Disclaimer: Blah blah i don't own the X-Men...blah blah 20th Century Fox and Marvel do...blah blahnot getting anything out of this except fun...blah blah just using them (especially Logan) to get my jollies...:)

Chapter 3.

(Angela)

Can't breathe, can't see, can't scream. Feel the heat as they pump that shit into you; feel it burning til you wish you would die. You know it'll heal, way faster than a normal person. But you're not normal, you're a mutant, lower than an insect to them and they'll test you to destruction if they want to. If they can destroy you. They've tried, gods above how they've tried, but you always come back. You die and you always come back, your "nine lives" at work even though it's happened more than that. It doesn't help that you have retractable claws on your hands and feet, that you can hear the tiniest sound, that you're so agile you always land on your feet. Ah, there it is, sweet release. Your heart couldn't take it, again; it's finally given out. They've killed you, again. Maybe this time you can stay that way and you won't have to do this anymore.

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Logan stared in shock at the tag in my hand, before reaching out and taking it gently from me. He stroked it with his thumb, the look on his face not quite believing that it was real. I took the other items and held them in my lap, waiting for him. This is all I have left from that time, the only things I couldn't part with. I cleared my throat and he looked back to me, dropping the tag back in the box.

"How…what…who the hell are you!" he said forcefully, his anger kicking up another notch.

"I already told you, I'm Angela Rex, code name 'Hellcat'." I replied. "I was there longer than you. But I was a lot more cooperative than you were."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means they didn't have to work as hard to keep me in line." I took a long drink. "Let's just say that they had some…leverage they could use against me. I came along quietly when they picked me up. You were shot to hell when they brought you in."

"What do you mean, shot to hell?" He replied skeptically.

"Oh yeah. You had enough lead in you to drop a rhino and you were still fighting tooth and nail. They had to shoot you with enough tranquilizers to drop that same rhino just to get you into a holding cell."

"So I wasn't a volunteer?"

"Oh, I'm sure they'd like it much better if that were true and they did their best to make us believe that. But it's just as much a lie now as it was seventeen years ago."

"But Stryker told me…"

I cut him off. "Stryker! What the hell do you have to do with that fucking maniac?" I roared, my instincts starting to flare up.

"Nothing!" He yelled. "He attacked some friends of mine. Those of us that were left went to rescue them and he was there." He clenched his hands and you could almost see the tips of his claws itching to get out. "He's dead now."

I couldn't help but smile. "Good." I lit a cigarette and sat back. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer person, really." I took a deep drag on the cigarette and let it out, blowing a couple smoke rings. "So what did he tell you?"

"He told me I volunteered for the procedure. That I don't want to know about my past or the kind of person I was. That I was an animal and he just gave me claws."

"Yeah right." I snorted. "He would've taken credit for inventing the wheel if he thought he could get away with it."

"What?" He said, looking at me sharply. "What are you sayin'?"

Damn, he really didn't remember shit, did he? I leaned forward and put my hand over his knuckles. "Logan, you always had the claws. He just made them deadlier."

He snatched his hand away from me and stood up, prowling back and forth in confusion. "That's just fuckin' great." He growled. "I'm even less human than I thought."

"Yeah well, you're not the only one, sweetie." I stubbed my cigarette out viciously. "People like us were his favorites."

He stopped pacing andand whipped his head around. "What are you talkin' about?"

"Me." I said simply.

"You? You're like me?" He slowly sank back to the sofa, still staring at me.

"Well, not exactly. I have a healing factor, but nothing like yours. If I get a little cut, it takes about ten minutes to heal. Deeper wounds take longer." I leaned back into the sofa and put my feet on the edge of the coffee table, resting my hands on my knees. "But I got my code name because of these." Two-inch claws slid out from underneath my normal finger and toenails. They curved under and came to wicked points just like a cat. His eyes widened and I put them away. "I have fast reflexes and agility, so I always land on my feet, so to speak. I also have another ability. I call it my nine lives, although it's been more than that."

