A/N: Sorry this took so long guys and gals, but my mind has just been elsewhere lately. Not much to say about this chapter, except that it's kind of sad. But it'll get better soon, I promise :-D

Thanks to BlueSqueak, Jaenelle, Jessie, Ellie, Angeleyes, and Didi. Your reviews mean the world to me... so keep 'em coming!

And yeah... I do not own any of these characters except Jimmy. Marvel does.

Now on to Chapter Four:

"Who the hell are you?"

I must have made a pretty sad picture just sitting there, my face red from crying and probably with black mascara running down my cheeks too. And although I sensed I was in pretty deep danger with this guy, I didn't even get up.

"Oh, don't tell me ya fergot one o' yer bestest buds! Stop pullin' the crap. Ya should'a already tried yer flimsy paf's on me."

"Really. I have no clue what you're talking about. And I don't really care too much either. Just leave me alone."

"Leave ya alone? Now how much fun would that be? None, that's how much. I've already done too much'a the hard stuff ta leave ya alone now. If yer not gonna fight… let's just go."

"Am I supposed to know who you are? Because, for someone who is supposed to know me… you really aren't acting too nicely."

"Nice? Ah girl, I don't know what happened to ya, but I ain't nice." He went to cover my mouth with something, but he wasn't quick enough. Training with the movie must've gotten my reflexes in better shape or something, because before I even knew what I was doing, I kicked him… hard. Jumping up, I tried to get in a punch or two, but this guy was not on the same level as the stunt doubles were. Sure, they were trained professionals, but they didn't fight dirty and I knew what to expect when we were dueling.

Still, I withheld my own pretty gracefully. Even though nothing was affecting this guy, moves I had never seen or done before popped out of me like I was a Jackie Chan wannabe. Rounded kicks and hard punch attacks were easily accomplished without much effort on my part. I could have gotten away too, if we took out the part where I threw out my hands. These were old reflexes my body remembered, but my mind had forgotten and I just didn't know how to handle them.

The incident with the homeless pervert had escaped my mind until the moment where I faced the extremely hairy, clawed weirdo. Then, the event came back to me extraordinarily fast. Before I could stop them, the weird lights flew out of my hands and hit the hairy guy straight on.

I could smell the burning fur as my paf (I decided that that's what the tiger guy had been calling them from the beginning, so I followed through.) quickly burnt his fur. I can imagine it would have smelt worse if I had stuck around, but I didn't.

When I started to run, it felt like my feet were hardly touching the asphalt. I felt like a bird that was finally freed from the bars of a smoothed, rounded cage. I couldn't stop. Flashy, rich, huge houses loomed before me, but I didn't take in any of the details. How could I? A madman was on my tail! My heart was pounding, my blood boiling and all I wanted to do was cry.

All I wanted was Jimmy and his stupid old self, all I wanted was Bobby and his lame but hysterically funny jokes, all I wanted was Remy and his strong arms wrapped around my body. It was then that I suddenly realized that out of all those people, I wanted Wolverine the most. Out of all the arms that had held me, his arms were the only ones that had been the perfect fit.

With my attention drawn elsewhere, I tripped. I landed on my hands and felt the skin ripping as the gravel dug in deep. My cheek also got the brunt of the fall and stung with a deep throbbing sensation. I lay there, huddled in a ball, a shaking mess as a shadow swept over me. Before I even knew what was happening, the tiger man was leaning beside me grasping my neck. And before I could scream or fight back, a rag was over my mouth and as quickly as the pain had appeared, it slowly began to dissipate along with the rest world.

When I awoke, I couldn't even tell I was really awake. I mean, whatever place he was holding me in was pitch black. So when I opened my eyes expecting some sort of light, there was nothing. There wasn't even a crack of light that usually escapes from the bottom of a doorway. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

I went to spring my hands forward hoping to produce some sort of answer with my pafs, but my hands were tied to something. My feet were bounded too… so even if there was a light somewhere in my surroundings, I wouldn't be able to get to it. All in all, I couldn't move. And to top it all, my butt really hurt.

Have you ever sat on a carpet that was so thin that your butt kind of just got numb and it hurt a lot? Yeah, well, replace the thin carpet with a concrete, dirty floor. It was gross actually. The thought that I was sitting on something dirty and gross just made me want to scream.

And that's the thing that surprised me. There was a lack of action from causing me to scream, yell, and talk or whatever. I was even too shocked to try anything for the first few minutes, but just sat there in the dark, pondering. And then I started to tremble, because if there wasn't a gag or tape or something preventing me from speaking, there had to be a reason why. There had to be a reason why I didn't need a gag or some tape. Which led me to the conclusion that I was so far from any sign of life that it wouldn't even matter if I screamed.

Because no one would hear me.

Which totally didn't stop me of course. I started off slowly… talking to myself more than trying to get anyone's attention, but the small talk wasn't getting out my frustrations. So I started to yell just a bit. Things like, "you can't keep me here forever!" and things like, "I don't know what you're thinking!" but mostly, probably in the effort to convince myself, "they'll know I'm gone!". Which was the saddest part of all. Because no one would know I was gone. Jimmy would think I had gone back to the X-men and the X-men would think I went back to Jimmy.

And I guess it was that point where I started to scream. I screamed and I screamed and I screamed. I pounded my legs, I slammed my arms against whatever was binding me, and I screamed. I screamed until my throat was raw and dry. I screamed until my lips were cracking and in need of moisture. I screamed until my ears were ringing and my head was pounding.

I screamed for many reasons. The most, I think, was Jimmy and the lying, sack of scum he was. I screamed for not being able to remember. I screamed for the look on Wolverine's face when he was told that Jubilee was still dead. I screamed for the dreams and the demons that haunted me. I screamed for the cement under my butt. And I screamed for the fact that no one could hear me.

Finally, when I realized that no one was coming, no one, not even that tiger man was coming to speak with me, I stopped screaming. I stared into the darkness, not able to wipe the tears off my cheeks, not able to wipe away the sweat that had appeared on my temple, not able to do anything but sniff and sniff.

The screaming had worn me out. And no matter how hard I tried, my eyes became too heavy for me. I shut them, leaned my head against my own shoulder and drifted into a troubled sleep… still muttering non-coherent words.

I didn't know it then, but someone had heard me. And with his hair bristling, he howled into the night.