X-Men 1. Chapter 1

Laura lay on her back, staring at the painted-tile ceiling above her. She tilted her head to one side, watching as the pattern was warped by the curved glass dome she was staring through. She tilted her head the other way, watching the patterns change, flowers becoming blobs, straight edges becoming curved.

She lay in a bullet-proof glass capsule. The glass was very thick, and it was double paned, a thin pocket of air existing between each pane. The space enclosed was just wide enough for her to lie on her back with her legs stretched out. There was a small trap door she could open, but it just led to a cramped area with a sink and a toilet. She'd tried remaining down there in order to avoid her "owner's" visits, but she'd quickly learned that the room could flood at a push of a button, so she stayed in the upper part of the capsule most of the time. Right now, there was nothing in it besides an empty bowl and spoon from the beef and vegetable stew she'd been served for lunch. It hadn't been bad, just a bit salty.

She pushed herself into a sitting position and sighed, looking out around her. She was in a large room that was filled with rare, valuable items. There were expensive works of art, magical items, and important historical artifacts. At this point, they all looked familiar since it was all she got to see every day, but some were more familiar than others as they'd been items she'd procured personally. Every item in the room, even if it looked as if it were just a simple rock, was rare. She supposed that's why she was there as well, her rarity on display as part of a madman's collection.

With a bored yawn, she settled back into her prior prone position, thinking about her life before she'd been trapped. This certainly wasn't the first time she'd been locked in a room because someone else wanted it that way. Objectively, she was a little surprised it didn't bother her more, to be back in the same position she was in her childhood. She supposed that was how adaptable the mind and body were. Still, she wanted out. In her mind, she retraced the past dozen or so years of her life: her successes as well as her losses.

She had been working for years as a treasure/bounty hunter. At first, she and Gambit had been partners, doing most jobs together. He had taught her every trick he knew about being a thief, and she'd shared some of the tricks she'd learned early in life as an assassin. Her lips quirked into a lop-sided grin. He'd always joked that despite all odds, he'd ended up partnering with an assassin in the end.

It wasn't just the work that allowed them to form such a successful partnership though. They completely trusted each other, and more importantly, they understood and accepted each other's needs. There wasn't anything romantic between them, though God knew they both had enough relationship baggage that they might have been able to find common ground. After Rogue, Remy had sworn off women. Well, that wasn't true. He enjoyed wooing them too much with his Cajun charm for that. It might have been more accurate to say that he'd sworn off relationships with women. Laura…well, she just wasn't interested. Trust had never come easily for her anyway, and she rarely felt that the men she met were worth the effort it would take to build that trust. It was just easier to be on her own. So they'd come to an easy agreement about what they wanted out of their lives, and it had mainly focused on the thrill of the hunt and the satisfaction of being paid well.

They had made quite a name for themselves since each of their unique talents gave them the ability to excel at jobs that others couldn't quite pull off. Eventually, they'd realized that rather than taking any contract that was offered, they could be a bit more selective over the kinds of jobs they took on. It hadn't been long before they had been able to officially "open for business." They were one of the highest paid pairs in the thieving industry, and they were known for being fast, efficient, and confidential.

At least they were until the accident that cost Remy the full use of his leg. It was clear that he needed time to recover, and she didn't have the heart to work without him. She'd tried to stay with him, to help him recover, and to take care of him, but he'd insisted on being alone. It had hurt her, but she knew it wasn't the first time nor would it be the last that someone cut her out of their lives. She'd wandered on her own for a few years until he tracked her down with a proposal to resurrect their partnership. Only this time, he'd handle the business end of things while she did the active work. She'd realized what it was all about immediately, but she'd never spoken of it. He couldn't do most of the jobs that he was offered, but she could. At least if they worked together again, he could work with her to devise the plan of action and live vicariously through her. He didn't have to give up his life's passion, he just had to approach it from the other side of the desk.

They'd gone on like that for a few more years. They had some clients who only worked with them once, while others were regulars. One of the repeat customers had been a man named Christoph Hirsch, who was more commonly known as "The Collector." He'd hired them almost exclusively for two or three years, paying well for priceless items. It wasn't unusual for them to work so much with one person, but it was strange that they'd never met him in person. He conducted all communication via electronic means, and the wire transfers of their fees were always prompt and often included a bonus if they delivered early, so they didn't complain. They often just packaged and shipped the items they "found" for him.

Laura sighed and rolled onto her stomach to bury her face in her arms. If only things had stayed that way. If only she'd trusted Remy's gut when he said he'd had a bad feeling when there had been a request to change protocol. The Collector had requested that Laura personally deliver an item to him that he felt was so valuable that it had to be hand delivered. She lifted her head to rest it on her folded arms, staring at the item that had led her here. It was some sort of dagger: very old and appearing to be carved from human bone.

She'd known from the moment she'd laid hands on it that it was powerful. If she had been anyone else, she would have been unable to grasp it in her hands, pick it up, and walk away from the temple where it had been housed. Every step had felt as though her body was being shot through with thousands of volts of electricity. But she had made it out and had wanted to deliver it as quickly as possible. She had been stupid. She'd checked in with Remy en route and had told him that it had taken a lot of energy out of her, that she'd wanted to take some time to herself to recover. He'd understood and had long ago grown used to her need for alone time. Now she cursed herself. If only she'd waited to call him, then he'd have known something was wrong when she didn't check in after the drop off. When she hadn't checked in again after, well, that wouldn't have been strange at all.