"Nine lives?"

"Yeah, you know. 'Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back'? Cats have nine lives?" He still looked confused. "If you kill me, I come back."

"What, you immortal or somethin'?"

"No, I'm sure I can be killed permanently if you remove something important, like my heart or my brain. But if I take a fatal wound, I die, totally flat line on the heart monitor, EEG and zero respiration. Then, 24 hours later, I wake up again as good as new." I grabbed my beer and took a long drink. "I've been killed in just about every way you can imagine, from gunshots to drowning and I always come back."

"How do you know it's not just your healin' factor kickin' you into some kinda coma? Hell, it even happens to me if I get hurt enough."

"Because I flat line. And I can tell when I'm dead. I know it sounds weird, but it's true. I just know that I'm not alive anymore, I'm just waiting to come back." I shook my head. "It's hard to explain. Just…trust me, ok?"

"If you always come back, how long have you been around?"

I laughed bitterly. "Too fucking long, that's for damn sure." I finished my beer and fished out another one. "But we're supposed to be talking about you, remember?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I know. But I'm startin' to think maybe I was better off, not knowin'."

"All knowledge is worth having." I said with a smile. "I read that in a book somewhere."

"Fine." He replied and lit up a cigar. I pushed the ashtray towards him. "So were we the only ones like us? And why was he so interested in us?"

"I think he brought in one or two more just before we got away. I overheard them talking about new subjects, anyway. But he was interested in us because we would be able to survive his procedure."

"You mean the adamantium?" I nodded. "But your claws looked like regular claws."

"They are. But he couldn't dothe adamantium on minebecause they're just like cat claws. They keep growing and sometimes they even fall out." I shuddered. "Hurts like a bitch. But had he covered them, they would have tried to keep growing underneath the metal and eventually would have crippled me or fallen out."

"So what was he hopin' to do with us once he was done?"

"Truth?" He nodded. "Stryker was the very definition of mad scientist. Unfortunately, he had multi-government funding so he could afford to be madder than most." I turned in my seat to face him. "But we weren't just test subjects to him, we were more. He was using us to make living weapons."

"He was torturin' people to make weapons out of 'em?"

"Yeah, the ultimate weapon, someone who couldn't be stopped, couldn't be killed and wouldn't leave any witnesses behind. Someone who could get past any defense, any opposition and achieve any goal. Someone they could break completely, who would kill without remorse. The perfect killer." I shuddered with barely controlled rage. "They thought they had it with me, til you came along."

"And you were cooperatin' with them?" He roared, jumping to his feet. His shoulders were hunched forward and I could see that was barely controlling his rage.

Ijumped to my feet. "NO!" I shouted in his face, a neat trick since he was over a foot taller than me. I took a deep breath and lowered my voice. "No, I didn't. He'd tried recruiting me about a year earlier, but I turned him down, said the military life wasn't my style and I was close to getting my degree. Besides, I had a family, a daughter, to think about. I couldn't just take off. But his sell was pretty convincing, that he wanted to create a special unit of mutants that would protect people from threats that even normal Special Forces couldn't handle." I sat back down, covering my face with my hands. Logan calmed enough to sit as well. "A year later, I got a call from my daughter's school. Someone had picked her up claiming to be a neighbor that I sent because I had to work late. I was frantic, I would never have let anyone else pick her up, come hell or high water. I was grabbing my jacket and my keys when the phone rang. The caller said he had Emma and that if I got the police involved it would take years to find all of her parts. I didn't know what else to do, so I asked what he wanted. He told me to meet him in two hours at the Bruce Peninsula National Park. I agreed and then rushed there as fast as I could. But they must have known I would try something, because they were there ahead of me. A man I only ever knew as Pierson showed me a Polaroid of Emma tied up with a gun to her head and a letter from Stryker. The letter basically said that they'd let her go, see that she was taken care of properly, but I had to join their program or they'd kill her. Hence the whole 'more or less' distinction. A lot less than more, but voluntarily in a twisted way." Angry tears formed in my eyes when I thought of that day, spilling hot down my cheeks. I looked up at Logan again, hoping he would understand. "What else could I do, Logan? What would you have done?"

