Warning: There's going to be blood and violence in this chapter.

Edited: 3/5/16

Chapter 22 – Breaking Free

"He that hath deserved hanging may be glad to escape with a whipping." – Thomas Brooks

Obey your wielder in all things. Complete the mission. Why are you still here? Complete. The. MISSION.

Pain throbbed behind IX's eyes with each mental repetition, but it was a loop he was incapable of silencing. It felt like spikes of ice were being drilled into his temples, sinking deeper into his brain with every passing second. Like a computer given a command it couldn't complete, IX's mind began to crash under the pressure of not being able to finish the mission.

His face remained blank, masking the growing instability. The scientists had never considered what might happen if he was captured and kept from fulfilling an order. Had they known, they would have been pleased. What better weapon than one that would self-destruct if it fell into enemy hands?

He paced the confining white space. IX always thought the mutants who lost it after a couple of days confinement were weak, now he had a greater understanding of what drove them. It felt like the walls were closing in on him. Though his cell was larger than the cubical sized cages his previous charges were kept in, it was still small enough to induce claustrophobia.

On his 209th circuit around the room, IX turned and slammed his fist into the door with enough force to fracture his wrist. A jagged bolt of pain shot up his arm, but it didn't mar his features. Nor did it distract from the shark like thoughts circling his fatigued mind, ready to tear him apart if he let his guard down. Letting his arm drop once more to his side, IX continued pacing. He turned the wrist, sending fresh waves of pain bouncing up and down the limb as he walked.

Xavier rubbed at his left temple in a vain attempt to ease the growing headache. His wrist gave a sympathetic twinge of pain. It had been less than a week, but he'd become almost too attuned to IX's slowly fracturing mind.

Any hope of locking the teen away and having everything turn out all right had faded away under a tide of thoughts that were becoming more disjointed by the day. But what to do? How could he break through and get IX's mind (not healthy, that wasn't possible) stable again? A glimmer of an idea flicked across his mind like a bolt of distant lightning.

Hoping for the best, but guarding against the worst, Xavier left his office and went to find Logan.

"You have got to be joking," Logan said, splitting a glare between Xavier and Dr. McCoy. What the hell are they thinking? The kid is locked up, he's not going anywhere. Why not let sleeping sociopaths lie? Now way this ends any place I want to be.

Hank ran his claws through the blue fur of his chin before reaching up to adjust his glasses. Personally, he was in agreement with the ex-weapon. Although he could observe IX's growing agitation, he failed to see how the Professor's plan would do anything to alleviate it.

"All you have to do is go in there and spend a little time with him. Talk to him. Let him know that he doesn't have to complete the mission. Perhaps if he hears it from you, he'll believe it." Charles said. It was a far-fetched idea, but Xavier's mental reassurances had fallen on a deaf mind. IX hadn't even acknowledged him save for a slight flicker of irritation that he couldn't use his power to drag Charles down into a living nightmare the way he had Jean.

Logan snorted. "Yeah, right. I'm sure all he needs is a lecture about how he just needs to be a good boy and not kill all the other children. That'll straighten him right out." Charles frowned at the feral.

"X was his companion for years. I'm certain that your words will hold more weight than mine. Either way, we have to do something before his mind tears itself apart."

Logan was about to say something else smart assed when a silvery spike of pain ripped through his mind. It felt like his own claws had been used to rake the inside of his skull. The beast inside roared its fury at the thought of harm coming to the small male, and Logan was half tempted to walk out the room right then to spite the monster. Another jolt of mental agony persuaded him that it wasn't worth the torment he knew X could inflict when he wanted to.

"Fine," he snarled, sounding more like X than he was comfortable with. This was the mother of all bad ideas, but he knew Baldy wasn't about to let him off the hook just because there wasn't a snowflake's chance in hell of it working.

"Wonderful. Be prepared, he might attack you when you enter." Hank said with a fanged grin. Part of him wanted to go in there and pay the brat back for his broken nose, but his inner scientist pointed out that the assassin would probably break more than his nose if he did. Thankfully, for his bones sake, Hank's inner scientist always won out over his pride. Still, the upcoming fight would be amusing to watch. Much better than watching a kid slowly losing his marbles.

"That's reassuring," Logan grumbled.

"Have fun."

The door hissed open. IX spun, about to attack when his eyes locked on X's face. His frantic thoughts splintered into confusion at the sight of X. Before he could force them back into some semblance of order and attack, the opportunity was gone. The door whispered closed behind the feral, leaving the pair of weapons alone in the white cell.

"You hit me," IX said. The words were bland, but didn't match the spark of fire that leapt in the depths of his green eyes.

Logan scowled and took a step forward. "Yeah. That's what happens when you're torturing people and don't watch your back."

That made the indifferent mask slip. IX glared. "I am your handler. You should have been watching my back, not turning on me."

A low growl escaped him before he could stop it. The room stank of the tiny male, and that made X thrash more in his mind, which in turn made his temper flare. "Look kid, I don't need a fucking handler. I'm not a God damned dog." Another step forward.

Before he could recognize the danger, IX struck. A pale foot lashed out and buried itself into Logan's gut with all the force of a week's worth of pent up madness. A strangled woof escaped Logan, and he fought not to double over.

One massive fist arched out, missing IX's face by half an inch. A small hand gripped the passing wrist while the other hand slammed forward into the elbow joint, tearing ligaments. "They have made you weak. You are better than this." IX said as he drove a knee into Logan's groin. Agony painted the world red. Wounded in body and pride, Logan gave a guttural snarl. The shink of claws ripping free was loud in the small room, but IX didn't flinch away.

Logan's arms tensed to strike when a new agony tore into his mind. X slammed into his cage in a blind rage. The force of the mental blow staggered him, and he forgot all about IX in his internal struggle to stay in control.

