Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Never have. Never will...*sigh*
The soldiers had unlocked Forge's restraints at the door to the empty cell, keeping their rifles carefully trained on him the entire time...then once he was free, the butt of one of those rifles slammed him in the back and rudely shoved him, stumbling, into the shadowy hole beyond. He cursed, wincing as he lost his footing and fell heavily to his knees...and by the time he regained his bearings and scrambled around to face the door, the heavy barrier had clanged shut behind him and he could hear the steel bolts being locked into place.
Great...just great. Now what? he thought angrily. By the great gods...who could have imagined that this situation could go from bad to worse to patently horrible so damn quickly? He got to his feet, sizing up the tiny cell and trying to get some idea of his surroundings. A typical, bare holding cell...the floor was a cement fill, with cinderblock walls painted a drab, depressing color that might have once been white. There were no windows to speak of, unless one counted the single, barred opening set high in the door. It was through this that the faint light that illuminated the cell came through, bathing the cramped space and its spare furnishings in a tired, dirty shadow.
He had to get out of here. Logan...oh God...Forge rubbed his eyes with shaking fingers, trying to banish the deep remorse that was settling over him. What had he done? He'd had no idea that the situation would turn out like this...but the lack of foresight didn't excuse him. Be honest with yourself, Forge...do you think you can do that, at least? he berated himself silently. If there hadn't been a grudge against Logan in the first place, would you have ever gone along with this escapade?
Forge sank down on the cell's single bunk, his face cradled in his hands as he stared in guilty silence across the room. Asking himself these questions did no good...he simply didn'tt know the answers. And asking these questions certainly wouldn't save Logan...
Save Logan. Forge pulled his hands away from his face and looked around him, his sharp eyes searching, roaming...there had to be a way out of this trap. There was no way of knowing if Xavier and the X-Men were on their way (and honestly, he thought, don't you secretly hope they don't come? Then you won't have to face Ororo...oh, gods, Ororo...), but one way or the other, Forge knew he might be Logan's only chance. How to get out of here, though...he stood up and went to the door, already knowing before he ran his fingers over the frame that there would be no escape that way. What had Logan said to him once? "Gotta love that military efficiency." Forge grinned a little in spite of himself...well, in the building of the cell doors at least, the military was more than efficient. Damn.
He turned around, resting his back against the door as he glanced around helplessly. There had to be a way out...come on, Forge. Think! His black eyes roamed over the sink, the toilet, the bunk...the endless, faded walls, the air vent...
Wait! The air vent!
The small, grated opening was high up, at the top of the wall where it met the ceiling. With a quick look out the door's single window...the hall beyond was empty and quiet except for the solitary guard to the left of the door...Forge crept to the wall and stared up at the narrow register. It looked so small, but maybe...possibly...
The bed was bolted to the floor, so there was no chance in using it as a stepping stool, but if he stood on the sink he should be able to stretch out with his left arm and reach the vent. Forge stepped from the rickety toilet seat to the cracked and pitted surface of the sink, pressing his body against the cool surface of the wall. From this vantage, his left hand (and his right, if he stretched a little) reached the vent easily. In fact...Forge's dark face split in a rueful grin as he realized that the vent had no screws. It was simply snapped into its frame, and just as easily removed, which he did with a minimum of effort. Too easy, friends and neighbors...Mission Impossible.
Military efficiency at its best...the prisoner escapes through the air vent, Forge thought with a grin. Logan would love this.
He carefully placed the heavy grate in the sink between his straddled feet, then hooked his fingers into the sides of the vent opening and stood on his tiptoes, peering inside. It seemed to be a fairly ordinary ventilation shaft, its sides encased in sheets of corrugated steel...and thankfully, less than a foot from the edge of the opening the shaft turned abruptly to the right, giving Forge in its ninety degree turn a firm place to hook his fingers if he wanted to pull himself inside. The vent was awfully small, though...
Forge cast a last glance back at the door, then shrugged. Well, only one way to find out...with a sigh, he jumped, catching the sides of the vent, and with a quiet grunt began pulling himself free of the dingy cell.
*****
...you will not scream...