The look on Logan's face was nothing short of complete loathing. I could tell it wasn't loathing for what I'd done, but for the men who had done it to us. "I don't know, darlin', I really don't. Probably the exact same thing." He sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes.

I grabbed my beer, but just rolled the bottle in my hands before I continued. "That was so long ago, it hardly seems real anymore. But it almost doesn't hurt to think about it these days." I sighed bitterly. "Ya know anyone who says time heals all wounds hasn't lived as long as we have. If everyone could have more than eighty years, they'd know."

"What do you mean? How old am I?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure. You didn't like to talk about your past, even after…everything we did. But I did get a couple stories out of you about World War I."

Logan was still fairly dumbstruck, not sure how to process all of this information. "So how come you can remember everythin' and I can't?"

"I told you, I was there a lot longer than you. I was also more or less complacent. You…I remember they day they brought you in. They'd pumped you with so many tranqs it would have killed a normal man, but you were still moving and you were still shot up pretty bad. I knowhe had some telepaths that worked with him, usually during his 'procedures'. There was talk of some kind of chip that would cause memory loss. And they used lots of different drugs that affect memory." I shrugged. "I really don't know, maybe they used a combination of all three on you."

"So why don't I remember now?"

"No idea. Maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you that it's better if you don't."

"No, I don't believe that."

I shrugged again. "Believe whatever makes you feel better. I've told you what I can about the why part."

We sat there in silence for a while as he took it all in. He sat there with his eyes closed, his brow furrowed in frustration. I was starting to feel really bad because I didn't have very much to offer him that was pleasant. Oh, a few months here and there, but nothing like the answers I knew he was looking for. He scrubbed his face, then opened his eyes and looked at me again. "So, if you didn't really associate with anyone, how come you know so much about me?"

"We were partners. Stryker paired us up to do his dirty work for him." I replied, once again very bitter. "Infiltration, spying, stuff like that."

"And by 'stuff like that' I'm guessin' you mean killin' people?"

"Well, he didn't give you metal claws so you'd never be without a steak knife." I said dryly.

Logan gave a bitter laugh and stubbed out his cigar. "You're pretty cavalier about this whole thing."

"What do you want from me? It was a long time ago. That's not who or what I am anymore." I lit another cigarette and inhaled deeply. "It's not who you are, either."

"Yeah well, I don't know who the fuck I was before all this, so I'm still no better off." He leaned back, resting his head on the back of the sofa. "I'm just so damn tired of it all." I nodded in agreement. We sat there in silence again for a moment before he continued. "So, partners huh?"

"Yeah. I'd done a few solo missions for them before you came along. Once they had you sufficiently cooperative, they started training you. After a few weeks, they put us together for sparring and when Stryker saw how well we worked together, he made us a team."

"They had you spar against me? I guess you do have nine lives."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. I could take you down right now. I know all your weaknesses."

"Oh really?" He said, raising his eyebrow. "Name one."

"You're ticklish."

"Oh. Yeah, you got me there." He replied with a frown. "So what made him decide to make us a team?"

"For one, you had the brute strength that I was always lacking. But I have more agility than you do. That first sparring session was intense. There we were, the big bad Wolverine against little tiny Hellcat. You were getting so frustrated that you couldn't land anything on me that you finally popped out those claws of yours and started going for broke. I just smiled, slid all of mine out and waited for you to charge. As soon as you did, I just jumped on your back and raked the living hell out of you." I leaned over and put out my cigarette. "That's another reason behind my code name, you know. Stryker said I fought like a hellcat. I guess it's better than 'Fluffy'."

Logan laughed in earnest at that one. "Oh yeah, I can see it now. 'Do what we want or we'll send Fluffy in to finish the job!' Yeah, real scary name there."

