment she was born, they tossed me out of the hospital, and back into the mines. I worked for the last three years with her in my hood." She reached behind her and plucked at the hood that blended in her burlap colored dress.

\ Logan crawled over to her, and gently placed an arm over her shoulder. The girl was barely 35, maybe not even that old, and she had already seen hell itself. And the kid? He heaved a sigh.

Logan had lost all of his faith in humanity years ago. This just cemented it.

She looked up at him with her almond, amber eyes and he had to admit: beyond the scarf, she was probably quite lovely.

"Look, honey…" He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to piece together the right words. He hadn't been around people since…hell, he couldn't remember the last time he had some form of human interaction beyond guns and needles.

"I dunno why we're here. All I know is that we are, we gotta make the best outta it."

"But how? How can we make the best out of a situation like this?"

Logan shrugged.

"Endure, hun. That's all we can do."

The corners of her mouth perked into a weary smile, and she nodded. They sat in silence, watching Calypso's chest rise and fall.

"You know…I never got your name." she said quietly.

"Logan." He extended a hand.

She grasped it in a strong shake. "Amelie."

The dialogue that opened up between then in the past few days was extraordinary. To listen to the two talk, it was almost like two old friends after years of absence. As time went on, they found common factors.

They both enjoyed a good smoke and beer, both held Canada close in their hearts (turns out, while she wasn't born there, her mother was, and she had relatives up there as well), neither could stand the music that guards that stood outside their cage played, both enjoy snowy weather, and both could go for a smoke and a beer now.

When food was brought to the cage, Amelie insisted that they sit in a circle, like one would do when at the dinner table. Logan was reluctant at first; He wasn't the best at "family dinners" on account that he couldn't remember the last time he'd sat down at one, but by the second dinner, the three of them started to talk as if they actually were a family.

Logan had to admit: it was nice to be around people again.

One evening, Logan returned with a deep slice in his abdomen and Amelie insisted on examining it, despite his many reassurances that it would heal itself.

"Looks pretty deep. It needs to be sown back together."

"Fantastic deduction, Dr. Strange. But you don't-"

She suddenly thrust her hand into her scalp, and fished out a thin needle.

"Okay, then what about.-"

She pulled out a stray piece of string from the edge of her dress, and held them both out for him to examine.

"huh."

"Huh, indeed." She had chuckled, and immediately started at work. He lay back, defeated, and "enjoyed" her handiwork.

"So…any reason you got patchwork in yer hair?"

She smirked. "I learned in Vietnam. You aren't prepared, you get a bamboo stick through the gut."

He laughed. "Vietnam, eh? So, just how old are you?"

"Now, now, you know better then to ask a lady that!"

"I'm not askin' a lady, I'm askin' you."

She scrunched up her nose, and pursed her lips (though, Logan noted with amusement, she was still smirking.)

"You watch it, or I'll find a vein and nick it."

"You wouldn't…" She paused, and cast him a look.

"Yeah, your probably would."

When she had finished, his healing factor was just kicking in. But, all that really had to be healed was the internal damage; most of the external wound had been quelled. When he examined her work he was beyond impressed, he was amazed. Rarely had he seen anyone other then a qualified doctor make such neat stitches, and with such little blood spill. He wanted to tell her how much he liked her workmanship. He wanted to say how rarely he'd seen such good work. Maybe he was impressed because he hadn't seen a real doctor since god knows when, but, at that moment, it didn't matter. All that mattered to him were the neat little stitches that now decorated his chest.

But she was already across the cage, tucking a raggedy blanket around Calypso's body. So, he didn't say anything. He just took his spot on the other side of the room, curled up, and watched as the two females drifted into slumber. And soon, he was also on that boat to Nod too.

His dreams had been…strange.

They always had been. Logan always wondered if, when he was young and stupid, he had just fallen asleep on top of an opened Dali book, and his mind had just absorbed that information and chose to repeat it every night. And then, he would wonder why he was even thinking in such complex arcs.

But that night, something was just off. It was like someone (or something) was sending him a message, a warning.

A woman sits alone in a field of wild flowers. Her hair is long, shiny, and dark, like wet wood. She wears a white dress, and it pops out beyond all of the reds, blues, oranges, and yellows. Beyond that, a dark forest beckons, and wild animals pace in the trees, just waiting…and watching.

The smell…. oh god, what a smell! It smells like a battlefield, like the ground is soaked with blood…

But when he looks around, he can only see flowers.

He approached the woman, and reached out, placing both hands firmly on her shoulders. She didn't scream, or jerk her arms away, and so, he leaned forward, and kissed the top of her head.

No reaction.

He grasped her hips, his hands settling comfterbly around their rounded shape. He kissed her neck, and he tasted blood.

