Prolog

"So, Chekov, remind me why I agreed to marry you knowing you were going to drag me off to this God-forsaken rock?" a very pregnant woman sighed as she struggled to get into a taxi that was supposed to be taking them to what they were told was their "temporary residence".

"Because you love me, you're going to give birth to my child and I got a very good job here, Sara," he laughed, but as he tried to help her into the taxi, he couldn't see what she was complaining about. He was more worried what the twelve-hour flight had done to the child. When he accepted the job, Chekov knew he would have to leave before Sara gave birth and he was unwilling to leave her back in the States without him. They had only been married for three months and he still was over-protective of his new wife and baby.

When he was sure that Sara was secure and buckled in, Chekov rounded the taxi and got in. The cab driver grinned maliciously at them, but he had his orders. He was to play no tricks on the couple and was to take them to one of the nicest hotels in Hightown. The driver slowly pulled away from the curb and merged with traffic. These people were under the protection of the Prince, and everyone knew not to mess with him if they wanted to live.

Chekov looked around. As the plane had landed, he could tell that the city was split into the upper and lower class districts. He knew his new employers weren't going to send them to the poor side of town—he was too important for that—but he wasn't expecting to be housed where it seemed like multi-billionaires should stay. He glanced around at the garden that lined the long circular driveway that led to the faux gilded front doors.

Next to him, Sara gasped. "This is where we're staying? You told me this job you took would pay better, but I've never even seen a place that looks like this, let alone been inside." She turned away from the window to smile softly and lean into him. "Maybe I should have been easier on you, but you didn't tell me anything about his new job, just that it was 'better'."

The driver had heard enough. He got out to unload the bags, leaving the lovebirds in the car. After he got their bags delivered…he sighed. After he got the bags delivered, it was back to the airport to wait four hours to get his next clients. At least he was getting paid very well for these last few days. He loaded the bags on a trolley and went to the woman's door and opened it rather rudely.

"C'mon," he said, "I'll take you up to your suite and make sure you're settled." And I'm rid of you morons, he added silently.

"Thank you," Sara said gratefully, taking the hand the driver offered her for assistance. "That would be great." She couldn't help the laugh that escaped when Chekov came up beside her, scowling and trying to take her from the driver as she clung to his arm. Sara refused to leave the driver, just to provoke her husband. He deserved it for not telling her anything about the job.

As the driver escorted them into the building pulling the trolley behind him, he told them a little about the hotel. "And the only building that rivals it's magnificence is the palace that can be seen from almost everywhere, if you only look to the East."

The driver truly hated making nice with foreigners, but if the Prince was going to pay him three times what he normally made and he barely had to do anything, he would be polite. Money was scarce in Lowtown and he had to eat, plus, if the Prince was also willing to provide protection as long as he kept quiet about anything he was currently doing, he may even add a smile to the politeness.

He knew there had to be a reason he was being told to keep quiet. These people he was bringing in were special. He would pick up the next clients key cards and sign them in even before he left to pick them up. Even criminals tended to follow protocol in Madripoor, but he didn't think many people knew who these people were, and the couple didn't even seem to notice it.

Absentmindedly, the driver opened the suite door and chuckled to himself as he began to unload the trolley. This information would fetch a lot on the street, but he was being paid more to stay silent…maybe after he was done and had all the names. Then he could sell them as a set.

Sara felt energized for the first time in weeks. She happily fluttered around the many rooms, exploring closets and such. She was a girl who wasn't used to luxury and was determined to enjoy it while she could. The constant burden of the baby was lifted as she stepped out on the balcony that overlooked the sparkling Pacific. She sighed happily, deciding she could defiantly live like this.

Chekov was very impressed with the accommodations his new employers provided. Sara seemed almost…giddy. He paused a moment to study her. The mid-length red hair that flowed freely behind her as she practically danced through the suite was in sharp contrast with her bright green eyes. She looked almost too delicate to be having a baby, but she was tough and, at times like this, it didn't even seem like she had the extra weight.

He was never bitter that she got pregnant. He had been planning to ask Sara to marry him when he found out about the baby. Chekov also knew that Sara still insisted on thinking that her being pregnant was the only reason he married her, but to be fai, he hadn't done much to prove otherwise.

He absentmindedly paid the driver and dismissed him, his mind clearly elsewhere. He casually strolled out onto the balcony to join Sara. He gently placed an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. He looked down at her and grinned as she leaned against him. The combination of excitement, fresh air and exercise had put color into her cheeks. He knew now how one of the most beautiful sights in the world was a pregnant woman.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, quietly, not wanting to ruin the mood and never taking his eyes off her.