She sighed and closed her eyes, not wanting to look at the knife any longer. She'd arrived at the rendezvous point and had still been exhausted, her very bones aching. After the long business relationship with The Collector, she'd not expected there to be any threat, and that had been where she'd gone wrong. As soon as the man stepped out of the shadows, she'd felt a stinging at the back of her neck and hadn't remembered anything after it.

When she'd woken, she'd been in the capsule. Her captor had been happy to explain what had happened:

"_It's good to see you awake my dear, and it's even nicer to finally get to meet you. As you know, I've been an admirer for some time."_

_She had groggily blinked her eyes and sat up slowly. When she lifted her hand to her neck, the blood from where the dart had struck her was still fresh even though the wound was gone. The fact that the blood hadn't dried meant it hadn't taken him long to place her where she was. She stared at the man sitting in front of her. _

_The Collector sat in a brocade draped chair that was well padded. His feet were spaced wide apart on the floor in front of him, his beringed hands folded over the top of the cane that stood between his legs. An oversized hat sat on his head, shading most of his face, but she could see the light reflect off of a pair of circular glasses that perched on the tip of his long, pointed nose. Everything about him was overdone and extravagant. If she'd awoken in any other scenario, she might have found him comical._

_As she studied him, he continued to speak. "I'm so pleased you've woken up so quickly, my dear. I thought that with your healing abilities that an elephant tranquilizer would do the trick, though I'll say it didn't keep you down for as long as I expected. Your body seemed to be able to work off the poison rather quickly."_

_Laura clenched her fists, refusing to reach up and touch her neck again. Instead, she rose to her feet, staring down at the man with a steely gaze. _

_He tilted his head back, and the shade of the hat rose to reveal an equally pointed chin that was covered with prickly blonde hair that only grew in patches. The exposed skin where the hair refused to grow was covered with large, purplish discolorations. When he smiled, she noted that most of his teeth were made of gold, and the few originals that remained were broken or chipped. "You are a fascinating specimen, you know. I've had the joy of watching you work all of these years. Photographs, the occasional video recording, a time or two in person when I've been able to watch from the shadows." He shuddered in pleasure, his lips curving into a wider grin. "You are exquisite, my dear. Poetry in motion, some would say."_

_Laura said nothing, simply pressed her hands against the glass in front of her, still staring down at him, but using the rest of her senses to learn as much as she could about her surroundings and not liking what she found. The location was sound proofed professionally, so she couldn't hear anything, and the room appeared to have no windows. The place smelled like antiques and disinfectant, and from her peripheral vision, she could see she was in a show room of some sort._

_He gestured, the jeweled rings flashing on his fingers, to the bone knife that rested on a pedestal next to him. He continued to speak, apparently not bothered by her silence, "As you well know, I collect rare things, and you, my dear, are very rare. I've done my homework, and found out all about you, X-23. From what I understand, you'll live forever if you're kept out of harm. You see, this last job was about finishing my collection. I realize it was naughty of me to only list half of what you'd be recovering for me in the contract. The knife is perfect; just as I'd imagined it. However, the other item, you, my lovely," he stopped to release a high pitched giggle, "You are far beyond my expectations. You will be the crowning achievement of all of my years of hard work and searching! Yes, exquisite is the perfect word to describe you!" He giggled again and sat back in the chair once more to admire her._

_She had stood there, refusing to speak or move for close to an hour as he'd looked at her. Eventually, he'd grown bored, wished her good night, and walked out of the room, his squat body draped in a heavy mantle. Eventually, a few men dressed in tuxedos came to remove his chair, though they returned it there ever so often when The Collector decided to pay her a visit. Each time he came, she would stand and stare down at him, not speaking. Each time, she devised a new way that she would torture and kill him._

His visits were sporadic, and when he did come, he'd be sure to admire her and gush over how magnificent she was. She hadn't bothered to count the number of visits, nor did she think they were made with any sort of regularity. Since the lights were kept on round the clock, she wasn't even sure of what time it was. She slept when she was tired, exercised in the small space when she was bored, and only had a break in the monotony when the Collector came to peruse his treasures, occasionally bringing a friend to show off for.

She wasn't even sure how long she'd been there. She had no way of marking the time besides the length of her midnight black hair. From the growth, she knew she had to have been there for several months. When she'd first arrived, her hair had been cut at a blunt edge near her chin. Now it brushed her shoulders.

The best she could do was hope that someone would come looking for her. Surely Remy would miss her at some point - - likely more quickly than anyone else. He would look for her. Perhaps Logan would wonder why she hadn't checked in. Then again, maybe not. He hadn't exactly been himself for years. Perhaps he'd instead enjoy the break from her monthly phone calls and visits that did little more than verify that he was still alive. There were others, X-Men, X-Force, who might pause to think of her. How long would it take them to realize she wasn't just out of touch because she was on another hunt?

Surely, someone would miss her and come looking for her. Wouldn't they?


	2. Chapter 2

Laura came awake quickly when she heard the doors of the cave-like room open. She knew she hadn't slept very long by the fact that her body wasn't complaining from sleeping on the hard floor, and they had just brought her food. Today it had been fluffy pancakes filled with fruit and nuts and a side of thick sage-filled sausages. Still, she had no idea if that meant it was morning or afternoon. The meal before had been a vegetable-filled omelet and thick, toasted French bread. At least he fed her well. She remained still, slitting her eyes open just enough to see what was happening.

Two of the underlings in tuxedos came into the room. One was carrying the brocade chair while another was carrying its twin. Great. That mean that Christoph was expecting a guest. She still didn't move as they placed the chairs in front of the capsule, one hitting a button to raise the small glass window in the corner of the capsule to retrieve her plate and utensils. She still didn't move.

