Tests, Exams, and Experiments.

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Doktor Klaus Heidegger glanced at his PDA to see his morning schedule. There had been quite a shuffling of events to make room for a new and important one: Jozua's symbiote testing. So far there had been only a basic test: Making it appear and disappear. He had hoped she would not bleed every time it happened, and made a point to see if the suddenness of its appearance had anything to do with it. Results were inconclusive. Jozua was still struggling to find the finesse to let it seep out of her, rather than let it burst forth from wherever it would.

Today would be different. She would be controlling the symbiote to do basic tasks today. If things went well, he would have her do a small test flight with her wings.

He had included physical training into Jozua's schedule weeks ago to build her muscles and resilience. The girl was gaining weight, but her muscles were still used to time mostly spent in bed or in wheelchairs. That was changing. Her progress was remarkable.

Klaus entered the large chamber where Jozua's testing was to take place. The subject was already there, standing and looking about the large room. From a viewing booth in the right wall, technicians would be monitoring Jozua's vitals and recording data. They also would be responsible for hitting the "kill switch" if things got out of hand.

The "kill switch" involved a putty that hardened and restrained a mutant. Klaus had it tested on the strongest mutants available and it worked to great effect.

"Jozua, so far we have only been practicing letting the Sample out and retracting it into your body. Today we will be seeing how well you can control it and make use of it."

[Jozua Cure]

Since her eventful outing with her doctor some weeks earlier, Jozua Cure had quickly become accustomed to several changes in her daily life. The first of these was the pink, two-to-three inch long scar that ran just above the line of the right side of her pelvis, gained from the operation to remove her burst appendix. Another, much to her delight, was the introduction of various types of food, some specifically selected for their immense nutritional value and to help her gain weight, others, it seemed, simply for her experimentation and enjoyment. So far, she had not found a single thing that she disliked, right down to the asparagus she had eaten the night before. A scheme of physical training had initially been a huge challenge, what with her lack of experience, leaving her with several incident of falling over and exhaustion after only a few minutes. However, her progress, the trainers had noted, was good, and that she would continue to improve at a steady rate.

The scar had been something of a puzzle for her and her doctor; at length they had agreed that perhaps the sedatives had also somewhat neutralised the symbiote's regenerative abilities, and had not interfered once the stitches were in place. Did it know that, through Jozua's own suspicions, that if it tried to heal while the stitches were in place that they would become fused with her flesh? Whatever the answer, Jozua was glad for it, for it would likely have caused too many problems in trying to heal the incision made for removing the damage.

It had been at an earlier hour that the nurses had come to fetch her from her tidy room this morning. Her old room still in the process of a deep clean from the first emergence of her symbiote, Jozua had been relocated and had been provided, upon her request, with books to aid her desire to learn. Watching birds fluttering outside her window was all well and good, but when they left to go about their business, Jozua needed something else to entertain her. The books were on a vast amount of subjects, and in English print, and when she was not undergoing tests, medical examinations or training, she would read.

She had become quite friendly with the nurses; grateful for their expert care and kindness, but paramount was her affection for her doctor, whose mere presence brought a cheerful smile to her face. She had spent some time alone in the chamber and had sat crosslegged in the middle of it, curiously examining it from this position. When the technicians entered and noisily settled themselves into their seats at the viewing booth, Jozua had padded over to them and pressed her hands up against the glass, taking in their names (Polish names still seemed odd) with the same flare of excitement that she had experienced when she first discovered her power.

It was not that which they were concerned with today. Her other power, which rested with the symbiote that shared her body, was of more interest. She returned to the middle of the room, tilting her head right back and trying to guess just how high the ceiling was, insufficiently doing so by stretching a hand up towards it and rising onto the tips of her toes.

I wonder if I could fly in here?

That was something else; the doctor had not been pleased about her impromptu flying display on their outing, and so she had not had an opportunity to since. The feeling had been exhiliarating, wonderful, and the memory of it brought a wistful smile and a sparkle to her eyes. They had been conducting tests on her ability to bring out the symbiote and absorb it again, which had proved less painful with each attempt, and with less bleeding. It seemed that she and it were finally blending into one.

Her attention was drawn suddenly to the door of the chamber opening, and she couldn't keep the smile from her lips as her doctor entered, calm and collected as always. She nodded her understanding of his words, casting a glance over at the technicians, who had also snapped to attention, and were watching the pair of them closely. It didn't bother her much - Jozua's preoccupation was to please her doctor.

"All right." A pause. Jozua looked around the chamber, and was suddenly a little dumbfounded. She returned her eyes to Klaus, chewing her lower lip for a moment before continuing, "What would you like me to try?"

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus nodded to the people in the booth and they pressed a button. A panel in the wall lifted up and and from the recess it uncovered a shelf extended into the room. Several aluminum cans sat on the shelf, evenly spaced apart. The new technicians and interns didn't understand why Klaus insisted on finding recycled aluminum cans when his budget allowed him to make use of sturdier targets. It wasn't until they saw the tests involved that they realized just how expensive it would be for Klaus to make his own targets or buy clay pidgeons. It was simply better on his pocketbook and the environment to pay out pocket change to children and homeless looking to make some change for the cans they found.

"Jozua, it is my impression that you can use the Sample to make appendages for various uses. We will see how far you can reach with one. From where you are, I want you to knock down one of the cans here."

[Jozua Cure]

A blink. The simplicity of the task was relieving, yet odd, as secretly, she had been expecting something more. Those thoughts quickly disappated as she smiled, brushing some of her fair hair behind her ear. "I will try."

Turning to her target, Jozua saw the shiny cans and her eyebrows formed a tiny, focused frown. It had quickly become easier to make the symbiote respond to her wishes; sometimes, however, it lashed out on its own, frighteningly, without warning. She would try to make sure that did not happen. There was no danger.

Those cans. I need to knock one over ...

Both wings appeared in a moment, and one rushed forward like a striking cobra, Jozua having to widen her stance to stabilize herself, tongue peeping out of the corner of her mouth as she fought to concentrate. The dark appendage reached the cans, flicked out, and hit metal. Drawing it back, Jozua smiled gleefully, clasping her hands together. "I did it!"

Both wings shrank back down, but instead of disappearing, they settled into a form that Jozua had become familiar and comfortable with; like two spiky fans settled on her shoulder blades, wafting gently as though breathing. Eagerly, the Dutch girl looked back at the shelf, but was dismayed to find that not one, but three cans had hit the floor. Her shoulders slumped, fingers twisted together, and she gave her doctor a sheepish look.

"I ...I am sorry."

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

"We are only testing range for now, Jozua," Klaus reminded her. "We will work on precision later. And we have plenty of cans."

Klaus motioned to a line marked on the floor by a laser beam. "Step back to there, and try again." The difference was about ten feet. "You are doing fine."

[Jozua Cure]

Reassured, Jozua beamed, "Thank you!"

Obediently she made her way to the indicated spot with little half-skips, arms raised slightly. Reaching the point, she turned to face the cans again. It took less effort this time to make the wings rise above her head, and she paused, taking aim. Of course, there were more cans to hit.

In preparation she spread her feet apart, bending her legs slightly at the knees to brace herself. Again, her tongue emerged at the corner of her mouth as she focused her attention on the cans.

I only have to reach them.

The same wing shot forward towards the cans, reaching out like a wild animal. It stopped short, recoiled, and a stab of frustration shot through the blonde girl. She turned her back, other wing sweeping out like a whip - unbeknownst to Jozua, nearly hitting Klaus - and slamming into the cans, scattering many across the chamber floor with unrhythmic tinkling.

The noise was not what concerned Jozua - she was busy focused on her hands, which were marred with something she was not yet used to - the black, vein-like lines that appeared seemingly whenever a strong feeling accompanied her use of the symbiote. The appendages returned to their fan-like state at her back, and with a little trepidation, she slowly looked at her doctor.

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus felt the air move by him when Jozua's wing nearly struck him in the chest. He took a step back to give her more space and continued to watch her progress, unperturbed.

"Jozua, I want you bring the Sample out of your hands. You won't always be able to use your wings. You will need to use your hands as well. Repeat the exercise, but use your hands this time."