Again IX struck, this time Logan was in no position to attempt a defense. A series of blows designed to inflict the greatest amount of pain rained down on the helpless feral, driving him to his knees.

The biting heat IX felt after X's first betrayal returned and grew fangs. It bit into him with every blow that connected. Every blow that X should have been able to deflect. Thoughts of the mission were forgotten under the lash of his ire at what had once been X. You are weak. It was an intolerable sin, and if IX's power hadn't been blocked, he would have turned his fire on the imposter who now wore X's skin. He was almost positive that his power would be a match for X's healing factor.

Backing up to the far wall, IX ran forward and leapt. His slender body rolled effortlessly through the air as one leg stretched out. His heel slammed into the back of X's bent head, smashing him face first into the cement floor with enough force that the cement cracked beneath X's adamantium sheathed forehead.

Blinding pain erupted throughout Logan's body as he was attacked both inside and out from IX and X. And then the cage holding the monster crashed open. Mental claws tore into his psyche, and Logan screamed as he was ripped from the conscious world and thrown back down into the darkness.

X snarled, twisting instinctively out of the way. IX's foot slammed down where his neck had been a second before. Reaching out, X snatched the foot and jerked IX off balance. He caught the fist headed for his face and twisted it behind his mate's back. His other hand jerked the white t-shirt down just enough for him to bury his teeth in IX's shoulder.

Like a switch being flipped, the fight drained out of IX's body. He hung limp in the brutal grip. All the mental anguish, the strain of being here and of losing X faded into contentment. X rumbled with pleasure, the sound vibrated through IX's body, relaxing him further. His arm was released, and IX found himself enveloped in X's strong grip. Home, he thought, ignoring the new smells that clung to the larger man. IX focused only on the feel of teeth and the heat of arms holding him almost too tight to breathe.

The mission. The thought was a ragged note, ruining the blissful feeling of reunion. "Enough." For once, his voice wasn't monotone. Instead it was rough enough to make X whine low in his throat. IX's fingers stroked through X's hair. All he wanted to do was stay like this, but that was impossible. They had to finish the mission.

"Enough," he repeated. "We have to go. Cut through the door." Even without his power, IX was certain that together they could escape. As long as he had X, they would be fine.

X growled, the deep sound vibrating in his barrel like chest. Even now he could feel the other trying to claw his way back into control, but he refused to be caged again. Not when IX needed him. Turning, he gently flung IX over his shoulder so the smaller male could cling to his back.

Again his adamantium claws slid free of their fleshy confinement. "Hurry." The word was little more than a slurring exhale. IX's grip around his neck failed, and he had to twist and retract his claws to catch his mate before he fell. The instinctual action took too long. Dizziness swamped him, making IX feel like he weighed a thousand pounds. Snarling in fury, he tried to make it to the door, but his legs buckled. He hardly felt the jolt of pain as he fell.

As darkness ate the world, he curled himself around IX in a vain attempt to protect the smaller male with his body.

"What are you smiling about? That was an unmitigated disaster! We should have knocked them out when it became clear IX wasn't going to listen to Logan," Hank said while scowling at the two unconscious mutants on the screen. His hand had been poised over the knockout button from the first strike, but Charles kept stopping him until it became hopelessly obvious that IX was once again in control of both himself and X.

The curious smile didn't leave Charles's lips. "Perhaps not as much a disaster as you would think, my friend." New pieces of the puzzle were sliding together in the telepath's mind. X was nearly impossible to read. His thoughts were far more animal than human, but his actions? They spoke volumes. Not to mention IX's reaction to him. "Now a great many things make since." Logan's disgust with who he'd once been was only one excuse keeping him away from IX. The truth was a far different beast, as the truth so often was.

"What have you deduced from this little drama?"

"Many things. X's loyalty was never to the people who controlled them. No, it's clear now that IX was his leash in more ways than one. Logan will need to come to terms with what his other half feels for the young man I'm afraid."

Hank's eyebrow lifted, replaying the odd attack in his mind. The bite so deep it bled. The old lacework of scars on IX's shoulder, all inflicted by X, I'm certain, and most important was IX's reaction to the bite. Not like it was an attack at all, but something else. "I see," he nodded. He hadn't at first, simply because he hadn't thought the emotionless assassin was capable of such feelings, but he couldn't get the image of IX's near blissful smile out of his mind. That wasn't the reaction of a man in distress. Before seeing that, Hank assumed the bite marks were from some odd form of punishment. It hadn't even occurred to him that they'd been inflicted by X, or that they were consensual. Yes, he could see how Logan might find the whole situation disturbing. It added a whole new level of complication for the amnesiac. "And IX?"

The smile faded. Charles's eyes darkened as he studied the pair. He'd kept a mental thumb over the pulse of IX's thoughts throughout the exchange. "Good, bad, and worse I'm afraid."

Hank scowled. Why couldn't there ever be good, great and wonderful news? It was too much to hope for, he supposed.

"Right. Of course it is. Let's start with the good then."

"The good news is that I was correct, at least in part. X's presence did sooth IX's mind. Unfortunately it didn't last long before the compulsion overwhelmed the beneficial effect," Charles said as he steepled his fingers and considered the rest of what he'd observed. "That's the bad news. The worse news is that he would have killed Logan if he still had access to his powers. Even with the obvious attachment between them, he would have burned him alive. I'm afraid that no one and nothing is safe when it comes to IX. There are no lines he won't cross if it will aid him in his mission."

"He sees Logan as a threat then?"

"More than that. He feels active animosity towards the 'Logan' personality. From his point of view, Logan is a usurper in X's body. Because Logan couldn't defend against his attack, he also thinks of the alter as weak. A part of him also feels betrayed by X, making him willing to kill if given half a chance in spite of the fact that he also associates X with home," Charles finished, not hiding how much the murderous thoughts dismayed him.