I smiled back. "Hey, it works for that big three-headed dog in 'Harry Potter', so why not me?" I finished my beer and grabbed another, just starting to feel pleasantly buzzed.

"Can't stay serious for long, can you?" Logan asked, quirking his eyebrow at me. "But you still haven't answered all of my questions and half the shit you've told me just brings up more."

"Ask away, I'm not going anywhere."

He took a drink. "Why did he think we were so special? I mean, besides the healin' factor or whatever. Or was it all kinds of mutants?"

"No, not even close. Mutants he could get anywhere. He used to bring in others just to test to destruction. No, the ones he wanted the most are what he called 'feral' mutants. People with animal-like mutations, figuring they'd be easier to turn into killers, people with an already predatory instinct hardwired into them" I curled my feet under me, shifting position so I was a little further away from him. "Anyway, since I was so quiet, they figured I could do more than just kill, I could sneak in anywhere and plant bombs, steal stuff. They taught me how to circumvent just about any security system. And yes, they taught me how to kill."

He turned away from me with a growl. 'So that's what he meant when he called me an animal' He muttered under his breath, then turned back to me. "So what about me? How did he know about me?"

"That's the part I'm not sure about. See, I might have been his Golden Goose for a while, but one day he made finding you his ultimate goal. And you were wild after the tranqs wore off. I don't know what happened to you, but you were beyond feral, you were insane."

"Insane? That's comfortin'."

"Hey you're the one that wanted truth. If you don't like it, leave." I looked him in the eyes, secretly hoping he wouldn't leave. His brow furrowed at that point, almost like he was on the verge of remembering something else, something new. I all but held my breath, not wanting to break the spell. Whatever it was must have eluded him, because he shook his head and drank some more beer. "So did I ever tell you what happened before they got me?"

"No. Like I said, you didn't like to talk about your past and I was never one to pry. But I do know that they kept working you over with drugs and the telepaths, so I'm sure they were trying to keep you from remembering who you really were. It just seemed like no matter what they did to you, you'd always start to remember." I shook my head. "I don't know, maybe that's your hyperactive healing factor at work, trying to get past whatever they did to you up there."

"Doesn't seem to be workin'. I still don't remember shit." He said bitterly. "Anythin' else?"

"Well, they started using all the same bullshit lines on you they used on me. Helping people, special operations, top secret, blahblahblah. I didn't actually meet you face to face for about six weeks, when they decided to pit us against each other for sparring. Not for a good long meeting, at any rate. At first, they didn't know how well your healing factor works. They knew you healed from injury from when they brought you in, but you were so full of lead they didn't realize how fast it really worked. They'd given you basic training and conditioning, then threw you in that first fight against me." I finished my beer, but didn't reach for another just yet. "You kept saying you didn't want to hurt me and you'd go easy on me. By then, I was beyond caring about anything except seeing my daughter again, so I was almost the perfect little soldier. I clawed the shit out of your back and you went down hard. You screamed and then looked over your shoulder at me with nothing but rage in your eyes. I stopped in shock because the cuts I just gave you were not shallow by any means, yet they were closing before my very eyes. No matter what they'd made of me by then, I knew what was in store for you and I have never pitied anyone more than I pitied you at that moment." I took a deep breath and chanced a glance at him. He was still looking at me intently, as though trying to remember and coming up short.

"So how long after that did they…alter me?" He asked, rubbing his knuckles absently.

"They didn't do it at first, adamantium isn't cheap and it's not easy to process, so they had to wait. In the meantime, they trained us together. You and I would back each other up and do whatever they wanted us to do. Sometimes it was just sneaky crap, like stealing files from someone or setting up surveillance. Other times we were sent in to eliminate what he referred to as 'hostile targets'. You know, people who were getting too close to the truth about his little projects. Shit, we must have done thirty or forty ops for them before they had everything they needed to alter you. Just over a year we worked together, you and me. Of course, they always had to do a little reinforcement of your training every time we went out."

