A/N: Short chapter as I'm only a week away from exams (flails and panics)

WARNING: CONTAINS SOME QUITE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE

Interlude

If he'd had to choose four people to help him search in a forest for missing mutants Wolverine would not have chosen Indio, Colossus, Sabretooth and Gambit. Two of them were too young, the other two…untrustworthy. But they'd been the only ones awake, the only ones whose thoughts Indio could see and find, and with the kid panicking there hadn't been all that much time to spare.

He wondered where Scott had got too, he hadn't been in his room and a brief search in the basement had been fruitless.

His headache was coming back.

They'd started at the charred patch where Pyro's flames had hit the trees. The tracks had led on from there, bringing them too the edge of the wood and then finally to…

"A truck." Sabretooth bent down to take a closer look at the marks the tires had made. "Look's like they got bundled into the back of a truck."

"I can go get a car or somet'ing." Gambit volunteered, "Won' take long to catch up wit dem."

"We should wait for the others." Colossus said.

"By morning dey could be anywhere."

"They could be anywhere now! We don't know where that truck went, and…uh…Professor Logan?"

Wolverine was leaning against a tree, his breath harsh, sweat dripping down his face.

Indio swallowed nervously, "Um, he's…dreaming."

"Dreaming?" Sabretooth frowned.

"Or something, I don't know, but I can't hear his thoughts anymore. He gets sort of…memories."

Sabretooth gave a short bark of laughter, "He's weapon X, we don't get memories.

Colossus stared at his former teacher, slightly scared, slightly unsure.

Running, running through the streets, the sound of pursuit behind him, he's too busy looking behind him, he doesn't see the figure looming up infront of him, the figure who grabs his arms, twists them behind his back, ignores his struggles.

The persuit catches up. He's twisting, turning, kicking, desperately trying to get free, but the man at his back isn't budging, and the men in front of him really aren't looking happy. He tries to remember what he's done, and knows with utter chilling certainty that it's not something he'll be forgiven for."

One of the men steps forward and gives a little smirk. "Looks like we finally caught up with you, eh shrimp?"

Logan snarls at him, but inside he's terrified, more scared than he's ever been and thinking 'I'm gonna die I'm gonna die oh sweet lord this is it.'

The man waves a hand, he's wearing expensive gloves, it would be funny if he weren't about to die. Another man walks forwards, he's not wearing gloves, he's not wearing anything expensive except a heavy gold ring that, three seconds later, smashes into Logan's face.

"We trusted you kid, we thought we had a deal." Says the man with the gloves, while his accomplice continues to smash out, again and again. His fists work up and down Logan's body, and Logan can feel his ribs splintering, his stomach heaving, his face is a bloodied mess, he's trying to scream through blood and vomit and pain. The man behind him continues to hold him up, he's not standing anymore, he's just a limply hanging punch-bag.

The gloved man waves his hand again and mercifully, it stops. Logan manages to gasp a breath, but it hurts, oh it hurts, hurts his mouth hurts his lungs, there's something sharp in his mouth, swilling through the blood and he realises it's one of his teeth, lost in the sharp tangy taste of blood.

"After all," Says the man, "We are a business, we must set standards, make…examples."

Logan gives a moan, he wants to speak, he wants to tell them he'll do anything, anything they want, please, please stop the pain, his feet try to stand, scrabbling on cobbles, but the man holding him twists his arms violently and he slumps again, hanging limply.

The man makes another guesture, his eyes not leaving Logan's and then Logan does throw up because there's a new man in front of him and this one's carrying a knife, the vomit splashes all over his feet mixed in blood and sweat. He thinks please let it be quick, that's all, please let it be quick oh sweet dear lord please.

It isn't quick. And afterwards they throw him in the gutter to die. He's surfing now, riding on waves of pain. There's on odd crunching sound from his ribs, he waits for a bright light and then remembers that there's no heaven for him anymore, no heaven for young men who run away from home, who stop going to church, who work in the underworld.

The pain is starting to dim. He gives a gasp of relief, finally he's dying, finally it will all be over, no more pain, no more terror.

Even his breathing is becoming easier. The pain is definitely going, he wonders if maybe he will make it into heaven after all, the splits on his lips have gone, his mouth no longer tastes of blood.

Slowly, fearfully, he opens his eyes.

He's still in the gutter.

His body tenses. His mind whirls into panic, what's happening, is it some sort of trick? Are they going to catch him and do it all again? Has it just been an odd dream?

He pulls himself up and, terrified, looks down. His shirt is still ripped, a long jagged line, but while he should be seeing his stomach split open like a gutted fish, all he sees is fresh clean skin.

His arm is no longer broken, his ribs no longer smashed, his fingers all present, all unbroken.

Gambit stared at Wolverine's face, "Woah."

"What?" Indio asked fearfully.

"You won' believe dis. I t'ink he's crying."

Yeah…this is what comes out when I'm exam stressed.

Sorry for the gore factor. Heh. My exams finish on the 6th June so expect pretty much hiatus until then. Hope enough of you weren't too freaked out by this, but I wanted something fairly phenominal for Wolverine's first discovery of his mutant powers :)