Warnings: Some disturbing discussion.

Notes: Dyce took me up on it; go Dyce!  The plot thickens . . . .

Disclaimer: They belong to Marvel, Miller, et al.  We're just playing.

I'm pregnant again.

My 'perfect match' has been and gone, leaving me with another child growing within me.

Scott Summers seemed like a decent person.  I might have liked him, under other circumstances.  But Essex is the one who liked him.  The one who brought him here, pushed him into my cell, and ordered us to mate.  He was embarrassed, and confused, and he tried to be nice about it, which made it worse.  He didn't want me.  Just looking at me made him uneasy and confused, I don't know why.

Essex promised that this child would stay with me.  That's the only reason I cooperated as much as I did, encouraging Summers, not letting him see my distaste for what we had to do.  I won't lose this baby.  Not completely.  And I'll teach him... I think it's a boy, I want it to be a boy this time... to hate Essex as much as I do.  But he'll hide it.  And then . . . when it's time . . . he'll avenge us both on that lying sack of scum.  And then . . .

. . . I don't know what we'll do then.

So I lie here in my little room -- cell -- and daydream about it, stroking my stomach idly.  I wonder if he'll look like his father.  Summers was handsome, I'll give him that.  Every girl's wet dream, really.  But not mine.  I don't want any man Essex chooses for me.  One day I'll --

Madelyne sat up, distracted from her musing by the noise outside.  There was never noise this time of night.  Not since the night one of the prisoners -- she didn't know which -- had escaped a couple of months ago.

Maybe someone was escaping now?

She hoped it was Summers.  If he went, Essex couldn't breed her to him again, couldn't keep her here for an extra year until she concieved a second child.  He'd promised that they'd leave, as soon as she entered her third month and he was sure the pregnancy would hold, and she didn't want to stay a minute longer than she had to.

She perched on the edge of her bed, watching the door.  She had no intention of trying to escape, of course.  Not now.  Now wasn't the time to make Essex angry.  But if he came, or if he sent someone to check on her, it was best to seem alert.

Sure enough, he appeared after about half an hour, a slightly irritated expression for once giving his cold face a semblance of life.  "Summers has attempted to escape," he said without preamble.  "No doubt he and his little cadre will soon be recaptured . . . however, since his altruistic tendencies are well known, I consider it adviseable to move you somewhere a little more secure."  He raised an eyebrow, and she rose hastily.  She didn't have any shoes to put on, or any clothes besides the thin, sacklike gown, so she just walked towards the door.  Essex stepped aside, and a big clawed hand wrapped around Madelyne's arm.  "Sabretooth will take you to a holding cell until matters are resolved," he said curtly.  "He is under orders to keep you intact and under control."

Madelyne nodded. That meant that Sabretooth wasn't permitted to do anything except knock her out if she tried to escape.  But she had no intention of courting a bruised head, and less of seriously trying to escape.  His grip on her arm was just this side of bruising as he hustled her down the corridor, and his face was grim, but she attributed that to the fact that he was being left out of the fighting. As for the idea that he would try to interfere with her sexually . . . that was almost funny.

He had been the father of her second child, her first daughter.  Lucy.  And in an odd way, she'd appreciated his approach.  It had been quick, businesslike, and he'd taken not the slightest interest in her before or after.  Better than Clara's father, who'd taken pleasure in hurting her, or Summers, who'd tried to make her enjoy herself.  She preferred not to have to get involved, and quick and impersonal suited her just fine.  She doubted whether it had been necessary to warn him off her, but Essex had a passionate interest in the health of her womb, especially just now.

He didn't say a word the entire time he was hauling her up corridor and down stairwell, not for at least ten or fifteen minutes.  Then, finally, he pushed her through a concealed door into a small, featurless room with a blanket tossed into a corner.  "There," he grunted. "Stay there 'til I come getcha."

"All right," she agreed, sitting down on the blanket.  What else could she do?

He gave her a long, unreadable look, fiddling with his necklace of mummified ears.  "I'll be outside.  Essex don't want anything happening to the brat."

"I know.  This one's special," she said, allowing the sarcasm to show a tiny bit. He wasn't allowed to hurt her anyway.

The shaggy eyebrows twitched together, and he nodded.  "I'll be outside," he repeated, and then the door slammed shut.

