Edited: 3/4/16

Chapter 21 – Incommunicado

"He that is taken and put into chains is not conquered, though overcome; for he is still an enemy." – Thomas Hobbs

People say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. That power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. They speak of monsters, and the many ways they are both born and made. Xavier knew all the tired tales, all the fables and stories we tell ourselves to warn against evil. Even when – especially when – that evil begins with the best of intentions.

Navy blue eyes studied the shadows playing across the ceiling in the early dawn light as if he might find an answer there. When he was a young man, still able to walk, he'd met someone. A youth who'd been tempered in one of the hottest fires man had inflicted on his fellow man. The hateful fire of Auschwitz had forged Erik into a strong blade. One that longed to cut the world to pieces. There were times when he thought his dearest friend had a point. A sharp, wicked point.

Temptation lived in Xavier, always. There was a time Erik had almost swayed him down the tempting path. Perhaps the fact that his friend wanted to destroy all of humanity was the only thing that kept him from walking down it. Erik hadn't known the right argument.

We should all fear evil men, but there's something we must fear most…the indifference of good men. Good men, power corrupts, good men, indifference.

The road to hell.

Cerebro was both a blessing and the most tempting of curses. Erik wanted him to use it as a weapon against humanity, blatantly ignoring his own hypocrisy. He'd lived first hand through a holocaust, and his answer to preventing another? Kill them all first. That would never do. Not for Xavier.

But…the indifference of good men. That was the crux of the matter, wasn't it?

As the Headmaster of a school, even one as unique as this one, he had the dubious pleasure of observing the random trends that came and went throughout the years. A few terms ago, anime was all the rage. Most of the shows were beyond silly, but there were some that struck a chord, and one that cut straight to the heart. In the story, a perfectly normal – if brilliant – student stumbles across an artifact of great and terrible power. It allowed him to kill from afar by writing down a name while thinking of the face it belonged to. Light was swiftly sucked into the power, and sought to create a new world. Destroy that which is evil, so that which is good may prosper.

Power corrupts. No matter how great the intentions, or how noble the cause, power great enough to make one a God can only end in tragedy. Any path paved in bodies goes in one direction, and it isn't paradise. Xavier knew that better than anyone else because Cerebro was his Death Note. Erik knew it from the beginning, and urged him to turn it into a weapon.

How tempting that had been! Not too kill off all the non-mutants; that was insanity. But what about evil? His Death Note was a thousand times better than Light's had been. He alone had the power to look into the minds of all, and know, know, if they were guilty or not. He would be able to see their crimes, and know their hearts. He alone could judge them fairly, and destroy those whose minds were too corrupted to be saved.

When you look into the abyss, the abyss looks back. That last fight with Erik had been a crossroads, even though his friend hadn't realizes the true depth of the decision being made. The choice for Xavier wasn't to go with Erik's crazy plan or not. It was to become God or not. In the end it was his knowledge of humanity that stayed his hand. No matter what he did, he would never be able to erase the darkness in humanity's heart, just as no amount of evil or suffering could completely overcome the light that dwelled there. He could bury the landscape in corpses until oceans ran red, but he would never create a paradise on a foundation of death and terror.

Every inch of his body thrummed with hunger, even the parts he shouldn't be able to feel ached with the need to pull himself into his chair and wheel down to Cerebro. Never had the temptation been as great as it was now. He wanted – needed – to track down the monster dressed in a man suit dared call itself Doctor. For the first time in his life he wanted to prowl through those glowing white lights with the intent to kill. The idea of capturing that single diseased mind, and slowly, so slowly, crush it almost overwhelmed all sense. Xavier didn't want to kill him quickly. No, he wanted the monster to suffer, to know he was trapped without any means of escape as the pressure grew and grew. He wanted to hear the man scream.

Xavier's fists clenched, neatly trimmed nails biting into the tender flesh of his palms. This was another crossroad. No, the same crossroad. He'd known then what stepping down that road would mean, and it hadn't changed. If he went into Cerebro with the intent to kill, a single life would never be enough. No matter how much that light needed to be snuffed out, he couldn't use his power to do it.

He couldn't kill in cold blood. The world wouldn't survive the monster he became if he did. In his mind's eye, he turned away from that path. For now, and always, his power would be used for protection and healing. Let the Eriks of the world fight, if it came to that. He would provide sanctuary and healing for those seeking safety and protection. His X-men would do all they could to keep the world balanced between human and mutant safety. If there was a path to peace that wouldn't drowned the world in blood, he would find it.

With painful slowness, the tension drained from him. Xavier closed his eyes and let his mind open like a flower hungry for sunlight. He found the damaged mind, drifting softly under a layer of gauze left by the drugs. Under the flimsy protection, darkness roiled, waiting to drag the girl down into nightmares the moment the drugs weakened enough for them to take control.

In general, Xavier preferred to work with students who've been hurt and take the healing slowly, letting the mind heal at its own pace. But there were cases where that wasn't possible. The damage was too great for the afflicted mind to recover from. If left alone, the mind would turn cannibal, devouring itself, resulting in one of two outcomes: suicide, or catatonia. He wouldn't allow either outcome. Not after all the girl had suffered. She'd survived so much, and he would help her live again.

It was all he could do since he refused to destroy the one who'd done this to her. Xavier sank gently into the sleeping mind, drifting past the thin film of drugs and into her memories. The past three months were the stuff of nightmares, and he again had to strengthen his resolve so he wouldn't go hunt the monster down. He didn't erase the memories. They were a part of her, and now helped define who she was. Taking them away would be as damaging as leaving them as they were.