[Jozua Cure]

A nod confirmed her understanding. They had tried this method a few times before, each with different results. Sometimes the symbiote emerged from her wrists and covered her hands, sometimes from the elbow. It had been difficult to concentrate it into one source, namely from her palms. But she would try. To put a smile on her doctor's face ...

I can make him happy. Jozua cast a shy look at the Pole, a small, determined smile forming on her rose-coloured lips, and I will do whatever he asks to make it so.

There were still cans arranged on the shelf, despite those she had scattered with her last attempt. Holding her arms low by her side, Jozua focused her mind on the task at hand - not too much, but enough to send the message through her entire body. Her symbiote did not have a mind, but it was another living creature dependant on her to live, as she was on it to keep away the cancer. She needed to strike at the cans again, only with her hands and not the wings she had oddly grown fond of.

It happened the moment her attention slipped; her wings jerked back into her skin with such force it made her flinch, despite the lack of a mark that she didn't need to feel for, and in the next moment it sprung out halfway up her forearms, quickly crawling down her pale skin in a stark contrast. It enveloped her hands and from there continued to grow, making the consumed area bulkier, stronger. Black veins crept upwards towards her shoulders, easily visible due to the thin straps of her top, which left most of her shoulders exposed.

Jozua, however, was now working hard to settle the symbiote's other urges, and focus it on the task before them. She snapped her arms up by her sides in a crucifix before whirling one forward, the blackness snapping out like dark lightning and sending more cans crashing to the floor.

Arms back down by her sides, Jozua took a little interest in the extension of her hands - the tips of the huge, claw-like fingers now reached past her knees - before returning her attention to her doctor, beaming.

Maybe he will smile for me?

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus was pleased. "Very good."

He held out his hand. In his hand was a tennis ball.

"This is going to take a lot of concentration, but it is very important that you learn to do fine work with your sample. There will be things that you cannot reach with your fingers. The Sample must be your tool. Come over here, just outside of your arms reach, and take the tennis ball from me."

He held it out in front of himself.

[Jozua Cure]

The praise stirred a warm feeling within the blonde girl, calm and happy despite the monstrous state of her arms. These faded without her effort as she, displaying the obedience of an eager puppy, headed towards her doctor, following his instructions carefully. She extended her right arm, which was once again slender, creamy and lacking in any significant muscular definition. Soft eyes narrowed slightly as she pinpointed her focus on the bright sphere in Klaus' outstretched hand. It was perhaps an inch beyond her grasp.

The tips of her fingers trembled slightly as she used her mind's eye to see what she wanted to happen. Just a small extension of her own hand, to take the ball, gently - gently --

The ball was the focus. It was what she wanted. What she needed to obtain in order to complete the instructions given. To please her doctor. Slowly, tendrils of the slate-coloured substance crept out of the back of her hand, making a steady progress towards her fingertips. Fighting back her awe at her own mutation, Jozua increased her concentration, eyebrows furrowing slightly. It had to be slow, gentle - fine work.

Please give that to me --

The tendrils extended further, reaching out somewhat tentatively, like snakes tasting the air. As they grew fractionally every few seconds, Jozua was vaguely aware of the black line reappearing, making speedier progression up her arm and onto her shoulder and neck. Though she couldn't see it, her reflection in the shiny surface that formed the front of the viewing panel revealed the dilation of her pupils, steady but unnatural given the constant light in the room.

Give that ...give - I need --

The desire was growing; the want for the thing just beyond her reach. She could have it so easily if she snatched it, quickly, sharply. Just a flick out and it would be within her grasp.

No - gently.

She quelled it sharply: the point of the exercise was to

But I want it ...!

The majority of her control was broken in the next second, and the sudden appearance of a bulky, dark mass consuming her arm from the shoulder downwards drove a scream of fright from the blonde girl. Specks of red from the symbiote's sudden appearance dotted the floor around them, but it was irrelevant as Jozua fought with blind panic to control the monstrous appendage's raging want.

Doctor! Look out --

She clamped her eyes shut as her mutated arm shot forward, landing with a crunch. Horror flooded her - I hit him - as several crimson-spattered images - oh my oh my - flashed through her mind. Shaking, she force her eyes open, swallowing hard in preparation for what she would see.

An unharmed, if slightly unnerved Polish doctor, and a tiny impact crater on the far wall met her quivering eyes. Her symbiote had receded, the lines fading fast as she staggered backwards, shock fuelling the trembling of her entire body as she crumpled to the floor.

"I - I --" Whatever she might have said was taken by the sudden sobbing that made her curl and press her forehead to her knees, arms wrapping around her head. She sucked in deep breaths, trying to fight off the upset, and stammered out, "I - I nearly hit you ...I am s-so ...so sorry ..."

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

"I knew what I was risking. But I had confidence in you."

He took a half step forward so he could lay a hand on her shoulder. It was a strange mannerism for Klaus. It was practiced, actually. Klaus was never good at comforting people and learning even this small gesture had been very hard on him.

"We will try again but put the ball somewhere else in case you are too afraid of hurting me."

It had indeed been a close one. The doctor had almost reached for the hidden tranquilizer pistol under his lab coat. He knew on the other side of the wall his aides were also inches away from the panic button.

"When you have had sufficient time to calm down, we will begin again."

[Jozua Cure]

As the doctor's hand rested upon her shoulder, skin on skin, Jozua leaned up into the touch, placing her own smaller, paler counterpart upon his. The tiniest of smiles graced her lips for a moment, despite the shock that wrecked her body. As was usual, she had come to know without it hurting, the doctor pulled away, and proceeded to set the ball on the floor.

Absently, her fingertips stroked at her shoulder as she fought to calm herself. The symbiote prowled within, wanting action, competition. Immediately. But now was not the time.

Klaus had set the ball before her, and Jozua crawled into a cross-legged position, stretching out her arm as she had done before, with the desired object little more than an inch from her eager fingertips. Again she narrowed the focus of her mind, pinpointing the symbiote's emergence to the ball.

Take it gently, slowly --

The tendrils emerged, slithering with less caution towards the tennis ball, halting as they reached it. Jozua pushed again, and they crept forward, taking hold of the ball and drawing it back towards her without so much as a shiver.

She beamed, suddenly filled with relief and joy. She ran her free, unmarked hand through her hair, and for a moment marvelled at the sight of the tendrils holding the ball above the back of her hand.

Only for a moment. She lost herself too much for a moment in her glee and the tendrils thickened in a moment, taking a tighter hold on the ball.

And, to her surprise and horror, crushed it.

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus watched a moment. Clearly the sample was still beyond her ability to control. He needed to know why.

"Jozua, what does it feel like when you try to get the Sample to do those kinds of minute tasks like the one I asked you to do today?"

He waited a moment for her answer. He searched her eyes, her posture, and later he would check her vitals for signals that would clue him into the problem from a physiological perspective. He needed her to tell him what it was like in her mind. That, more than anything was most important.

[Jozua Cure]

She snatched back her hand in a moment, holding tightly against her chest as the fuzzy remains of the tennis ball suddenly fell to the floor. She drew her knees up tightly, rocking backwards, away from the fresh, odd smell of rubber, but couldn't keep her quivering eyes from it.

Klaus' voice commanded her attention; she looked to him, getting up and moving away from the shattered object. The object that she had shattered, with little more than a careless thought. A chill, like a long, delicate finger, rushed down her spine, anbd she gripped tighter at her hands, swallowing as she tried to calm herself.

I can do this. I can control it ...

"I ...I feel --" It was too strange. She had spoken the language they used since she was a child, mastery of it being allowed from her years in America, and yet ...nothing would come. No words would offer themselves as a description to the feelings that took hold when she brought the symbiote to the fore. "I am not sure."

Her doctor had patience; she knew him well enough for that. Patient enough to find a cure for her, and to see what she could do. She could spent any amount of time trying to find an answer. "I feel things that ...that I have never felt. I feel ...a wanting. How do you say? ...Desire." She glanced at Klaus, briefly, shyly. Suddenly, it seemed wrong to feel that way; to enjoy using the powers that her symbiote granted. Still, she continued, voice strengthening past a frail whisper, "To do things quickly. To be strong."

It seemed like an odd explanation, and, in truth, she had not really answered what he had asked. Absently, she traced her fingers over her face, and examined her hands for any marks. There were none. None yet.