In a panic, he turned her around…

Her face had been torn off, only shreds of gushing flesh hanging off of strings of tendons…

He's found the source of the smell…but, god, how he wished he hadn't….

She reached out her hands, stripped of all skin, and now dripping and mussly, and let out a horrible scream and-

RRRAAAAUUUGGHHHH!!

"LOGAN!"

The scratchy voice pulled him out of his daze. He was crouched on top of Amelie, one foot in the center of her chest, his claws unsheathed. The three claws literally trapped her neck, the center one barely cutting the skin. Tiny red droplets formed and ran down the length of her neck, mingling with her fur.

Amelie's lips seamed to tremble with fear.

"Logan…please…." She took a deep breath, and placed both hands around his shaking fist, trying in vain to move his hand away.

"Please…I….I can't breathe…."

Logan could hear her pleas. He could hear the struggled gasps, and the pained whimpers. But he couldn't move. It was like he was frozen in place.

"I can't….I can't-please, get off."

The claw pressed against her flesh, and the little droplets now turned to a small river. She pulled her hands up and placed them on his cheeks, her claws biting into his pale skin. She was begging, breathlessly, silently.

He would kill her…He would-

"M-Mr. Logan?"

Calypso's voice was more then enough to pull him back from his dream-induced haze. Amelie gulped the air, hacking and coughing, her neck still bleeding.

"Momma? What's going on?" Calypso's tail wound around her, and she held onto it for dear life. Logan couldn't piece words together, and closed and opened his mouth like a fish.

"It's okay baby." Amelie panted, glancing at the child. "It's all right, you go back to sleep."

The little girl hesitated. Then, with a quiet "Yes momma", she rolled over, curled her tail around her, and was fast asleep. They watched her for a short period, waiting for her to spring back up. All she did was sigh, and curl her tail more tightly around her.

They were both breathing hard. Amelie gently fingered the cut on her neck, and winced when she pulled back blood. She pulled the last of the cloth bandages across her neck, and tied it tightly.

"Are you all right?" She asked quietly, still tying the bandage, her eyes closed.

"Wha-Yer askin' me if I'M all right?!" he exclaimed. "I just tried to kill you, I should be askin' you that!"

"So ask." She frowned

"…"

Her tone seamed so nonchalant, so…uncaring about the situation. Had she been asleep? Did she just forget?!

"Did I hurt you?" He mentally smacked himself in the head. What a stupid question; Of course he had!!

Her response surprised him.

"No, I think I'm all right. Just a little cut that's all." She smiled at him. Logan just stared…was she a masochist?! Didn't people usually show some sort of emotion after nearly being plowed through with claws?

She chuckled.

"Look, Logan." She leaned forward and took his hands in her tiny ones. "You had a nightmare, you thought I was someone else. It's okay. You're not the only one that's overreacted, you know." She squeezed his hands.

"Even though…I feel sorry for the person you did mean to kill." She laughed, and rolled over on her back, staring at the concrete ceiling.

Silently, he nodded, and then began to scoot away, back to his little corner.

She grabbed his shoulder.

"This could be the dumbest decision I've ever made." She said quietly. "But it looks like you just need to be near someone right now." She pulled gently on his shirt. He obliged slowly, and soon, they lay next to each other, both staring at the grey ceiling.

She spoke first,

"You know what?"

"What?"

"We're going to break out of here."

He sat up, flabbergasted. She still lay, staring at the ceiling.

"Yer not serious, are yeh? No one's been able teh break outta here."

"Have you tried?"

"Yeah…a few times. But they always found me." He lay back down.

"How many?"

"…5"

She snorted. "5 times?! Wow, you must be an expert about this place."

"Somewhat." He smirked.

"What made you not go for a sixth?"

"…" His smirk faded, and his face darkened. "Something…happened."

"Oh." Amelie knew when to not push it. This was one of those times.

"Well…this time, it's gonna work."

"Oh? And what makes yeh for sure?"

"Simple. You've got me!"

"Oy."

"No, no, I mean it!" She rolled over and propped herself up on her shoulders. "Look, I've been around for a while, and I've picked up some tricks from years past. It's all about strategic planning and follow through."

"Yeah, and what if yer "stragetic plannin'" falls though, eh? What then?" He growled.

"Brute strength."

He snorted.

"No, I'm not kidding. Listen to me, all we really have to do is get out of this cage. Once we do that, you can take care of the guards and doors all by yourself."

He chuckled, "You don't give up easily, do yeh?" He placed his arms behind his head, relaxing. "All right. We'll give it a try. It ain't gonna work…but, no harm in tryin'."

She thrust her hand over. "Shake on it."

He grasped her hand, and shook.

the partnership was formed.

Soundtrack:

Main Theme: Sleeping with Ghosts by Placebo