Early in her captivity, she'd tried to use opportunities such as these as a means to escape. The first time they'd come to clear her food away, she'd grasped the man's arm when he'd reached for her plate, the blades in her hands springing forward in clear warning. The man had simply dropped dead to the floor, of no use as a hostage.

When The Collector had visited her later that night, he'd explained that there were cameras in such a show room as this, and every one of his employees wore a device that would inject poison into their bloodstream at the press of a button in his control room. He had laughingly shook a finger at her, telling her he'd have to punish her if she made him kill too many of his servants.

She hadn't bothered again, deciding such attempts weren't worth the loss of more human life. She'd taken enough of those over the course of her existence. She had spent weeks and likely months trying to break the glass though. She'd tried attacking from every angle as well as attacking a single point ceaselessly. All it had done was caused her to break her knuckles and toes, and the act of watching her wounds heal seemed to enthrall The Collector so much that she'd finally given up on that tactic. She'd long ago realized that she was powerless and would have to depend on someone else to help her. That was the worst part of her captivity, her inability to act, her helplessness.

Despite all of it, she'd still maintained her independence in at least one way. She hadn't spoken a word since she'd arrived. Not to him nor to any of his lackeys. She ate the food they brought, changed in the small compartment when they brought her fresh clothes (always a black body suit that covered her from ankle to wrist and neck). She still every intention of killing the man slowly in revenge, so she needed to be strong and ready to do so at first opportunity.

For many of his initial visits, she'd stood and stared down at him with hatred, but she soon realized he preened under her scrutiny, so she'd tried ignoring him: turning her back, hiding in the chamber below (which was how she'd learned about its flooding capabilities), and trying to sleep. It had annoyed him, but, to her displeasure, it also amused him. At each visit, he heaped compliments on her. When he had guests, he pointed out her perfect skin, her regal bearing, and always, he mentioned her immortality. He'd made it perfectly clear that, for as long as he lived, he planned on keeping her.

When the door clicked shut behind them, she rolled over, turning her back to the chairs, but angling herself so that she could see the reflection of the door in one of the large, gilt mirrors that hung on the opposite wall. It wasn't long before the door opened again, which was unexpected since a cleaning crew hadn't been in to dust and spruce the room, as was more typical when there were visitors. It must be someone important and unexpected then.

She sucked on a piece of hair, chewing on it as part of a nervous habit she'd recently developed. Her hair had grown another inch or so and hung over her shoulders. She was beginning to hate it, but she couldn't bring herself to cut it off. It was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it allowed her to see that time was passing, but on the other hand, the longer it grew, the more she came to believe that no one would ever find her. Why hadn't she ever paid attention to how fast it grew? An inch a month? An inch every month and a half? It drove her crazy that she could see time passing but had no concept of _how much_ time.

She spit out the piece of hair when the doors opened again, this time admitting The Collector's short, round form and that of his tall, lanky companion. Both of them walked with ornate canes to aid their steps. She hadn't seen this one before. She watched their reflections, hatred bubbling up within her until she noticed something: the gait of the taller man was familiar. A step-hop that favored his right leg. When that foot came down on the ground, it hit at an odd angle, twisting slightly with each step. She held her breath and barely was able to keep her body motionless when their images passed out of the mirror's frame. She tried to force her stiff body to relax, not wanting to give anything away, not wanting to even hope that she might have recognized the visitor.

"Isn't she lovely? A very rare item," Christoph was boasting. "There's none like her in the world, you know? Doesn't die, heals immediately when she hurts herself. She has some lovely blades in her hands and feet, though she seems to be a bit shy about them. I can rarely convince her to show them off." The Collector chuckled, and she heard him settle himself into his chair. "I tell you, she wasn't shy when she first came here though. She used them often enough in trying to break out of her display case. Never had any luck, but I do miss the spirit she used to show."

The other man laughed with Christoph. The sound was husky and deep, reminiscent of smoke and forbidden pleasures. Laura's eyes snapped wide open despite her efforts. She'd know it anywhere. Remy. He was here. She clenched her fists tighter, feeling her nails bite into her palms. When she spoke, his voice was perfectly accented, though not with the shortened, rolling sounds Louisiana, but with the clipped, refined rhythm of an Englishman. It wasn't right, she thought as he said, "I can only imagine. Can't you do anything to rouse her? I would like to see a bit more of her if you don't mind."

She clenched her jaw. She could practically hear The Collector rubbing his hands together in glee. There was nothing he loved more than showing off his possessions. She pushed herself to her feet in one swift motion. If she continued to lay there, he'd only enjoy the opportunity to gloat about her more and listen to his guest beg to have him wake her. She didn't look at the other man directly and instead took her place standing in front of Christoph, her hands hanging loosely at her side while she glared down at him. She could see that he was immediately annoyed that she'd complied so easily. But he brushed that off, waving a hand in her direction.

"Ah look, our sleeping beauty awakes!" Laura didn't pay attention to anything else he said, keeping her gaze focused on her captor. In reality though, she was studying the stranger who sat next to him with her peripheral vision. He had closely cropped grayish-blond hair, a deep tan, a full beard and moustache, and his eyes: they looked normal. A white eye ball with a light blue pupil. It couldn't be Remy. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. The way he'd walked had been so recognizable, but from what she could tell, this man didn't resemble him at all. She wished she could switch her gaze to him, to get a clear look at him, but she knew if she did so that Christoph would cut the meeting short. He got quite jealous when she paid more attention to his guests than she did to him.

"…brought her here?" The man was asking when she began to follow the conversation again.