A small smile appeared on her lips as she stretched up a hand towards the ceiling, watching it, "To fly, I do not have to think. To do what you have asked me to do today ...I want to do it, but my symbiote does not. I have to concentrate harder, and when I stop, it does what it wants." The hand dropped, falling to run through the length of her pale hair and trail over her bare, slender shoulder. "I think ..."

Something nudged at the corner of her mind, something which made her glance at her doctor and faintly blush. And, just as quickly, it was gone.

Jozua blinked, surprised at her own thoughts, and quickly dispelled them. "I think that control is not the answer. It and I ...we depend upon one another, yes? Therefore, we are a partnership."

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus nodded. "Power will come in time. But power is nothing without control."

The doctor paused to think. "Come Jozua. We will discuss a new approach to the symbiote while I take you to show you something that is important for you to see."

Klaus walked to the door and opened it with a touch of his hand. "Come along."

[Jozua Cure]

Jozua's small, quick steps easily betrayed her eagerness to obey. She paused a moment to offer a small wave of farewell to the technicians, who seemed to regard her with confusion and curiosity. If one waved back, Jozua did not see it; she had padded her way towards the door and was out of it in a moment. She followed closely behind her doctor; this corridor was familiar to her, as she had travelled it to get to the room earlier that morning.

Maybe I will see something new.

Despite her time at Jericho, she had seen only a fraction of the massive building. From her observation of lifts and the direction in which the numerous staircases flowed, she had learned that its floors extended underground. Just how far beneath, and what their purpose was, she had little idea. The nurses had divugled ambiguous details when asked, much to Jozua's disappointment. But, other mutants were in the facility. Of that she was sure. She had heard them. She just didn't see much of them.

She had given some thought to her placement in the facility before - the best rationalisation she could invent was that she was well-behaved, and for the most part, harmless. The symbiote made its wanting known when she was hungry, but nothing more. She was fed, clothed, sheltered and looked after with care enough that she was quite happy.

A look up at her doctor's face accompanied her question, "What did you want to discuss with me?"

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

"As I said, we must find a new way of thinking to help you deal with the Sample. Controlling it like one manipulates a tool is not helping. For you to gain full mastery of it, it is necessary to find another way of doing things."

Klaus stopped in front of an elevator and pressed the button for it to appear. It soon did and Klaus stepped inside with Jozua. He pressed one of the buttons marked for the sublevels and swiped an identification card that granted him clearance to the floor he wanted.

"You say it would help to think of it as a partnership," he continued, "and I would agree. However, I want you to think of it not only as a part of you, but as you. It was made with your own tissue. It has your DNA. That's how it was able to bond with you without your body trying to reject it."

Klaus watched the numbers scroll on the display. "How do you feel about the Sample when it surfaces on your skin?"

[Jozua Cure]

As the lift began its descent, Jozua's stomach turned over; a feeling she had become familiar with, but not one she particularly enjoyed. Lifts were odd things - whichever way they moved, it felt like the outer part of her body went with it, but her insides had to catch up. Her eyes flickered to the number above her head.

We are going down? A tiny smile appeared, I wonder what I shall see?

She listened placidly to her doctor, drinking in his information like a dry plant. His words made sense; she as the symbiote as much as it was her. They were one being, and could never separate. At his question, she lowered her eyes thoughtfully.

"...I am still nervous. It is something I am still becoming accustomed to." Indeed, it seemed odd how she had grown easily used to the appendages and deformities that the symbiote provided when it was called upon, but yet, not its most mild form - the lines that surfaced on her skin. Unconsciously, she rubbed her hands together, and brushed her thin knuckles over her cheek.

She turned her head so her bright eyes could fix upon her doctor; he was not looking at her. Still, she kept her gaze on him, murmuring, "It is something that I do not wish to happen, I suppose. And that makes me uneasy." A pause. Again, she pressed her hands together, eyes glancing up at the numbers. They were going deeper, towards floors that Jozua had only guessed might exist. "I shall adapt. I am not afraid."

Suddenly, she couldn't hold back her curiosity any longer, and grasped at Klaus' elbow, looking between him and the numbers above them. "Doctor, where are we going?"

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

The elevator stopped. "This is the very bottom of the Jericho Center. The place where my darkest work stays."

They stepped out into the hallway and were immediately met with sounds of anger, frustration, and incoherent rage. The pair walked along the hallway. Each cell had one large window in it. Mutants of various shapes, sizes, and descriptions flung themselves at the windows or pounded on them with their fists. They screamed and cursed Dr. Heidegger.

"They hate me here. All these mutants are too dangerous to be dealt with. Their powers are either totally uncontrollable or their powers have altered their psyche in such a way that they are no longer fit to be around people. I could not do anything with them apart from contain them and keep them from hurting other people without cause, or even volition."

At the end of the hall the largest window showed a large room that looked to contain a generator. one of the screens above the generator showed a mutant retrained to four points off-screen. It was apparent to Klaus that Jozua would soon be able to make out the mutant's name. So he decided to pre-empt her and explain.

"Jozua, this is the first mutant I have had to store down here in this facility. Bjorn Heidegger. My brother."

[Jozua Cure]

The first step into the dim corridor lost all confidence in a second; Jozua pulled herself back into the safety of the elevator, clutching at her arms. The sounds were bitter, vengeful, overwhelming. Her body stiffened and she paled further as she caught glimpses of the rage-consumed mutants on either side of the hallway. She drew in a tiny gasp, her skin prickling swith cold fear, eyes wide like a trapped animal.

Her doctor was moving away from her; although the elevator might provide escape, Klaus was security. It was better not to be alone. She followed him, taking light steps on the smooth floor, head whipping from side to side as various prisoners shrieked and pounded for attention. One bared teeth like a wolf, snarling and eyeing the pair with hunger; another battered at the walls of his cell with too many arms; another room held what appeared to be a sandstorm, which struck out suddenly at the clear wall. For once, she had no interest in finding out the names of these tortured creatures, even though they flashed before her eyes. Jozua crept closer to her doctor, taking comfort in feeling the whiteness of his lab coat brushing against her arm.

She followed him obediently, each step becoming more difficult than the last as they went deeper into the hallway. The Dutch girl was busy sucking in deep breaths to quell her fright when they stopped, and she peered at the mutant they had stopped to view. She blinked, rubbed at her eyes and looked again, anxiety creeping up on her once more as she saw his restraints. A name was there; foreign but not unpronouncable as she had found of most people in the facility.

Klaus offered his explanation, and Jozua's hands flew to her mouth in shock. He was not lying. The name was clear, even though she wished vehemently not to see it. The sounds of the mutants behind them were drowned into silence by her own horror as she stared at the man in the cell. Her hands fell to her sides, where her fingers rubbed together slowly, as if trying to work out the feelings like they were dough. She couldn't keep her eyes from the screen. From him.

After what seemed like an age, she dropped her gaze to the clear wall, and slowly headed to it, spreading her hands out on the flat surface and looking through at the generator. She bit on her lip, but not hard enough to draw blood.

"Bjorn Heidegger." It escaped her lips as a whisper, and was accompanied by two thin streams of fresh tears. Shoulders shaking, she bowed her head and pressed it against the wall, hands snaking up into her pale hair. "Bjorn --"

Jozua whirled around, tear-flooded eyes fixing on the man whom she could not feel for through her confusion. Her words were free of the usual stammer that tears provided, and emerged clear: "This man is your brother?"

She still had a hand pressed to the transparent wall, and her fingers curled, little nails leaving no marks. Shaking her head, Jozua made no attempt to wipe her tears away. There were no words she knew right now to describe how she felt; just that she had never felt it before. Not anger, not fear ...an odd kind of upset. What had been so terrible that one brother had been forced to incarcerate the other?

"Why? I ...I don't understand." Quivering green irises met Klaus' ever-steady gaze, "Why did you do this?"

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

"The day my little brother's powers manifested, I was studying abroad for the summer in America. I had an internship there studying the genetic traits of plant life at Empire State University. I bought him a gift from America--his favorite American music group. I watched him open his present via webcam."

Klaus looked hard at the screen. "When he got it he was so excited--then the feed shorted. At first I thought it was the University's internet connection. It had never been particularly good. It wasn't until the next day I received a notice saying that my brother had infected five square miles with enough radiation poisoning to rival Chernobyl."

