Overhead, a series of metal pipes twisted and formed a kind of cage around Scott's bed. He looked up at the construct with a mix of anger, determination, and sheer exhaustion. The sting of sweat burned his eyes and his tongue, and his chest heaved up and down as he struggled for his next breath. Still, the voice inside told him that now wasn't the time to quit. This was the time to fight like he'd never fought before. With a snarl, he lifted his quaking arms to the bar suspended above his chest. Tightening the muscles in his back and legs, he took a deep breath and slowly released it as he began pulling himself up to the bar.

He'd lost count much earlier in the day. It wasn't anything but stubbornness that kept him exercising mercilessly. He'd asked for the equipment to be installed on his bed. The doctors had agreed, seemingly happy at first that he'd taken such an interest in his therapy. The threats to remove them had come almost constantly since. The doctors claimed he was going to hurt himself. Scott had insisted the equipment stay. He didn't mention it, but he knew what he was doing. This wasn't the first time he'd built himself up from a bony nothing.

The longer he was in this "hospital," the longer his friends and teammates worried about him. Or maybe they'd been captured, too. What if they were suffering? It seemed his captors were in no hurry to move him. Scott was determined to take advantage of the time he had to become as strong as possible. Whatever lay ahead, he would be ready for it.

His whole body shook violently as he lowered himself. He held himself just a couple of inches from the mattress and then, just as he started pulling himself up again, the door to his room came open. Scott didn't even turn his head to see who it was. He knew what time it was.

"You're going to hurt yourself," a young woman's voice said. "If you don't take it easy, I'm going to have to tell the doctor."

"He knows," Scott said. He grunted as he slowly lowered himself back to the mattress. He tried his best to hidehis relief when he relaxed into the mattress of his bed. He cleared his throat, hiding a cough, and struggled to control his lungs, which were burning for air. "Good afternoon, Michelle. Did anyone ever tell you you're very punctual?"

He turned his head and the familiar face of his physical therapy nurse stared back with feigned disapproval and a definite hint of amusement on her well-tanned face. There was no denying that she was cute, but just looking at her made Scott Summers feel so old he could puke. He always thought she might as well wear her blond hair in pig tails, instead of the long pony-tail she seemed to prefer.

"Once or twice," she replied, her good-natured smile finally breaking through. It was safe to say that Scott didn't dread her visits nearly as much as he pretended to, and he imagined that neither did any of the other men in the hospital.

"What can I say?" Michelle continued. "I just can't wait for our visits."

"I wish I could say the same," Scott said.

"You know, this would all be much easier if you didn't insist on punishing yourself."

"The sooner I'm out of here, the better," he replied, quite truthfully.

"I can understand that," Michelle said as she began massaging his calves and twisting and turning his feet and ankles in painful directions.

Scott's face darkened with embarrassment. He hated being so helpless. He hated this hospital. And more than anything at the moment, he hated hospital gowns. Footsteps at the open doorway turned into his room, and Scott turned his head to see Julia walking towards him.

She smiled and said, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Drat," Michelle said, "she caught us."

Scott fought the urge to roll his eyes at the now tired joke, and instead did his best to greet his "wife" with a smile. It wasn't too difficult. Her visits, too, were becoming highlights of his day. Of course, there wasn't much competition. The days were incredibly boring and, sometimes, torturous. The key, Scott knew, was to keep his attention focused. He was getting stronger every day. It won't be long... he thought.

"Honey, you look awful," Julia said. "I'll never understand why you do this to yourself. You need to take it easy, or you're never going to get well."

"I'm just trying to get my physique back," Scott said. "I'm tired of looking like a skeleton.

Julia laughed. "Well, you didn't have much of a physique to lose, hotshot."

Scott shot her a confused look, but didn't say anything further.

"How are you, Michelle?" she asked.

"Just great, Mrs. Summers. How are you? and little Rachel?"

Scott dropped his head back onto the pillow and did his best to remove himself from the humiliating experience. As Michelle moved through the various exercises she deemed necessary, Scott listened to the two women chatter about the daughter he didn't know and her funny way of saying "physical therapy." They laughed and carried on, and Scott suffered through the pain.

When it was all over, Michelle stood up and sighed, slightly out of breath. "Well, Mr. Summers, you survived another visit."

Scott lowered his legs and winced as his joints and muscles complained. "Thank you, Michelle," he said, trying to sound grateful. She approached the side of his bed and patted him on the shoulder.

"You're a real trooper, Mr. Summers. I admire your tenacity. I don't think I've ever met a man more determined…" she looked at Julia and smiled. "…Or more stubborn."

They laughed and Michelle gave Scott's shoulder one last pat. "Take it easy," she said. "See you later, Mrs. Summers."

Julia turned and watched Michelle exit. "It was good seeing you again, sweetie. Take care." As Michelle was just about to leave, Julia called out, "Thank you!" She turned back to Scott and said, now frowning, "Well, you weren't very friendly."

"Sorry," Scott said. "I guess I just had my mind on other things."

There was a pause. Scott looked over at Julia and he could tell she was debating something. "I'm not supposed to tell you this," she said, "but I think it might cheer you up."

His interest piqued, Scott scooted up a little in the bed. "Yes?" he said, hoping he didn't sound too eager.

"The doctor said that, if your vitals stay strong and you're walking on your own soon," she paused. "You might be able to go home as soon as next week."

An unbelievable feeling of relief flooded over Scott. He sank back into the bed, and shook his head. If this was true, then perhaps his hard work had paid off after all, but he would need to work even harder than he had been, to be ready in time. Obviously, these people, whoever they were, weren't just going to just let him go. Though he couldn't remember how, he was sure they went through a lot of trouble to capture him and find a way to neutralize his power.

Now, as his health improved, they were forced to come up with a new story or move him somewhere else, to remove suspicion at the hospital?

As the idea struck him, he turned his head sharply to face Julia. He suddenly realized that he no longer suspected the hospital staff. He'd been around long enough to see that, either this was the most elaborate hoax he'd ever seen or heard of, or this was a real hospital. That meant that the hospital staff had to be real. At least most of them. The only person who claimed to know Scott before his coma was the person he would be released to, the person who now stared at him with confused eyes.

"Aren't you excited?" Julia asked.

Scott smiled his most charming smile, though his emotions were churning inside him like a waterfall. "I can't wait," he said. Julia smiled and leaned over to give Scott a massive hug. Scott was glad. With her face buried on his shoulder, she couldn't see the all-too-serious expression on his face.