Instead, he began to nudge them. Pushing them back so that they became smaller, farther away from her waking mind. Then he dulled the colors, dimmed the sounds, and blunted the mind shattering agony. He painted with the brush of time, letting the immediacy of the memories fade. When she woke, she would still recall what happened, but it wouldn't be able to drag her down into a full sensory replay of the memories. Instead, it would be like a childhood trauma. Something that needed to be worked on, but was still safely tucked away in the past. Now Alice would have a chance to heal.

Satisfaction warmed the cold knot in his heart. Yes, this was how his gift should be used.

This was the type of person he wanted to be.

An agonized psychic scream cut across his mind. "Jean?" He gasped. His mind reached out for hers, saw the impossible, and felt a sharp hook of pain as the foreign mind tried to snare him too. Lips pealed back in a grimace of pain, he tore his mind free and felt the mental wound as if it were real. Jerking himself to the side of the bed, he fell into his chair and almost slid out of it before catching his grip. He had to hurry.

IX's breath remained smooth. The repetitive beep of his heart monitor didn't change when he woke. His eyes cracked open for a second before shutting again. Metallic (not pitted with rust or streaked with age), clean, bright, smell of antiseptic, sound of medical machines, the bite of a needle in his arm, medical room.

But not the Doctor's domain. Even without the small glance, he knew that. The first hint was that he was comfortable. A soft pad supported his weight, a light blanket was tucked around him, and a pillow supported his head. The best the Doctor gave was a cold metal slab and thick leather straps to hold unwilling victims down. His left wrist gave a subtle twitch. No straps.

His mind casted back, trying to recall how he'd ended up here. The memory rose sluggishly, a jolt of power to knock out the electricity, moving through unknown hallways, following the little marker, finding Remy. Remy had been drunk. The stink of alcohol, the same smell that some of the guards often had. Those guards never lasted long. Remy. Drunk, hurt, unable to stand. Kneeling. Offering. "Remy try' ta tell dem." "A good time Mon Cher." "You did." "Report." "Found."

Pain. The memory ended in a jagged blaze of white as if the film of his life had been spliced by lightning. A ghost of that pain seemed to linger inside his skull and flared a bit when he tried to prod the memory for more information. Nothing more came, just the lingering sense of hurt.

His eyes flicked open again, scanning the room to memorize the layout and mark exits before closing them again.

Alone, for now. Report, the memory prodded.

"IX, reporting." He blinked when he didn't hear the low hum of connection. "IX, reporting to Stryker. Come in Stryker." Absolute silence. The beep of the heart monitor sped up before dropping back. His stomach clenched when he understood what had happened. Somehow his ability to communicate with his superiors had been severed. Again the heart monitor picked up. Control. IX took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and forced his body to remain lax.

No connection meant no new orders and no reports. What should I do? Kill Remy. Escape. Return to base. Reestablish contact. Locate and retrieve X. The final thought made his eyes jolt open again to assure himself he was still alone. X wasn't here. That thought stalled him. Find X first. No. Finish the mission. X cannot be killed. Locate him after. Find X.

The conflicting thoughts stilled when he heard a door hiss open. Once again the heart monitor beeped placidly. His chest rose and fell in a perfect imitation of a body at rest while he mentally tracked the sound of footsteps as they meandered around the lab.

Dr. McCoy yawned, flashing fangs as he padded towards a lab table already set up with everything he needed. He measured out a precise amount of coffee grounds into a beaker while water came to a boil on the Bunsen burner. Slipping on a pair of gloves, he poured the water over the grounds and gave a sigh of pleasure as the heady aroma began to circle him. This was the life. Every day should begin with a superb cup of coffee to kick off another successful day of research.

Once the cup of liquid heaven was brewed to his exacting standards, he picked it up and wandered over to check on his patient. "Good morning, kiddo," he said before checking the teen's vitals. The young face, smooth with sleep, kept throwing him off. He looked like any of the students who might have gotten into a misadventure and landed themselves in the hospital wing. Hank had to keep reminding himself that the boy was technically an enemy. He snorted and took a long swallow of coffee, savoring the rich warmth and thinking about how he could probably break the boy in half with a single swipe if it came to that. Not that he had anything to worry about. As much as he hated thinking about any kid begin hurt, in IX's case, it was probably best that he wouldn't recover.

The cup left his lips when it jerked forward, slamming into his face with enough force to shatter the glass and his nose. Burning liquid splashed into his wide, startled eyes and he howled in agony as he stumbled away. Something crashed into his gut, doubling him over and turning the cry into a wheeze. Then more pain exploded, this time slamming into the back of his skull. He crashed into the ground and lay silently in a pool of coffee and blood.

IX timed the strikes perfectly. The heel of his right hand shot up, connecting solidly with the bottom of the coffee cup. Half rolling, he drove his left fist into the mutant's lower stomach hard enough to fold the man over. Sitting up, he laced his hands together to form a giant fist and brought it crashing down on the blue furred head, cutting off the scream his first attack wrung from the man.

As silence returned to the room, IX plucked the needle out of his arm, pulled off the various electrodes attached to his naked upper body and forehead before reaching over to flick the now bleating heart monitor off. IX slid off the table and glanced down. A simple pair of sweat pants met his questing gaze, and he could tell by movement alone that he'd been stripped of his considerable arsenal. Stepping past the unconscious man on the floor, IX headed for the door.

The first goal was to escape. After that, he could return to base to reestablish contact and finish the hunt for Remy. Then he would be able to return here with the rest of the team to handle the mutant infestation. Find X. The thought continued to plague him. Where was he? Why hadn't X found him? It was impossible for him to be destroyed, and nothing should have kept him from returning to IX's side. Dismissing the problem for later consideration, IX headed for the door.

It was a large metal circle that didn't budge when he approached. Reaching out, IX pressed his hand against the cold surface and whispered, "Open." The door opened with a soft hiss, revealing a long hallway. There were other circular doors he recalled passing to get to Remy, but then he'd had the tracker to guide him.