Christoph turned away from her angry glare to study his companion. "It is quite an interesting story, Lord Chauncey. You see, I had always quite considered her 'mine,' but I let her go out about and have her fun. I do so hate to see beautiful things used improperly. They tend to lose their luster, and she certainly doesn't sparkle as she used to."

Lord Chauncey? She clenched her fists. He had been one of the first to hire she and Remy. Now he came to see her on display? The man in question made a sound of agreement and gestured for The Collector to continue. Christoph needed little prompting. "You see," He continued, "Because she is immortal, it was fine to let her play her little games, and she did quite a good job at getting me items that I wanted for my collection. Unfortunately, I'm a selfish man, and there was something I desperately wanted." He gestured toward the bone knife. "That belongs to a goddess, a real, living goddess. Can you believe that?"

When the man made appropriate sounds of surprise and awe, Christoph preened a bit and continued, "So my lovely X-23 got the knife for me. I don't believe another living soul could have pulled it off as cursed as that temple was. So she got me the knife, and I knew immediately that she'd be in danger. Our goddess is just a bit vengeful, as you can imagine, and I'm quite sure that she'd be able to fairly easily dispatch my lovely little girl. I just couldn't let her roam free anymore and risk her being damaged. Can you imagine such a missed opportunity? No, certainly not. So I knew it was my duty to gather her up and keep her here out of harm's way!"

Laura narrowed her eyes into slits as she glared at Christoph. So he thought he was doing her a _favor_ and _protecting_ her by keeping her here? After he'd put her in _danger_ in the first place? She was so angry she could spit. Of all the self-righteous, pig-headed, chauvinistic, mis-guided- - the stream of insults she was thinking was cut off at the guest's next question.

"Do you mind if I look more closely? You did say she can't get out of there, right?" The man was asking hesitantly.

Christoph laughed, enjoying the man's hesitancy. "No, no, my friend. She is perfectly harmless. She couldn't get out of there if she tried! Double-paned, bullet-proof glass sealed with a transparently thin layer of adamantium. Run through with fine wires as well. I could electrocute anyone who tried to touch it, so you may just want to stay a step back though."

"You're sure?" Lord Chauncey again, sounding even more hesitant and nervous. His voice even shook a bit on the last word.

At that, Christoph laughed again and made shooing motions with his hands, "Oh certainly, I insist!"

From the corner of her eye, she watched as Chauncey nervously get to his feet, wipe his hands on his thighs as if his hands were sweating, and lean heavily on his cane as he stepped closer, putting himself directly into her line of sight and cutting off her view of The Collector. Her gaze flickered to him, though she kept her face set in stone, not even betraying a flicker of an eyelid as the stranger peered close to her and _winked_.

Laura locked her knees to keep her legs from buckling beneath her. It was him. It had to be. Remy had come for her. He looked so different, but yes, there was the scar over his left eyebrow. She didn't know how he'd pulled off such a transformation, but it was certainly convincing. He'd come for her. She held her body perfectly still, her face still only showing cool dispassion, but despite her best efforts, she could feel tears threatening to come, could feel her eyes getting glossy as tears welled.

To draw attention away from the tell-tale sign, she attacked the glass, releasing the blades in her hand and diving forward against it. The man fell over backwards in surprise, toppling Christoph as well in his chair. As servants rushed into the room to help the two men up, she swiped at her eyes to remove any trace of wetness.

When she looked down again, she could see Christoph and Chauncey being helped up from the floor. The Collector had lost his hat, revealing a purplish, misshapen head. Just as his chin was, there were only small clumps of hair growing in patches. The bald areas were swelled up as if they were blisters. He quickly grabbed his hat and smashed it down onto his head again, gesturing for his servants to show the guest out, telling them to forget about his broken chair and himself when they lingered. When the door closed behind them, he approached the capsule, leaning heavily on his cane. She could tell he was embarrassed, and from the tone of his voice, he was very angry. Shaking his head, he said, "I have put up with your tantrums before, young lady, but this time you will be punished. I have been working too long and too hard to be part of Lord Chauncey's society. If you have ruined it for me, I swear you'll lose any of the comforts I provide you with for at least a year!"

He turned after spitting out the last words and limped out of the room. Laura was unconcerned with the threat. Smugly, she grinned when he left her alone. She had no plans be here in a year, so his threat meant nothing to her. Besides, hadn't he just been complaining about how docile she'd become?

Still grinning, she opened the small hatch and went below where she would have some measure of privacy. Once there, she allowed a wide smile to stretch her lips as she relived the past few minutes. Then, as the relief at seeing Remy washed over her, she wept.

* * *

Author's Note: I hope you're enjoying this side story! For those of you following "Evading Darkness," I'm also working on the next chapter of that story, and I'll post it as soon as I finish this one off. Right now, "The Collector" is looking to only be 4 or 5 chapters. Then we'll be able to pick up where we left off. Please R&amp;R. Feedback is always appreciated (and makes me post more quickly).


	3. Chapter 3

The Collector: Chapter 3

Laura wasn't sure how long it had been since the visit, but it seemed like years. She had had no visits from The Collector or anyone else. Not a single person had entered the room, not even to feed her. It must have been a long time though. She couldn't seem to find the energy to pull a lock of hair over her shoulder to see how much it had grown.

She was starving, she knew that. Apparently her healing factor kept her alive, but she could do little more than lie on the ground of the capsule. Her body ached all over, and once when the thirst had been overwhelming, she managed to fall into the trap door to drink water. When she had been unable to find the strength to climb back out, she had allowed her body to float back up when the room had flooded. Her clothes had dried since that incident.

