Thanks for reading and reviewing! Sorry this took so long. Enjoy!
Two days staring at the same four walls was making Remy insane, even more so then Creed and his 'treatments', and almost more then not knowing what was happening to Ororo. Creed kept him strapped to that board constantly, and after three days the pain from the slave collar was almost not as bad as the constant cramping in his muscles. Not to mention the fact that he hadn't had hardly a thing to eat in more then two days. He had to start figuring a way out of there, he realized that. It was no good waiting until he made sure Storm was okay. He would just have to hope that if he could somehow escape, he could find her and get them both out.

As he expected, as he had the previous two, Creed appeared in his cell, bright and early, smiling as if the sun would never stop shining again. Any man who so enjoyed torturing others could not be sane, Remy thought, but he was certainly not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was at least a little, afraid of the man.

"Good Morning, LeBeau, and how is my favorite freak of nature today?" Creed said, grinning broadly. He was eating a chocolate doughnut, and held a steaming cup of coffee in his other hand.

Remy stared at the man for a second, ignoring the tempting fruits of Lucifer that he held. "I'm jus' fine, Creed." He tried to sound as cheery as possible.

Creed smirked. "Glad to hear it." He held out the doughnut just in front of Remy's face. "Hungry?"

He turned his head away. "I'd rather eat turpentine."

The head of the F.O.H narrowed his eyes, and stepped away. "You should really learn to get on my better side. It could be hazardous to your health not to be. Just as your refusal to tell me what I want to know will be. I haven't used every measure at my disposal to force you to talk just yet, because I've so enjoyed our little 'sessions', haven't you?"

"Go to Hell," Remy mumbled.

"Now, now. There is no need for such language. As a matter of fact, you should be thanking me. You see, I have a present for you."

"A present?"

Creed smiled evilly. "I've decided that there will be no more games, mutant. But you just remember, LeBeau, I won't feel any guilt over the death of a mutant, even a pregnant one. And don't you forget it. So you better decide who is more important to you. The murdering one you're trying to protect, or the woman and baby."

He was obviously going to do something with Storm. This could be the break he needed, and he was determined not to blow this chance. "I'm not an idiot, Creed," Remy said. "You honestly think I trust that you'll let me and Ro leave if I tell you what you wanna know?"

He may as well been talking to a brick wall. Instead of responding, Creed glared at him for a minute with those inhuman rabid eyes. Remy watched as he walked over to the steel door, and walked out. Before he could even call him back, though, Creed returned, and came back over. "Perhaps you need even more persuasion, Mr. Lebeau. If torture and starvation don't work, I think I know what will."

He didn't like the sound of that. At first, Remy laid back against the hard board, preparing for the worst. If Creed was through torturing him with his little 'happy box' then he could only imagine would he would try next. He would probably try to use Storm to get him to talk, and Remy could simply not allow that. He needed a plan, now. He had to stay focused, and he was certain that sooner or later he would figure a way out of this. He had to. The door to the room swished open, and as he turned on his medieval rack to see what was going on, he was shocked to see an F.O.H. soldier pushed a restraining board identical to his own with Ororo on it.

"Stormy!" Remy yelled, as she was pushed over next to him. "Are you okay?" But as she got closer, it became apparent that she was unconscious. Physically, she looked okay to him, but who knew what the knock-out drugs, not to mention the stress of being restrained to a metal board, could be doing to her and the baby. The next thing he noticed was that she was also wearing a collar like him. He turned back to Creed, trying to disguise the horrid fear in his voice with anger. "You don't honestly intend to use that thing on her, do you?"

Creed slowly walked over, taking the control out of his pocket as he did. "That depends on you," he replied, flipping it from hand to hand. "Are you going to make it necessary for me to?"

He had to lie. What other chose did he really have? I just have to buy some time. Then maybe I can think of a way out of here. "Jus' don't hurt her, Creed. I tell you what you want to know."

Creed smiled victoriously, but just then, the door swooshed open once again, and a different F.O.H. soldier walked in. "Mr. Creed!" He called. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have to talk to you, sir."

His leader spun around, furious. "I specifically said that I wasn't to be disturbed!"

The man stepped back nervously. "I am sorry, sir, but it's very important."

Creed sighed, and stomped over. He and the man talked for a minute, and it became obvious that Creed was happy with what he was telling him because he began to smile. He pounded the man on the shoulder, and walked back over to his two prisoners. "Well, it seems I have to leave you for a short time. I am finally going to close a deal with someone that is very interested in something of yours, I think. Enjoy your last hours of guilt free, and pain free existence, Mr. LeBeau."

Fuck you, he thought, but he didn't say anything. Creed gave him another smile as he turned and left the room. Left alone, Remy scanned the strange, sterile room as best he could once again, looking for anything that could be useful. There wasn't much to see. In fact, there didn't appear to be anything in it but a light on the ceiling, and, of course, himself and Storm trapped on these damn boards. He figured there were probably cameras, or at least some sort of listening devices hidden somewhere, but he couldn't detect any visually.