He'd almost made it to the circular door at the end of the hall when it hissed open. His eyes narrowed when he saw the woman step through, still looking down at a tablet in her hand. The loose thread, so here's where you've been hiding.

The woman's head snapped up, as if she heard the thought. Jade locked with emerald.

The loose thread, so here's where you've been hiding.

Jean's mind stumbled. The cold thought crawled across it like a snake at midnight, sending a spike of terror and hate through her soul. Impossible! He can't be awake. Even if he was awake, he shouldn't be able to think. If he did wake up, he'd be drooling and flailing about, not walking around not…

She looked up and all doubt fled. No matter how impossible, it was truth and denying it would get her killed. Jean could almost feel the metal bands around her. They were once again in the Liberty Statue, and he was again walking towards her with thoughts of death on his mind. This time, he had no knife. They'd taken them all. But she could see from his thoughts that it wouldn't matter. Even reading his mind, she wouldn't be able to keep up with his trained skill. Shit, shit, shit.

Another step, Jean reached out with power. Not telekinesis this time, she couldn't risk him breaking free. Instead her mind surged forward and pressed into his. She wouldn't attempt to control him, just send him into unconsciousness. The Professor could deal with him then. Sinking into his mind, she thought: Sle-

Agony exploded inside her. She gave a mental shriek as a hundred barbed hooks bit into her mind and began dragging her down. Jean screamed, her mind thrashing, but every twist made the mental hooks sink deeper. When she could bear no more, she was slammed down into something. The mental pain eased, though the wounds still bled.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath she stood up and blinked. Everything had changed. She was no longer in the world she'd always known. This was a vast empty field that might have been white once. Now only a few patches of white remained between the splashes of crimson, cherry, faded burgundy, and black. Blood, her shocked mind whispered.

A voice boomed around her like the voice of God: "Learn what they have to teach you, fight, kill…or be killed."

With that, shadows emerged from the bloodstained ground. There were eight of them and to her horror she realized she couldn't move. The body she was in wasn't her own, and no matter how she screamed inside her skull, it wouldn't obey. Then the shapes moved, and she moved too. She was a passenger in the nightmarish dance, but she felt everything. Each staggering blow that got through from the men who were so much bigger than her screamed through her small body. Ribs cracked, her nose was badly broken, her left arm torn out of it socket so savagely that it was nearly ripped off. Still she fought. She fought even when her left leg was shattered. Only after her back was broken in three places, and she could feel nothing below her waist did the body still. Then she felt the foot on her neck. Her scream was slowly choked off as the delicate bones were crushed.

Mind numbing terror rocked her as she died, sucked down into the black.

SNAP

Jean woke up. Fresh blood painted the ground, and she knew it was hers. New horror filled her as she looked at all the blood stains. How many times? How many times has he died here? Again the voice boomed overhead, demanding she fight.

No! Please, no I can't do this, please! She tried to scream, but her lips wouldn't move. Instead the body she was trapped in remained passive, waiting to be killed again.

"No! Please, no I can't do this, please!" her screaming plea rang around the room. IX stalked forward and put his hand around her throat.

"Be silent." He whispered, forcing his power into her. Even though her mouth opened for another scream as a new death sequence began, no sound escaped. His fingers tightened around her throat. The rapid flutter of her pulse against his palm felt like the frantic flap of a dove's wings. A little more pressure and the delicate bones would be crushed, just as his had been in the mind scape years ago. Only there would be no snapping back from death for her. She would get to see what waited on the other side of the darkness, if anything did.

"Let her go." The low, deadly voice was familiar. Another loose end that should have been snipped.

IX looked away from the woman's darkening face into the visored gaze of the male who'd been with her in the statue. His hand was up next to his temple, and though he wasn't sure what would happen, IX knew the prelude to an attack when he saw one. "Her mind is locked within mine. If you harm me, you'll harm her as well." While he spoke, IX drew Jean up and turned her to face the new arrival. His hand remained on her throat, and her height was enough to shield him from a direct attack.

Scott took a step towards them. "Jean!"

"Stay where you are." IX said, his hand closing even tighter, causing the woman to stop breathing all together.

He stopped, and held his hands up. "Stop, you're choking her." Each word grated with the need for action and the fear of it. IX's grip released enough for her to gasp, the exhale was a silent scream.

"What are you doing to her?" he demanded.

"She entered my mind uninvited, so I'm allowing her to relive my memories."

IX's eyes slid to the side when a bald man in a wheelchair appeared behind Scott. He felt something nudge the outside of his mind and attempted to grab it, but it was gone as fast as it came. "Another telepath?"

"Yes. Let Jean go." Xavier's fists gripped the armrests of his chair hard enough to hurt, but kept his voice calm. The scratch in his mind from IX's hook burned, warning him against trying another invasion. Jean's mental screams echoed in his mind, begging him to save her. "We won't harm you if you release her."

"Are you the leader of this enclave?"

"I am."

Scott shifted impatiently beside him, every muscle vibrating with the need to attack. Xavier reached out and touched his arm. The muscles jumped under the touch, but he settled back into a more neutral stance.

"Where is Remy Lebeau?"

"He left after you were brought in." Xavier confessed, hoping the news wouldn't make the assassin act rashly. Instead, his face remained smooth and untroubled.

"Where is X?"

"He is no longer with us." Xavier's said, not wanting to explain what had happened to the other mutant. Something told him the reaction to that wouldn't be as placid.

IX tilted his head slightly. "You're lying. Do you want to know what is happening to her right now?"

Xavier swallowed hard, his navy eyes darted from Jean's tormented face to IX's blank one. "What are you doing to her?"

"I'm killing her."