Unable to form a response to that bit of unsettling news, Hank's eyes slipped back to the screen. The larger body shifted. "Logan's back in control right?"

"Yes."

"Oh good. Looks like he's coming around right on time. IX should remain unconscious for the rest of the night." It had taken the blue doctor days to come up with a drug that would incapacitate Logan without killing anyone else within range of the effects. The best he could do only worked for less than five minutes, but it would do in a pinch.

The coppery taste of liquid lightning brought him back to the world of the living. It was a taste more potent than the finest liquor and more addicting than crack. Licking his lips, Logan couldn't suppress the low moan. It was then he felt the tiny body curled up beneath him. His traitorous cock perked up and before he could stop himself, his head dipped forward to lick at the sluggishly bleeding wound. The action was so natural it took his mind a second to catch up.

"Fuck," he groaned, leaping away as if the small form had caught fire under him. X rumbled low in the back of his mind, and even though he could feel the other's agitation, it was a distant thing. More like a sleepy growl than the all-out roars he was used to. It cost him, the bastard, taking me over wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. Logan could almost feel the exhaustion radiating out from the cage.

It was then he realized he wasn't in much better shape. Even though his healing factor took care of all the damage dealt by IX, and the knockout agent, it couldn't do shit for the mental agony his fight with X caused. X wasn't the only one who'd been wiped out by their battle. He knew he'd pass out again soon, this time from sheer exhaustion, and there was no way in hell he'd sleep in here with the tiny, oh so sexy, sociopath. Sick. You are so sick, he thought, unable to stop his imagination from painting vivid pictures of IX sprawled out beneath him. The taste of IX's blood lingered on his tongue, and his scent clung to him like a serpent. Time to get the fuck out of here, no more of the Mad Professor's experiments. Part of him that Logan was more than willing to blame on X rebelled at the thought of walking away from IX.

Gritting his teeth in irritation, he bent and picked IX up bridal style. The boy felt so light in his arms. Tiny. All the more reason why they would never work out. God, even if we did more than bite, I'd probably end up breaking him. To his utter disgust, his cock gave another hard pulse at the thought, more than willing to give it a try. He almost dropped the boy onto the bed before he turned and made for the door which thankfully slid open at his approach. There was no doubt in his mind that he would have cut the damned thing down if it hadn't to escape the unconscious boy. If only he could escape his own deviant thoughts as easily. It's X, that's all. Not me, no way.

The words rang hollow in his mind, and Logan fought the urge to run to his room. He walked stiffly down the hall, not trusting himself to deal with Baldy and Blue boy. Not right now. Right now, he needed a shower.

After eighteen hours of alternating nightmares where IX wasn't fast enough, and his claws plunged into that delicate body, and erotic dreams where something else plunged into IX's hot flesh, Logan woke up. The slimy state of what was left of the shredded sheets made him wrinkle his nose in disgust, he's twelve for fucks sake. But he didn't look twelve. More importantly, he didn't smell twelve. The intoxicating musk of the man was just that, the scent of a man. Not the clean aroma of a child barely into adolescents.

The fact that his own scent markers were so deeply imprinted on the boy only added to his lust. Everything about IX screamed mate to his feral side. Not the monster the scientists had created in X, but the very base of his mutation.

Shaking his head, Logan grabbed the torn sheets and threw them into the corner. What did it matter anyway? IX made it pretty clear how he felt about Logan. Whatever feelings the assassin might have for X hadn't carried over to him, and Logan wasn't stupid enough to think that would ever change. If I wanted him, which I don't.

Frustrated at the circular thoughts that were getting him nowhere, Logan stormed into his bathroom for yet another shower.

Once he'd scrubbed away the sticky mess of sweat and spent seed, he stalked the halls until he found the scent he wanted. He might not be able to do anything about IX, but he'd be damned if he didn't get something done about X.

Logan forgot about the promise to stay in the lower levels. His only thought was on finding Charles Xavier and getting his psychotic little problem taken care of. The few kids he passed along the way took one look at his scowling face and stepped out of the way of the stranger.

With a low growl he couldn't suppress, Logan slammed open the door to Xavier's office. A small brunette girl standing in front of Xavier's desk jumped with a squeak. Her wide eyes met his, and he fought the impulse to let his claws rip free. At least then she'd have a reason to look frightened. Something in that look burned him. It was almost the prelude to memory, though nothing came. Those memories didn't belong to him, and he was thankful. He didn't want to know how many young mutants had looked at him like that when X had been in control. Better not to know.

"We can go over the rest later Kitty. Around 2:30 tomorrow?" Xavier's smile didn't falter as he looked beyond her to Logan. "It appears I have another appointment to keep."

Kitty gave Logan one last wide eyed look before she offered a shaky smile. He was large and it didn't help that he looked a bit like a bear who'd stuck his paw in a beehive. In a word, he looked pissed. She gave Xavier a worried look. Would the Professor be able to handle him?

I'll be fine my dear. Thank you for your concern. Now I think Logan needs to vent a little, so off you go.

Her smile flared into a grin. "Yes, sir!" she chirped before she turned and ran for the door. Logan tracked the movement and snorted when the girl ran through the door instead of opening it.

"I be that one is a handful."

"Indeed. I thought we agreed that you wouldn't enter the school grounds?" Even though Xavier's tone was mild, the words held a hint of warning.

Logan crossed his arms and glared. "Well, it's not like you gave me your phone number or anything."

Xavier chuckled. "Logan, I may be the most powerful telepath in the world. You don't need a phone to reach me." A sullen heat filled Logan's cheeks at the reminder.

"Why did you really come?"

His lips twitched in an aborted snarl. "You have to do something about X. Look, when it was me, I couldn't even come close to the surface. There has to be some way for you to get rid of him or shove him so far down that he won't know what the fuck is going on in the real world."

