Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, NicoleR85, ZabuzasGirl, kmj1989, partygirl98, Luna von Rae, Jedi DC of Marvel, and SoNotYourAverageGirl for the reviews. Happy birthday, partygirl! I feel so bad that chapter had such a depressing ending for your birthday, gosh! And then today's is worse. So... Happy Thanksgiving, everyone? Oops.

Phone Call

For a moment I stood frozen, staring down at the piece of paper in my hand. Such an inconsequential thing, containing such crushing words.

"If you ever want to see her alive again."

Zoey's life was on the line. If I didn't play this right my wife and unborn child would die. My brain couldn't even begin to comprehend never seeing or holding Zoey again, never even getting to hear our baby's heartbeat.

What I felt was like the numb agony of a third degree burn, or an impossibly deep laceration. A wound too profound for my seared nerves to process.

Who did this? How? Why?

The questions prompted me into action. I dialed the number with shaking fingers, trying to maintain my composure.

Someone picked up the phone after one ring.

"Yes, mutant?" The speaker's voice was male, and disdain was clear in his tone.

"Where is she?" I demanded. "Who are you, and why have you done this? Let me speak to my wife."

"Tut tut, monster. You're in no position to be making demands," the man replied. "You're going to do exactly as I say, if you ever want to see her again."

I took a deep breath.

"What do you want from me?"

"You appear to be quite the accomplished scientist."

"Yes. And?"

"And I heard of your little run-in with some associates of mine two weeks ago. It's clear that you have some sort of mutation-suppressing formula," he explained.

"My mutation is shape-shifting," I lied immediately. "I don't know what you're talking about, and I can't help you. Now let my wife go."

"Our research has been meticulous, Dr. Henry McCoy. There's no sense in lying," the man snapped. "We know you're no shape-shifter."

Research? What sort of research had they done on me? To what purpose? How had this man even found my name?

I shook my head to clear it- these were unimportant questions. The "how's" were meaningless at the moment. What mattered was getting Zoey back.

"You still haven't told me why you've taken my wife," I said through clenched teeth.

"Leverage, of course. And motivation. Let's cut to the chase- obviously, you're the only one that's come close to getting a handle on this genetic abomination. So, simply put, you're going to make a cure for the X-gene within the next three days, or my friends and I are going to mail your wife back to you in pieces."

My hand gripped the phone receiver so tightly the plastic began to crack.

"Even if I do have a mutation-suppressing formula, it doesn't mean I can cure the X-gene," I spat into the phone. "There's nothing to cure. It's not a disease, or even a genetic disorder. It's just a heritable trait, like-"

"It's a disease that turns people into freaks," the man retorted. "I'd advise you to figure it out, monster. Your wife did not come quietly, and some of my men are looking for revenge. I can't promise more than her life at this point. And even that is forfeit if you don't comply."

"If you hurt one hair on her head-" I snarled.

"You'll do what?" he challenged.

I had no reply. This man held all the cards in this game, and he knew it. My only answer was a bristling growl, an expression of my impotent rage.

"That's what I thought," he chuckled cruelly. "You better get started- the clock is ticking."

"Let me speak to my wife first," I said in a barely controlled tone.

"Fine."

For a moment all I could hear was the sound of some shuffling and a door opening.

And then Zoey's voice.

"Hank?"

My heart sank. I think until the moment I heard her talking on the other end of the line I'd been holding out hope that somehow that man had been lying, that they hadn't taken Zoey away from me.

This can't be happening.

"Zoey," I croaked past the lump in my throat. "Are you ok?"

She didn't answer my question. Instead, Zoey began to speak in French so quickly I could barely understand her.

"You can't do what they want you to, Hank. The Friends of Humanity will use it as a weapon against mutants, they'll use it to take everyone's powers-"

I heard a sharp slapping sound, followed by a gasp of pain from Zoey.

"Zoey!"

"That's enough, if you ain't gonna speak English," a male snapped- a different man from the one who answered the phone.

"Parle à Gris! Gris! Gris!" I heard her shout, though she got fainter as whoever was holding the phone took it away from her. "Don't touch me-"

A metallic door slammed, and her voice cut off.

"Zoey!" I choked out helplessly.

The wetness on my cheeks startled me. Tears- there were tears coming out of my eyes.