Scott jerked a step forward, but Xavier caught his arm and held him back. "Explain," he demanded, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep the other man from attacking for long.

"During my training I was forced to learn to fight in a unique way. Through integration with a mental training program, I fought opponents who were stronger than me until I could beat them. It took a long time to reach that point. I long lost count of the number of times they killed me. It only took twenty-three deaths to shatter the mind of the last telepath who invaded my mind. The woman has already died six times while we've been talking. How many deaths do you think it will take to break her? Where is X?" IX's voice never changed from its perfect monotone and both men knew that he wouldn't stop. There was no more mercy in him than there was in a marble statue.

"IX, please let her go, we can talk about X when she's free."

"Scream for them," IX said.

Suddenly the room was filled with Jean's unearthly howls of anguish.

The door behind him hissed open. IX didn't have to look back, his power recognized the presence. X, good now we can get out of here and return to base. I'll take the woman with us. That will make up for the telepath I ruined. The Doctor will be interested in her duel powers. He half turned to reach behind him for X when he froze, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

"Knock it off," X snarled. But he…what?

A massive fist plowed into the side of his head. IX could have dodged the blow, would have, if it had been anyone else. But he'd never imagined X turning against him, and God punishes us for the things we can't imagine. Darkness roared through his mind and he felt the woman slip free as he sank back into unconsciousness.

Logan had been exploring the underground base when the screaming started. It was curiosity more than anything else that lead him to the sound. He'd found the doctor first, still out cold but breathing. After picking him up and putting him on the bed where IX used to be, he followed the delicious aroma of the tiny assassin. Even though he flat out refused to admit how intoxicating it was, he couldn't help but follow where it led. Yeah, and I have no doubt that he'll be wherever the screaming is, he thought, remembering the Professor's opinion of IX.

When he came upon IX, his captive, and the other two helplessly standing by, his stomach twisted. The sound of the woman's screams grated on him, but it was the mindless animal roar in his head that made things so much worse. Logan stalked forward without thinking, and when IX turned towards him and he caught sight of those bottomless green eyes X went mad inside his head.

"Knock it off," Logan snarled at X and IX both before he lashed out, striking the one he could reach.

He fell with IX. Agony ripped through his head as X attacked the cage with a mindless fury he didn't think he could contain. "Help…me," he rasped, his hands clenched over his temples in a futile effort to keep the monster inside his head.

Instantly, the Professor's mind sank into his and pressed down into the caged monster's mind. The roaring reached a crescendo and fell silent as the Professor forced X into sleep.

Jean's mind was catapulted out of the Hellscape and back into her own body with enough force to send her sprawling. Tiny helpless sounds she refused to name fell from her lips while she tried to get ahold of herself. Instead of attempting to stand, she crawled away without looking back. Every instinct inside her shrieked to escape, to put as much distance between her and the monster as possible.

Arms wrapped around her, ripping another terrified scream from her tortured lungs. Jean's nails raked across the skin touching her earning a pained cry. Something in the sound tried to break through the panic, but couldn't. "Please!" She screamed.

"JEAN!" Scott bellowed, dodging another swipe of her claw-like hands. Blood trickled from the scratches gouged in his left cheek, but he hardly noticed save for the fact that she'd almost caught his visor. He wrapped himself around her, crushing her to his chest while yelling her name. Finally, her struggles began to ease, and her screams tapered off into hopeless little whimpers that tore his heart. "Shhhh, that's it Jean. I've got you. You're safe." He rocked her, but his eyes remained locked on the small shape crumpled on the floor. Everything in him demanded he reach up to blast the creature. Keeping it alive was purest insanity. Not safe. We'll never be able to keep him here, and we can't let him free. His fingers twitched with the need to end the problem now before it took something from them they wouldn't get back.

Xavier's dark eyes captured his. No words or thoughts were shared, but he could feel the old man's disappointment. You're too soft. Don't let it get us killed, he thought furiously. But he bent his head to Jean's, pressing himself against her instead of giving in to the temptation.

"Pick him up and come with me if you please." Xavier's voice cut through the blessed silence inside his head. Logan grumbled under his breath that he wasn't a pack mule, but he gathered the small form to him as he stood anyway.

This close, his jaws ached to bite the teen, and the thought made him feel sick. Who the hell daydreams about biting people? How fucked up am I? His lips pealed back in disgust at himself even as his cock began to stir with every breath he took.

Careful not to clench his fists, less he crush one of the boy's delicate limbs, he stiffly followed the Professor back into the medical lab.

Dr. McCoy sat with his feet dangling over the edge of the exam table. He had a wad of paper towels pressed against his face, blood dyed the crumpled sheets a brilliant red. The part of his face they could see easily conveyed his feelings when he saw them.

"And here is our wayward coma patient," the words came out slurred due to the broken nose, and his blue eyes locked accusingly on Xavier's. "You could have warned me that he would wake up without any damage."

Xavier smiled. "You're just upset that he knocked you out. Besides, you're the one who told me he wouldn't recover. Not the other way around." Hank snorted, adding another spray of blood to the wadded paper.

"Fine, fine. Be that way. I'm still blaming you for this. Anyway, put him here." Hank said, waiving to the bed he slipped off of with a hop big enough to get him to the other side of the shattered glass. He shook his head. Lucky the little bastard didn't take my eyes out with that mess. There were several shallow scratches across the bridge of his nose and cheeks, but he'd managed to avoid getting a shard in the eye.

With a low growl, Logan set IX down on the bed and backed away. Even with X silent for the moment, he found it much harder to let go than it should be. "If you two think you can handle one little kid, I'm going back to my room." He didn't give them a chance to respond before stalking out the door.

Thank you Logan, Xavier's thought clanged in his mind, and he grunted in response.

