(Four)

Kimble dismissed the activity outside of the cage, he simply didn't have time for it. He reached behind him and yanked the blankets off the cage room bed. He pulled them over Fallen and wrapped her up, tucking them under her with swift and practiced hands. She had begun to tremble from shock and moan with pain. Kimble asked for a full bio-scan with enhanced shots of the Neural Ristle trauma while he worked. Seth did as he was told and the data scrolled up on the screen. Pictures flashed rapidly, too quickly for a human mind to follow, but Kimble saw it just fine if he sat still and concentrated. A final picture settled on the screen.

"Neural Ristle trauma. Left quadrant damage critical. Ristle production disabled," Lucky announced, speaking Fallen's doom without passion. He was, after all, just a machine.

Maylee was still standing in the isle. She turned to the screen and groaned. "This is bad!" She started to shake, Fallen was like a mother to her. She couldn't bear the thought of her pain.

Undone, Seth broke down completely. He pulled his legs up and hunched over in his chair.

"Aw, Fallen! What didja do?" Kimble wailed, shaken. "Stupid–stupid, bitch!" He was instantly furious, growling. He grabbed a handful of bottles from the med-kit and in his wrath, threw them against the wall. They shattered explosively, filling the air with a medicinal smell. What were they going to do now, he wondered. What a stupid fucking waste!

"Hey! Take it easy in there!" Wolverine snapped, uncomprehending the seriousness of the situation. He staggered drunkenly to the edge of the cage, still in pain from Valentin's abuse. "She's still breathin'! How bad can it be?" All this drama was wearing on him.

"Let me in, Kimble," Maylee pleaded. "Let me finish this. Don't let her suffer."

Wolverine looked at her in surprise. "What are ya talkin' about?"

Kimble tried to control himself. He had to slow down and think, he could figure this out if he could relax and concentrate. Deep breaths, he told himself. That was all he needed. She's breathin'. She's still alive. Okay. Wait. Wait just a minute. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, concentrating. A moment later, he knew what he needed. He called out to his brother but when he got no answer, Kimble looked up and saw his twin had broken down. "Seth! Damnit! Seth!"

Seth looked up slowly, but said nothing. His eyes were filled with sorrow and defeat.

"Gimmie the file on the Red Sky," Kimble demanded, his voice level and calm now that he had his solution. He was sympathetic to Seth's situation more than his brother could know, but he had to tend to his Mistress first.

"Wh-why?" Seth asked wiping his eyes and shivering.

"Just send it fer me, okay?"

Seth did as he was told and Kimble scanned the file as quickly as it was sent. He smiled wearily and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand as he saw what he was looking for. There. There it was. Fallen would be angry but she'd understand. She'd left him no choice, really. He got to his feet and hopped out of the cage room window in a perfect imitation of Fallen's bird like grace. The trapdoor to the lower level was still open and he went down quickly without looking back.

Maylee tried to follow, but she was blocked as another security force field lit up on the floor.

"Security grid 12 activated," Lucky chirped.

Maylee was furious, Kimble was trapping them at will, using mental commands to activate security grids that had been implanted into the floor. He clearly didn't want anyone to interfere with what he was doing. "Kimble!" she shouted, uselessly beating her hands against the invisible barrier.

He didn't answer her but returned quickly with a small white box in his hand. It had a Chinese style Dognan character on it.

Maylee recognized it immediately. "Oh, don't you even think about it! Where did you get that!"

Alarmed by Maylee's reaction, Seth demanded from the screen. "What are you doing, Kimble? What is that?"

Kimble ignored everyone and hopped back into the cage. He sat next to Fallen and grabbed another syringe, unconsciously rubbing his wings together nervously, the tension and strain of all of this was starting to wear on him. He took a deep breath and tried to stay calm and relaxed. He had to do this. He had to do this for her. He opened the box he'd brought up from below and removed out a slim white bottle. He ripped open the paper on another syringe with his teeth before closing his eyes to concentrate.

"Substance Code: White Lightning. Neural Ristle Process Stimulant," Lucky recited, prompted by Kimble's mental question about the dosage. "Fallen. Body mass 92 pounds. Minimum dosage 5cc every seven hours."

Kimble loaded the syringe, the liquid from the bottle was clear and harmless looking.

Maylee knew otherwise. "Don't do it, Kimble. Please!"

"Gots no choice. She ain't wakin' up without it. She don't wake, we die," he responded firmly, finally acknowledging her.

Gambit and Wolverine looked at each other in alarm. This was news to them.

Maylee continued to plead. "Don't! If you care anything about her, let her go."

