Chapter 4: A Clearing in the Woods

Disclaimer: There once was a girl named Alex. She did not own the X-Men. This made her sad.

"Where is he? I know he's here."

"Storm, it doesn't make sense!"

"Jean, I can feel him. He's—"

"Hey! Ya'll wanna clue me in here?" Rogue looked incredulously at Jean.

"I'm finding him."

"Storm wait!" But it was too late. She had had already taken to the skies. "It has to be a mistake…" Jean looked to a confused Rogue.

"I think I felt Hank."

"You what? Jean, Beast is dead. We all saw him--"

"And now I feel him!"

"You're wrong."

"Get up there. Find her. I'll scan the woods."

Rogue stared at her. "Ya'll are crazy!" She yelled below as she bolted into the air.

"Find anything?"

"I'm workin' on it one-eye."

"Logan, cut it out. We have a job to do here."

"Then let me do that job and quit askin' me if I found anythin'. I'll let ya know!" With a growl, Wolverine ripped the communicator of his wrist and threw it behind him in the sewer.

"Logan? Wolverine!" He rolled his eyes. He's uncontrollable. The Professor, me, the entire Canadian armed forces can't keep him from doing whatever he wants. He reached his hand up to adjust the level on his visor and let out a narrow beam of energy, blasting away debris that blocked his way.

"Storm! Jean, I can't find her."

"Keep looking."

"I've been up here for half an hour!"

"Got her. Go east. She's there."

Rogue immediately veered to the right. In a matter of minutes, she came across another, smaller clearing. Storm sat in the middle, hunched over the body that lay in her lap.

Rogue nearly fell to the ground, stunned. Jean, get over here. Now.

He froze. The sight before him left him stunned, unable even to close his eyes.

"Wolverine!" Cyclops shouted from a nearby tunnel. "Hey!" Rounding the corner, he spotted Wolverine. "We're on a mission here! You can't just—" Speechless.

"Found 'em here a little bit ago."

"Oh God…" Then, "Are they—?"

"Yeah."

The two men stood at the entrance to an expanse in the sewer system. Medical cots were set up in rows like a war-time hospital. On each, lay a body, none of them moving.

Cyclops stepped forward, using his hand to block the stench from his nose. Wolverine followed.

They walked up and down the aisles, stopping at every cot. Mutants. The sound of blood dripping to the floor echoed in Wolverine's ears. "They're all kids."

From across the clearing, Cyclops read off of a clipboard. " 'Subject number 00585. Side effects: Overheating (internal temperature 110 F); blistering; eventually death. Duration of stay: Three years' Wolverine…"

"They been testin' on these kids for years. Xavier said he picked up a mutant, not a hundred dead ones!"

"Wolverine—"

His head suddenly perked. "You hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Footsteps. Marching."

A gun shot bounces off the tunnel walls, quickly followed by a dozen more shots.

"We have to get out of here now! Get back to the Mansion. Talk to the—"

"We ain't leavin' 'em here Cyclops!"

"Wolverine, we'll find out who did this, but they're dead! This is recon. We'll be no good to them if we're put out of commission."

Unable to admit Cyclops was right, Wolverine stayed silent and took off running behind him.

He couldn't move.

He had struggled so hard, traveled so far, to get to there. All he wanted was to reach his hand to her face, to say anything to her. But all he could do was lie there, silent and motionless.

He never should have left. He knew that. He didn't even know where he was anymore.

But it didn't matter. He was home now. He was in her arms.

She held him on her lap, rested her head on his chest, listened to his heart.

It was beating. It was real.

She lifted her head to look into his face. His eyes seemed distance, absent, yet they looked directly into hers.

She stroked his cheek. What was once soft was now coarse and matted. Blood and dirt clung to his fur.

He was beautiful. He was alive.

Right? She had seen him die. He'd been dead for five years—

"Storm?"

"It's him, Rogue. Isn't it? He's here, in my lap?"

Rogue gently wrapped her arm around Storm. "Yeah, sugah. It's him."

Crouching in front of the trio, Jean looked intently at Beast. Closing her eyes, images of the past five years flooded her mind – needles, doctors, blood, suffering, death.

The surge of memories knocked her to the ground as her eyes bolted open. "Let's get him back to the mansion."