Mae had a bad feeling the whole morning, worse than ever before. While Roger had been quiet the last two days, locked up in his study with his men and reviewing the rally meticulously and what to do next, she had been left to her devices and those had not been good either. Michael and Riley were a joy to have as she waited for Danielle and Logan to return, but all had been calm when they did come to pick them up. But the next days, when New Years' Eve Day had all but come up on them, had been tense and kept in the dark. Roger was unsure what was going to happen next, since Logan had been captured and rescued by Danielle, but he was sure Peter Ellis was going to show.

"Anytime now," Roger would say every now and then, staring out the window and trying to find that spy.

"Don't worry now, dear," Mae would reply each time, feeling the chill and not knowing what it was for. "He'll show face soon."

Now, she knew what that sinking feeling was for. When the phone rang when it was almost noon, Mae's stomach dropped in dismay. She had been trying to read a book on the living room couch, unable to meet the eyes of the spy outside, and was running for the phone as she dropped her book to the floor. It laid forgotten there as she picked up the receiver and shockingly asked who it was, seeing the caller ID as Danielle's home number.

"It's Michael," squeaked the eldest son of Danielle's, Riley's whining voice in the background whimpering about something. "Momma and Logan are in trouble. Cousin Peter was here and he tried taking us away and –"

"What?!" Mae almost dropped the phone in shock, but recovered herself when she saw the spy run away. "Stay there! Just stay there, Michael, and wait for us!"

Mae spent no more time on the phone, ready to take action. She hung up, running to Roger's study. It was closed shut and Roger was in conference with his men for the millionth time this week. The rule had been to keep away from business and to never disturb the group when there was a meeting, but Mae did not care at the moment. What she cared about was Danielle, Logan and those children.

"Roger! Roger!" Mae screamed, banging on the door loudly to get everyone's attention. "We need to go!"

"Dammit, woman, what now?!" Roger yelled back, rising from his desk chair and coming to the door, opening it rudely and showing his displeasure plainly. While four men behind him watched the couple's drama with interest, Roger was in no mood to deal with Mae at the moment.

"Danielle, Logan and the kids are in trouble," Mae blurted out in a panic before Roger could say anything else (and the mutant would use his fire abilities to scare her off). "Peter is there, at the farmhouse. The kids seem to be locked up –"

Roger whipped his head from his wife to his four men with a glance that would have melted the strongest man. "Why wasn't I told of this?" he demanded of them harshly.

"There's no time," Mae urged, pulling Roger's hand urgently. "We have to go, Roger. Bring whoever you can. I think Peter might have men of his own."

After that, Mae remembered little of the preparations and the trip, which she was sure was of little time. She barely could see Roger mobilizing the men around him and calling for him or getting in the truck with him. She knew that Roger told Gil to mind the house, but it barely registered that he too would be alone and without protection. Peter's spy would see and hear everything if he stayed, maybe reported that trouble was on the way, and he would be in danger too.

But that was a worry for another time. As Roger sped to the farmhouse, men in the truck bed and another vehicle behind them with six more men, Mae watched the winter colors blend with the whirl of the truck. While skidding off the road a few times (and cursing when Roger dented the passenger side door when hitting a tree), they arrived at the farmhouse just as a van sped away from the driveway. Roger motioned from the drivers' side to the second vehicle to follow it, but eased slowly into the icy and snowy driveway, parking and ordering his men out. When Mae joined them, seeing the blood in the snow, Roger immediately took her by the collar and pushed her against the vinyl wall before the porch.

"Not this time, Mae," he said to her, kissing her forehead and motioning her back to the truck.

Mae pushed him away, gaining the upper hand. "Danielle needs me, Roger. You can't deny it. She or the children could be hurt."

Roger could not deny it. He let Mae go, but stayed close to her, passing the door that was destroyed to the blood from the living room to the upstairs. Four men ran upstairs to chase out anyone who might be there and two of them carried the children, who they covered with arms to keep from seeing their mother. Out of the four that ensured safety in the house, one carried bags full of clothes and toys while the other brought tools and other essentials done, fixing the door quickly. However, what dismayed Mae the most was seeing Logan kneeling on the floor, holding an unconscious Danielle. While the two seemed to have been tender before Danielle took to her deep sleep, Logan tightly held from her harm, staunching the blood with his own hands.

Mae could not assess the damage. When she looked to Roger, he put a finger to his lips. Logan had yet to notice that they were there, so involved with Danielle he was.

It had to be gently done. Logan did not seem willing to give Danielle up. When Mae crept up slowly, she kneeled on the other side of Danielle, putting her arms around the lightweight and taking her from Logan. When Logan finally snapped, sensing Danielle no longer, his claws were out and he was up and about to strike Mae when Roger threw a wall of unique green fire with his hands between them, allowing it not to touch the floor. He nodded to Mae to take Danielle away. When she did, running upstairs, Roger put the fire out just as easily with his hands. He then turned to Logan, seeing the mutant calmed.