Like I didn't. The thought was so loud it echoed in Xavier's mind, flavored with a mix of rage and hurt. He wasn't looking forward to the rest of this conversation. Suppressing a sigh, Xavier began.

"I've spent several nights studying what was done to your mind Logan, and I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"What do you mean not possible? It happened to me, didn't it? Why the hell can't you reverse it and make him disappear?" Logan raked his fingers through his hair and fought the urge to shout.

"Please, sit down."

"I'm fine standing," Logan growled, not wanting to remain still long enough to sit.

A line of irritation appeared between Xavier's brows. "Be that as it may, this is going to be a long conversation and I have no intention of getting a crick in my neck staring up at you."

Logan was tempted to refuse, but the need for answers outweighed his childish impulse. Jerking the chair out, he flung himself into it. The wood creaked in protest of the rough treatment, but held. Xavier looked at him with that insufferably tolerant look as if he were one of the teenagers who was having an angsty moment.

"Are you familiar with dissociative identity disorder?" Xavier asked.

Not liking the implications of that question, even though he wasn't certain of its meaning, Logan shook his head.

"It's more common name is multiple personality disorder."

Silence hung in the room like a glass poised at the edge of a desk about to fall. "I'm not insane," each word was low and cold. Logan's eyes locked on Xavier's, and he didn't try to hide his growing anger. Yes, the situation was FUBAR all to hell and back, but that didn't make him crazy.

"I never said you were," there was that damned calm voice again, as if he were a jumper about to take that final step. "However, what was done to you created a mental situation that is remarkably similar to that condition. You and X are two separate and distinct personalities. Here's where things get complicated. You lost so much to whatever was done to you that you aren't the dominate personality any more. X is."

"No. That bastard was made up! He can't be the…the main personality. He's a fucking figment of a mad scientist's imagination." Sweet rage filled him, and he relished the emotion until the cage began to rattle. Shit, stay asleep you fucking monster. Sleep forever.

The compassionate look on Xavier's face was like a vile of carelessly flung acid to the face. "How he was formed doesn't matter. All that matters is the fact that you are an alternate personality. That's why you were so completely suppressed before, and only came near the surface when X couldn't cope with a situation that was beyond his animal intellect."

Logan wanted to argue, but he couldn't help remember those strange flashes when IX and X were stuck in the wilderness. X's need to protect IX had called to him, and for reasons he still couldn't understand, he'd responded. What do you say when you're told that you aren't a real person? This is crazy.

"You are a real person, Logan."

"Knock that off damn it. Stop crawling around inside my head," he snapped, eyes blazing and fists clenched.

A pained sigh escaped Xavier. "I'm not listening on purpose. You're upset and that makes you shout your thoughts. I can't block them out when you scream them at me." That was new to Logan, how was he supposed to lower the sound of his thoughts?

"Whatever. So X is the dominant personality. What does that have to do with silencing him? If he can take over the dominant position, why can't I take it back?"

"Unfortunately it doesn't work like that. X has more memories than you do, which in turn anchors his personality more firmly than yours. I can't suppress him any more than he is because that would destabilize your mind completely, and you would go insane." Xavier hesitated.

"Spit it out. What aren't you telling me?"

Bracing himself, Xavier continued. "Keeping him suppressed as it is will begin to wear on your mind. Eventually…we're going to have to begin the process of integration."

"Integration. That better not be what it sounds like."

"Yes. As the alternate personality, you can't remain in control forever. The only solution is to merge with X to once again form a single personality."

That was the final straw. Logan leapt out of the chair and slammed his fist on Xavier's desk. "Fuck that. No way in hell am I going to lose myself to that monster. You're insane. You know that? Fucking insane." Without waiting for a reply or any more useless platitudes about how things had to be, Logan stormed out of the room. He slammed the door behind him as if he could shut and lock the door on any further conversations about disorders and integration. I can't merge with X. I don't want to merge with that psycho. What the hell kind of solution is that? No. I'll figure something else out. There's no way in hell I'm letting it have control again.

Too furious to pay attention to his surroundings, Logan rounded a corner and felt a small shape bounce off his front. His hand shot out, catching a wrist before the girl could fall. The neck ruffling scent of snake invaded his nostrils at the same instant his eyes were caught by inhuman amber. The thin pupils dilated in terror as the blood drained from the girl's face. Logan's lips curled in an instinctual snarl when the pungent odor of fear struck him an instant before her head darted forward.

"God fucking damn it," Logan shouted when her fangs plunged into his arm. As much as he wanted to jerk free, he forced himself to remain still. The last thing he needed was a pair of snake fangs broken off in his flesh. That would go over well with the Professor.

He didn't have long to wait. Almost as fast as a true snake, the girl was gone. The terror in the girl's face had turned to horror of a different kind. "B-but, you can't talk! You're not…I thought…" her black tongue flicked out, tasting his scent. "You are X," her voice hardened, but still waivered a bit with confusion.

"Perfect. Of all the people I could have run into, it had to be someone who knew X," the words were a bit breathy from the neurotoxins attempting to shut down his nerves system. Scowling, he poked at the blackening wound. It felt like he'd been injected with liquid fire. "That's one hell of a bite you got on you, brat."

She stared at him in confused horror. He was X but not, and how the hell was he still standing? "Y-you ssshould be dead."

He snorted. "Yeah. I get that a lot," Logan's voice had steadied, and the black rot receded like a movie in reverse as his body healed the damage. "Might want to watch who you go around nipping with those things. Not everyone can heal like I can. By the way, I'm Logan. X's better half, you could say." He offered her his hand along with a wolfish grin that made her cringe.