"Remy?"

He turned, surprised to hear his name. "Stormy!" He whispered loudly. "You awake? Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I guess I'm okay. Where are we? Do you have any idea?"

"No. Some kinda F.O.H. compound. I don't have a clue where though."

"Remy," she whispered just loud enough for him to hear, "we've got to get out of here. I've been in a room just like this these last days, but they've kept me sedated for the most part. However, I overheard two guards talking, and I think they plan to take the baby."

He squirmed at the knowledge. "What do you mean?"

"I pretended to be unconscious for long periods of time, when actually the drugs had worn off. That allowed me to overhear certain things. Creed wants the baby, that's why he kidnapped us. I think he plans to sell it to a geneticist."

"A geneticist?" Remy mumbled, frowning. That must be what Creed meant when he said that someone would be very interested in something they had. He must mean the baby. "But why?" He asked. "He told me that he wants information. About some guy with claws whose been up in Canada. Can't imagine who he means."

Ororo caught on that he was saying that for the benefit of anyone listening in. "He probably hopes to get both the baby and the information. But we can't allow it. We have to figure a way out of here."

"I don't know how, chere. Creed might jus' be too smart for us. Maybe we should jus' give 'em what he wants. I mean you could go into labor any time. Then Creed will have the baby, and maybe he'll let us go."

Storm stared at him in disbelief. "You can't be serious. I would never..." She paused as Remy grinned at her, and winked. "Oh," she said upon realizing what he meant. "You could be right."

Lt. Michael Sanderson was second in command of the entire Friends of Humanity, and Greydon Creed's most trusted advisor. With his dark tanned complexion, shifty gray eyes, and heavily scarred cheek, Mike Sanderson looked like he belonged in an old western as the villain who rides into town and has a showdown at dusk with the sheriff. He was actually an ex-marine; staunch military man, and the closest thing Creed had to a friend. Although Creed was generally respected throughout the organization, he never got close to people. It was just one of the many ways that the two men were alike. Creed walked briskly toward his office, his lieutenant almost running to keep up. He was very eager to get there after hearing the news that the man they'd been dealing with for months now had finally agreed to a price. The money this man would pay for that mutie baby would insure the F.O.H. would be around for a long time, and both men realized it.

"You actually talked to this guy, Sanderson? Face-to-face?" Creed asked the tall, muscular man who towered several inches above him.

"It wasn't face-to-face, Greydon. I talked to him through his number two man, but as far as I could tell he seems legit. He'll pay our amount as long as we deliver the baby...and the rest of what we discussed, of course." Creed nodded and the two walked in silence. He knew what had to be done. And he trusted Mike's judgment.

"Um. . .What do you know about this man, sir?" Sanderson asked, breaking Creed's daydreams of world domination and the total annihilation of mutants world wide, "I mean, why would this geneticist want some freaky mutie baby?"

"That's not my concern, Mike," Creed replied, as they reached his office. "He can do whatever he wants with that little abomination. The only thing I care about is the large amount of money he'll pay for it."

"It just seems odd that this guy is willing to pay so much money for a baby. Especially a mutie one."

Creed shrugged. "I don't know a whole lot about this guy, but what I do know is that he has some kind of connection to that one mutie, LeBeau. Apparently, he was very interested in him biologically, or some such bullshit. He now considers him a threat, and wants him dead. He has his reasons, but I don't care. Like I said, Lt. Sanderson, that's not my concern. As long as he plans to shell out a pretty penny."

Just as they reached the office, Creed stopped, and turned to face his Lieutenant. "Mike, there's been something I've been meaning to ask you. Actually, something I want you to do for me."

Sanderson shrugged. "Anything Greydon, just ask."

Creed looked around, and leaned in. "I don't think this will ever be necessary, but I want you to promise me something."

"What is it?"

"If something should happen to me, I want you to promise that you'll take care of my daughter for me," Creed said, resting a hand on the man's shoulder. "With her mother dead, she doesn't have anyone else."

Mike Sanderson was more than a little surprised. He had been married for several years, but he and his wife couldn't have children of their own. It wasn't as if he didn't like them, he loved Greydon's young daughter, and he was even her godfather, but he couldn't imagine raising her. He also couldn't imagine why he was asking him this here and now, but he knew that he could never refuse. He owed everything he was to this man.

"I know it seems strange that I'm asking you like this, but as you well know, this is only the beginning, Mike. There will be a war between humans and mutants." He shrugged. "Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon. And we will pay a big part in that. I want to know that if something happens to me, she'll be taken care of."

He owed everything to this man...Sanderson didn't hesitate for a second. "Of course, Greydon. I promise I'll take care of her for you."