"He's waking up. Hurry up, you idiots. Get it onto him."

Jesse knew that voice, had heard it somewhere recently. Not overly familiar, no; not Brennan and, considering that the voice was male, not Shalimar or Lexa. He also thought he remembered Brennan not being here in this tiny cage, and winced as he did remember getting an electric shock from the cage worthy of the elemental. While he was still contemplating that thought, rough hands seized him and wrapped something around his temples, snugging it tight. There was a little burn made worse by his slow return to consciousness, and he yelped involuntarily.

"Ah, Mr. Kilmartin. You can open your eyes now."

Rather not. But Jesse indeed levered open his eyes and found himself peering blearily at Dr. Abner Windom.

"How do you feel?" The words were devoid of inflection, bereft of anything approaching concern. Abner Windom was merely collecting data.

"What are you doing?" Jesse croaked, his own voice far from normal. Feet. Up on my feet. He struggled to stand up. Large hands helped to hoist and hold him there.

"Mind intact, gross motor appropriate for this level of consciousness," Windom muttered to himself, making notes on a pad. He looked up. "Try to phase."

"Go to hell."

"I can't test the effectiveness of the inhibitor if you don't try to use your gift," Windom explained with little patience.

Jesse had equally little patience. "Why don't you tell me what's going on, and then maybe I'll consider your request."

Dr. Windom's face cleared. "Ah. You are still under the misapprehension that you have options. Disabuse yourself of that notion immediately, Mr. Kilmartin, and things will go more easily for both of us."

Jesse came up with the most brilliant of responses that he could under the circumstances. "Huh?"

Windom sighed. His pupil was flunking this exam, and it would have dire consequences. "A demonstration, then." He fiddled with the PDA-looking device attached to his clipboard.

Jesse immediately really wished that Windom hadn't. The strap around his forehead tightened, but that was the least of his problems.

Burning. Tendrils of agony snaking into his neurons, raking each one against the other.

Echoes of his scream died away into the silence. Through watering eyes Jesse noted that all four of Windom's henchmen seemed shocked at the intensity of fiendish device's work. One looked ready to throw up. That's okay, buddy. Me, too.

Windom made a note on his PDA. "Inhibitor, highly effective. Hm. I'll have to look into tying it into the fence. Maybe I can develop it as a broad band defense." He made another note to himself, then looked up at his victim. "Thank you. I haven't had the opportunity to test this device in a real situation. I can move forward with it now."

"You're welcome." Jesse felt far from pleased. The strap felt extraordinarily heavy across his brow.'Wrung out' is more like it. "You can take it off now. I won't mind."

"Don't be silly. Remove his clothing," Windom instructed his henchmen. "We'll need the clothing intact later on when we dump the body, and he's likely to ruin them during the procedure. You, go fetch Dr. Sutter."

"What are you going to do to me?"

But Windom ignored him, instead directing the men to place Jesse into one of the restraining devices that he'd shuddered over earlier. It was one of the chair contraptions, one that clamped onto his arms and legs yet left his now bare back open to inspection. The air felt cold in this clinic, but the shivers that ran up and down Jesse's spine had little to do with temperature. He struggled against the men, but it was no use. They buckled him in until he couldn't move. And with Windom's 'inhibitor' in place, phasing was out of the question.

Beatrice Sutter walked into the laboratory and uttered a sound of shock. "Abner! What are you doing? What is Jesse Kilmartin doing here? You told me he was dead!"

"You know very well what I'm doing," Abner Windom returned testily. "I'm preparing to obtain samples."

"But, why the charade? Why tell the others that he was dead—oh." It dawned on her. Beatrice Sutter might be a tad naïve, but she was not stupid.

Windom turned away from her, helping his men to buckle Jesse into the restraints. "I couldn't take the chance that he would refuse. Get your equipment. We'll start as soon as you've scrubbed."

"Abner, this is inhuman! I never agreed to be part of this! Not like this! Release him immediately!"

"This close to my goal? Release him? Bea, you're raving. Get over there and prepare to obtain the sample."

"I won't do it!"

That brought up Abner Windom short. A set look of anger dropped over his face. "You will participate, Bea. You are my employee. You will do as I say."

"You can't make me, Abner. And when I tell Mutant X and my son about this—"

"You won't tell anyone," Windom growled, advancing on the woman. Beatrice Sutter turned to flee, but Windom was too quick. He slammed the door to the clinic shut, trapping her in.

"Let me out, Abner." Sutter stood her ground, her voice low and threatening.

But Windom held more cards to be played. "You have no choice, Bea. You know what I want. It worked for your son; it can work for my wife. But if you don't help, I'll be forced to take the sample myself, which means that I'll have to use methods that will leave permanent damage while inducing the endogenous adrenaline." He softened his tone, going for cajoling. "You have a steadier hand than I do, Bea. Make this easier on him. It's going to happen either way."

"He saved my son!" Sutter was cracking.

"And he'll save my wife." Windom slipped inside her defenses. "You know how Ben feels about Mandi. And how Mandi and Justin feel about their mother. Isn't that worth a little discomfort?"

"We're not talking a little discomfort, Abner!" she snapped back, strengthening her resolve. "This could kill him!"

"Doubtful. Discomfort, yes. But there is only a sixty-seven percent chance that death will occur."