"Er, right. I'm going to go now. Bye." She turned and fled. Rubbing the back of his neck, Logan sighed. At least she didn't run screaming, that should count as progress, right? He didn't know anymore. The Professor was right, it was best to avoid the kiddies all together. Rubbing where the bite mark had been, he made his way back down stairs.

IX stared dully at the ceiling. A sharp ache throbbed in his left shoulder, and he knew he'd lost more time. How long had it been since X? How long since he'd woken up in this white version of hell? He didn't know. All he knew was the pressure was growing. It felt like cinder blocks were being placed on his chest, slowly crushing him into dust.

The mission. Yes. The mission. He had to complete the mission. He couldn't complete the mission. Those two opposing realities were tearing his mind to pieces. All of his attempts at escape had ended in failure. Any time he came close, the room would fill with gas, and he'd wake up with all his work undone.

It was intolerable. All of the muscles in his body tensed. IX's jaw locked on the scream burning in the back of his throat, and his fists clutched at the blanket beneath him. He fought grimly against the impulse to fling himself at the door again. Darkness nibbled at the edges of his vision, and his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might rupture. No, the word rang like a bell in his mind, driving the darkness back. Slowly, one painful muscle group at a time, he forced his body to relax. He would not lose control of himself again.

The lights flipped off. No. It's too soon, or too late. Pain raked through his mind as he tried and failed to hold on to time. They changed the time. They're trying to break me down. No. Why? They haven't asked me any questions. Why are they doing this?

The pressure continued to build, crushing him in fists of darkness. Grabbing the blanket, IX curled up in a ball beneath it. His fingers worked without his conscious mind noticing. His thoughts continued to oscillate wildly between paranoid fantasies about his captives' motives for messing with the lights to the incomplete mission.

Days passed in the darkness, and he could feel his mind fracture like brittle ice. He had to escape.

The lights turned on, burning too brightly for comfort. IX's blood shot eyes settled on the coil of braided cloth curled up like a snake beside him. Something too sharp to be a smile cracked his dry lips.

Time to escape.

Storm huffed under her breath as her red pen slashed through an entire passage. Copy/Paste = plagiarism, she wrote in the margin. "Looks like I'll need to assign yet another paper on how to properly cite works," she muttered.

The flicker of movement in her peripheral vision drew Storm's gaze to the bank of monitors. Even though Hank uplinked them all to the staff's tablets, she was more comfortable watching from the observation room. Plus it was a great place to grade papers in peace, and it was close to the holding cells in case something went wrong.

A small frown touched her lips as she watched the small mound under the blanket shift. Hopefully she wouldn't have to knock him out again. Storm shuddered at the memory of the teen slamming himself into the door. It wasn't so much that he was trying to break the unbreakable door down with his shoulder, it was the absolute silence he'd done it in. That and his blank face. Watching him slam into the door over and over again without any flicker of emotion was beyond disturbing.

If he followed his usual pattern, he'd spend the next several hours pacing and randomly attacking the door. There was enough time for her to get another two or three papers checked before she delivered his breakfast. Returning her attention to St. John's cobbled together paper, she resumed her assault on the page.

Finished with that assignment, Storm glanced up to the monitors again. Her blood ran cold at what she saw, and her hand darted towards the knockout button before freezing. Too late!

Jerking to her feet, the chair crashed behind her and papers scattered over the floor like feathers from a dove shot by a malicious child. Every second seemed to stretch into minutes, and like a dream it felt like she was moving through quick sand. Don't be dead, please don't be dead.

The door to his cell hissed open. Storm ran towards the small hanging figure whose face was already a dusky purple color. He'd made an impromptu rope out of his sheets and used the head of the shower as an anchor. Her left arm wrapped around his slender form and lifted while her other hand worked the knot of the rope until it slipped loose.

She got the rope over his head and was about to lay him on the ground to assess the damage when the limp form came alive in her arms. Brilliant green eyes rimmed in red from broken blood vessels flashed open and something equally red lashed out at her. His toothbrush? She thought in confusion when pain tore at her throat. It felt like her front had been doused with coffee, but Storm knew the heated liquid pouring down her chest was blood. Her blood.

IX stepped away from her as she fell, her hands going to her neck in a futile attempt to stem the tide. A clock began ticking down inside his skull. Each second tolled with a single sound: ESCAPE, ESCAPE, ESCAPE.

Blood had splashed across his face and chest, but there wasn't time to clean up. Stepping over the dying woman, IX ran for the door. He kept ahold of the plastic toothbrush that had been sharpened over the past several nights against the painted cement wall next to his bed. It was the only weapon he had, and he would use it on anyone who got in his way.

It rarely has more than one part. Hank nibbled the end of his pen as he studied the crossword clue. Four letters, the third an I, hm, hm, hmmm. A grin split his lips as he brought the pen around and scribbled H-A-I a jagged line cut across the page when a bolt of agony seared through his brain. He lost his grip, and almost landed on his head when he fell from his customary upside down perch.

The message, more images and impressions than words, scalded him with Xavier's urgency. Scrambling to his feet, Hank took off at a dead run for the cells. He choked back the scream of denial when he slammed into the room and saw Storm. Her beautiful pure white hair had been stained crimson, and he thought he was too late. Then one bloody hand reached for him. Cursing his lack of action, he rushed to her side and snatched her up in his arms.

Every second it took him to get her back to the infirmary was paid for in blood. Jean met him at the door and together they fought against time to save her life.

Scott's hand stroked along the gentle curve of Jean's spine as his tongue stroked over her full bottom lip, begging to be let in. The jasmine scent of her hair surrounded him in the memories of a thousand heated nights. Still she resisted his attentions, but he could feel her will weakening in spite of the fact that the students would arrive soon, and she hated being caught in such an intimate embrace.

The dry tick of the clock on the wall provided a sane counterbalance to their heated kiss as she opened up to him. Her arms circled his neck, pulling them closer together as they feasted on the sweet nectar of each other's lips.