Klaus put his hands in his pockets. "The military from five nations had everyone in another five miles evacuated and they camped there to destroy him if he moved. I had to contain him. He does not need to eat or drink or even sleep as best as I can tell. He generates enough energy to keep himself, and this facility alive."

[Jozua Cure]

Jozua listened with her usual patience and curiosity, albeit along with the shuddering of her body and her breath coming in short, quiet gasps. The doctor's story was unlike anything she could have even guessed at. She searched Klaus' face for a shred of emotion, and could find none. Again, she looked back towards the generator, and then to Klaus, the tears drying on her face leaving thin red lines in their wake.

Doctor Heidegger, I do not understand you.

Her hand fell away from the clear wall. "Are you not sad?"

She took timid steps towards him, clasping her hands on her arms as goosepimples rose up in the cold. She felt a little guilty; thoughts at the edges of her mind had accused her doctor of imprisoning his brother for reasons much more negative than those he had provided her with. And despite the strength she had gained and the health she been restored to, all of a sudden she felt weak and cold, drained of the positivity she had felt less than an hour ago in the chamber, obediently knocking over cans and plucking tennis balls from the floor. In the depths of the Jericho Center, she was no more than a poorly little girl.

"...Klaus?"

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

"I am," he paused a moment to find the right word, "weary."

Klaus looked at Jozua. "I cannot cure him. I cannot get his genetic code because the probe I send and the syringe containing his code will be so infected with radiation that I won't be able to get near it without dying of radiation poisoning. If I could cure him without his code, as soon as his power faded, he would die of his own radiation."

Klaus looked at his brother. "It is truly hopeless. And yet my work, the reason Jericho started in the first place, must continue. I must find a way to cure the gifts that turn out to be curses."

The doctor looked at his frightened patient. "You in a lot of ways were like my brother. Imprisoned by your genes without any chance of escape. And yet I unlocked your cage and set you free. The sample that you carry is important to helping people like my brother and we must find out all we can about it now while you carry it."

He motioned back down the hallway to the elevator. "I can see this place is bothering you. Let's go get some ice cream and we will try another test in an hour or so."

[Jozua Cure]

No more than poorly girl, Jozua closed her fingers around a fold of white material, keeping her hold on the coat as she followed her doctor from the cold, yet hellish subterrain. The incarcarated mutants, bar the one she couldn't prevent herself looking back at with sanguine eyes, remained as eager to express their desire for blood as the calm Pole passed them. His shivering patient closed her eyes to them, keeping her face close to his shoulder as a shield.

The trip to find ice cream was hazed by Jozua's muddled thoughts. Of course, there was no more that Klaus could do. He had tried; he was still trying. He had not given up on the mutants who were trapped by their powers. She was sure there were others like Bjorn, others who could not lead normal lives because their genes prevented them from doing so. Mutants who could never again feel the touch of another, know the love that others received without condition. Her doctor has put it so well: she was like a bird set free from a cage. He had even given her wings with which to fly. He had done more for her than anybody could have dreamed of. The cancer was gone, and the symbiote she shared her body with was no more than an extra security against any outside harm.

He had helped others like her, she was sure of it, others who he did not know nor had any cause to associate with, out of a peculiar kindness, but kindness all the same. People who had come to him, or whom he had found, and helped to free them of the trap their genes had created. Because of Klaus Heidegger, she could be as any other woman of twenty, and more.

But not Bjorn. It had been too late for the younger Heidegger sibling.

Looking across at her doctor from the table, Jozua noted again his lack of emotion, as if he had never shown her something so close to his heart.

That is the secret he keeps behind his eyes.

She probed at her sundae, a rather healthy-looking combination of vanilla, strawberry and chocolate, and spooned a little more of it into her mouth. The sweetness melted in an instant and disappeared into her throat. For once, she was not hungry. Of course, she delighted in the tastes and accompanying sensations, but something more pressing than satsifying her ample appetite was at hand.

"...Doctor." Polite as always, he lifted his eyes to meet hers, "What can I do to help you?"

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

The doctor looked up from his ice cream--chocolate, nothing more--and regarded her as though he almost didn't hear what she said.

"Do to help? Oh, nothing. Your tests and the results from them are most important. Of course there will be other tests that will be less pleasant. I'll need to take another blood sample from you. I think I still have enough of your tissue to compare the Sample I gave you against others."

The doctor helped himself to a larger spoonful of icecream and rolled the chocolate glob around his mouth as he considered the next stages of the project.

"It would seem that the samples will have to be crafted special from each mutant's tissues for the body not to reject it," he mused to himself. "I should have tissue samples for every person under my care."

He was very careful in his language in Jozua's hearing. Normally the mutants would be specimens and the word "care" would be replaced with "science" or "experiments."

"You just do your best every day like you have been and things will turn out just fine. As long as you are here and don't hurt the staff or run away without my knowledge, you can do no wrong here. As long as you cooperate things will be just fine."

[Jozua Cure]

The words brought some reassurance, enough to allow Jozua to swallow another couple of sweet spoonfuls, thoughtfully pushing the rest of the ice cream around the glass until it was reduced to a marbled liquid state. Across from her, Klaus ate steadily without, she noticed, accumuating any smudges of chocolate around the corners of his mouth. He ate with uncanny precision, something which she focused on and found herself smiling at. To avoid questioning, she ducked back behind her sundae, prodding at it further.

Although he had said that there was nothing that she could do to help, there was a glimmer of hope that showed in the tiny smile on her face. She was already an aid; her presence and her use for his research was help enough. She was not knowledgeable nor skilled enough to actively help in the laboratories, but her own genetics, it suddenly dawned upon her, were enough to make her useful. She didn't have to earn her place here.

I will do whatever I can.

As Klaus finished his ice cream, and pushed the empty glass to one side, Jozua stretched up her arms, tucking up her feet onto her seat. Before her doctor had a chance to move, she had hopped up onto the table's cool surface and crawled across it. Resting her weight back on her hands, she slipped her legs off the edge of the table, dainty feet lightly pressing on the seat at either side of her doctor.

He would push her away soon enough; it was his nature. But before he could, she leaned forward, slender arms reaching around his neck, her cheek pressing against his. She took in a deep breath, squeezing her eyes closed.

"You are a good man, Doctor Heidegger."

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus looked up in confusion as Jozua crossed the table and straddled his lap. Instinctively he started to back up, but only managed to press himself into the booth seat. When blonde girl put her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his, the doctor went completely rigid and did his best not to make a face of any kind.

Her proximity was pressing on his composure.

"Jozua," he said. He took a deep breath and a quick look around the cafeteria to guage the scene the girl was causing. "I need you to get up. I am the administrator of this facility and the scene you are causing makes a bad impression on the people I employ to help me in my work."

He hoped he wouldn't have to throw her off him or get security to remove her. If his explanation was enough she would back off of him soon. Klaus wasn't going to be able to take much more of her affection.

[Jozua Cure]

For a moment, and for the first time, she did not want to obey. She was comfortable being close enough to occasionally feel a heartbeat, and hear his measured breaths. The fingers on her left hand strayed up towards his hair, her own breaths deepening as she searched for a trace of scent. She had never found herself so close to a man before, let alone one she regarded so fondly. Although he had handled her in a professional manner, every touch was something she treasured. He had seen her body free of clothing - again, with entire professionality - and the memory brought a touch of pink to Jozua's cheeks.

Do I love this man?

The question lingered in her mind. Their relationship was not at all romantic, but nevertheless unusual. She had done everything she could to comply with his requests in order to make him happy, and in turn he had given her happiness without realising it. By giving her a chance to live, Klaus Heidegger had restored her faith in herself and had brought her to the height of science.

He ought to feel proud of such an achievement. He had cured cancer. And yet, he was unable to; in fact, he had barely expressed any emotion in front of Jozua. Of course, he had been kind, but he never seemed happy. Even when her symbiote had manifested in the middle of Warsaw, he had restrained his anger ...for what?

She had to get up; that was his latest wish. And, true to form, Jozua complied, placing her hands on the table and pushing herself back onto it. She pulled her legs up towards herself, sitting crosslegged upon the table's surface, and surveying her doctor. As usual, he was displaying no strong emotion, despite the thanks and affection she had tried to show.

