Roses are Red,
Violets are Blue,
When I lay dying,
Where were you?

He let his head roll, back, hissing in pain, eyes screwed up as beads of sweat fell from his face down onto the blood-stained table just below. The sound of his own heavy ragged breaths shook the damp air around him, the violent gasps almost comporting in the ominous silence. Another bolt of pain whipped across his wrists as he shifted slightly, the harsh and rusted iron grating across the raw and bleeding flesh. It burned, like someone was holding a lighter against his skin. But it wasn't the only pain. A deep hollow clawing feeling sucked at his stomach, Snarling and hissing as whatever it was fought to be free. It was draining. He hurt, and all he wanted was out.

The loud cracking gunshots of metal against metal hit his ears as the lock mechanism on the door was pulled and tugged into position, the thick metal sheet swinging open with a loud moan.

He let his eyes close, not bothering to try straining himself to see what or who it was. There wasn't any point to it. Not really.

There was a faint squeaking noise, accompanied by the click-clack he knew only too well. His mouth was dry and throat rubbed raw from screaming abuse, but he let the words fall out anyway. "What's up Doc?" He rasped, turning his head to the side to face the Psychotic woman.

She didn't look like a killer. Not a mass murdering psycho. She was small, mousy brown hair tumbling in waves down past her shoulders, black glasses perched on her nose and make-up uncannily perfect. She put her arms behind her back and rocked for a moment on her small high heels, light brown eyes studying him seriously.

He couldn't help but notice yet again how she just looked like a professional Business woman who should be packing up and heading off to work in a high powered law firm or office somewhere. Not a delusional Maniac who believed the set list for human evolution was up to her to create by carving up innocent people and altering their physical makeup as she chose and pleased.

She smiled then, a bright look that seemed to light her up from within and she turned to walk steadily around the cart she had pushed in. "Hello Rico." She chirped pleasantly, leaning lightly on the sheet covered trolley and taking her glasses off to wipe them with the corner of the sheet before putting them back on again, gaze now serious. "I want to start off by saying I'm sorry."

Rico let out a harsh laugh, unable to fight the instinct. "For what? Mangling Johnson's mouth? Starving me?" He spat, eyes flickering with an unstable fire and he strained against the cuffs keeping him pinned to the modified trestle table.

She sighed again and stood up straight. "No, Rico. I want to apologize for what you are about to go through." She swept an arm out and ripped the sheet off the surgical trolley.

His heart leapt into his throat and sat there hammering vivid crimson. Scruples, needles, knifes, pliers… He wanted to throw up at the horrific array of tools that sat glinting coldly under the busted halogen lights. It was the classic scene of some twisted horror film, but this wasn't a fool's play. It was real.

If he closed his eyes he could still feel the hammering in his chest as fear swamped his senses, could taste the vile reek to the air and feel Kowalski gripping his shoulder tightly. The image of the girl lying on the crimson stained concrete with her face and arms ripped to shreds by her nails as she screamed and writhed in pain, the twisted and macabre image of the large stitched up skin wings implanted into her back by the iron cables forever burned behind his eyes. She'd looked up with pleading and blood-shot eyes, and with twisted and ruined lips had begged for them to kill her. "There… There are bugs in my skin, they're eating me! Kill me! God Kill me!" She'd screamed, scrabbling towards them with raw and bleeding hands.

"You're playing with shit that's not meant to be messed with Logan." He snarled, meeting the Woman's gaze evenly, letting the full force of his hate shine through.

She shook her head slowly, almost pityingly, as she gingerly picked up a long syringe and flicked it with one of her long fingers. "I know that you don't understand yet. In fact no one really understands." She moved slowly around the trolley to perch on the edge of the trestle table, twisting the needle around in her hands. "I really am only doing what is for the best Rico. And as much as You Johnson, Skipper and… I'm sorry, I always forget his name don't I…"

"Kowalski." He growled.