Then his fingers dipped down the back of her black slacks to stroke the soft skin above her tailbone. Growling into the kiss, Jean pushed him away and gave his chest a hard smack for good measure. "This isn't the place for that sort of thing. How many times to do I have to tell you?" she huffed, but delight twinkled in her green eyes. Trying not to smile and ruin the scolding, Jean brought the single red rose still clutched in her left hand up to sniff and hide her lips behind.

Scott gave a sheepish little boy smile. "At least once more, it seems." It was good to see her smile. The past week had been difficult for her, he knew. The dark circles under her eyes were testament to her sleepless nights. When she did manage to fall asleep, her powers would start to go out of control. He was beginning to feel like a character from the Poltergeist movies he'd watched as a kid. Rubbing the side of his nose, he tried to ignore the memory of waking up with his face squashed against the ceiling due to their bed levitating during one of her nightmares.

We need to talk about her power, he thought, knowing it was a problem but not what they could do to fix it. It didn't help that she shut him out whenever he tried to bring it up. If he had to hear 'fine' one more time when he asked if she was all right, he might scream or shake her. Maybe then she'd tell him what IX had done to her. That topic was still utter taboo. Any time he tried to bring it up, she banished him to the living room to sleep. In a school full of children, that was an invitation to endless pranks which made the punishment of sleeping on the couch a thousand times worse for him than it was for other men.

Also, he didn't want to ruin this small moment of happiness for her. Not when her eyes laughed at him and the haunted look had faded a bit. We'll talk about it later.

Leaning forward for another kiss, Scott froze when the laughter drained from her face. The rose fell soundlessly from her lax fingers, and his heart fell with it. Dread sank into his bones like teeth of a half-starved beast.

"No," she gasped.

Then something else crossed her face. Rage, raw and inhuman, blazed in her emerald gaze. Her hand darted out to grab his, pulling him towards the door.

"What?" He asked, not wanting to be told, but knowing that it wouldn't stop whatever happened.

"He escaped." The hate in those two words scalded him, but didn't hide the underlying emotion. Not from him. Unbearable terror screamed just beneath the hatred. Scott gripped her hand tighter before tugging her to a stop.

She spun, her hair flying around her like an amber wave. "We have to go. I have to help Hank with Storm. He…" she choked on the words, unable to say it out loud. "Will you?" Again she couldn't finish. This time, he knew what she was asking. Behind his visor, his eyes hardened.

"Yes. I'll take care of him. Go help Storm."

Resolve hardened Scott's heart as he searched for his quarry. IX had been given too many chances, and unlike Xavier, he wasn't about to let the killer survive. Not after attacking both Jean and Storm. What happened to the kid was awful, he wouldn't deny that, but pity would get them all killed. Keeping IX around was dangerous, and this only proved the point.

He would do what was needed to keep them safe. Xavier would be disappointed, but he'd understand why Scott had to take matters into his own hands. Not everyone could be saved, that was all. They tried their best to help mutants in need, but you couldn't save a person who didn't want help. He'd never met a person who wanted help less than IX.

Another door hissed open. Scott's hand snapped up to his visor, shooting off a blast of crimson light at the small figure running straight for him. IX darted to the side and didn't scream when the blast cut through his left shoulder instead of taking him in the heart.

Before Scott could correct his aim, IX was past him and through the door. He twisted to follow, but staggered to his knees when agony ripped through his side. Without his permission, his hand dropped from his visor to the wound. "Shit," he hissed, trying to push the slick, hot bulge back into himself. The pain was unlike anything he'd felt before, and touching something that should never be touched or exposed to the open air made his stomach churn.

Clamping down on the urge not to look, Scott forced his eyes down. He shifted his hand slightly and had to swallow back bile. A twist of glistening pink intestine pulsed against the palm of his hand. Don't throw up, dear God, don't do it, he thought hysterically, unable to block the image of his guts spilling out of the wound while he lost his lunch. He didn't look down again.

One attempt at standing proved to be a bad idea. The wound screamed a warning, and his guts shifted unnaturally inside him as if they wanted to rush out.

The sound of boots striding toward him brought Scott out of his panic. Logan came around the corner and paused, his whisky gaze swept over Scott before dismissing him. As the feral passed, Scott reached out and grabbed his pants leg. A hoarse shout tore from his throat when the wound ripped open a little more, but it got the bastard to stop, so it was worth it.

"You can't go after him," Scott said between clenched teeth. Logan glared down at him, and he braced himself for the kick he could see coming in the other man's eyes. Instead, he sneered.

"I can't? What should I do then, drag your sorry ass to the medic?" Logan demanded.

Scott bit back the flood of expletives that wanted to spill from his lips. "You can't stop him." This time, Logan laughed. The condescending sound grated on Scott, but he refused to be dismissed.

"Unlike you, I won't be taken down so easily."

It was Scott's turn to laugh, though it was more of a pained hiss than a sound of amusement. "Right, he won't be able to gut you. But we don't need two out of control weapons running around the school."

Logan's face darkened, and he shifted back to shake the wounded man off.

"Do you honestly believe you can face IX in a fight without losing control of X?" That stopped Logan cold. "That's what I thought. Since you have nothing better to do, how about you help me to the medic?" A low growl that didn't sound very human met the jibe, but Logan bent down and jerked Scott up into his arms anyway. He couldn't keep the scream of agony locked behind his teeth, and he thought he heard the bastard laugh again.

The muscles in Xavier's shoulders tensed, but he forced himself to remain focused. Scott's pain blazed like a beacon fire on the edge of his mind, and the temptation to crush IX with a thought flared up. It wasn't mercy that stayed his hand. Xavier's powerful mind encircled Ororo's, cradling her in his strength. Every bit of his considerable mental strength was engaged in fighting a battle against death itself.

