Warnings: Disturbing discussion.

Notes from Min:  I'm just floored by Pax's entry.  Amazing stuff.  VERY scary.  You go, girl1

Disclaimer from Pax: The first idea was Min's.  She's nice enough to let me play too.  But the toys all belong to Marvel. We ain't makin' any money with this.

Scott Summers stood in the cell, his face impassive, not letting it register the shock that ran through him.  He stared coldly at the tall man in front of him, feeling his heart start to race as if he were about to go into battle.   Scarcely believing what he'd just heard.  From Essex.  Dr. Nathaniel Essex, as he'd introduced himself.  Another Weapon X scientist.  A geneticist.  One who'd seemed unusually pleased to see Scott.  An emotion that left him feeling wary and disturbed and sickly uneasy.

"You want me to do what?"

"Service her," Essex said, his dark eyes strangely cold.  "Impregnate her.  Get her with child."

The shock raced through him again, followed closely by disbelief.

"No," he said through gritted teeth.  "No way in hell."  Not even an option.  There was absolutely no way he would willingly leave anything of his behind for these homicidal butchers.  Not cells.  Not blood.  Not even hair, if he could avoid it.  And most especially not a child.

Essex smiled.  It was a cold thing, expressing none of the usual things associated with smiling.  Scott shivered inside, alarmed.  But only inside.  Outside he was cool, calm.  Cyclops.

"You think you are strong, and you are, young Summers, but Wraith and his men would soon take that away from you.  And in ways you would find less than . . . pleasant," Essex said, the smile fading away slowly, deliberately.  He put his hands behind his back, relaxed, at ease.  Confident that he was secure in this cell, even though Scott wasn't restrained.

Sabretooth stood outside the energy barrier, arms crossed over his massive chest.  Yellow-green eyes watching with a knowing, anticipatory gleam.  They'd taken Jean and the German boy away before Essex' arrival.  He was alone in the cell.  Except for Essex.  Across the hallway, the girl Rogue huddled deeper into the far corner of her bunk, shivering, her arms closed over her head protectively.  He could hear faint whimpers coming from her.  She'd been that way from the moment she'd caught sight of the doctor.

Scott turned his attention back to Essex.

"No way," he repeated, shaking his head.  Essex gave a deep sigh of regret, narrow brows rising.  He pursed his lips thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side slightly as he gazed at Scott.

"You are aware, of course, just how valuable your friends are to this program.  However, there are methods of discipline that could be quite . . . painful . . . yet leave them able to function adequately," Essex said with smooth menace.  "I could arrange for your presence during one of these sessions -- perhaps with the young boy, Robert?  Or the girl, Ororo?"  Sabretooth lifted a lip in eager anticipation, showing one long, gleaming fang.

Scott felt nausea and rage roil in his gut.  His hands fisted at his sides.  Behind his altered visor, his eyes closed helplessly.  They depended on him, were counting on him to protect them, to save them.  Where did his final loyalty lie?  To the teammates who needed him now or to the possibility of a child?  His mind whirled, caught in conflicting needs, ideals, instincts.  But the answer was clear.

He swallowed hard against the rising bile and shook his head shortly one more time.

"No," he ground out again.  Essex seemed almost pleased by his defiance.  The pitiless smile returned.

"Magnificent.  What a fearless, determined creature you are," the doctor said with a curious remoteness.  As if the praise were more for a quality he sought than for Scott's actions right then.  He scanned Scott then, from head to toe, the visual examination intent and invasive.  As if he were examining a horse he was interested in buying.  And was considering trying out its paces.  Scott tensed.  The black gaze rose to his, catching his own gaze with uncanny precision even through the visor.  He felt a sharp, inexplicable shaft of fear shoot through him.  Something. Knowledge. There was something in the doctor's gaze that made him afraid.  Something that he didn't want to recognize.

"Ah, it is just as well. I prefer other methods than brute force.  That is, indeed, the last resort of the unintelligent,"  Essex said smoothly.  He moved then, for the first time, advancing slowly toward Scott.  Scott held his ground, his eyes widening involuntarily behind his visor as his heart thundered loudly in his ears.  He didn't want Essex to touch him, if he could avoid it.  Some visceral sense told him it would be wrong, evil, bad.
 

Sabretooth began to growl warningly outside.  Scott held still.  Essex finally stopped with barely an inch of space between them.  Dark eyes staring close into his visor, the waft of the doctor's even breath on his cheek making the close-cropped hair on his nape rise.  Wanting to move, but refusing.  His hand twitched at his side.  But he had no controls on this visor, and it was locked to his head, preventing him from using his optic blasts in any way.

"You will give me what I want, Scott Summers," Essex said softly.  Very softly and near his face.  And with Sabretooth's growls rising in pitch, there was no way anyone else listening in could hear his words.

"I told you - no," Scott said again, swallowing calmly, trying to keep his throat, his mouth from drying out.  Essex smiled again, and close up it was no better.  He couldn't stop himself from shivering now, fists clenching, arms aching to move, to push the other man away.  But he could take this; he would endure this.  It wasn't even pain, just intimidation.  But there was something in those black eyes. . .

"You will do exactly what I want you to do, Scott Summers. . ." Essex said, slowly, deliberately.  Watching every flare, every shift on Scott's face avidly. ". . .because I know your little brother,  Alex."

Frozen, Scott stared into those black eyes.  Seeing the truth.  Nobody, but nobody, knew about Alex.  Not even the Professor knew for certain, and definitely not his brother's name.  Only he knew, and the family Alex lived with.  The family.  Scott closed his eyes slowly, swallowed hard.  Opened them again to see triumph and quiet satisfaction in the dark gaze before him.

"All right, Dr. Essex.  I'll do it."

The words fell from his lips like shards of glass, painful and sharp.  And he knew life would never, ever be the same.

Go on to Mara Greengrass's "A Bird in the Hand"
 

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