...I do not love him. But, I am very grateful for all he has done for me.

Of course, she did not love him, no matter how fond she was of him. He would not, could not give that back.

"I am sorry, doctor."

Shame now. Shame for wanting something in return for nothing. For wanting the only thing that was missing. For wanting to be held back.

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus stood immediately when she got off of him. "It's ok, Jozua," he said with a sigh, making idle by smoothing out his lab coat.

He took one more look around the dining area to see that his employees were all busily paying strict attention to their meals. Clearly none of them wanted to be caught staring. He'd ask Friedrich, his head of security to monitor the gossip and get back to him. Klaus painstakingly crafted the image he portrayed to his technicians. Mutants were test subjects. They were not to be treated with cruelty, but they were not to be treated like people. He could not risk his people growing fond of the mutants they experimented on. More importantly, he did not want his facility running rampant with mutant abuse. They were not at all to be used for selfish problems. And now a little blonde mutant had crawled across a table into his lap to lavish him with her soft affection. He risked being called a hypocrite and losing the order of his facility to other people's base desires. Projects would fall behind, productivity would be down. It would be disastrous. Jozua would have to be kept on a tighter leash.

"Come along, Jozua. We will perform one more test today and then you will have leisure time."

[Jozua Cure]

It seemed that she was forgiven. Perhaps her doctor was more willing to accept contact than she had first considered.

As usual, his use of her name brought a smile to her face, quickly disappating all the sadness and shame she had experienced only moments earlier. Uncrossing her legs, she slipped easily to the floor and regarded the other people in the cafeteria with curious eyes. Many of them she had never even seen before, but that made their names no secret. It was rare moments like these that Jozua enjoyed her power most; names were such an important element of people's lives - as a form of identity, and it was known to her in a moment.

It was evident that Klaus trusted his own Polish kin the most, or perhaps they were easier to find, presumably studying within the country's borders. There were, however, a few other names from different European countries. None, Jozua noticed, were American.

By the presence of their smart clothing - several were in lab coats - Jozua guessed that they were all employees of the Jericho facility. She offered a shyer smile to the ones that glanced across at her, but received little recognition in return. It did not occur to her that she, the only mutant, was outnumbered by a long way by these genetically ordinary human scientists.

Jozua Cure's attention had been diverted by this point, failing to notice any science-hungering gazes from the employees, as she obediently followed her doctor out of the double doors of the cafeteria and into the corridors that lay beyond.

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus was once again staring at his electronic data organizer, tapping away at a list or a schedule with the stylus. "Yes, one more exam for Jozua today, then new arrival afterwards." He idly spun the stylus about his fingertips.

He moved to avoid colliding with employees and started to scrawl something out on the screen. "Also begin finding subjects for phase two of Project 5YMB10T3."

He paused and put away the device and gestured for Jozua to enter the room. It was much taller than the one they previously occupied. A large fan stood mounted in the wall. The floor seemed to most to be sectioned off funny. Every so often a set of tiles seemed to be outlined more significantly than others. Klaus stood on one of those squares. He issued the command to the technicians in the viewing booth and soon enough all the square places rose several feet. Klaus stood on the highest one, his head mere inches from the cieling.

"Come up here, Jozua. Fly up here to me."

[Jozua Cure]

The Dutch girl watched quietly as the floor moved, her mouth falling open in wonder. She followed her doctor's ascent with wide eyes, her head tilting back until it started to become painful.

Fly? ...I can do that.

The flare of excitement was all that was required for the symbiote to respond; Jozua leaned forward, hands resting on her willowly thighs as the darkness sprouted from her back, each wing reaching out and out until they were large enough. She did not know what size they were supposed to be, but she trusted her symbiote to make the correct judgement. Hot blood dribbled over her shoulders and onto her arms, more crawling in a thin stream down her back. This was nothing. It had not even hurt this time.

Straightening up, Jozua tried an experimental flex of the wings, and wasted no more time as she lightly ran a couple of paces forward before her wings sharply thrust downwards. And she was airbourne, sailing perhaps six feet above the floor. Higher. Another downbeat. She was sent shooting upwards, lost in the exhiliaration. Much easier than before. She could do anything like this.

Here I come!

She focused her sights on her doctor, who was higher still. More wingbeats heralded her swift upward climb, until she was a few feet from the ceiling and not much further than that from Klaus. She closed the gap in seconds, wings flaring like a startled bird to rapidly slow her flight, bringing her to a sharp standstill. A gentle flutter brought her forward, her arms rising for balance as she tentatively brushed at the square with both feet. She stood with more conviction as her wings reduced their size, then leaned over, panting for breath.

Pleased with herself, she looked up at Klaus, "I did it ..."

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus nodded. "Indeed you did. When you feel ready, I want you to fly across to the next lowest platform. Then the next one and the next one until you get to the floor again."

He needed to see her control. Control was the most important component of all the tests he ran with her. If she could not contain the Sample, then the entire project would be bust.

"Whenever you're ready."

[Jozua Cure]

It took Jozua a few moments to survey exactly which platform she needed to go to, and the following ones in the downward sequence. Once she had worked it out, she checked again. Doing this right would please her doctor, and perhaps she would have a further chance to prove what she could do - some of which, she was not even sure of - and her leisure time be postponed. She smiled, wistfully.

I want to be beside him.

She hopped off the platform, wings spreading in the next instant and altering her course for the next square. She landed, pivoted, her arms rising in her sudden enchantment as she took off for the next one. The wings were faultless; her symbiote knew exactly how to turn, to glide, to adjust if she fell a little lower than her next destination. Perhaps the biggest challenge was fighting to keep her body horizontal as she flew; the unstrengthened muscles in her back quickly began to hurt, and she was quick to curl her body back to a vertical position for a landing.

Again, her feet hit the smooth surface of a platform. Like clockwork, she whirled around with an odd kind of grace, given the monstrous appendages at her back, set her sights and leapt. Moments later she landed, and eagerly she searched for the next.

...Nothing. None were below her, except the floor. Without any assistance, she dropped from the final platform and landed with hardly a sound. A smile dominated her face as her wings rushed to a smaller state, and flapped rapidly for a few moments, shaking out all tension from their exercise. All joy, Jozua pressed both hands to her chest, feeling her heart thumping beneath her ribs, and turned to look back at her doctor for his appraisal.

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus watched her with a critical eye. As always he was checking to see what went well, and what could go better. It was apparent to him after her third short flight that she needed to build her core muscles so she could stay in a more aerodynamic position as she flew. He would see to it that she be put on a regimen that would help her with that.

The platforms lowered again to their original positions. Klaus crossed the room to Jozua and said, "That was good. We will make sure you get some exercise for your abdominal muscles and your back so you can fly better. How did it feel?"

[Jozua Cure]

That was good. That was praise enough. Jozua lashed on a sharp-self restraint that prevented her from embracing her doctor, instead clasping her hands tightly together at her chest, wings fluttering behind her.

How did it feel? She chewed at her lower lip briefly as her mind searched for anythign descriptive. Truly, flying was the greatest thing she had experienced, and she could think of nothing she would enjoy doing more. The immense feelings of freedom, the power to go as high as she pleased, the strength, agility ...all of it.

"...I do not think I know the words." Jozua smiled shyly, her hands rising to cup her face. She bowed her head, letting her fair hair shield her excitement for a moment. She searched every word she could think of in both languages, something that would encapsulate her feelings. Happiness - there was so much happiness. "...Wonderful. It's wonderful, doctor."

Lifting her head, Jozua pushed her hair out of her face, her expression clearly expressing all the eagerness she possessed, "What would you like me to do next?"

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

"Well, you need to rest. Get a shower and find something to do. I will see to it that you get new books if you would like them. In the meantime I have other projects that need my attention and supervision. In the coming weeks I will be travelling to America for a conference and I would like to take you along to explain how I treated your cancer. Will that be good for you?"

Of course it would be. Her over-eagerness to please him put her on the plane before he even finished speaking. But he would ask. Perhaps the girl had a fear of airplanes or new places.