She slid her eyes open to stare at the single brocade chair sitting outside the capsule. It rested on its side from where it had fallen. The scraps and broken pieces of the other chair still lay there. This was the only sign that she hadn't imagined the past visit. That she hadn't imagined Remy. But was it really him? She was beginning to doubt her memories. Had it been wishful thinking to see him there posing as Lord Chauncey? Maybe it hadn't been him after all. The curve of the glass could have made her imagine the scar over his eyebrow after all. Maybe he hadn't winked. Perhaps he'd had something in his eye or a nervous twitch? If it had been Remy, he would have gotten her out by now. Right?

Maybe she'd imagined it just as she'd hallucinated so many other things in the past few days. She was so hungry. Her thirst was even worse, but she couldn't find the energy to lift the trap door. How terrible would it be if he never fed her, and she was stuck just lying here in the shell of her body? Would she really never die? Closing her eyes against the bright light, she began to wish that she would. She'd thought she'd lived through the worse type of torture, but a future of nothing more than lying here helpless and completely alone was even worse. She closed her eyes and prayed for sleep and death.

Remy was frustrated. He paced back and forth in the lavish drawing room of Lord Reginald Chauncey. It had been over two weeks since he'd managed to gain entry to Christoph Hirsch's home, and he'd been unsuccessful so far at figuring out how to get Laura out of there.

He (as Lord Chauncey of course) had made a very large monetary offer to purchase the "prized possession," but he had been turned down. The Collector wanted something else, and Remy had to figure out how to get it for him. He cursed himself, retracing the days since Laura's last mission.

He had first realized something was wrong a little over two weeks after Laura had taken her "break." She'd checked in to let him know she'd managed to complete the mission, but she had sounded tired, more worn out than he'd heard her before. The wire transfer from The Collector had come through without a problem, so he'd assumed that the drop had been successful. He'd left her a voicemail about a week and a half later to just check in.

When he didn't hear back within 48 hours, he began to worry. He knew he shouldn't be too concerned. Laura and he both needed their space some times. And just because she wasn't returning the voicemail didn't mean something was wrong. Perhaps she'd gone someplace so remote that cell service wasn't an option? He tried to ignore his gut instinct that told him something was wrong. Surely it was his imagination. When another 24 hours passed without word, he couldn't ignore the feeling any longer. He'd contacted everyone he could think of, beginning with The Collector, who assured him the drop had been successful and that Laura had looked fine when they parted ways. He'd checked in with friends and mutual contacts and had come up with nothing. She had vanished.

When he hadn't heard from her for a month, he'd put an enormous price on information about her whereabouts. When that yielded dead ends and fabricated explanations, he doubled the reward another month later. He knew it might bankrupt the savings they'd put away during all of the years they'd worked together, but it was worth it. He'd rather support himself as a pickpocket again than miss an opportunity to find Laura.

He worked tirelessly; he rarely slept and ate only when he was reminded to by intense stomach pains. Every waking moment had been spent searching for his partner.

It had been more than three months since he'd last raised the reward when he'd finally gotten a lead, and it hadn't been in connection with the bounty. Lord Reginald Chauncey had been one of the first jobs he and Laura had worked together. At the time, he and Laura had worked more assassination-type work than anything else since her reputation as X-23 had made her fairly infamous. It wasn't until after they'd earned enough money to be comfortable that she'd decided to "retire" X-23, and they'd turned to more treasure hunting work, which they both enjoyed more anyway. But when he had first contacted them, Chauncey had been drawn to them for both of their abilities: hunting and killing.

Lord Chauncey's seven-year-old daughter had gone missing, and the local authorities had had little luck finding her. He'd contacted them on the advice of a friend, begging them to find their daughter and to kill the party responsible for her abduction. It had been a tricky case, but they'd found her stashed away in a ramshackle home in Scotland. She hadn't been in very good shape, and the other decimated bodies of young girls had made killing him more of a pleasure than a chore.

Remy had brought the little girl back, and Chauncey had been incredibly grateful to get his daughter back alive. It turned out he was quite a collector of rare items himself, and he'd kept Laura and Remy busy over the years. His recommendations to other collectors being one of the reasons they'd been able to change their line of work. They had always been on good terms thereafter, but Remy rarely thought of Chauncey until he called with a new request.

When he had a message from Chauncey inviting him to visit him in England, Remy hadn't been interested. He'd ignored the summons and continued focusing on Laura's cold trail. It wasn't until Chauncey managed to catch him on the phone that he changed his mind.

"_Remy! I'm so glad I caught you. I know you're a busy man, but I heard something strange at my club, and I just wanted to check in with you about it," the deep, accented voice sounded exactly as it had so many years ago. _

_He'd made an assenting sound into the phone, still only half paying attention to the man, wishing he hadn't picked up the phone. "Don't have much time to do work right now, Reg. Been busy on a larger case."_

_The man made an understanding sound, "I can only imagine you stay quite busy in your line of work. I did hear that you're not doing killings any longer. That's probably for the best. But it was what you and that young lady did for me years ago that is related to this rumor. You see, I've heard that someone is bragging about having added the dangerous X-23 to his collection."_

"_What?" Remy demanded, his interest finally snared. "What did you say?"_

"_Your little lady friend. Someone is bragging about having captured her. Is she quite all right with you, Remy?"_

"_No." Remy said the word in a clipped, angry burst of air. His fingers tightened on the phone, and he only gentled his grip when he heard the plastic crack. _

"_Oh dear. I was worried about that. Listen, I don't know who it is, but I can certainly ask around to see what I can find out. I do know that she's somewhere here in England. You are more than welcome to stay at my home in London if it would help you."_

Remy had booked the next available flight, arriving exhausted to meet with Chauncey, not even noticing at first how much the man had aged. Chauncey had shared all he knew, which was little. Still, just the fact that he had a lead renewed Remy's energy and hope.