"So you're sayin' I didn't go willingly, at all? They had to what, fuck with my head, shoot me full of drugs?"

"Every time. Like I said, it might be because of your healing factor, I don't know for sure. But one thing they never got out of your head was that killer instinct of yours." He looked at me sharply. "Now, I'm not saying you were always a killer, but I always got the feeling that there's someone out there that you want dead very very badly, Logan. I don't know who and I don't know why, but it was there." I decided on another beer after all. "At any rate, just before they altered you, they had a couple people working you over with drugs and I'm sure the telepaths were in on it. The night before they did it, it was like you were a completely blank slate."

"Why the hell would he do that? I mean, to this day, I can pick up almost any weapon, you name it, and use it like it's part of me. Quarterstaff, sword, just about every kind of gun, anythin'. Wouldn't gettin' rid of that make it harder to train me?"

"Look, it's not like William Stryker was the very model of sanity. He wanted you to be a killer but on his terms." I opened my beer and took a long drink. "Well, at least you do remember something, even if it just weapon stuff. Better than nothing."

He just grunted at that. "All right, then what happened?"

"The next day, Stryker took you to the chamber of horrors and got to work. But a few things happened that day that he didn't count on."

"Yeah, I went berserk, killed a bunch of people and took off naked in the snow." He grimaced. "I actually do remember that part."

"Well, that's not all of it, not even half of it." I ran my fingers through my hair again. "A few days before, I was in the surveillance lab, going over schematics for a new system the Russians had come up with. No one actually knew I was in there, I'd gone on my own time." Logan looked at me curiously. "See, although we couldn't leave the actual base building when not on assignment, we weren't confined to cells or anything either. Kind of a loose definition of freedom, as it were. Sure, the doors on our rooms weren't locked so we could leave when we wanted, but they could also come in when they wanted, too. I guess they figured if we thought we had freedom, we'd never try to escape. In reality, the only thing keeping me there was my daughter's safety. Well, right before they…augmented you, I was in the lab, looking shit over. I heard the door in the next lab open and Stryker walked in with another guy. I missed the first part, but I did hear enough…"

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"So, you're telling me that her brat's dead?" Stryker said, a tinge of concern in his voice.

"Yes sir." Said the other man. "She didn't have her mother's resilience and couldn't handle the last bit of testing. Pity, we could have used another feral around here. Ah well, Hellcat'll be around for a while, she can have a whole litter if she wants to, right?"

"You know, that's not a bad idea. If we could get her to mate with Wolverine and that healing factor breeds true, we'd never have to look for any more of them. I'll have to talk to the others about this and…" Stryker's voice faded away as they left the room.

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"I don't know how long before that my Emma had died. That bastard lied to me about her to keep me complacent and it worked for a really long time. Hell, I didn't even know she'd be a mutant, although I had worried about it. But from that moment on, I knew I was going to escape that place and get revenge on Stryker and his merry band of torturers. "Mate" with you indeed! Like we were champion breeding hounds or some shit. I just needed a plan. I was hoping to get your help, hoping there was still enough of you left that you'd help me and come with me. But before I got the chance to talk to you, they stuck you in the tank."

He looked at me with a pained expression on his face. "Angela, I need to know. What happened that day? All I get is bits and pieces, little flashes and pain, but nothin' that makes sense!"

"What the hell do you think they did? They cut you open, injected molten metal on your bones and watched the wounds close before their eyes. They kept you awake for it because anesthetic just doesn't work for long on you, but the scientists assured themselves that the solution in the tank would be more than numbing enough. And I'm sure they had at least one telepath there, keeping you calm. What they didn't count on was you adapting to whatever they put in the solution in the tank. Oh, it held long enough for them to finish your bones and make blades out of your claws, but barely. The only thing that might have gone wrong would have been with the telepath. You see, what they did while someone was in that tank was basically tell them that they were doing something else, I dunno, having a picnic or skiing or whatever. But the telepaths were always told to keep their eyes closed. I'd be willing to bet that your telepath opened his eyes for some reason, saw what was happening and actually fed that back to you. But it would have been enough. If that's what happened, then you saw, you FELT at least part of it happening, he would have lost his hold on you, and you went berserk."