[Jozua Cure]

America. Her mother and father had believed so strongly that the doctors there would be able to help, and so had uprooted the family from their native Holland - Gelderland - to take far smaller, younger Jozua there for treatment. Many days were spent with her mother cradling Willem, who was not yet two, at the bedside while Gisela and Hilda played with their dolls. Their father had been out with Petrus, the eldest of the five siblings, with a view to finding a suitable middle school for him to enrol into. They had made a new life out there, but doubtless her mother and father would want to return home. Now, nearly all their children were grown up, with the exception of Willem, but he would quickly and easily slip back into life in the Netherlands; such was his manner. But to go back ...

For a moment, Jozua hoped that she would see her sister, and the tiny boy that was her nephew. But then, it would mean a meeting with her parents, which, given thier last encounter, would not be advisable. Besides, America was a huge country; the chances of her even being in the same state as her family were slight.

But in comparison to what she was being asked, these issues were minimal: "I have never been to a conference before. I am happy to assist you, Doctor Heidegger." A smile accompanied this last statement, breaking through the thoughtful cloud which had previously settled her expression. Now she was calmer, she realised that at some point the symbiote had receded completely into her body, the thin lines of blood the only signal that it had been present. It clung tightly to her skin, but would easily flake off when she showered; it was something she had become used to in the past weeks.

She stretched up, aware that her shirt lifted with the movement and exposed her scar. It was something she was secretly proud of. "Which part of America are we going to?"

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus looked over at her idly as he kept looking over at his schedule for the day. "It's a series, actually. New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles."

He turned to face her squarely. "Is this going to be a problem for you?

He ignored her exposed belly. He wasn't sure if she did things like that to impress someone or what. "What do you want to do with your free time?"

[Jozua Cure]

As her muscles ceased their trembling, Jozua relaxed her arms and rolled her shoulders. Absent-mindedly she traced her fingers over her scar, shaking her head, "It is not a problem. I am pleased to be able to accompany you, and visit places I have not been before."

She turned her thoughts to his second question; in her leisure time at Jericho, she often read or found herself falling asleep after her training exercises. Visits outside the Centre had been few - as a reward for her work, she had been taken on a couple of occasions to the Durski's restaurant, indulging in perogis and the occasional embrace that the kind couple squeezed her into. Inwardly, she smiled; she would miss them.

"...I am not sure. Perhaps I could, ah, see the sights." It was America - of course there would be things to see. They built some of the world's tallest buildings, had statues built for people long dead, but still important, and the people themselves were interesting enough - all so different. She had only been to one part of America before, having occasionally been moved to different hospitals around the city, but remaining within that city all the same. The three places that Klaus had spoken of she had read about, but never been to.

Jozua smiled gently, and bowed her head for a moment before lifting it again, "Thank you, doctor. I am very grateful."

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus nodded. "So what did you want to do with your free time today?"

He went to the door and opened it, then waved her through. "If you want to go out again today, I need to know soon so I can arrange an escort. If you want to stay in, that is also fine. But please make up your mind quickly."

[Jozua Cure]

In her thought, Jozua poked a finger into the corner of her mouth, nibbling at it. Someone passed by them, and she leaned out inquisitively, trying to catch their name. She didn't really remember anybody specifically in the Jericho Centre - except for the nurses who visited her room and, of course, her own doctor - and the names were ever-changing.

I wonder just how many people work here?

She was becoming distracted - perhaps because she was tired. Jozua rolled her shoulders back again, the dark streams of blood dried on her skin becoming itchy and tight. It was little to worry about; after the first emergence of her symbiote, nothing would unnerve or panic her carers or herself. She had coated her room in blood ...

"Umm ..." Jozua ducked her head as a shy smile formed on her lips. She was getting distracted, and her doctor was busy. He had more things to attend to besides herself, and despite her subconscious attempts to stay with him a little longer, she knew that it was selfish to demand such a thing of him. "I need to shower, and ..." Her cheeks pinked; there was no need to say something so obvious to him. "Um, I should like to stay inside today, please."

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus nodded. "Very well. I will come by at the end of the day and we can play a game."

The doctor left his patient to her whims and hurried off to follow up on the next several projects.

[Jozua Cure]

With few other pleasantries, Klaus Heidegger disappeared from her sight. Left alone in the corridor, Jozua looked up and down its length twice before making her decision, turning left and heading down the corridor with light steps. Barely a minute had passed before her stomach growled, heralding her realisation that actually, she was quite hungry. She had eaten little of her ice-cream in the canteen.

Which way do I go for food?

She cast a glance back along the way she had come, and then refixed her eyes on the path ahead. Alongside her directional uncertainty she was sure that turning up to the canteen unaccompanied and streamed with blood would not make her welcome. By her doctor's side, she could go anywhere she liked; alone she was almost powerless. There was was a closet-like ensuite to her room - she would go there first.

The only problem that remained was how exactly she should find her way there. She reached an intersection at the corridor - her curiosity forced her to spend more time than was polite studying this new hallway to see if there was anybody who looked as though they could help. Although it was likely that the employees of the Euro Jericho Centre all spoke some degree of understandable English, Jozua found herself wishing to see a Dutch name - someone who spoke her mother-tongue - and be able to ask their assistance. She kept walking, wandering, taking turns down new corridors at random, her green eyes wide and hungry for a glimpse of every person's name. For once, she was not being guided around the Centre - in truth, she really had little to no idea of where she was. The scientists, nurses, doctors, even the cleaning staff seemed to pay her no mind beyond an inquistive look to identify the willowy blonde creature padding quietly past them.

The sudden surge of independence was both frightening and exciting. It sent chills down Jozua's spine, though not enough to discourage her from prodding at a lift button, calling it to her and slipping inside, smiling gleefully at the outside halls. Nobody had seen her. Stretching her arms up, she felt her wings emerge, spanning no more than a metre and fluttering with the height of her mood.

Behind her, somebody coughed: "Vould you mind not doing that?"

With a squeak, Jozua whirled around, amrs straight by her sides as her wings disappeared back within her skin, "Umm ..."

She found herself staring up at a man in a dark suit with eyes like coal - that is, they burned into her with some kind of disapproval. Jozua paled; Does he know about people like me?

"You haff an interesting gift," the man continued, his voice rumbling through the elevator. Jozua nodded meekly, her eyes searching for his name. Polish? Swedish? No ...

German. "Ah, thank you."

The elevator pinged, signalling its arrival at the next floor. The doors slid open, and Jozua skipped out, passing the nurse getting into the elevator without a thought. A few paces later, she slowed, her eyes scanning the floor she had escaped to. Although most of Jericho's inside was fairly nondescript, this floor seemed familiar.

...Oh! My room is here! ...Somewhere ...

Confidence renewed, Jozua set off in search of her room; of the various doors that lined the corridor, the one with her name - etched into a thin metal plate that slid into in indent on the door - would be her destination. As per usual, her curiosity was quick to overtake and she rose up onto the tips of her toes, peering in at the rooms she thought might have interesting inhabitants. The residents seemed to have no distinguishing features that marked them as mutants, yet Jozua could not think of any other reason as to why they would be there. They were engaged in peaceful activities - sleeping, reading, even painting - a far cry from those mutants she had witnessed in the deepest floor of Jericho.

Her own door appeared soon enough; Jozua grasped the handle and let herself in, sealing the room once inside. She ran a hand through her fine hair, her other pressed against her chest and felt the hurried beats of her heart beneath. What fun!

Now, I really need to shower. The thought was accompanied by brisk steps towards the door at the far corner of the room, her clothes dropping to the floor in her wake.

*

Clean and refreshed, Jozua Cure awoke to find herself curled beneath her bedsheets, dressed in knee-length shorts and a vest. Stretching herself up into a sitting position, she surveyed her room. Her clothes had been removed from the floor - to where, she wasn't entirely sure - along with the towel she had used after her shower. Vaguely, she remembered donning her present attire and falling face-first into her bed.

Have I slept long?

A hand intended to soothe the grogginess in her head revealed that her hair was still damp, and the small clock on the floor next to her bed divulged that she had indeed been asleep for a few hours. Her stomach growled: still hungry.

Swinging her legs out of bed, Jozua padded quietly to her door, going up on tip-toe to peep out of the glass circle near the top. As far as she could see, nobody was in the corridor outside. Experimentally, she rested her hand on the door handle, and pulled on it. Nothing. She dropped to her knees, squinting with one celadon eye at the gap between the door and the wall. It was locked.

Locked? Why?