It had taken another month of Chauncey asking around, of Remy following dead leads in London before they'd even heard a second rumor. One of Chauncey's friends had actually seen her with his own eyes. He'd been disgusted by The Collector's audacity to keep a human being contained and on display like an inanimate object. He'd shared what he could, but he had been there for only a short time before excusing himself.

Chauncey admitted that he'd received several invitations to The Collector's home in the past decade. Chauncey was well known in his circle and was well-respected for his wealth, taste, and, of course, his collection of rare artifacts. One of the reasons The Collector had begun to work with Remy and Laura had been because he'd heard that Chauncey used them.

That was when Remy had an idea. He'd found out that Chauncey and The Collector had never met, and in fact, a fresh invitation had been sent recently with the promise of seeing an extremely "rare" item that The Collector was sure would impress. It was at that point that they had devised the plan: Remy would undergo a makeover (with the help of some former mutant friends of his) and would present himself as Lord Reginald Chauncey at a meeting. It had taken months for Remy to be able to convincingly talk with an English accent. During that time, he'd also had to study all of the items in Chauncey's collection so he'd be able to speak convincingly about what "he owned." No one who knew him would have mistaken Remy for Chauncey, but for someone who didn't know him, there was a chance that he would pass inspection.

When they'd finally arranged the meeting, Chauncey had decided to leave the country for a short time to attend to his daughter, who was having her second child. She now lived in Belize with her husband and his family. Chauncey often spent time there, and it was rare for anyone to track the comings and goings of an old bachelor, so no one really noticed that he had left town while still "being" in residence at his London townhome.

The day finally arrived, and when Remy had walked into the show room, he'd barely been able to keep from killing the short, squat Collector with his bare hands. Laura had been curled in a ball on the floor of the capsule, and his first thought was that she was hurt. But when she had stood and glared angrily down at her captor, he'd felt relieved. She'd looked healthy and fit. Despite her hair being longer than she normally kept it, she didn't appear to have suffered at all at the disgusting man's hands. Right now, that was the only thing keeping him sane.

She hadn't bothered to spare him a glance, so he had been concerned that she didn't realize he was there. When he'd winked and seen her tears, he'd been relieved that she had recognized him. She had caught herself in time, but the fact she'd been unable to completely hide her emotions had been a clear sign that her time there was wearing on her more than she wanted anyone to know. It had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done to leave her there, but he knew they had to be smart about extracting her if they both wanted to get out alive.

Now he had no idea of what to do. No offer of money, trade of possessions, or cajoling had worked in getting The Collector to hand Laura over to him. That just meant the only way to get Laura back would be through force—or at least some clever planning.

His first step had been to gain access to someone working for The Collector. It had been easy to slip into the servants' quarters and catch the eye of one of the older kitchen staff. Hell, he was older, but he was still as charming as ever. Thanks to some well-timed questions during pillow talk, asking about her job, her employer, he'd learned a few things about security, and he'd quickly learned about the "immortal" (none of them knew her name. They certainly didn't want to either, the woman admitted. After all, she had killed one of the staff her first day there). She'd only been too happy to share the gossip she'd heard about such an intriguing "creature."

When he'd finally been able to reach Chauncey, who had been enjoying his new grandchild too much to be available on the phone the first couple times he'd called, he finally was given the missing puzzle piece. As it turned out, Chauncey was the member of a rather elite group of men who collected rare items, and it seemed that The Collector had been begging to be a part of the group for years. The group had refused to consider it as many of the distinguished members had little respect for The Collector. It was enough for Remy though to realize a way "in." He made arrangements for he and the man to meet at a far-off location to discuss membership and initiation. It would make extracting Laura easier if The Collector were far away and unaware of what was happening in his own home.

Naturally, Remy had no plans on meeting the man. He could stand there forever and rot at the meeting place for all he cared. What Remy really cared about was Laura, and he was going to get her and bring her home.

* * *

I hope to wrap this story up in the next chapter, so please be patient. I will try to post the final chapter by Thursday or Friday. Thank you all for reading and to growlscout for your fantastic reviews and for favoriting! Le Diablo Blanc2-thanks for continuing to be a supporter of my writing by following. :)


	4. Chapter 4

The Collector: Chapter 4

Laura couldn't quite find the energy to open her eyes when she heard sound for the first time in ages. She heard the door open and close. She heard footsteps, and then she heard the portal in the side of the capsule open.

Then she smelled it: Food. Her eyelids fluttered and finally slid open. Two platters were placed inside. One was heaping with fresh fruit and breads, and the other was filled with roast beef, potatoes, and steamed vegetables. With strength she couldn't have summoned for any other reason, she dragged herself and then fell on the plate of beef and ate ravenously with her hands. Unfortunately, the food was far too rich for her to handle, and it wasn't long before it came back up. Still, she felt strengthened. After her body calmed from being sick, she pushed herself into a sitting position against the glass. She looked down at the food, wanting to eat all of it again, but she settled for a piece of plain bread and ate it very slowly. She sipped at the large glass of water that had been on the tray as well. She paced herself, giving herself long periods of time between bites and between different types of food. She finished all of the fruit and bread first, watching with fascination as her skeletal hands, arms, and legs fleshed back out. Her body healed quickly, rebuilding the muscle that had withered away while she starved. It was painful, but at least it was fast, even if watching it made her feel as if she were starring in some sort of Sci-Fi movie.