"So I was right, I killed a bunch of people like some fuckin' animal, just tore through them and ran off."

"I won't deny that, but it wasn't just you. I was in my room, trying to figure out what I was going to say to convince you to help me when I heard the screaming. I ran down to the lab and there you were, just getting out of the tank and slashing at random. I won't lie to you, Logan, not now. I saw this as MY chance to get away. With all that confusion, who'd notice if I left? But I couldn't stand what they did to you, did to ME, so…I jumped into the fight." I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees, clasping my hands in front of me. "I probably killed just as many people as you did, but for me it was different. I killed them because I WANTED to, I wanted to watch them bleed, wanted them to beg for their lives. I don't know how long it went on, probably less than a minute all told, but it felt like forever. You were lashing out at something that had tortured you, it's a normal response. You were defending yourself. I murdered them in cold blood and I liked it." I shook my head, then stood, wrapping my arms around myself. I walked over to the window, placing my forehead on the cool glass. "Anyway, you ran out and I followed, hot on your heels. You'd already started to calm down a little, but you were still pretty fucked up. And you were naked. I knew we had to get away before someone came after us, so I did the only thing I could think of and made myself your prey. I still had fatigues on and I was covered in blood, I was hoping you'd mistake me for one of them and follow me. I wasn't wrong."

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You're running through the snow, mile after mile, wondering if he was ever going to get cold or collapse from exhaustion. You've already been running almost full out for four hours, how much farther can you go? Are you far enough away yet, can they track you this far? You can't take a chance, have to keep running and keep Wolverine following you or you're both going to be redesignated as "test to destruction". And when you're this hard to kill, that could take a long, long time.

Suddenly, you're slipping, falling, what the fuck is this? The sudden stop brings tears to your eyes as you feel the skin on your palms peel away. That'll take a little while to heal. Wolverine has slipped too, he's somewhere to the left, you can hear him panting. No, not panting, is he crying? Has he finally snapped out of it? Still, you have to be cautious, he's still pretty dangerous right now. You creep over to him carefully, only to find him curled around himself, claws out trying as hard as he can to cut his own wrists, but the wounds keep healing. Tears come to your eyes, you know just how he feels. You extend your hand carefully, whispering his name.

"Who's there? Get the fuck away from me or I'll kill you, I swear!"

"Wolverine, it's me, Hellcat. Come on, we have to find shelter, it's getting dark and I don't know if they're following us."

"Fuck you, 'Cat. Leave me alone. Maybe I'll get lucky and die."

"No, Wolverine, I can't do that. Come on, we'll get you some clothes and plan our next move. Come on, we don't have much time."

Precious minutes are wasted getting him out of the snow, but finally he relents. You've fallen into a tree-lined ravine, the sides are pretty steep and there's no easy way back up. Not that you'd normally worry about it, but the animal in you says "this is cover", so you stay down there. You detect a sudden shift in the wind, a slight variance in temperature and Wolverine says "I smell snow." You finally get out of the trees and find a sketchy path through the woods as snow starts swirling around you. You follow it, not sure what you're going to do once you see where it leads. But finally, a lucky break after all this shit. There's a small cabin here, maybe someone's hunting cabin or ski retreat. You don't really care, you're cold and hungry and Wolverine's still naked