Kimble paused and gave her a long hard look, his anguish obvious. She couldn't possibly comprehend what Fallen meant to him so he said nothing and tore his eyes away. He traced Fallen's arm again carefully and found the vein.

"Warning," Lucky continued. "Illegal substance. Use of this product may cause seizure, violent behavior, psychosis, hallucinations, and dependence. Body mass less than optimum. Increased risk of stroke, heart failure, and hemorrhage."

"Sweet jeezus!" Wolverine muttered under his breath.

Henry stepped up to the cage for the first time. "Maybe we should discuss this."

"T'ain't nuthin' ta discuss," Kimble replied without looking up. He was firm in his conviction that this was their only option for survival and they were in no position to stop him. He inserted the needle and pulled back on the plunger. A small trace of blood swirled and danced with the poison inside. He closed his eyes, hesitating.

"Kimble, please!" Seth said quietly.

"Ya knows I gots ta do it. Jus' tell her - jus' tells her it wuz my idea, none of yous had anathin' ta do with it."

"Don't!" Maylee sobbed. She bowed her head against the cage, defeated.

Kimble opened his eyes to look at Fallen's troubled face. He could see and feel her pain. How many nights did he silently watch over her like this, just to see her sleeping calm white face? Too many to count. Lord knew, he loved her. It was like a white hot pleasure blasting through his very soul. It was killing him to watch her suffer, but he wasn't going to give her up without a fight. She was his responsibility and it was up to him to take care of her the best he could. Nothing would ever tear him away from his duty.

"Fergives me," he whispered and injected.

Maylee shoved away from the cage, upset. "You asshole! I hate you!"

Kimble pulled the needle out and tossed it, the deed done. He cursed his Mistress for forcing him to decide this and he crouched next to her, his head down. Seth hunched over again, exhausted.

A window popped up on the screen labeled "Ristle Production Level". It was scrolling a flat line.

Fallen shuddered and calmed noticeably, the Lightning was doing its work.

Kimble sat still for what seemed to him to be a long time. He needed to move now, or he'd go crazy. He rose stiffly and started picking up the glass from his earlier little tantrum. There was a lot of it and he couldn't fit it all in his hands so he walked into the lav and returned with the bucket. He put the glass inside the pail, focusing on the task and not on the racing emotions inside of him. He was excited and frightened, thrilled to be out again and yet terrified of being so exposed. He refused to look at the others or at the window on the screen, not wanting to jinx this. He walked back to the lav and dumped the glass in a garbage bin, grabbing a towel to mop up the cage floor.

He paused when he saw the jar of cigarettes on the bathroom vanity and took one impulsively. He lit it using Fallen's snap trick, discovering that he stored enough of the Ristle he'd absorbed to do this. He inhaled and felt the smoke flow inside of him. Strange how he could taste it now, feel the chemicals pass into his system, soothing his jangled nerves. When he smoked as a program it meant nothing; it was just a series of actions that calmed him because that's what the data instructed. Smoking now relaxed him in a more tangible way, serving him chemicals that actually affected his physical body.

He caught his reflection in the mirror and stopped, his curiosity getting the better of him. There were no mirrors in the shop and so he'd never actually seen himself in this skin. He'd had many different forms over the years, it often changed with each new user. Now a stranger peered back at him. He ran his fingertips along the Honor Sword mark. Different how he could feel the touch both on his skin and his fingertips. He had forgotten how nice this was. It had been a long time since the hologram had been fully restored. He could sense memories of another time, of pleasures just waiting to be felt again. It was just as well that Fallen had never indulged him sexually, he thought to himself. It would have been a waste compared to what he was capable of feeling now. Any desire to return to the main system he may have had evaporated instantly.

Looking at himself, Kimble remembered how proud Fallen had been when she'd received the Honor Sword Mark. Proud enough to give to both of the twins as well. They'd earned it together, she'd said. He liked the look of it on his skin, the bright colors pleased him. He had always liked colorful things, especially glass because of the prism effects from the surrounding light.

He inhaled from his cigarette again and watched the red tip of it glow as it burned. Smoke drifted lazily from his parted lips. His eyes followed it in the mirror, fascinated. A small fan came on overhead, activated by the smoke. He felt the slight breeze tickle the hair on his arms. He shivered and felt gooseflesh rise, snickering with amusement. He was whole again.

In the next room, Wolverine was growing impatient, no surprise with his ill tempered history. Kimble had gone into the lav and not come out. It was too quiet. Logan was none too pleased to be trapped in one place like this. Why would Kimble isolate them if he wasn't up to something? "What's he doin' in there?"

"I'm sure he's fine," Henry replied.

" 'Ey, mes amis," Gambit interrupted, pointing to the screen. "What's dat?"