Hank scowled at Logan's back as he left. "Well, isn't he just a ray of sunshine?" He refused to admit that the man's words miffed him. Not my fault, he caught me by surprise is all. Might as well expect a pumpkin to attack. It shouldn't have been possible. Damn logic anyway.

Xavier gave another enigmatic smile. "Even rain clouds have their uses. He did stop IX after all." Hank gaped at him.

"What do you mean he stopped IX? I thought they were partners?"

"No. X was IX's partner. Logan's just a man without a memory and a homicidal passenger locked away inside his mind."

Hank scowled at that, but focused on the enigma before him. With the skill a crack addict would envy, he slipped a new needle into IX's slender arm. The solution he pumped into the assassin was laced with a heavy sedative that would keep even the most powerful mutant unconscious until he chose to stop it. "That's comforting. Are we sure letting him wander about is the best idea in the world?"

"Probably not. Though I haven't the slightest idea how we can keep someone like him locked up. His adamantium claws are more than enough to get through even our strongest cells, and his healing factor would eat through any drugs you tried on him." Xavier let the thoughts trail off, leaving it open for Hank to provide a solution if he had one.

The blue mutant grunted, refusing to take the bait. Instead he began running a battery of tests on IX. A few minutes later he whistled. "Oh my stars and garters, look what we have here. It seems X isn't the only one with unheard of healing prowess."

"See?" He handed over the sheet with IX's newest CAT scan.

Xavier's eyes instantly went to the place that should still be dark from his attack and found nothing. "Completely healed?" He couldn't quite keep the disbelief out of his voice.

"Without a bit of scaring or anything to indicate he was damaged to begin with."

"Amazing. Were you able to find a way to repress his power?" Xavier asked.

Turning, Hank padded over to another cluttered bit of work table. He tinkered for a few minutes before returning and handing Xavier a small band of metal about an inch wide and three inches long. The metal was curved.

"Yeah, I've been working on it for most of the night and I got it figured out. The only real problem is that it needs to be placed over the base of his skull and there's no way a strap will work." Xavier fingered the four tiny holes, one near each corner of the device. "It'll have to be screwed into the bone to work," Hank said, studying his friend's face as he shifted uneasily at the inhumane declaration.

"Do it."

"Really? I mean, I could maybe try and figure out ano-"

"No Hank. This is the best way, correct?"

"All of the other methods I've devised leave wiggle room where he'll be able to get it off," Hank admitted.

Xavier closed his eyes and nodded. "We can't let him free. You know that, don't you?"

Hank snorted. "Damn straight. I'm not stupid Charles, and I know how much this goes against everything we are. But this is a lesser of two evils choice if I've ever seen one. This man is part of a group that actively hunts mutants. If we let him go he will be back, and he won't be alone. If we aren't willing to kill him, then we must do all that we can to make him safe."

"Yes. I wouldn't ask this of you if there were any other choice."

"How long are we going to keep him?" Silence met the question. Hank looked up and saw sorrow on Charles's face.

"Forever, my friend."

Hank swallowed, but nodded in agreement. Pain throbbed in his face, and he knew without a doubt that IX could have killed him if he'd wanted to. "I wonder why he didn't kill me."

"Because you weren't his primary objective. He's still fixated on killing Remy. However, I think if he hadn't taken you by surprise and you put up more of a fight he would have."

Nodding, Hank eased IX onto his stomach to expose the back of his head. Then he used a pair of hair clippers to sheer through the thatch of black at the base of his skull. Once the hair was little more than dark stubble, he positioned the device above the brainstem where the nano technology was densest. The sound of screws going into bone made his stomach roll, but he didn't stop. Finally each screw was in place, tightening the small rectangle of metal down far enough that IX wouldn't be able to get under it.

With a few deft strokes on the computer, he activated the device. A small green light flicked on. "There we go. His powers are no longer accessible."

"All right," there was weight to the word, acceptance of what had to be. "Let's take him down to one of the holding cells." IX would be the first mutant housed there since their construction. Part of Xavier thought he might have to put Erik down there one day, but for now it was perfect for housing one powerless assassin.

IX woke to throbbing pain in the back of his skull. Each pulse seemed to echo inside his head in time with his heart beat.

Knock it off.

The memory woke a new pain along the side of his head where X's fist had crashed into him. Where X had attacked him. Sick heat throbbed in his chest at the memory. Knock it off. What had they done to X? He'd never spoken before. Couldn't speak, as far as IX knew.

It doesn't matter. Yes it does, they ruined him. No it doesn't, I'll take him back, get him to the Doctor. He'll fix it. The doctor didn't create us. Doesn't matter. Escape first, the rest can wait.

Sitting up, IX looked around the pristine white room…white cell. The front of the cell was made of a clear substance he doubted was glass. A single glance showed the door to be the only exit. In the right corner was a shower head, a drain for the water, and a small container lodged in the wall that he assumed held soap. Near the shower was a sink and a toilet. He sat on a single bed welded to the wall. There was a set of built-in shelves holding clothing, and next to that a small opening, big enough for him to put clothing or trash in, but not large enough for him to fit through.

He stood up and headed for the door. Reaching up, he laid his hand against the cold surface and whispered "Open."

Nothing happened. IX blinked and tried again with the same result. Closing his eyes, he felt for his power and found nothing. It wasn't like the times when he'd nearly worked himself to death. There was no crippling exhaustion, and he didn't feel drained to the point of collapse. Instead it felt like the power was there, but he couldn't reach it.

The half-forgotten pain in the back of his skull throbbed again. IX reached back and felt the new addition to his person. His fingers traced lightly over the shape before his nails started to dig underneath it.

"Stop."

He didn't jump at the unexpected command, but he did let his hand drop back to his side as his eyes casted about for the source.

