The girl who called herself Cougar sat in the corner of her cage, brooding. She'd long since given up raging at her captors; it didn't do any good and her throat was raw from screaming at them. So she sat, lost in thought, but never completely losing sight of these people.

They hadn't hurt her, like Sinister had said they would. That puzzled her. They had shown her nothing but kindness, all of them. Except the runt. He was beginning to get on her nerves. Always watching her, almost never speaking. *And that punch, Mon Dieu, it almost broke my jaw!*

Still, she was puzzled. Sinister had been so clear about what they wanted from her; that they would use her in their own experiments, with no regard for her safety or comfort. Yes, they had put her in a cage; but they had made it as comfortable as possible, and she supposed she really didn't blame them for locking her up. After all, she had almost killed the tall man with the strange eyes.

Another mystery. Who was he? He always spoke so kindly to her, even after what she'd done. As though he knew her well. But she had no memory of him anywhere in her life. So why did she feel there was something more than what she remembered? Why did she feel as though he had cared for her at some point? As though they had been close? It didn't make any sense.

*Damn you, stop staring at me, runt. What y' tryin t' see?* She had his scent, and mixed into it was a scent of sadness. As though he had lost someone very close to him. *Maybe dat's why you so hostile, hehn? Y' t'ink I might have had somet'in t' do wit' it?*

Another scent overlaid the sorrow, though, and she focused on it. Rage. Absolute, almost blinding rage. *Mon Dieu, I would not like t' be de one dat's directed toward. De anger, so strong.* She found herself wanting to know more, wanting to know who had caused that fury; wanting, for some strange reason, to comfort him, soothe the anger away. She found herself trying to make eye contact with him.

She moved over toward him, watching him. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. His eyes met hers and she felt something flash between them. He staggered backward, covering his eyes, and she dropped the contact. *What did I do????*

(She was little more than a child, in New Orleans. Forced to live on the streets, to steal to survive. Then a tall man with auburn hair had come, and tried to talk to her, trying to convince her to come with him. Said he would give her shelter, food. A home. She had used this power on him, and he had collapsed. She had felt guilty about leaving him alone, unconscious, in that particular place, so she had stayed with him until he showed signs of waking. Then she had written a note and disappeared.)

Cougar started to shake. *Where did dat come from? I--- Is dat real? Mon Dieu, de man, de man I hurt, he de one dey call Gambit.* She reached backward for a memory from her childhood and a spike of pain erupted between her eyes. She screamed again, this time in pain as he hands went to her temples, trying to drive the pain back.

She crumpled to the floor, the pain so great she could no longer stand. The small man had gone out of sight, but returned quickly with the one the others called Beast, or Hank. She knew he was a doctor. Were they going to start their experiments now, with her incapable of fighting? She began to shake, and the pain in her head grew stronger.

"All right, darlin," the small man said tightly. "Hank's gonna come in there with you, make sure you're okay. You hurt him, or even try, and I'll make sure you can't hurt him again." Three bone claws slid out of the back of his hand. "Understand?"

*Logan, his name is Logan.* She didn't question how she knew it. "Oui, je compris, Logan," she whispered, unable to stand, unable to concentrate on anything other than the pain in her head. It was increasing rapidly. "Make it stop!"

Wolverine and Hank exchanged glances, then Hank moved into the enclosure. Wolverine followed, his eyes on the girl. *I know this trick, darlin.* But as Hank began to examine her, it became obvious that she was actually ill. She offered no resistance, only sat there, shaking, even when Hank pulled out a syringe.

"Cougar, look at me," Hank said softly. She painfully moved her head until she could see his face. "This will help ease the pain, but it may make you sleep as well. Will you promise not to fight it? To let it help you?"

"Oui. Please, make dis stop," she whispered. She even gave him her arm when he reached for it, without resistance. *Dis man, he won' hurt me. Somehow I know dat. Got t' be an answer here somewhere in my head! It just hurts so much, I can't stand it! Hurts more when I try t' remember.*

She felt the drug taking hold and relaxed. She felt Hank lift her and place her on the narrow cot, then she heard him leave. The door clanked shut, but somehow it didn't seem as threatening a sound as it had before. She relaxed even further, into sleep.