It had never bothered her before. Now, however, it seemed that somebody had entered her room while she slept, tidied away her mess and then locked her inside. A pang of frustration accompanied her confusion.

Did I do something wrong?

On her knees, Jozua poked her finger into the corner of her mouth and nibbled, suddenly swarmed by thought. Was she not trusted? Had somebody found out about her wandering Jericho alone? Had she broken some rules in doing so?

It made no sense. She had always been well-behaved - her doctor had confirmed that.

I do not like this.

Getting to her feet, Jozua took a few paces back from the door, her symbiote already rippling down the length of her right arm from her shoulder, bulking it up, elongating her hand into a jagged, claw-like form. It brushed her bare ankle, causing black lines to appear for a moment. They rushed over her shoulders, chest and back, slithering up her neck and marring her child-like face. It swelled her pupils until they completely consumed her eyes, and Jozua's vision was perfect.

Anger now. Anger that they had thought better to lock her inside. The hand lurched out, grasped the thick door handle, tugging at it. Jozua clasped her free hand over her monstrous arm, and spread her feet, bracing against the door.

A sudden, violent jerk, and the lock snapped. It had hardly taken any effort. Releasing the door handle, Jozua focused on the symbiote receding into her body, rushing back into every part of her skin. The lines faded; her eyes paled to green. The door stood an inch ajar.

Satisfied, and cheerful once more, Jozua tottered back towards her bed, and fell into it, drawing the sheets around herself as she slipped into the dark world of sleep.

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus' eyes were glued to the microscope. The cells on the slide were dividing at an alarming rate. Cancer was a curious thing. It grew and grew and grew without stop. Cells didn't die and get flushed out as they were supposed to.

Suddenly an assistant was in his ear. "Sir, there's been a breakout alarm in Hospital wing, Room 339."

339 was Jozua's room. He had wired it like the rooms in Mutant wing because of the sample. If she was somehow to forget herself then the room was to alert him.

He was upset. The rumor was already spreading that the little mutant was his "pet". She was causing too much trouble. Klaus instructed the intern helping him to put the things away and took off his gloves.

"Jozua, what are you doing?" he muttered to himself. He had half a mind to move her to the Mutant wing.

He reached her door and edged it open. The door did not latch. the doorjamb was broken. Jozua was sound asleep in her bed. What was wrong? Nothing was disturbed in the room.

Klaus walked over to the little mutant and pulled back the sheets. She was fully clothed and there were no signs that she had been hurt at all. He looked around and rubbed the bridge of his nose. What wrong?

[Jozua Cure]

Celadon eyes cracked opened a fraction as Jozua found herself being eased back into consciousness. Vision bleary, she shivered slightly as she realised the absence of her duvet and reached out for it, pulling it back over her curled body with a small, contented sigh.

A moment later, she lifted her head, eyes wide open now, peering from behind a sweep of blonde hair. Her doctor had entered her room; how long he had been there, she had no idea. Shrugging off the duvet she sat up, crossing her legs and stretching an arm upwards, stifling a yawn with the other. "I ...ah, I am sorry. I was sleeping."

She pulled her hair from her face, offering up a warm smile. Despite his usual lack of cheeriness, her doctor seemed less than neutral in his mood right now; somewhat confused, a little upset. Jozua's eyebrows formed a slight frown: What is the matter?

Before she voiced that question, however, her eyes settled on the open doorway. Indeed, the lock remained broken, unfixable. Perhaps the only way to repair it was to replace it entirely. At that moment, however, Jozua did not feel ashamed; she had been locked inside, and had levelled the playing field, so to speak. She would not leave; surely Jericho's employees - especially her own doctor - would know that by now. She was always good, well-behaved, polite. Placid - it was something she had become by being a constant hospital patient.

"...I broke it. The door. I mean ...um," she paused as she searched for the right words, aware that Klaus' attention was on her fully now, "I mean to say that ...somebody locked me in." The final words held a hard edge, like jalapeno peppers slyly added to sauce. "Yes - somebody locked me in."

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus nodded. "Well, I can see that custodial services has been in here. But they don't usually lock the door."

The doctor picked his PDA out of his pocket. "Let's see what Medical Wing has been doing today."

He sat on the edge of the bed to give Jozua a view of the device over his shoulder. "Let's see. Scheduled surgeries all day..." he paused and raised an eyebrow.

"Here's something," he said. He gestured with the stylus. "They moved a new admission to a clean room an hour ago. Patient status is Quarantined. That means only particular people can be around that patient. Let's look in on the details of that."

Klaus poked the entry with the stylus and looked it over. "All patients for the sake of their recovery will not be visited or allowed out of their rooms until relevant floors have been thoroughly disinfected."

He sighed and rubbed his temples. "I'll have to follow up with the medical staff to see when the halls were disinfected. If it happened before you broke your door, you should be ok. Otherwise we'll have to disinfect this room too and have you examined for signs of the illness."

Klaus looked at the patient's profile. "Ew. That's quite a nasty disease he has. We'll have you examined anyway." He put the device back in his pocket.

"We will take you to an exam room at once. We'll have to disinfect all the things in the room too, which means you will be moving rooms again. Once we are sure you are not infected, we have some things to do in preparation for the trip to America."

[Jozua Cure]

Her instructions were simple: don't touch anything, and don't wander off. The medical staff would clean and rid the floors of any possible bacteria in her wake. Again Jozua found herself obediently following her doctor, treading a little more quickly than normal to keep up with his pace.

She did not feel unwell in any way; plenty of time spent with her health so fragile left her feeling assured that she would know if there were any difference. Would her symbiote not protect her? It had purged her body of cancer, and quickly healed any breaks to the skin that she sustained. It seemed to be fulfilling its purpose of keeping her fit and well.

However, her doctor seemed to think otherwise; there was a certain degree of urgency as he ushered her out of her room (soon to be an empty room), contacting his staff for the required disinfecting. Her stomach growled. Again, hungry. Still she had not eaten well today; it could be nothing that she had ingested that would possibly have infected her. How did the disease spread?

The questions in her mind soon faded as her doctor pushed open the door to what she presumed was an examination room, waving her inside. No stranger to this procedure - every doctor she had ever been referred to for her illness had insisted that they examine the frail, pathetic child - Jozua hopped up onto a chair and perched there, clasping her knees to her chest.

Her voice was small, still a little dulled by sleep: "...What do you need?"

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus stood by the door and looked over at his greatest scientific achievement. Also his greatest pain in the neck. Also the greatest threat to his credibility with his employees. Much more than he bargained for. Still, she was important to his greatest plan to become the leading scientific mind in the world.

"We need," he said at last, "to find you a formal black dress for the lectures and the dinners." He hated the dinners.

He looked up and squinted his eyes as a realization hit him. "I need to be examined too," he said. "And," and he was stuck there.

The examiners came in and looked at Jozua. "We need to run a physical."

The employee looked over at Klaus with an 'are you crazy' expression. Klaus looked back with a stone face that caused his subordinate to wither.

"SARS?" the man said. "We shut down three floors to keep a SARS patient from infecting others and here we are."

Klaus looked over at the man. "When you are finished examining us, you will pack your things and leave. Once you are done with this last duty, you are fired from the Jericho Center."

He was in no mood for games. SARS was a serious condition.

[Jozua Cure]

Jozua blinked, hardly able to believe her ears. The man had just been stripped of his job on the spot?

The threat of SARS seemed insignificant compared to the man's predicament. For speaking out of turn, his place in the Center had vanished - and all with a single command from her doctor. Eyebrows descending into a tiny frown, Jozua lowered her legs until her feet touched the floor, her hands bunching into little fists. "Patrik --"

The man whirled at hearing his name, his fearful eyes settling on Jozua, who rose from her seat, feeling every inch a diplomat. Patrik's eyes narrowed further, "So, it is true."

"Ah ..." He had said it with suspicion even then, as though he expected her to reveal something more secretive than his name. His utterance blanked her mind for a moment; what was I going to say?

Patrik continued, his voice low, "You know a person's name as you see them."

Jozua nodded, her frown replaced in an instant by a small, shy smile, "Yes, I do! Um ...doctor, I, ah --" She shuffled her feet, the hairs on her neck prickling as she realised her position. Something new; she had never intentionally contradicted her doctor before, never shown any sign of rebellion save for her destruction of the doorlock. Clamping her eyes shut, she drew in a deep breath and blurted: "I do not think it is fair that you dismiss this man --!"