"The device on the back of your cranium was designed to suppress your ability to access your mutant abilities. It also contains a small explosive charge that will detonate should you attempt to remove it." The strange voice informed him, its tone grave.

"I understand." There, his dark gaze locked on the small black hole in the ceiling, marking the source of the audio. He found other small openings throughout the room, showing where cameras observed his every move. There were others outside his cell, where he wouldn't be able to reach if he attempted to disable them.

"You are our captive. From this day forth, you will remain in this cell. You will be given three meals a day and will come to no harm by our hand."

IX gave a silent snort at that proclamation.

"What did you do to X?" he asked.

"That is not your concern."

Another spike of heat jolted through him before fading. It doesn't matter. Turning back to the door, he explored the edges, searching for weaknesses. There had to be a way out of this cage, he would find it.

Hank frowned at the small image on his screen. He'd expected more questions, or anger, or threats, or demands to be released, something. "Do you think he believed me about the bomb?"

"Yes," Xavier watched the screen as well. During Hank's speech, he'd been lightly touching the other mutant's mind. The fact that he'd been able to do so without being caught in the mental trap that snared Jean strengthened his belief in Hank's device. He was able to read IX's mind without his presence being sensed. "It didn't even cross his mind we might be lying. Then again, the group he was with used explosive collars for the stronger mutants. It's a tactic he's familiar with and would expect."

"True." He continued watching and couldn't help the unease he felt while IX explored every inch of his new enclosure. It wasn't like an animal finding itself in a cage. Every movement was purposeful and seeking, testing. "Are you sure it will hold him?" Hank couldn't help but ask. They'd thought the brain damage would keep him down, but it hadn't. Even without his powers, would he be able to escape?

"I honestly don't know. That's why I want to have someone on guard at all times. I'll set up shifts so that he'll never have the chance to get out without us knowing instantly."

"Hmm, I can rig it so that the cameras feed into our tablets, that way we don't have to waste too much time in here," Hank offered.

"Perfect. I'll also keep a close watch on his thoughts. Now that it's safe, I should know before he breaks free if he comes up with a plan that might work."

IX closed his eyes and pressed himself closer to the door. The bit of wire he'd managed to dig out of the mattress prodded at the thin crack without sliding through.

Complete the mission. The thought throbbed in the back of his mind like a rotten tooth while he tried to learn a new skill he'd never needed before. It wasn't working, and he suspected the door wasn't the sort with a lock that could be picked. That didn't stop him from trying. He had to do something. Finish the mission.

It was the third day of captivity and thoughts of the mission had begun to plague him after the first. Nights were the worst. No matter how he twisted and turned, no position was comfortable. The thin blanket couldn't keep the chill away until he realized the blanket wasn't the problem. The problem was X. Of course it was. How could he sleep alone? It was one thing to sleep alone on a mission. As part of a mission, it was something he could wrap his mind around and though he didn't care for it, he could force himself to sleep for the good of the mission.

Now? He couldn't sleep. Not without the steady thrum of X's heart beneath his ear. Not without the rise and fall of that great chest or his hot mouth nibbling on IX's throat. He even missed the sharp jab of his stiff penis grinding into his lower belly on those nights when X dreamed.

He hadn't slept which made it difficult to fight against the pulsing thoughts about the incomplete mission. The only mission he hadn't finished was the Liberty Island one. Though he'd technically achieved the objective, he'd been incapacitated for the end due to healing X. The problem slowly driving IX insane now was the fact that he was awake and able to move. Even though he couldn't access his power, it didn't matter. He had to complete the mission. Had to.

A new sound hissed into the room, and IX jerked upright in the darkness. His eyes widened, trying to catch any scrap of light and failing. Then dizziness swept him and he understood. Poison gas. Silently cursing his lack of power, IX sank to the floor, once more forced into unconsciousness.

When he woke again, the lights were on indicating it was daytime. The lack of windows made it impossible to know for sure, but the lights came on and went off in a predictable pattern that likely mirrored the rising and setting of the sun.

A slight frown touched his lips when he sat up. It took him a second to realize the mattress beneath him had been removed and replaced with a thin foam pad. Closing his eyes, he fought of the mild nausea left over from the knockout agent and began to formulate a new plan.

Pietro sat on the lick of beach surrounding the lake, his ass in the sand and his feet dipped in the cool water. For the past three days, they'd gotten used to the feel of the mansion and suffered the unbearable torture of Ms. Storm and her never ending placement exams. Thank God that's over, he thought as he plunked another stone into the water. His dark eyes watched the ripples, and he fought to keep his thoughts from straying but couldn't help himself. You would have loved it here, Sis. Before he could slip further down into the depressing memories, someone plopped down next to him.

He glanced over and frowned. "You know, you can take the hoody off right? Pretty sure no one here will freak out about it." Amber eyes flashed at him from the depths of the hoody and her tongue flicked out at him.

"Sure, that'ss what you think. But you look normal like the resst of them. The last thing I want is ssome blond bitch sscreaming in my face about how much sshe hatess ssankess." Bitterness made the words taste like poison in the air. She's hissing her s's more than usual, he thought as he reached out to twine his fingers with hers. At first she tried to jerk her hand away, but he kept his grip tight enough to make escape difficult but not quite enough to hurt.

"Hey, come on. Green's my favorite color. Who cares what a bunch of girls think anyway? Most of them are just airheads."

Adelaide huffed at him, but he could see a small smile in the depths of her hood. "Come on. You're roasting in that thing, I know you are. Look, if anyone gives you shit about it, I'll give them an ultra-wedgy before they even know I moved. Kay?"

That earned him a small giggle, and he grinned in response. Reaching out, he gently tugged the heavy sweatshirt over her head making her black page boy haircut spike up wildly from the static before she ran her fingers though it in an attempt to tame the mess. Her wide amber gaze darted to his face before her head dropped a bit, trying to hide behind the short hair.