"What happened?" Roger asked Logan calmly, but coldly, as the latter put his claws back in. Roger was not pleased about being interrupted with his men, but he was seeing the disaster Peter Ellis had wrecked upon his family again and he was feeling like a tornado might visit the Ellis cousin sooner rather than later.

"Ambushed." It was a word that said it all. Logan said nothing more, staring at the stairwell, hoping that something will change.

Afterward, Roger did not reply to Logan, thinking of nothing but scheming in his mind. As one of his men finished the door and left to join the others who were comforting the children and waiting for new orders (the other two having deemed it safe and went outside), Roger went up to Logan. Putting a somewhat reassuring hand on Logan's shoulder, he heaved himself back, bracing for the raw slaughter of emotions about to happen.

Except…nothing happened. Logan's eyes remained cold, much colder than Roger's own, like he had to hold back and never show his emotions. He had worn his heart on his sleeve, Roger noted, and he was not able to be caught showing his ass again.

"I'm sure Danielle will be ok," Roger said lamely, allowing his hand to fall to his side when Logan would not respond to the kindness.

"And if she's not?" Logan asked indifferently, like it did not matter whether Danielle lived or died.

Roger roughly took Logan by the shoulder, this time whirling him forward in a gesture that found Logan unleashing his claws again. "Dammit, man, you're not the only mutant that's suffering here! And you won't be the last. You think that everyone here has had an easy time surviving, even when we're all waiting to be arrested and shipped away? No! We all have our demons, ones that we've fought…and ones that are brought to us. You can hide from yours all you want. We come out and fight them."

"And you think Danielle is any different?" Logan asked him, almost in the same tone and one that startled Roger because it was so apathetic. "Did you or any of your spies know that she was being raped so that her children could live? That she was tortured?"

"Suspected and confirmed today," Roger replied with a wave of his hand, knowing that this showdown wasn't going to end and none of them would concede. "It does not matter, Logan. What matters now is this family. What matters now is getting the X-Men together and to free them from those camps alive. Now, what do they do to them now? Remember your history, when Germany was taking all the ethnicities, and not just the Jews, and cleansing the society of those who aren't the same? This is no special occasion for us. It just shows that Magneto was right. It had been coming, but in a light that even he could not see."

Logan had to grumble consent, but could not voice it out loud. Magneto had been right in his own way.

"This is about survival, but not about the strongest," Roger continued. "Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten. Silly phrase, but in this family, it is apt. And you've proven to one of us that you can't be left behind."

In the silence that ensued, Mae had run downstairs. Carrying a small, but heavily wrapped bundle in her hands, she muttered her apologies and asked to be excused as she went outside. Logan heard her asked one of the men to start building a large bonfire in the back property because of something. Something about having to burn many things, but Logan could not be so sure. It was muffled and Mae was speaking as if she did not want to be heard.

A deep pit hit Logan in the stomach, almost like he had been punched. Without thinking, he dashed upstairs, Roger yelling behind him. Using nothing but his senses, still fuzzy after the attack in the morning, Logan ran, following the blood trail once more until he had reached Danielle's room in the back. While he had not paid enough attention to the surroundings when he was last in there, he had a sinking feeling that there was more in there that would start to unravel one part of the mystery and bring him to the solution.

Opening the door gingerly, Logan was somewhat disappointed to see that Danielle was not in there for comforting. However, the smell of metallic blood hit his nose, almost making him gag, the first time in a long time, since he was in the POW camp in Japan. He then turned this way and that, to determine its source, but saw it almost everywhere, on the floor and on the mattress, the latter that was now ripped from the bed frame and wrapped in plastic for disposal. On the bed frame, he saw that there were sex toys attached, most of them handcuffs, chains, dildos and whips, the last covered in metal barbs. Next to it on the floor was a box full of vials, syringes and needles.

Sickened and angry and finally forming a good few images of the last few months, Logan turned to the window, eager to open it and get some air, but he stopped. In front of him hung the noose, the same that had caused the redness in Danielle's neck. His claws were still out when he wanted to slash Roger's throat, so it had been easy to reach out with them and slice the thick rope to pieces. It had been therapeutic, but it was not enough.

With a rare frenzy that Logan felt from deep within him, he turned, his previous prey now dust. He kicked over the box of vials and offensive assistants, breaking the bottles and allowing the carpeting to suck in the clear liquid, hoping it to be the end of Stryker's influence. He then kicked the mattress around on the floor, ignoring the sliminess he felt through the plastic and the obvious remnants of some unborn human remains wrapped in a sheet on top. Finally, without a thought, he lunged at the toys at the bed frame, standing in the center of the bed frame and slicing each one until it was in a million pieces on the soggy floor.

When all of his anger and the room more wrecked than before, Logan was spent, some hours later laying on the floor and seeing almost nothing. He did not care that he was soaked with undeterminable things. He did not care that he felt the beast inside of him run deep and turn him into a monster. Most certainly, his act was a form of revenge, to relieve himself and others of the sight of shame Peter Ellis had bestowed upon Danielle.

And if Peter Ellis was alive, Logan hoped for the chance to kill him.