"Yes. Him. As much as you four must hate me you have to know that I am only treading the paths Evolution left open to me to tread." She smiled again. "And one day when the world understands both of you will be regarded as so much more than you could ever dream."

He snapped and growled at her. Straining violently, the warm stick flow of fresh blood from a disturbed wound starting to slick his wrists. The woman only Laughed, a twinkly airy laughter as she ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his face. "You know why I chose you?" She asked, voice light and soft as her other hand moved reposition her grip on the syringe.

"Because you're a sadistic bitch." He snarled.

She smiled again, suddenly lifting her hand and jamming the needle as far as she could into his neck. He screamed, jerking and tossing as he fought to rid the scorching burn ripping at his neck. She struggled, eventually getting enough hold on the needle to pump the nozzle to send the drug into the soldier's blood-stream. She ripped the syringe from his skin and tossed it carelessly behind her, watching him while he writhed and screamed as she stood adjusting the dress shirt and pencil skirt she was wearing.

"I chose you because you have the will to live that's necessary for this particular change." She stated, walking over again as he stopped screaming, body trembling slightly with the waves of agony crawling like beetles under his skin. Suddenly he under stood the girl with the mangled bloody wings, The sensation was both inhumane and terrifying. The pain trickled like ice-melt down his veins and nerves, his hands ripping at the cuffs as he attempted to fight the paralysis that was spreading like fire down his limbs.

He looked up, lips pulled back in a violent howl. "I will kill you for this!"

Dr Logan Smiled. "Of course you will Rico." She laughed, turning back from the trolley, a long carving knife gripped firmly in her hand.

She took two steps and pressed the tip of the knife against the top of his throat, still smiling as she started to apply pressure.

Rico screamed. He jerked, for a moment the sheer violence of his bone cracking terror loosening his hold on the drug that was coiled around his body. Her grip faded under the shock of her failure, the sharp blade spinning over his neck and face, before she regained it.

The metal sank deep into his face, a large split cracking his lips in half, the skin cutting like butter as blood started to pulse from the wound, filling his mouth and spilling over his face as she shook her head and tutted.

"Now do you see Rico? This is why you don't fight the inevitable. Things only get messy."

And with that Dr Logan let the knife fall in line again and pushed, digging a deep grove in his throat before running the knife down in a violent slash across his chest stomach and abdomen.

The crimson arced high into the air. A few drops splattering the woman's face and she stepped back to contemplate her work, the red splashes dripping and running down the side of her cheek. And with the Bloody carving knife still clenched in her hand and sick smile on her face for once she looked the part of psychotic maniac.

Rico jerked awake, heart thudding at the speed of a racecar inside his rib-cage. Beating a rhythm against the lines of white bones as it fought for freedom. He sat up, careful not to smack his skull against the concrete above him and lept out of the small slot.

Terror was running riot through his body as he stood there in the darkness of the HQ, hand clenched over his still pounding heart. Every erratic thump was a blessing, the organ shouting 'we're alive! We're alive! We're alive!' With every beat.

He let a hand rise up to run over his scar, the deep groove that ran over his lips and face. The proof. The proof that what Dr Logan had done wasn't just some distorted, sick fantasy his mind had conjured up to hurt him. It was real. Dr Logan wasn't some fake beast that hides under your bed, but a real life monster that rips you open and smiles and laughs as you bleed, and bleed and bleed…

It was then a voice distracted him, soft and almost child-like with confusion. "Hey? What are you doing up so late?"

He span on his heel, arms ready at his sides and balance in check only to falter.

Kowalski blinked, hair ruffled into a shaggy frame around his face as he sat on his bunk, looking down on the Weapons expert with worry in his pale gaze.

Rico shrugged and looked away. "No'in." He muttered.

There were twin popping sounds as Kowalski jumped from his slot on the top bunk onto the floor, the tactician hissing slightly as ground shock took hold. "Judging from Available data, my guess is that that's not the tru…" He trailed off suddenly, taking the two steps to close the distance between them, one hand closing around his wrist and the other on his shoulder.