Hold on a little longer. I'm here with you, just hold on. The beautiful light of Ororo's mind flickered weakly, like a candle in the wind, but didn't go out. His hands rested lightly on either side of her head while Hank worked to carefully stich the terrible wound closed. Next to them, Jean grew steadily paler as her blood continued to drain into her best friend.

They'd only had two units of type B - blood and three of O - in the clinic, and she'd already bled out most of that while Hank fought to save her. When they'd run out, Jean offered her own type O - blood to ensure Ororo wouldn't die before Hank finished.

Tears flowed unchecked down Jean's cheeks. Her free hand clung to Ororo's. Don't give up, please, don't leave me. Her heart seemed to thunder in her chest, gladly spilling the life giving liquid into Ororo. In her mind's eye, she saw a young white haired teen scowl and cross her arms, laying down the law for sharing a room with her. She remembered how the hardness in Ororo's pale blue eyes suddenly cracked into laughter. Just kidding, but seriously, don't go leaving your underwear all over the place, all right? She remembered her nightmares that first year, and how more often than not Ororo would crawl into bed with her to help chase them away. She recalled the first time she'd hesitantly tried to kiss the dark skinned beauty, and the heat that burned her cheeks when Ororo just blinked at her, only to be replaced by heat of a different kind when she finally kissed back.

So many memories. Stop it, she's not going to die, this isn't a eulogy. Jean bit her bottom lip hard enough to taste blood to hold back the sob trying to escape. Please don't die.

The door to the medical wing hissed open, and Jean thought her heart might stop dead in her chest when Logan walked in carrying Scott. Blood painted his side and dripped from between his fingers. No, this can't be happening, she thought, almost standing up before she remembered the transfusion. "Scott!" she cried.

Logan rolled his eyes. "Relax. He's fine. The kid didn't hit any arteries and even managed not to puncture the bowel. He'll keep for a while yet."

"Thanks for that vote of confidence," Scott huffed.

The irritation in his voice eased some of her fear. If he could sound like that, he couldn't be too badly hurt, right? Moving to another bed, Logan laid his burden down. "Move your hands."

"Are you kidding? No way."

Logan growled. "Idiot. You aren't going to be able to hold yourself together much longer. Don't worry, I'll keep you in one piece long enough for the doc to stitch your sorry ass back together." He reluctantly let go, more because he could feel the strength in his arms starting to give way than he trusted the feral not to make things worse. He bit his tongue when his faltering grip was replaced by Logan's stronger one. He had the unpleasant feeling of his insides being rudely pushed back into him and hoped to God he passed out soon.

"She's flat lining!" Hank's shout cut through their sharp banter.

"Damn. Looks like you'll have to hold yourself together a little longer One Eye," was all the warning Logan gave before he let go. Three steps took him to Storm's side. A glance at her neck showed a neat line of stitches. Folding his hands together, Logan moved without thought to begin chest compressions. Hank was already in motion. They worked together as if they'd done so for years. In a way, they had, though not together. Even though Logan couldn't recall where or how he'd gained such knowledge, he wouldn't question it.

Preparing a vasopressin shot, Hank injected it while Logan continued the chest compressions.

IX didn't stop when the elevator doors opened, revealing the main level of the school. All the pressure that had built during his captivity was gone now that he was in motion. The halls were quiet, most of the students were in the dining room scarfing down breakfast before classes.

Shoving open the final barrier between him and freedom, IX stepped out into the early morning light. He made it down the front steps and half way to the driveway when the girl spotted him. She took one look at his blood spattered cloths and screamed.

Unexpected agony staggered IX. He covered his ears, but that did nothing to stop the sonic waves from lancing through the bones of his skull. Around him, the air shimmered with the raw power of her outburst, shrubs and flowers bent as if in a strong wind, and all the lightbulbs within the range of her ear splitting voice shattered.

Gritting his teeth against the waves of agony, IX drove himself forward. His vision doubled as he closed with her, but it wasn't enough to halt his attack. The agonizing scream cut off in a gurgle as his makeshift blade punctured her right lung. He jerked the shank free and was about to plunge it in again when his wrist was caught in an iron grip.

IX used the grip as a pivot, twisting, he drove his fist into his new target's midsection. Pain shot up his arm as he fractured two of the metacarpal bones in his hand when it plowed into metal instead of flesh. He looked like a statue crafted of liquid metal, and was just as immovable. IX tried to twist out of the unbreakable grip and felt a sharp twinge in his wrist warning against moving farther. Everything in him rebelled at the thought of being captured again, but he knew it was pointless to keep fighting.

There was no sister to threaten here, no poison, no power to melt the mutant into slag. IX was helpless, incapable of escape. Before he could react, the other metallic fist lashed out, breaking his jaw and fracturing both his cheek bone and eye socket. Darkness consumed his vision, and distantly, IX felt his body go lax in the mutant's unbreakable grip. A shrill female scream followed him down into the void, thankfully not the harpy's brain melting cry.

Colossus fought the urge to hit the stranger again. He almost gave into the urge when Kitty's scream brought him back to himself. She was on her knees, pressing hard on Siryn's chest in an attempt to stop the blood flow.

Siryn's breath wheezed in her chest, and she had to fight for every breath. "Stop…screaming…idiot…" she managed to huff between strangled breaths. That managed to shut Kitty up, even hardly able to breath, Siryn's barbed tongue worked just fine.

"Okay. You're going to be okay, everything's okay. Okay?" Siryn started to laugh, but ended up coughing up blood instead. "Oh my Gosh, Peter, what do I do?" Kitty screamed. She'd never seen so much blood before. It squished between her fingers, and painted her pale hands red.

"What the hell is going on here?" John's voice joined the chaos as he and Bobby ran towards them.