As soon as the words left her lips, she bit down on the lower one, hands flying to her mouth. Taking a small step backwards, she whimpered through her fingers, "I ...I am sorry - I, ah ...I meant --"

Patrik, meanwhile, had turned his attention to Doctor Heidegger, along with the other examiners who had been called to examine the Dutch mutant. Although he wanted to smirk, he fought it back and settled for jamming his hands into the pockets of his white coat. Between them they had discussed the doctor's unusual approach to this particular patient; a tragic leukaemia case that had been cured by his scientific genius. And since ...well, it appeared that their stoic, powerful leader had allowed his absolute rules to be somewhat softened when Miss Cure was present. And now, his employees were curious as to just how he would respond to this latest outburst from his favourite project ...

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus stood straight, head up, eyes straight ahead. He put his hands behind his back and took one long, slow breath to reign in his temper. His other subordinates began to look uneasy.

They knew that their Director only took this posture when someone messed up enough to jeopardize a project. If Klaus left you without your job, he was merciful. Klaus was in the unique position of being able to make the top scientists of the world trash collectors. No organization in the world could match Klaus' pay, benefits, and vacation packages that he offered to his employees. If Klaus were to fire a scientist, he would at least hand them a recommendation letter to help them find work at a place where mistakes were more tolerated.

Now the doctors waited to see what their boss would do.

"Unfair?" He said at last. "I have been unfair?" His voice was calm and light despite his anger. "Let's start from the beginning."

Klaus cleared his throat. "Miss Cure," everyone was referred to by their surnames when Klaus was angry. "Miss Cure, you came to me with leukemia, caused by a genetic defect. You spent most of your life being moved from one hospital to the next where one diagnostician after another failed to ease your pain."

He adjusted the sleeve on his labcoat. "And then you came here. I specialize in genetics and it was nothing at all to engineer an organic tissue to supplant your bad genes and replace them with better ones. And you were cured."

Klaus looked at his employees. "In order to make sure that your body did not reject the tissue I introduced, I had to keep you here for weeks and delegate all my other projects to others. I kept near constant surveillance on you because this medical achievement is the greatest one in my already stunningly illustrious career."

It was true. Since the acquisition of his doctorate at age 23, the past seven years were spent on breakthrough after breakthrough. He could map the mutant genome, suppress it, change it, use it to create any number of weapons and treatments. He clawed his way to fame among several medical fields until he was recognized three years later by several governments, who contracted with him to run the Jericho Center.

Since his installment as administrator for the facility, he had enjoyed many more successes in fields of both military and medical application. In fact, he had been offered several Nobel Prizes for his work. Still, it had not been enough for him. He had to cure the mutant problem. Now it seemed he could.

"Further, I had to make sure that your recovery was swift and that you were in fact well enough to join the outside world. So I have had to arrange outings for you to see how you handled inclement weather. You were taken outside in subzero temperatures to walk in the park, eat food not approved by my dieticians, and meet people of all kinds where the environments were not sterile and free of disease. And so far it seems that you are by all means, healthy."

Klaus cleared his throat and continued. "There has been one unforeseen side effect of the tissue: You seem to be able to grow appendages of all kinds at will. Though it seems to cause you some sort of bleeding, it has no adverse affect on you. Now I find myself spending extra time and resources on this project to make sure that you do not have to spend the rest of your life caged because of something you cannot control. Therefore, I have spent time developing tests to see how well you can manage the Sample. It has been painstaking, and I have been working on creating a tissue that is inert and will not yield your distinctive side effect."

It was time to address the underlings. "And so, doctors, I have spent much of my time with Miss Cure to see to it that my experimental cure is not a curse. I have had to put trust in all of you to perform exemplary work without my supervision and so far it would seem that my trust has been rewarded. But now I come to find out that when this woman," he gestured at Jozua, "in her innocence crosses a line she did not know existed, you becomes gossiping children! And now due to another act borne of ignorance and innocence we all face possible infection with one of the biggest epidemics of our time."

Klaus' face suddenly looked much darker than it had before. "And all you care about is your stupid gossip. I have been charged with finding a cure for this disease before the patient dies, which I imagine will probably be soon. I will have to be very close to that man in which I hold myself at considerable risk of contracting this disease. I will be isolated from the entire center until this man's death to make sure that I have not somehow contracted this malicious disease. Be glad I am more willing to fire you than hand you this project."

Klaus took another deep, slow breath. It was the signal that his lecture was over. "I will reconsider allowing you to keep your job," he said to Patrik, "but for now we have a much greater problem to focus on at hand. Perform the physical and draw bloodwork from both of us. We will then wait here fore twenty four hours to see if other symptoms occur that line up with a SARS diagnosis."

The man swallowed and wordlessly assented, completing his examination of both Jozua and his boss in record time. Then he took the bloodwork to the lab.

The exam room was empty, save for the Doctor and Jozua.

[Jozua Cure]

Stunned by her doctor's outburst, Jozua lowered herself back into the chair, drawing up her knees and resting her chin upon them, eyes thoughtful. Indeed, he had already done more than could be asked of anybody in the medical profession - and in pursuit of what? Truly, she could not see what he could want in return for it.

I do not think I have ever seen him sleep.

He had promised to reconsider his dismissal of the doctor, Patrik, who had looked at her with suspicious eyes. Perhaps they all knew of the things she had done, the blood, the recklessness, the way she lost herself without knowing. Perhaps now, as black lines crawled on her shoulders in response to her stomach grumbling. Sinking further into the chair, she held her legs more tightly, hiding her face under a layer of pale hair as she pressed her forehead to her knees. So hungry ...

Even that was something new. In her years previous, eating had always been a difficult and capricious process; would she just vomit it up again? Would she hold it down and be fatigued by digestion? Would she even be able to swallow?

And now, she seemed to be hungry all the time. She ate three meals every day, often requesting snacks between meal times, enjoyed every type of food presented to her, and had not been sick once. As a result, her body had transformed; the scrawniness and thinness that her illness had produced overcome by the colouring of unnaturally pale skin, many areas of her body filling out into soft flesh. Her morning mirror showed a willowy frame, yes, but it also provided proof of a Jozua who looked as though she might not snap from picking up a book. Somebody who looked like a real person, a woman with curves and colour in her cheeks.

Slowly, Jozua peered up, brushing away some of her hair, "...Black?"

It had come to the forefront of her mind just now, something that her doctor had said so many minutes before, but had only bothered her just this instant. Lowering her legs, Jozua gripped the seat of the chair with her fingers, sitting up and surveying her doctor with a bemused look. "I mean, the dress ...why must it be black?"

When seventeen she had been shown photographs of a wedding she was too weak to attend, back in the Netherlands, her sweet Holland. Petrus and Willem had looked handsome in dark suits, wearing shirts of red and blue respectively. However, her sisters quickly became the focus of her attention, divine in dresses of sunshine yellow and pastel pink; Gisela's golden hair curling gracefully around her shoulders, Hilda's darker hair cut fashionably just above her chin. They stood between their two bothers, tall in high-heeled sandals, arms linked around each other's slender waists, smiling, laughing, looking every inch the angels Jozua perceived them to be.

They would be wearing black at a funeral. Black was the colour of the veins that crept across her skin when her symbiote came to the fore.

"I would like ..." Closing her eyes, Jozua held the image in her mind. The smallest of her siblings, she could have been stood or seated anywhere in that photograph ...perhaps even in the middle. "...I would like green." Her cheeks pinked, one hand rising to try and cover the blush as she shyly looked across at her doctor. Today, seemingly, was a day for rebellion. "Um, please ...if that is all right with you."

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus shook his head. "Maybe for another time. But the rules of these academic events require men to wear black and white and women to wear black. But if you would like we can get for you a green dress later."

Klaus pulled up the website for the company where they would be buying Jozua's dress. "Find one you like and when we are finished here, we will go buy it for you. You can also look at the other things they have."

********

Two days later Jozua had her dress and Klaus found his tux from his apartment outside the Center. The tickets had been booked nearly a week ahead of time, so things were good.

The pair arrived at the airport, found their gate, and took their seat on the airplane. They were going to America.