"All right, Hank, what the hell just happened in there?" Wolverine said quietly as he steered Beast behind some machinery. "Why's she hurtin so bad?"

"My initial impression was that it was a sudden onset migraine. However, at this point, I believe it to be much more serious." He entered a few numbers into the computer, waited a moment, then studied the results. "It appears she is attempting to resist the memory graft."

"That means she's coming out of it. Right?"

"Not necessarily, my friend. The graft was most extensive, most elaborate. If she continues to subject herself to this amount of stress, it could very well destroy her mind entirely. We need to find a kinder way for her to regain her memories."

"What about Jeannie?"

Beast shook his head. "At the level of metabolic stress present now, an intrusion from outside her self might prove disastrous."

"Dammit Hank, there has to be a way!" Wolverine slammed his fist against the wall. His rage at his helplessness was almost palpable. "If we don't do something, this is going to kill her!"

"Logan, you know I will do everything I possibly can. Perhaps, if we kept her sedated for a few days..." His voice trailed off. "Yes. I can keep her sedated for a time, and hope her psyche is able to reintegrate the proper memories before I must allow her to awaken."

"That's the best ya can do?" He started back toward the cage. "At least let's move her somewhere more comfortable."

*Why can't I 'member anyt'ing? I 'member Sinister pickin me up out o' de street, bleedin, bruised an hungry; but den I see de Gambit man do de same t'ing. Which one's real, which is de trick? I have t' figure dis out, have t' do somet'in soon.*

She knew Logan was with her, she'd seen him the one time she was able to struggle back to consciousness briefly. He'd been holding her hand, and she'd been amazed that a man so strong could be so gentle. And that observation had sparked a glimmer of memory that teased her, taunted her, because it was just out of reach.

She followed the trail through her mind, following that little dancing glimmer until she was sure she had lost it, and turned to go back. *Need t' find somewhere I know; look fo' ma mere, I know who she is, can't fool wit' dat. She look too much like me!*

Before she'd taken her third step, something was thrust into her path and she tripped, landing on the pavement, skinning both palms badly. *Dis ain' a good t'ing, Cadie girl.* She rose and turned, expecting to see a youth she'd known in New Orleans, and her jaw dropped in shock.

"You--- Mon Dieu, you're me!*

The catlike girl crossed the distance in one leap and stood facing Cadie, eye to eye, face to face. "Don' ever compare me t' you," she hissed. "Haven't y' figured it out yet, Arcadia? I'm here, and I'm not leaving without a fight. I like it here, in your mind. Callin de shots. Y' saw what I done t' de Cajun man." She gave an ugly laugh. "De Cougar live up t' her name, hehn?"

"De Cougar better git," Cadie spat. She was furious. "I want my memories back, de right ones, ma petite chat, an I want dem now."

Cougar raised a finger and wagged it at her. "Ah, ah, now we can' be havin dat. What y' t'ink I am, une imbecile? I give dem back, y' fight me, make me leave."

"I'd fight even wit'out dem, Cougar," she raged. "Give dem back! I got a life out dere, which y' have so t'oughtfully taken from me. I want it back. And I'll take it back by force if I must."

Cougar laughed. "Want a memory? Den have one!"

Cadie was instantly plunged into what she thought was a nightmare. She saw herself attacking her friends, hurting them badly, until Gambit stopped her. She saw herself fighting them at every turn, saw herself claw Gambit so badly that it would take stitches to close the wounds. Saw it all in slow motion, like a bad dream. When it finished, she was shaking.

"Had enough, girl, or y' want more? Got plenty o' dose t' keep y' busy, little girl."

She struck quickly, before Cougar saw her coming, and the battle was joined. And this time, Cadie knew, they were playing for keeps.