Logan choked, the taste of his own blood burning in his throat. Hell was an eternity...he was sure of that now, at least in the parts of his mind that had not yet shut down. Test after test...they had shot him, stabbed him, burned him with flame and with ice and with acid...
Remember the pain, he thought feverishly. It means you're still alive...
Then let me die...
"Very good." It was Santrock's voice he dimly heard. "He's reacting nicely...try the second angle on the acid spray."
There was a whirring sound again, and some other piece of machinery locked into place. One second...two...and the glorified flame thrower belched into animation once more, spraying his already charred flesh with another wave of liquid fire.
The stink...oh God, the stink of his burning flesh filled his nostrils, his skin feeling as if it were being flayed off with white-hot knives... and that was when he broke at last, his screams slicing from his throat as his flesh bubbled and cracked, splitting and running like wax from a candle. He screamed until his voice broke and all he could do was shriek soundlessly, his ruined face all the more tortured for its silence...and still it did not stop...it would never stop...
The last circuits in his already overloaded, broken mind tripped out. Pain was everything, it was his world and his damnation...and then, mercifully, he felt himself fainting...
I'm dying, Logan thought sleepily. This is what it feels like to die...
Logan?
Ororo was an angel...and his sinking consciousness saw her, calling to him from the edge of a long, blissful oblivion. I'm so tired, 'Ro...so tired...
I know, my love...sleep now...
Yes, sleep...
Her imagined fingers were like cool silk on his skin, lulling him into the dark and forgetfulness...Logan closed his eyes and fell away from the world, unconsciousness taking him at last.
*****
Forge froze half-way along the length of the vent, his heart a cold lump of fear in his throat. Logan's scream had speared through the narrow steel confines, echoing over and over again and magnifying horribly. Then just as suddenly it was gone, leaving Forge stunned and shuddering against the vent's cold floor.
There was a long, expectant silence...and then a voice spoke up, carrying easily to where Forge lay hid. "The test subject has lost consciousness, sir," the voice said calmly.
Forge crept closer to where another vent was positioned...the third he'd found on this long belly-crawl through the duct system. He jumped a little when Santrock's voice came, crackling as if through an intercom speaker.
"Damn!" Santrock fumed. There was a pause, then, "Fine. Fifteen minute break, gentlemen...while we wait for him to heal and wake up again."
Forge slid forward some more, and now he could see through the vent into the brightly lit room beyond. It was a lab of some kind, partially below floor level, so it appeared that Forge's hiding place was easily a good ten to fifteen feet above the gleaming tiled floor. Logan had to be in here somewhere, but where? Forge frowned, studying the heavy steel machinery of unknown purpose hanging from the walls and ceiling, as well as the two control stations, where a pair of lab-coated scientists adjusted a dial or two, then joined each other and strolled out of the lab for their fifteen minute break as they chatted in low, conversational tones. But no Logan...
He swept the lab with his eyes once more...and this time a steaming, smoking thing partially obscured by machinery caught his attention. His eyes narrowed slightly...
Dear God...
"Great Spirit...give me courage," Forge breathed. And have mercy...because the charred husk hanging from those metal restraints was Logan. Oh God.
Forge punched out the grating, tumbling it with a dull clang into the now-deserted lab. He rolled over on his back and slid out of the shaft in reverse, clinging to the side long enough to unfold his legs from its close confines, then he dropped as lightly as he could to the tile floor several feet below. The impact made him stumble, and he fell to one knee as sharp pains shot through his feet and calves. He scrambled to a standing position quickly, though, and eased cautiously toward Logan, keeping a watchful eye on the single door as well.
The smell...the smell of burning skin...
It took everything in Forge's power to take the last few steps toward Logan's body...the stench alone was revolting, but the sight of his blackened flesh at this close proximity was enough to turn even Forge's war-hardened stomach. It was Logan, though...or what was left of him. Forge swallowed hard and moved closer, his tongue feeling suddenly thick in his mouth as he fought the nearly overwhelming urge to be sick.