"And a one hundred percent chance of excrutiating agony!"

"All right! Then consider your own position, Dr. Sutter; yours, and that of your son." Windom had had enough. "The Dominion is outside the door, waiting for me to make that one mistake that will allow them access to the research being performed here in this lab. And that means access not only to me and mine, but to you and your precious son. And you're well aware of how 'gentle' they'll be." He laughed bitterly. "One man, against several. Knowing your son, he'll be dead before he lets the Dominion take him and the going will be hard. Make it easy on this one mutant sitting here in front of us, Bea. Not just for his sake, but for everyone's. You know it; I know it. Or do I need to remind you of that little explosive package that I sewed into your son's gut?" He let the words hang in the air. "Push me too hard, Dr. Sutter, and everyone loses. Not just me and mine but you, your son, and all these mutants that you care about so much. This one molecular, against all the rest. And he might not even die. Might not even have permanent damage."

Dr. Sutter drooped her head, beaten. "All right. But—"

"No but's, Bea. Get to work."

Jesse couldn't see what she was doing from his enforced position but he could hear plenty. He tried to crane his head around. "Dr. Sutter? What's going on? What are you going to do?"

Dr. Sutter's voice was filled with pain. "I'm sorry, Jesse. Do you remember when I first approached Adam? When Ben's mind hadn't been fixed?"

"I remember. I also remember several spinal taps. You took specimens, ran them through whatever process it was, and gave them to Ben. He's normal now. How does that work with what's going on today? Is Dr. Windom's wife's mind damaged? You don't have to go through this farce, Dr. Sutter. I volunteered to help Ben. You don't need these restraints." Jesse was having a hard time keeping his calm. Something cold dripped onto his back, and he flinched.

"That just betadine; I'm sterilizing the area for the spinal tap."

"You're not answering my question." Jesse tried to hold still. It was Bea Sutter back there, doing something he couldn't see, not Windom. He could trust her. He had to trust her.

"It's not her mind, Jesse. Little burn."

A needle stick, local anesthetic pushed into reluctant flesh. The promised burn, then a sensation of numbness. Fingers probing around the area, locating anatomical landmarks. "Then what is it? What are you trying to accomplish here, Dr. Sutter?"

Sigh. Feeling of something puncturing the flesh around his spine. Jesse didn't want to think about where that needle was going. Got a bunch of delicate human wiring back there, doc. Please be careful. Dr. Sutter kept working. "Dr. Windom's wife is a mutant, Jesse. A molecular."

"Keep going." I meant the story, not the procedure. Harpoon probing back there, searching for the way in between the vertebrae. "Ow!"

"Sorry," she muttered. "You'll probably feel a little spark of electricity now."

"Ow! Yes, dammit!"

"Just tickling the nerve. Better now?"

"Yes." Jesse breathed a sigh of relief. "So you need a sample of my spinal fluid."

"Yes." Abner Windom moved into view. "You see that tank over there?"

Yes, Jesse had seen the tank, filled with swirling psychedelic mists. "What's inside?"

"My wife. A molecular."

That didn't sound good. There didn't seem to be anything human inside that tank. Not then when he'd looked, and not now.

"Ever wonder what would happen if you phased and didn't come back?" Windom asked.

Came close, once. Rather not try it again.

"It happened to my wife." Windom's tone was eerily conversational. "She became ill, lost control of herself. She phased. It was sheer luck that I was close enough to contain all of her molecules." He indicated the tank. "Those molecules are in that tank. I can hear her calling to me." Windom leaned closer to Jesse's face. "I'm an empath, Mr. Kilmartin. I can hear her. She's there, waiting for me to find a way to restore her." He straightened.

"You could have asked. I helped Ben Sutter. I've helped others."

"I couldn't take the chance that you would refuse. Look into my eyes."

"Why?"

"Despite what Dr. Sutter thinks, I intend to keep you in as pristine condition as possible. That means I want to keep you alive. I will quite likely need several samples, and I can't do that if you expire prematurely."

"And why would I do that? Expire, I mean. Unless, of course, you mean to kill me. What are you not telling me?"

"His adrenaline level should be high enough now, Abner." Dr. Sutter jumped in, almost pleading. "You don't need to do anything else to him. He's already scared. I'm ready to obtain the sample. The spinal catheter is in place."

"His adrenaline level is nowhere near high enough," Windom reproved. "Scared, yes, but look at his heart rate. Barelyover one hundred."

"He's athletic," Dr. Sutter argued desperately. "His heart rate will naturally be lower than average."

Windom wouldn't listen. "I need endogenously produced adrenaline in a spinal fluid base, and I will obtain that when his heart rate is over one hundred and forty. The half-life of that adrenaline is measured in minutes, not hours. You will withdraw the sample when I tell you to, Bea, and you will instill it into the tank immediately. Is that clear?" Without waiting for an answer, he leaned over so that his face was in Jesse's. "I am a projective empath, Mr. Kilmartin. I project feeling. But the only feeling I can project is pain." He licked his lips. "I need your spinal fluid to be filled with adrenaline. Only that can be used to restore my wife to her natural state. Adrenaline is produced when the body is subjected to stress. When I have subjected your body to enough pain and stress, Dr. Sutter will remove the sample. Your suffering will save my wife." He placed his hands onto Jesse's face, and stared into his eyes.

"Begin."