Sara hit his chest playfully. "Fine. I'll admit it's a beautiful God-forsaken rock." Suddenly, Sara seemed to lose all her energy and pulled away from him. "I'm gonna go to sleep. Will you be here in the morning?" she asked accusingly.

Chekov sighed. She would probably never trust him again, especially since he was to report fist thing in the morning to get more information. She probably wouldn't be up by then. "You know they want me there tomorrow."

Sara took one look at him and headed off into the bedroom. She couldn't believe him. He was leaving her alone again and she couldn't do anything about it. Without saying another word, she turned out the lights and got into bed.

Chekov slowly followed and lay down quietly beside her. He'd have to fix this when he got back.

Two weeks after Sara and Chekov moved into their permanent residence, which was really a part of the compound that was a glorified down for the employees and their families, Chekov got the message he'd been waiting for. It said to report immediately to the medical wing, because Sara had gone into labor. He tied to quickly find a place where he could safely leave the compound he was testing. He hoped it would eventually lead to a way to accelerate the aging process in clones so they would be more time-efficient.

When it was safe, Chekov hurriedly left the lab, among sincere and sarcastic calls of "good luck" and "have fun" from colleagues. He practically ran though the halls in his rush to get to the medical wing. He had waited a long while for this, and he'd be damned if he missed anything. The baby was also right on schedule and he'd requested this week off so he could help be there and support his new wife and now child, but he'd been denied. Apparently, what he was working on was too important and couldn't be delayed. He began to wonder if he would be required to return to work right after the baby was born. Regardless, he would provide as much support as he could and provide anything else that was needed also.

Once Chekov arrived, two things hit him when the automatic doors slid open revealing the medical wing. The first was the yelling almost immediately followed by the sight of blood and a nurse making him back up out of the delivery room.

"There have been some complications and we're doing all we can to save your baby," the nurse told Chekov, looking slightly flustered.

Chekov grabbed the nurse by the shoulders, resisting the urge to shake her. "And Sara…what's happening with my wife?"

The nurse now looked terrified. "Sir, we're doing everything we can to save both the mother and child…"

Now he did shake her. "You're telling me that with all this high-tech equipment, you still can't save a life?"

"Please, sir, just sit down and calm down." The nurse was considering giving this man a sedative and then asking for a raise or at least a bonus. "These people need all the help they can get and I need to get back to work, so if you'll excuse me…"

Chekov released her and sat on one of the hard benches that lined the hall outside the door to the medical wing. This couldn't be happening. This was supposed to be a happy time. He was supposed to be starting a new life with a new wife and baby and hell, even a new, better job to boot. He couldn't lose Sara and if the baby survived, and she didn't, how would he take care of her? He couldn't with his job and he didn't know the first thing about taking care of children, let alone infants. That's what he had Sara for.

Inside the delivery room, which doubled as the OR and anything else it needed to be, the doctor was trying everything to get the mother and child through the emergency C-section they had to perform in order to save the child. Unfortunately, it seemed that nothing they tried could save the mother. The doctor sighed as he pronounced the mother dead and stated the time. They were building super-soldiers, yet one of the most natural processes—birth—could still wreak so much havoc on the body. Now he had to go deliver a baby to a father with a now broken family.

Chekov was secretly pleased that the baby would be kept in the medical wing for several days for observation. That would give him a few days to prepare and get used to this new way of life for him. The body, he was told, would be properly disposed of, but he needed to figure out what he would do with Jasmin. He named the baby according to his wife's wishes.

He sighed. He guessed his only option would be to take Jasmin to work with him. A newborn at work—people would love that, but there wasn't anything else that he could do, so people would just have to deal with it.

If only this compound was more family-oriented, but it wasn't, he knew. It was made for research, not comfort and if someone had a family that wanted to come along, so be it.

General Fury considered his options. A super-soldier operation had just been discovered in Madripoor and while the island nation wasn't outside his jurisdiction, he didn't want to send in S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to do the dirty work. He didn't have the manpower to spare.

He chuckled secretively to himself. S.H.I.E.L.D. may not have the manpower to spare, but he knew someone who hated these operations who wouldn't' mind taking one out and he was more than capable.

Nick Fury tuned to a man working on a computer. "Private! What was the last known location of Wolverine?"

The man immediately stopped what he was doing and brought up on the screen an address and phone number.

Nick glanced at it. "How recent is this information?"

"Two hours, sir!" was the private's reply.

"Get him on the phone—secure line in my office."

"Yes, sir," was the last thing Nick heard before leaving the room and the phone was ringing when he stepped through the door of his office.

Logan had just returned to his hotel after wandering the streets of Tokyo and trying to figure out why they looked familiar when the telephone rang.