Let him be dead, Forge thought. Healing factor or no healing factor...death would be a mercy for this man after what they've done to him. Reminding himself of the fifteen minute window he had, he steeled himself and raised a shaky hand to Logan's neck, touching the exposed muscle in an effort to find his pulse.
It was there. By all the ancestors...Logan was alive.
Forge's mouth was suddenly dry...would he heal? Could he heal, after these kinds of injuries? If he couldn't, then it would perhaps be better to kill him now...to take this man's life mercifully and with honor. Forge buried his own revulsion and examined Logan's tortured frame cursorily...the flesh had been burned completely from most of his body, but the skin of his hands, as well as his legs from roughly the knee to the foot, were unharmed. Forge knelt by Logan's ankles and studied the skin there...it did appear to be slowly reforming itself, but the process was too gradual to be tracked closely.
Forge was deep in thought, when a slurring, husky whisper came from above his head.
"Forge..."
Forge choked out a little cry and stumbled back from Logan, his head snapping up in surprise as he stared at Logan's face. Logan's brown eyes were open, half-mad with pain and watching him like a wounded, dangerous animal.
"What..." Logan tried to speak, but his mouth didn't seem to be working correctly. "What...doing..."
Forge took a deep breath, then turned and headed for the closest of the two control panels. "I'm getting you out of here, my friend," he said. Good...this computer system was programmed through the work-up he had developed....he punched in a series of numbers, and after a tense moment, the screen lit up and he grinned...his password had not been changed. "Getting you out of here," he repeated, half to himself, and then he hit the release sequence, opening the metal restraints around Logan's wrists and ankles with a quiet series of snaps.
Logan collapsed out of the cuffs, tumbling to the floor with a sickening thump. Forge rushed back around the control deck and stumbled to his knees beside Logan's crumpled body, turning him over with careful hands, noting that Logan's eyes were closed again. Forge tried to lift him to his feet...but his breath exploded out of him in surprise, allowing Logan's body to sink to the cool floor once more...and leaving Forge temporarily stunned by the inexplicable weight of Logan's body.
Wait. The adamantium...Logan's skeleton was covered in it. No wonder the guy weighed so much...Forge gently shook Logan, trying hard not to damage the tortured skin further...and noting privately that even more of his skin had grown back in just the few short minutes since he had broken into the lab. "Come on, Logan," he urged quietly. "We have to get out of here...and I can't lift you."
Logan moaned a little, and Forge felt his skin crawl at the incongruity of the sound, coming from this powerful man. Logan's eyes struggled open again, and fixed on Forge weakly. "Why...you help...?" he asked, his voice shaking with the effort of speaking.
"Because I'm an asshole," Forge replied with a rueful smile. "You can ask all the questions you want later...and I'll even let you beat the shit out of me if you want. But right now we need to get you out of this lab."
Logan nodded, sort of, and allowed Forge to slip a strong arm under his shoulders. Forge grunted with the exertion, but after an agonizingly long moment he managed to help Logan to his feet, where he swayed unsteadily, the bulk of his body still leaning against Forge for support.
"Can you walk?" Forge asked uneasily. If he couldn't, this was going to be a really short rescue attempt.
Logan nodded again, closing his eyes momentarily against the screaming pain of his exposed nerves...then he began to shuffle forward, Forge keeping his arm tucked up securely beneath Logan's arm in an effort to keep him upright. They crossed the long, clean expanse of the lab's floor...to Forge it seemed like the exit was a mile away, and he was sure it seemed even farther to Logan...but after a seemingly endless, stumbling struggle they reached the far end, where Forge stopped and punched in the door codes that opened the entryway.
There was a beep, and the door slid open. Forge helped Logan over the threshold, then gently steered him to the right after a quick glance around to make sure the corridor was empty.
"Where...are we...going?" Logan asked.
Forge grinned, pleased to hear Logan's voice getting stronger. "To the storage rooms...to find your clothes," he replied.
"Good...I'm fuckin' freezing."
Forge nearly choked on his laughter. "Dammit, Logan," he chuckled. "Come on...we haven't much time."
Logan nodded again, and the two of them hurried as fast as Logan's injuries would allow, down the hall and into the waiting shadows.
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