Pietro reached out and touched her chin lightly with his fingertips. "No hiding. Not anymore," he whispered. She let him tilt her head up enough to catch the sunlight. It glittered off the brilliant green scales lining her cheeks and made her eyes seem to glow. The rest of her skin was startlingly pale, giving her an ethereal Sleeping Beauty meets the Dragon sort of look. If she was a bit older, he would have kissed her. "There, much better," he said before he reached out and ruffled her hair.

"Hey! Stop it, you're making it worsse." He laughed and reached out to poke her lightly in the ribs making her hiss with laughter too. Yes, you would have loved it here sister. I'll just have to love it enough for both of us.

A shadow fell over them causing Adelaide to jump and reach for her hoody. Pietro was faster, snatching the garment up and holding it away from her. Her slit pupil eyes narrowed at him, but she didn't try and get it back. Instead he watched her face blank, the same look so many of them had worn when the Doctor came for them as she steeled herself for the ridicule even as her eyes pleaded with him to keep her safe.

Together they turned to see a tall boy standing behind them. Instead of flinching when he saw Adelaide, he smiled. "Welcome to Mutant High. I'm Bobby Drake," his smile broadened as he held up a hand and a tiny ice snake appeared in his palm. He offered it to Adelaide. "Iceman."

Anger and amusement fought a nasty little battle in Adelaide's heart before she settled on amusement. It helped that his dark eyes were so openly honest. No hint of malice lurked in their depths. With a shy smile, she reached out and plucked the tiny figure out of his palm. The amusement changed again, this time shifting to amazement when she saw the amount of detail in the tiny figure. From the tiny little forked tongue to the intricate scales, it was a perfect serpent. "Wow," she breathed even as the details began to blur as the shape melted her hand. "Too bad they don't lasst." Looking up, she offered a small grin. "Still pretty amazing. I'm Adelaide Wesst by the way. Um, I don't have a sspecial extra name or anything." A faint blush touched her cheeks at the admission.

"No problem. You have plenty of time to think of one. It's kind of a tradition here, though you don't have to do it if you don't want to." Bobby turned to offer his hand to Pietro.

"What no pretty ice sculpture for me?" Pietro pouted.

"Nope, that's only for the ladies," he gave Adelaide a playful wink, which caused the blush to deepen to rose.

Pietro scowled and flung an arm around her shoulders. "None of that now! She's just a kid."

She stuck her black forked tongue out at him, flicking the tip of his nose. "Am not, I'm fourteen! That's totally a teenager you know. I'm not a kid anymore."

"Pishaw. You're still a young pup yet, and way too young for his flirting." Pietro turned back to Bobby, something hard glinted in his eyes for a second before he vanished.

Bobby blinked in shock, only to stumble forward and almost fall into the lake from the hard push against his back. Then Pietro was in front of him, giving another almost too hard push to his chest to balance him out again before he reappeared at Adelaide's side. "I'm Pietro Maximoff, but you can call me Quicksilver."

Grinning, Bobby held his hands up in surrender. "Nice to meet you Pietro, no worries, I already have a girlfriend."

"Oh, well alrighty then." The dark look left his face, and he nudged Adelaide playfully. "Looks like you've got your work cut out for you." She glared and tried to dump a fist full of sand over his head but he was gone before the first gains could land.

"Cheater!" She shouted when he reappeared behind Bobby.

"Don't use me as a shield," Bobby cried, trying to get out of the way so he wouldn't get hit by the mud ball Adelaide flung their way.

"So, where did you two come from?" He asked, trying to distract them both to escape the full-fledged mud fight her eyes were promising. All good humor fled her face as if he'd slapped her. Without a word, she turned and walked towards the water to wash her hands. Bobby silently cursed himself when he recognized the look. It was as stupid question, one he should have known better than to ask.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"Nah, it's fine. Not like we'll be able to keep it a secret forever." Pietro interrupted. He saw Adelaide's shoulders hunch as she bent to wash, but she didn't turn and tell him to shut up so he continued. "Have you heard anything about the mutants who were being experimented on by the military?"

Bobby's jaw dropped. "No. No way, they can't do that."

Adelaide gave a bitter laugh that sounded like it wanted to be a sob. Staring off into the distance, Pietro said in a hollow voice, "Yeah, they can. My," he stopped, almost choking on the next word before he cleared his throat. "My sister and I were captured in Europe after our parents were killed by villagers." Pain made his voice tight. My fault damn it, if they hadn't caught me stealing it would never have happened. "We were drugged and taken to the facility. There well…it wasn't…it was horrible. The Doctor didn't give a shit about me, but he was fascinated by…" he couldn't finish.

"The Doctor was alwaysss more interested in the girlsss instead of the boysss, no matter what our powersss were," Adelaide's voice picked up where he left off, each word a pained whisper. "We were kept in cagesss that negated our power if we had a power that would let us esscape. Not that we could esscape, even if we wanted to. Not with…with IX there to get us if we tried. That's what happened to Alice. Ssshe tried to get away."

"I didn't know that," Pietro said, biting his bottom lip. In the medical lab he'd been too focused on protecting the girls to really register IX's presence. It was only after they'd been settled away from the killer that the rage broke past the terror. He couldn't believe he hadn't attacked the bastard when he had the chance. Yeah right, you're a fucking coward. There he was, the monster that killed your sister and you didn't do a damned thing about it, self-hatred clutched his heart in its skeletal fist and squeezed. Next time Wanda, I promise.

"Alice?" It was hard to get the word out. Bobby couldn't believe what he was hearing, but now that he looked at them, he could tell they'd had a hard time of it. They had the underfed look of street kids, but it was the hollows under their eyes that told the truth of too many sleepless nights.