I took a deep, shuddering breath to steady myself, but it was hopeless. Listening to someone hurting Zoey had completely shaken me, which was probably just as they planned. They wanted to give me a taste of how far they'd go, if I didn't give in and follow orders.

"What'd she say to you?" the original speaker hissed into the phone.

"S-she told me not to agree to your demands," I whispered brokenly.

Among other things, but I would ponder that later. Later, when I could think straight again...

"Huh. I didn't think a girl with that much spunk had a death wish," he callously mused.

"Don't hurt her," I growled.

"That depends on if you'll do what I asked."

"I-I'll try."

"'Trying' won't be good enough if you want to see her again," the man said coldly. "We'll be in touch. Three days, monster. The clock starts now."

And then he hung up.

I dropped the phone, which promptly fell apart from all the abuse it had just taken.

My worst nightmares had become reality. The Friends of Humanity, that group of murderous, ignorant bigots, had Zoey. And unless I somehow pulled off a miracle within the next three days, they would kill her.

If I did somehow find a way to completely suppress the expression of the X-gene, I would be handing over a weapon of the worst order to mutant kind's biggest enemies. Zoey was right- they would weaponize the "cure" and use it to destroy all of us.

But Zoey wouldn't expect me to allow her to sacrifice herself- and our child- for the good of mutants everywhere. She had to know I wouldn't let her die, that I would do whatever I could to bring her and the baby home safely.

Of course she did. So there had to be a reason she said what she did.

My mind raced, trying to piece it together. Thinking logically was the only way to keep myself from falling into a paralyzing pit of despair.

And then it hit me. Zoey had given me a clue, purposely speaking in French so they wouldn't understand it and possibly cut off this avenue of inquiry by giving forewarning.

"Parle à Gris," she'd said. "Gris."

"Speak to gray."

Gray. Gray, as in Grey?

Nicholas Grey.

It clicked into place. If Grey was a member of the FOH, all it would've taken was those punks who attacked us showing up to a meeting and giving our descriptions. Zoey's hair was so unique, it would be easy to identify her.

Damnation. I should've known such an absolute cretin was a member of the FOH.

I was like a man possessed, running down the stairs and to my car without any further thought. Thoughts like "is this really a good idea?" or "perhaps I should call Charles for some back up?" simply didn't cross my mind.

Zoey had told me to go speak to Nicholas for a reason, and I would follow her instructions to the letter.

Thankfully there were no police cars in sight as I pulled an illegal turn and drove like a bat out of hell to the Dubois mansion. I wouldn't have stopped for their sirens anyway, but I didn't need the extra aggravation.

Zoey and I had rarely come to visit this house over the years- partly because of the unpleasant occupants of the building, but also because it made Zoey sad.

"Too many memories," she'd told me once.

Remembering how the happy times spent here with her father were now over depressed her. It no longer felt like a place of welcome in her mind, so I'd readily agreed to avoid this place. I disliked my in-laws, but hated seeing Zoey upset even worse.

My knock on the front door was loud and incessant, so when Chloe Grey answered she was even more irritable than usual.

"What do you wa-?" she began to say.

And then she caught sight of my expression, which I could imagine looked rather crazed at this point. Honestly, I was surprised I'd been able to stop myself from completely flying to pieces and turning into Beast after all of this.

"What's wrong?" Chloe asked, with an ounce more concern than she normally showed me.

"I need to speak to Nicholas," I told her, barely bothering with politeness. "He-"

He strolled out from deeper in the house at that moment, probably wondering what all the commotion at the door was about.

There was a heavy, fresh-looking bandage wrapped around his arm. My intuition flared- the FOH man had claimed Zoey did not come quietly. Perhaps Nicholas' bandage was covering a wound she gave him during the struggle?

That means he not only sold Zoey out, he helped them kidnap her.

Nicholas' face turned ghost white when he saw me at the door, like I was a figment of his imagination risen to haunt him over his complicity in my wife's disappearance. His culpability was written all over his expression.

I see you, you guilty piece of excrement.

Fear, anxiety, hesitation- it all fled when I set eyes on Nicholas, only to be replaced by a cold, unrelenting fury so potent I could taste it like madness on my tongue.

This was the man responsible for Zoey's deadly predicament, though I knew not the how's and why's as of yet. I wanted to destroy him. To rip him to pieces and paint the walls with his blood.

It felt like the world had narrowed into a single focal point, one man to settle all of my savage hatred, malice, and rage upon.

"You," I snarled.