Madelyne pulled her knees up against her chest and rested her head on them. She dozed, after a while.  The small room was relatively warm, and it was nice to be able to curl up like this without her stomach getting in the way, and for once she didn't even have any bad dreams.

Instead, she got a bad awakening, jerking out of sleep all at once as the whole room seemed to jump sideways.  The wall shuddered against her back and she heard a dull roar and then a terrible groaning noise drowned out her scream as the wall off to her left buckled and the ceiling was pushed downward as something terrible, something unimaginable, went on outside . . . .

The door popped open and Sabretooth jumped through it.  He took one look at the ceiling and swore, looked at her as she huddled on the floor and swore again, leaning over to grab her arm and drag her bodily out of the room.  He barely let her get her feet under her before they were racing down the corridor, hearing more squeals and groans as the metal walls bent under some crushing weight.  Sabretooth was still cursing in a growling undertone, jerking her along, her feet barely touching the ground sometimes.  He was strong and he was fast, much faster than her out-of-condition self.  Repeated pregnancies weren't the best training for extended sprinting, and she soon started to lag behind.  "I can't . . . run this fast . . . ." she gasped.  "Slow down . . . ."  He ignored her, and a minute later she tried again .  "I can't . . . too fast . . . the baby," she managed, gambling that mention of the child -- Essex's pet project -- would remind Sabretooth that he wasn't permitted to let harm come to her.

He slowed down, and after a minute more he stopped altogether.  They were at a junction of several corridors and he looked first one way, then another, muttering under his breath.  She couldn't catch more than a swear-word or two, and was about to ask him where he was taking her when a small handful of mutant subjects raced past them, clutching makeshift weapons and screaming like maniacs.  One or two of them cast glances at Sabretooth as they went by, but shied away from a confrontation.  Madelyne didn't blame them.

He looked down at her, gnawing on his lower lip.  If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought he looked almost . . . nervous.  "Yer kid," he said abruptly.  "You want it?"

Madelyne blinked.  "I'd like it to stay alive," she said reservedly, not sure what he was asking . . . or how much she wanted him to know.

He growled, shaking his head a little.  The ears rattled together ominously.  "Yer leaving," he elaborated.  "Essex is lettin' the kid stay with ya, right?"

"He promised I'd see him grow up," she agreed, touching her stomach protectively.  She would not lose this baby.  Not this one.  Not again.

"Do ya want to?" he asked, shaking her a little, his voice clearly indicating that he was losing patience with her.

" . . . yes," Madelyne admitted, mostly because he'd probably be able to tell if she was lying.

He looked at her for a long moment more, then he seemed to make up his mind.  He set off again, a little slower this time, down the left-hand corridor.  "This way," he grunted, not seeming at all relieved now that he had made up his mind.  They went up two levels, and a long way . . . sideways, really, since Madelyne had no idea which direction they were actually headed in.  Eventually they reached another featureless door, and he pushed her up against the wall gently enough that she hardly bumped at all.  "Stay there," he growled, and vanished through the door.

Madelyne stayed.  She didn't know where she was, she didn't know what was going on, and if Sabretooth had gone mad . . . as seemed likely . . . running away would be a very bad idea indeed.

A minute later, he backed through the door again.  He was armed now, a large gun in one hand, and in the other . . . .

. . . in the other . . .

. . . in the other arm there curled a small, red-haired creature with a solemn face and it wasn't until Madelyne saw the claws on the small hands and the strange, yellowish-green eyes that she was sure that it was Lucy.  He had known where she was, might even have been watching her all this time, and he'd gone to get her and he must mean for them to escape and it was crazy but it was LUCY, nearly two now and so much bigger and Madelyne suddenly wanted her so much . . . .

"I dunno where the other two are, and we ain't stopping to look," Creed growled, pushing the child into her arms.  "Stay right behind me, and maybe you'll get t' keep two."

Madelyne nodded dumbly, clutching the toddler close.  Lucy made a little burbling sound, chubby arms going around her mother's neck, and Madelyne stopped worrying about how insane this was.  Stopped worrying about the fact that Essex was sure to find her. Stopped worrying that she was following a known homicidal maniac into the utter unknown.  He'd known where Lucy was.  He'd gone to get her, knowing what the consequences were almost certain to be.

She was the goose who laid the golden eggs.

She wanted to keep them.

What's good for the goose . . . .

Go on to Unanon's "A Nest of Stones"

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