When she flexed her fingers, she was just grateful that the intense, aching pain was gone with each movement. She'd finished off the pitcher of water, and went below to refill it as well as to get towels to clean up the mess she had made. She had to come back up into the capsule a few times during the process to keep the timed flooding mechanism from triggering, but she also took the time to wash herself and change into the spare body suit that she'd kept below. When she finally settled back into a sitting position, she eyed the other plate of rich food, only a small portion of it eaten. She'd wait a while longer for her stomach to adjust and to digest what she'd already eaten. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of being not-hungry and not-in-pain. It was bliss, and gradually, her mind began to clear and to function again.

She noticed that a flurry of activity had been going on while she'd eaten. The room was being cleaned by Christoph's staff, dust flying everywhere. The broken chair had been removed, and she was sad to see an empty space where they had rested. Now she'd have no verification that Remy (was it Remy?) had ever been there. She closed her eyes and sighed before drifting off to sleep.

When she woke again, she was hungry, and she was alone. What awoke her was possibly one of the most annoying sounds in the world: a fly buzzing. She turned her head slowly until her cheek pressed against the glass of the capsule and came eye-to-eye with the annoying insect. Somehow, it'd become trapped between the two panes of glass. She frowned her annoyance as it began buzzing around again. She glanced around her to distract herself. At least when they had cleaned, they'd left the plate of beef and vegetables. She tried her best to ignore the incessant buzzing as she lifted the platter of food, now cold, and ate it methodically, not taking pleasure in it, but grateful for the sustenance. Her gaze followed the fly as it buzzed around the perimeter of the glass, bouncing between the two panes. She cursed her super-sensory abilities, knowing with the thick glass that if she'd had normal hearing, she'd never hear the blasted thing.

She stacked the empty plates near the slot used by the serving staff and frowned as her brain began to work. How was the fly even alive? Hadn't Christoph said the outer pane of glass was electrified?

She was quickly distracted, however, when the doors open again, and Christoph waddled in. Almost as if realizing danger, the fly rested against one pane of glass, remaining still when the man stopped in front of the capsule.

"Hello, my lovely treasure," The Collector said jovially, as if he hadn't just starved her for who knew how many days, "You are looking quite fetching today, I must tell you." With a gesture toward the plates, he continued, "It looks as though you've enjoyed your dinner. You can expect to have more of that as long as you behave yourself. You see," he lowered his voice conspiratorially, "It's all finally paid off! I've done it!" He was grinning widely and even clapped his hands. As usual, Laura said nothing, only stared at him.

"Well," he continued, unperturbed. "I just wanted to make sure that you'd eaten and recovered. It's truly amazing how wonderful you look. You were basically a skeleton just yesterday. It was so uninteresting and unattractive, you know. We must work on keeping you from becoming that ghastly again. In the very near future, I'll be having several more guests, so we want you to be as radiant as possible!" He smiled widely, showing the golden teeth as well as the chipped and rotting ones. "Yes. Yes. Yes. It's all working out finally."

Still mumbling to himself about his success and luck without explaining more, he turned and left the room. Laura stared at the door for a long time after he left, trying to ignore the fly when it began to buzz again. It would almost be worth starving again just to foil his plan of showing her off. Then, still not having the energy to worry about it, she lay down on the floor and slept again.

When Laura woke again, she was in complete darkness. She leaped to her feet, the adamantium blades sliding out of her hands and feet. In all the time she had been there, the lights had never even flickered, but now she was surrounded by complete darkness. The only sound she could hear was the fly buzzing between the two panes of glass. She stood motionless, all of her senses on high alert. There was a large thump, and the lights came back on, causing her to blink against the unexpected brightness. She looked around her. Nothing had changed. She waited, still in a defensive stance and slowly began to count in her head.

1…2…3….she continued…597…598…599…600. After ten minutes of nothing, she lowered her guard and sat back down on the floor of the capsule. She turned her head to the side a bit and watched the fly crawl-buzz along the capsule wall to her right. She lifted one hand to press her finger to the glass directly where it was. The fly stilled and she remained motionless as she waited for it to react.

When the door behind her burst open, Laura was caught completely by surprise and quickly rolled to her feet to face the door. When she saw who it was, she fell to her knees because her legs simply refused to hold her any more. It was Remy. Of that she was certain. His hair was still blonde and he still had the ridiculous beard, but she could see his black eyes with the red pupil, and he wore his signature tan trench coat. She could say nothing as he moved toward her quickly with the step-hop stride that favored his right leg. He was moving quickly. He had come for her. She fell forward onto her hands, not able to support her body but also unable to tear her gaze away from him. He was talking to her. She could see his mouth moving, but her brain wasn't processing anything he was saying to her. _What could he be saying?_ She wondered to herself as she watched him come closer to the capsule and press his hands to the outside pane of glass.

He fisted his hand and beat against it, and then motioned to her to move away. Wait, what was he saying. She shook her head hard to try to bring her brain back into focus.

"…blast it. I need you to cover your head at least, and get back! Put your head down, Laura." Dumbly, she did as she was told, still peeking out from under her arm, afraid to even blink. If she stopped looking at him, he'd surely disappear. Maybe she was still starving. Maybe the food had been a dream, too. Maybe she was going to wake up still lying still, starving, and unable to move.

She was brought back to focus when her ears rang with the sound of broken glass. The outer pane had shattered, the pieces of flying glass embedding and causing cracks to spiral out from spots in the inner pane, but it stood firm, undamaged besides the few cracks. Remy was gone.