Adelaide looked down, letting her dark bangs hide her eyes. "She got out with us, but before we got out she ran. Tried to anyway. When they brought her back to the cages, she was missing her left leg." A tremor wracked her small frame. Pietro appeared next to her, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders as he tucked her against his side. Like Alice, she turned her face to hide it against his chest. "After they brought her back…sshe told me. Oh God. Sshe told me how IX caught her and brought her back to the Doctor. How he cut her l-leg off while sshe was ssstill awake, how IX burned it up in front of her." The words spilled out of her in a horrified rush, as if she couldn't keep them bottled up anymore before she dissolved into sobs.

Pietro's arms wrapped around her. Together they clung to each other. Over her head, his eyes met Bobby's shocked gaze. "We're the only three left. They killed the rest." He swallowed hard. "There were hundreds of mutants kept in that living hell, and we're all that's left."

"I'm sorry." Bobby flinched at the hollow sounding words, but he had to say something. But what could he say? What wouldn't sound utterly pathetic in the face of their suffering? Nothing. That's what. Not a single damned thing. Pietro gave him a pained smile.

"So am I."

Alice fought not to cry. Every muscle in her arms shook and another bead of sweat rolled into her eye. The sharp sting did it, she tried to keep the cry locked in her throat, but couldn't. Her arms gave out. Blue furred hands caught her around her tiny waist, keeping her from falling.

"It's all right Alice. That was expertly done. You'll have these bars mastered in no time."

"No I won't," the words were half lost in her tears. Her stump throbbed and she silently cursed her new leg. It was impossible. They were just making fun of her and trying to get her hopes up. They wanted to see her suffer even more. "Why are you doing this?" She sobbed.

Hank scooped the small girl up and settled her on one of the padded benches in the gymnastics room. The double bars let her attempt to walk while still having the use of her arms to provide most of the support, but he knew it was difficult for her. After the amputation, she hadn't been given any physical therapy. The muscles in her stump and her whole leg had atrophied enough that learning to simply take her weight again was almost unbearable.

Every tear was like a paper-cut to his heart. "I know it's hard, little one, but I believe in you. You're strong enough to beat this. They took so much from you, but we will gain this back. I promised you when we got your new leg fitted that you would walk again, didn't I?"

"Yes," she sniffled.

"And I'll be with you for every step, every tear. That's another promise. If you need a shoulder to cry on, I'll always be right here for you. If you need to rage and scream, scream at me." He gave her a playful grin. "I'll even let you punch me." She gave him a watery smile at that.

"How about taking a swim? I'm sure the cool water would feel amazing right about now. What do you think?"

Like children the world over, Alice couldn't hold back a grin at the thought of swimming. "Yes, please."

Twenty minutes later they found themselves treading water in the large pool. Hank usually avoided the pool, but all it took was a single look from those crystal blue eyes and he was lost. After he eased her into the water, he leapt in after. Her playful giggles when he came up looking like a half drowned oddly blue dog made it all worthwhile. Anything to chase the haunted look from her eyes.

"Dr. McCoy?" Kitty's voice rang through the room and bounced off the walls. Hank sank into the water until only his eyes peeked out. He grumbled under the water, wondering why she of all people had to find them. Why couldn't it have been anyone who wouldn't tell the rest of the school? A small tug on his back fur brought him out of his disgruntled thoughts.

Alice clung to him like a lemur pup to her mother during an all-out lemur battle. He gritted his teeth into the semblance of a smile when she gave a particularly sharp yank.

"Hello Kitty," Hank mentally patted himself on the back for not sounding like he was a cat whose tail was being yanked by a toddler.

Splash! Kitty leapt into the pool, her delighted laughter seemed ring like bells at having caught him in sopping wet in the pool. If she makes a single joke about blue fur balls, I'll dunk her a good one.

Kitty swam towards them with the agility of a young otter, and the twinkle in her eye promised mischief. Then he felt his little passenger shift, a small white blond head appeared over his shoulder, husky blue eyes peaking at the stranger. Kitty's smile changed in an instant to one of welcome. "Hi! Oh another girl. Perfect. Oh my gosh, your eyes are so pretty. Do you like to shop? I love shopping. I'm Kitty, Katherine Pryde, Kitty to my friends. We'll be friends right?" Suddenly Kitty's eyes widened into a perfect imitation of Puss in Boots from Shrek.

A headache flared in Hank's head at Kitty's nonsense. How the girl could string so many words together without breathing always amazed him. Still, she would be good for Alice, he knew.

"Um…hello. Yes? I'm Alice Smyth," the shy words came out a little squeaky, but Kitty had that effect on people the first time.

"Yay!" Suddenly Kitty was climbing his front to get to her new friend and it was all Hank could do not to sink under the weight of two teenage girls.

"Kitty!"

"Oops, sorry," she said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "Come on!" She held out a hand to Alice, ignoring the flash of fear in the other girl's eyes. "It'll be fun, promise." And like so many before her, Alice reached out and was swept away by hurricane Kitty.

Hank sat on the edge of the pool, ignoring the way the chlorinated water made his skin itch beneath the fur as he watched the two young girls splash and play together. Kitty hadn't asked a single question when she noticed Alice's missing leg, and she'd deftly steered all conversation away from dangerous waters. Instead, she chatted gaily about her friends, about the school, about the mall, and anything else that came into her mind. All the while, she drew Alice along with her and got the maimed sixteen-year-old to relax and forget, if only for an hour or so, everything that had happened.

They were just two teens having an afternoon of fun in the swimming pool. Happiness filled Hank at the sight, and he knew he owned Kitty a trip to the mall for this.

There! No cliff hanger. *Grins* Thank you for reading, and for all the amazing (if angry at the cliffhanger) reviews for the last chapter.