Using the skills they gave you, you break in and find the place blissfully empty. A little searching and you find blankets to pile on Wolverine while you get a fire started. As he thaws, you explore the tiny house further. Two small bedrooms, a small bathroom, a kitchenette attached to the living area. One bedroom is obviously for guests, as there's nothing in it. The other has a closet full of hunting clothes: jeans, t-shirts, flannels. You also discover a phone and an address book. You take clothing out to Wolverine, who dresses almost absentmindedly, then continues to stare at the flames. On the inside front cover of the address book, you find the name "Paul Jenkins" and a phone number, the same as the one on the phone. Thumbing through it, you find a "George Jenkins". You call him and discover he's the owner's brother. You explain that you and your boyfriend were hiking and got caught in a storm, found this cabin and took shelter. George seems amazed that we're alive, this is the worst storm in 20 years, looks to last a week at least and it's part of a system. We could see snow up here for the nextthree months, almost non-stop. Fortunately, Paul is there, says to stay as long as we need to, don't worry about supplies, he's just glad we found his little place. You thank him and hang up, then yank the phone out of the wall.

Wolverine is still staring at the fire. You try to talk to him, but he seems unresponsive. Sighing, you find the pantry is well stocked and there's a door in the floor of it. You open it up and find a combination root and wine cellar. "Well, at least we can celebrate our freedom" you say to yourself. You bring up a couple bottles, pop them open and hand one to Wolverine. Finally, a reaction as he grasps the neck and drinks deep. You know you should probably eat first, but you're just so tired. You both sit there drinking, watching the fire and hoping you're safe. You're not sure how long it took, but eventually you both fall asleep in front of the fire, exhaustion taking its toll.

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"And that's how we made our escape. Mother Nature took pity on us and made it so no one could follow us for a long, long time." I closed my eyes, remembering the cold and the fear that they'd find us anyway. But I also remember other things and Logan somehow knew it. He always knew.

"So, what aren't you tellin' me? You're leavin' somethin' out that I think I should know."

I sighed. "Yeah, you're right, I am. I don't know if you need to know anything else. We got out, that should be enough."

He moved so fast I had no time to react. He was off the couch and spinning me around, grabbing me by my arms and shaking me. "Fuck that, I want to KNOW! I have a right to know! Just finish the damn story!"

"Stop it, you're hurting me!" I screamed. He stared at me intently for another moment, then shoved me away. "Fine, you want to know so bad." I sat back down on the sofa, curling into the corner. After a moment, he sat back in his spot on the end. "George Jenkins was right, that storm lasted about a week. It was followed two days later by another and another after that, for almost three months solid. Hell, it had to have been almost April before we got out of there and by then, Alkali Lake had been abandoned, the project terminated. But we didn't know that, so we were deathly afraid they'd find us. I don't know how they missed that place, but they did."

Logan pondered this for a moment, but once again turned his steely gaze to me. "Yeah, fine, we got away. But what aren't you tellin' me, huh? What're you leavin' out?" He leaned toward me, still angry but with more than a hint of desperation. "I have waited over fifteen years for this, damn it!"

I sighed again, suddenly exhausted. "That first week was rough on you, Logan. You barely slept, I had to practically force feed you. Half the time I thought you were catatonic. Finally, on the fifth day, you just dropped. I guess you were just so exhausted you couldn't go on any more. I was so grateful, I just fell asleep, too, curled up on the floor in front of the fire next to you. I don't know how many hours passed, at least nine or so, when you started with your nightmares. I could guess what it was, I'd had them too. I woke up and rolled over, tried to wake you, but that was the second biggest mistake of my life."

"What was the first?" He asked.

"Not running to Mexico after the first time Stryker approached me."

"Fair enough."

"Anyway, I tried to wake you, but it wasn't easy. You finally opened your eyes and I thought you'd woken up, but I was wrong. You screamed, popped your claws and started slashing. I was still half asleep myself, I wasn't fast enough to get out of the way. You caught me right across the throat and you killed me."

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AN: Oops! Another cliffhanger! Special thanks to anyone who's reviewed...they're almost better than dark chocolate at making me happy...:) Also, thanks to my fiance for beta reading and letting me know if i use the 'f' word too many times in a sentence (if there is such a thing). Also, extra special love to my sis, thanks for reading!