She rose to her feet again, her mouth opening to emit a cracking, strangled sound. It was the first sounds she'd made since she'd been taken, and it hurt her throat, but she repeated the sound in desperation. She pounded her hands against the glass, keening. No. No. No. Where was he? She was relieved when she heard him. He had been behind something. Yes, that made sense. He wouldn't have wanted to get hit by the glass either. He was talking to her again. She should be paying attention.

"…hurt you. If it shatters like that again, one of the larger pieces could take off your head. I want to keep trying, but it's not worth it. I can go back to the control room to see if there's a switch. I will come back, do you understand?"

She shook her head frantically. No. He couldn't leave. When he placed his hand on the cracked glass and then turned to walk away, She began hitting and kicking the glass as hard as she could until he turned back. Then, she opened the compartment door and dropped back down, pulling it closed above her.

Something was wrong. She landed in water that was knee-deep. There was a leak somewhere, perhaps from the earlier explosion? She waited, and when she began to get anxious, she counted again while she chewed on a piece of hair that was long enough to brush the tops of her breasts.

1…2…3….378…379…380…381…382…383…38—

Light flooded down on her, and she was lifted by a pair of strong arms out of the hole. She reached her hands up to cradle his face, to touch the bristly beard that covered the lower half. She made another strangled sound that was lost in his neck when he pulled her tight against him in a crushing hug. She took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of tobacco and the expensive French soap he always used. Remy. She was safe.

* * *

Two months later

Laura lay on a padded lounge chair, enjoying the feeling of the sun warming her skin and the breeze flirting with the hem of the sundress she wore. A large floppy hat shaded her face from the brightness, and she had her eyes closed as she enjoyed the sensations. She would never take them for granted again.

She heard Remy open the sliding glass door and pause before closing it. From what she could hear, he was carrying something, and he'd had to set it down to close the door with both hands. His balance would never be what it was. She heard him set a tray down on the small table beside her, and she smiled to let him know she was awake, though she didn't open her eyes yet.

He settled in the chair next to her, carefully stretching his legs out in front of him and letting out a sigh of contentment once he was settled. They sat in companionable silence for a while, and the smile remained very naturally on Laura's lips.

They were at Remy's cabin in the mountains of France. He'd purchased it several years ago, and they had often come to it to get away or recover from their more strenuous jobs. Laura appreciated the beauty and privacy it provided, though she cherished every moment Remy spent with her. He seemed to realize on some level that she didn't want to be alone, so he stuck around, rarely leaving her side.

She had been a mess when they'd first arrived. Laura had been terrified to have him out of her sight for even a moment, and she'd been terrified of going to sleep. She had been sure that if she did, she'd wake back up in the capsule. Things were better now, months later, and she knew she would continue to improve and get back to being at least somewhat close to who she had been before.

The peace, if she was honest with herself, would be short-lived. While Remy didn't talk to her about it, she had heard him talking on the phone with someone else. She'd heard that the Collector was on the rampage and was looking for her. She couldn't hide here in the mountains forever. The thought made her feel cold, so she turned to Remy, who seemed to have fallen into a light sleep. She turned her gaze to the tray he'd brought. There were two glasses of lemonade as well as a letter addressed to her. She recognized the messy scrawl as Logan's hand writing. Maybe he had missed her after all. Her lips curving slightly, she picked up the envelope and opened it.

The smile left her face once she hit the second paragraph. Yes, he started the letter with pleasantries and commented on the fact that he hadn't heard from her for several months. At least he'd made some attempt at connecting with her. She sighed after reading the first sentence of the second paragraph: "Jubilee showed up a few weeks ago." She rested the letter in her lap and stared out at the sparkling water of the pool, unable to find the will to keep reading.

Jubilee was certainly his kryptonite. She figured she had two options: she could read the rest of the letter or she could crumble it into a ball and toss it away. She stared moodily at the pool for a while as she balled the paper up in her fist. Finally, she sighed and flattened it out again and began to read.

It turned out Logan was looking for a Light Bender, one of the talismans that could allow a vampire to walk around in the sun without being harmed. She knew where one was. In fact, she'd stared at it for almost a year from her glass cage. Laura pressed her lips together and lay her head back against the lounger, her brain working fast. She was startled when a match flared beside her. She glanced at Remy, who was lighting a cigarette as he was watched her. She stared back at him for a long moment, noting the deep lines in his face and how tired his eyes looked to her. He was aging, even if she wasn't. She glanced back down at the paper. If the Collector came knocking, she wasn't sure if they could handle it on their own. On one hand, she would love the opportunity to torture the little toad, but on the other, just picturing his face made her muscles freeze up and her mind shut down. She could easily handle him if she wasn't terrified at the thought of ever facing him again, but she didn't want to put Remy's life on the line when she felt so unsure of herself.

She looked down at the paper again. So Logan wanted a light bender for Jubilee, did he? She set her lips in a grim smile. She just so happened to know where one was, so she could point him in the right direction if he did just a little tiny favor for her. She handed the paper to Remy so that he could read it. When he looked back up at her in question, she said, "I think Logan just might be the answer to our current situation."

Remy raised an eyebrow, and took another drag off of his cigarette as he waited for her to continue. Laura looked away from him out over the pool and at the trees in the distance. Finally, she explained, "I'll tell him where to find a light bender as long as he takes out the man who owns it."

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! The rest of the story will merge with "Evading Darkness" which has to this point focused more on Jubilee and Logan's relationship, but will now include all four characters.


End file.