"What the hell?" he growled at the phone, before stalking over to it and picking it up. "This better be good," he snarled at the person on the other end.

"Wolverine," was the grim reply. "Glad you're there."

Logan immediately recognized the voice. "Nick. One—it's Logan. Two—I thought I told you that if I ever heard from you again I'd take back the gift I gave you in Kuwait and gut you now like I should have then."

"Cool it, Logan." Logan could detect the pleasure in the general's voice. "I only called to give you some information that might be of interest to you."

Now that caught Logan's attention. He had always known Nick was a good man. He wasn't afraid of anything, not even a horrific death, but he also facilitated Logan's rehabilitation. That's why he had made the decision to spare Nick when he killed the other soldiers mercilessly in Kuwait. "What information and why aren't your people taking care of it? Unless…"

"No, it's not a clue to your past or anything like that. Just good ol'-fashioned fun that we don't have the resources to handle currently. We've discovered a new super-soldier program in a small island in the Pacific. Ever heard of Madripoor?"

Nick Fury was in an uncharacteristically good mood. For once things were actually going as planned. He stepped out of his office and headed out to the bridge of the S.H.I.E.L.D. helli-carrier and was jumped on by a very familiar form.

"John," Nick said, only semi-seriously, "I thought we discussed keeping this monster off the bridge. The courses are one thing, but people are trying to work."

"Aw, Uncle Nick, you know you love me," Larla-Rose said. "And I'm not causin' any trouble!"

Both John and Nick laughed at the five-year-old. John took his daughter off of the general. "Larla, you don't have to cause trouble—you are trouble." Then he turned to his friend. "So Nick, did you make any progress on that project?"

Nick smirked. "I put an old friend on the trail."

John laughed. "I do believe that was almost a smile! Now, would I know this friend?" John frowned as his friend's expression turned introspective and mysterious.

"I hope not." There was a moments silence and then Nick added, "Up for some friendly competition? Ever since I got that promotion—"

"Well-deserved if I may say so," John interrupted.

"Okay. Well-deserved promotion, I haven't kept in the best of shape. Maybe you might have a chance on the courses now."

Larla-Rose perked up in her father's arms. "Can I come too?" she asked hopefully.

Nick groaned with mock-frustration, not that man people could tell, unless they knew him. "John, now neither of us have a chance—Larla beats us every time."

John ruffled his daughter's hair. "I know, but maybe this time we'll beat her?"

Logan took the first flight he could from Japan to Madripoor. Fury knew his weak spot. If there was any chance that he could shut down one of these damn programs, he would, and it wouldn't mater who got in the way.
"Why won't she stop crying?" Chekov asked aloud.

Several co-workers chuckled and went about their business. Amber, one of the more sympathetic female workers, took pity on him.

"Ya know," she told Chekov, "maybe if you would actually pay attention to her…pick her up, interact with her…she might not cry so much. Just a suggestion."

This was the first day that Chekov had to deal with Jasmin. He was told to pick up the child after work the day before. He had been up all night and was beginning to lose his patience. He couldn't stand this for one nigh, let alone for the next three years. Then to deal with this at work? The more he thought about it, the more tired and discouraged he got and the more she seemed to cry.

Chekov glanced at the formula he was working on. He was developing a compound that would accelerate aging in clones, but maybe, just maybe… would it wok on Jasmin? He hadn't thought about it for use on humans, but it would have to be safe for them. After all, clones were all essentially a copy of a human being, so it should be safe to use on his own child. It would make Chekov's life easier. Jasmin would, hopefully, age at twice the normal rate until she reached puberty. Only half the time spent with this obnoxious baby was better than all the time.

He went back to his testing station and slipped a sample and a syringe into his pocket and went back to where he had put Jasmin that morning. She was on a steel table near the wall out of the way and thankfully where he could easily block what he was doing from view with his body.

He eased the formula and syringe out of his pocket. He had seen enough shots done, he figured he could manage. He drew up the formula and turned it needle end up to push any air out. He tapped it once and injected some into the air. He didn't think that it needed to be placed into a vein, or hoped it didn't. It hadn't been tested on a human being before, so nothing was sure. He then jabbed the needle into Jasmin's arm.

Jasmin screamed. Amber rushed over an gasped.

"Chekov!" she squealed. "What—" and that was the last thing either of them heard as the explosion drowned everything else out.

This was practically the last part of the compound Logan had to visit and he wanted to make sure he destroyed everything. He didn't want anything to survive. He threw the grenade in the door and waited for a few seconds before entering and making sure all the people were killed. He searched the entire room, but when he reached the back corner of the room and picked up the overturned table, he didn't believe what he saw.

"Oh shit."

Please reveiw. Any comments welcome.