Without answering, Peter shoved IX towards them. Bobby caught the unconscious male before he hit the ground. "Bring him with us. That fucker stabbed Siryn." John's face twisted in fury, and he reached for his lighter.

"No. We don't have time," Peter growled, more than a little tempted to let the pyro light the bastard up. It was only his worry over what would happen to John if he did that kept him in check. Bending down, he gathered the tiny redhead up in his arms.

Beep, beep, beep.

Had there ever been a more beautiful sound? Jean didn't think so. She drank in the sight of Ororo's gently rising and falling chest. Every breath was a silent promise that she wouldn't give up.

"Ouch!" Scott's painful cry snapped her eyes up, and she couldn't keep her lips from quirking slightly as he glared at Hank. "Why can't I be asleep for this again?" He whined.

"I already told you, the cut was clean. There's no damage to your insides, and all I need to do is stitch the wound. There's no reason to waste time with anesthesia when I'll be done in a few minutes if you'd just stop squirming. I already gave you a local. Now you're just being greedy."

"I can still feel it."

"No you can't. See, did you feel that?" Hank demanded, poking a bit of flesh with his needle.

Scott's scowl deepened. "No," he muttered.

"Stop being such a cry baby. That little scratch is nothing. I've had hangnails worse than that," Logan drawled as he watched the show.

"Well not all of us can heal within seconds you know. If you had to sit here getting sewn up, you'd bitch too," he shot back.

"Instant healing isn't all sunshine and roses. Pain killers don't work for me. Neither does alcohol."

Scott laughed, then winced. "Sucks to be you."

"There, all done. Was that really worth all your caterwauling?" Hank asked while bandaging the freshly stitched wound.

For the second time that endless morning, the door hissed open. Kitty ran in, her hands and cheek smeared with blood.

"Kitty? What's wrong, are you hurt?" Hank demanded, but then she was followed by Peter holding a frighteningly still Siryn. Behind them, Bobby and John dragged IX between them. Lucky for them, the tiny assassin was unconscious.

Rushing around Scott's bed, Hank directed them to a third for Siryn. "Jean? Ororo should have received enough blood now. I need your help here."

The sound of Hank's sharp commanding voice broke Jean's paralysis at the sight of IX. Fear and rage swirled in her veins, demanding release.

"Jean!"

Gritting her teeth, she jerked the needle from her arm and went Hank. "Her lung has collapsed. We'll need to put in a chest tube, then we have to prep her for surgery."

Logan's pupils dilated when IX's scent hit him. When he saw the little male dangling limply between the two teens, it took everything he had not to lose control. He felt like a man trying to hold a door closed between him and a raging lion. Sweat broke out over his flesh and every muscle hummed with the tension of the internal battle. He didn't move. Every small breath was laced with the mingled scent of blood and IX.

Exhaustion threatened to overcome Xavier, but he refused to give in. Not yet. X roared in the background of his thoughts, and he knew Logan wouldn't be able to hold him back forever. Focusing on Peter, he thought, take IX to the King of Hearts Suite. You know what to do.

The large teen gave a nod and nudged the others out of the room. "Where are we going?" Bobby asked, surprised that John hadn't beat him to it. When he looked over, he saw John's face darkening.

"What the hell are we going there for?" John interrupted.

"That's where the Professor wants him."

John glared down at the dark haired teen. "Still think you should let me roast him."

"Hey, where are we going?" Bobby demanded.

"Don't worry about it ice cube. It's not a place for happy kids like you."

Peter opened another door, revealing a room that would make a monks cell look luxurious. There was a thin pallet on the floor in one corner. In the other was a ring set into the floor that looked like it might be some sorry excuse for a toilet. In the corner across from the bed, there was a small drain in the floor. Glancing up, Bobby could see tiny holes in the ceiling. There were a couple of buttons set into the wall in front of it. All of the walls and the floor were made of a strange grey material that gave a little with each step.

His inspection of the strange room ended when John and Peter began stripping the stranger. "What the hell are you doing?" He demanded.

John rolled his eyes, but ignored the other boy. Instead he ran his fingers through the mess of dark hair while Peter checked his mouth.

"We have to check for weapons," Peter said absently. Heat burned Bobby's cheeks when John moved down to check between the kid's legs. He turned his back on the whole crazy operation, choosing to focus on the room instead. He poked one of the walls, watching the strange rubbery stuff dimple under the pressure. Digging his nail into it, he was surprised when it didn't tear. Instead, his nail slipped off, leaving the wall undamaged.

When the shuffling sounds behind him finally stopped, Bobby turned and saw that they'd dressed the stranger in what looked like scrubs.

"Come on. Let's get the fuck out of here," John said before standing. Looking down at the unconscious boy, he glared, unable to keep his gaze from tracing the developing black line on the kid's throat.

"Better luck next time," he muttered under his breath as he hauled off and kicked the kid in the ribs.

"John!" Bobby shouted.

"What? He deserved it."

Peter didn't say anything, and Bobby realized that the older teen wanted to do the same thing. "Come on, let's go." Bobby said, worried that they would really hurt the teen, and he wouldn't be able to stop it if they both went after him.

"Fine," John said, casting a last contemptuous look over his shoulder at Bobby before strutting out of the weird room.

"So…what is that place?"

"Leave it alone Bobby. I've already told you, it's none of your God damned business," John growled.

"Considering the fact that I just helped lock someone up in there, I'd say that makes it my business," Bobby snapped back.

Peter sighed. "Someone," he gave John a knowing look, "named it the King of Hearts Suite."

"Shut up, or we'll see just how much heat your tin can ass can take." They all heard the deadly seriousness behind the threat, and Bobby decided not to push it. John was volatile at the best of times, and something about this place seemed to rub his roommate the wrong way.

Letting the matter drop for now, Bobby said, "Come on, let's go check on Siryn."

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