Rico swallowed and whimpered slightly as the scientist tilted his head towards the lights filtering in from the under-water windows letting the light catch the glimmering streaks lining his eyes and the shadow of his fingertips brushing the scar that lapsed over his jaw.

"Oh, Rico…" He whispered, pulling him into a hug.

The weapons expert let himself relax into the hold, eyes drifting shut as a few stray tears slipped down his cheeks. Kowalski was a truly amazing specimen, picking up on cues so minor that any other person would miss them. There wasn't any need for him to talk, neither the scientist, the mutual understanding saying more than words ever could hope to. They remained that way, heads bowed and ears open to nothing more than the faint bubbling of the water and soft breaths that rippled the air. The pale watery light filtered in through the windows casting a blue sheen over the grey slate of the HQ.

When Kowalski spoke again his voice was soft and hushed. "I want to help you. I just don't know how or if I even can…"

"Yhu alwedy di'" He replied, voice strained and taught. "Yhu Saved meh."

Kowalski took a step back and watched him for a moment, face drawn.

Rico flinched away as his hand rose, but remained still, eyes fixed on the concrete table. The shadow blocked out the light to his right eye, but he still stayed frozen. He could feel the scientists hesitating slightly, his breathing pausing. Rico took in a deep intake of air as well and held it.

The soft burbling of the water was the only thing keeping the HQ from pure silence.

The touch was light, almost feather like, gently tracing the path of his scar down his face. It stopped as it reached the end, not shifting from its spot on his jaw.

He dared to look up, wanting to meet Kowalski's pale gaze only to find himself struck by the emotion in the usually two dimensional eyes. They looked like a canvas of a picky artist, layering colour after colour on top of one another until they were satisfied. There weren't bright with fear or glimmering with a smug knowledge but… Dark, regret and sadness floundering in the blue gaze. But it wasn't that, but the lavish sweep of longing that struck him.

Kowalski blinked, unaware of the meaning his gaze held as he whispered. "You are the strongest person I know."

Rico Swallowed as the Scientist patted his shoulder and smiled weakly, turning to go shuffle back towards his bunk when he reached out and caught his arm, pulling him back.

"Rico? Rico! Hold on, ok? Oh what has she done to you…"

He let his hand slide down, catching the scientists.

"Rico, what are you-"

"Shh."

He lifted it, gently guiding it towards the tip of his scar where he rested it for a moment, before gingerly running it down his face again.

Kowalski's brows were furrowed, confusion written on his blue washed face.

He opened his eyes slowly, Kowalski leaning over him, eyes wild with panic as he wrestled with the iron cuffs.

"Walski?" He asked, voice weak, cracked and distorted. A deep stab of pain jerked from deep in his throat as he felt the blood flow start up inside it.

Rico breathed deep and shifted his hand once again, pressing it against his heart, which was hammering three times as hard as before. The scientist blinked, staring bluntly at his hand witch was now pressed between the maniacs own and his heart.

"Rico?"

The weapons expert then pressed his hand against Kowalski's chest, the touch warm as he felt the thrumming pick up speed as he held it there. He looked up again, encouraged by the deep longing that was back lurking in the blue irises.

He lent in, fingers clenching into the tacticians shirt as he did.

"Go." He coughed, red splattering the cold unforgiving ground.

Then there was blue, Kowalski was there in front of him, fury igniting his eyes as he snarled, "Like hell I'm leaving you."

The kiss wasn't deep and passionate, not like the Kisses off movies with the rich red velvet curtains, red wine and roses. Not the lust filled, 'Everything's Ok now' kiss.

But light, a bare whisper of a kiss. The faintest brush of lips that promised so much more. The sort of Kiss shared by two soldiers in a stone HQ bathed in weak watery light as they recalled their red stained past.

The kiss that said, 'No. I'm not Ok and things aren't fine. But they're better than they were before.'

And that's all they really needed.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
When I am in pain,
You seem to be to.