Stifled Vengeance, a x-men: evolution fanfic

Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm just playing.

A/N: I'd say this was written for Christmas, but I think that'd make me a little sick. It's just something I happened to write and it just happened to be Christmas at the same time. Merry Yule, all.

Stifled Vengeance

Scott had never seen Amara so furious as she was when they found Tabitha. He'd seen her angry before; he'd seen her infuriated by Ray's teasing and Kurt's pranks. He'd seen her practically climbing the walls after Bobby strung her underwear from the flagpole on July 4th. However none of it compared to the cold fury she radiated when they finally tracked Tabby to the far side of Bayville.

The apartment was a single room of bare floorboards, not even curtains at the windows. Tabitha's wrists were raw and she'd dislocated one shoulder trying to wrench herself free of her restraints. Her back was ramrod against the supporting post by the kitchen entryway; her head bowed forward like a broken marionette.

When they broke in the room filled with scuffling, like roaches interrupted while feasting on spilled garbage. Scott immediately switched to combat mode, sliding into moves and making decisions he'd been trained for without any real thought. Thought was bad right then, he had to stay focussed, had to concentrate on just doing to job. Later he remembered the fight only as a series of snapshots: the concussive force blowing the door from its hinges, the smell of blood, splinter of jaw under his knuckles, and Amara holding Tabitha's face.

When they'd cut Tabby loose, loaded her into the X-Van, and he was standing in the apartment looking at the damage, he replayed that last image over and over. The expression of raw pain in Amara's face had been even more frightening than her fury, the gentle way she cupped Tabitha's chin more disturbing than when he had to stop her from melting the ringleader's face right off.

Jean touched his arm. She always knew what he was thinking, even without their connection. He didn't – couldn't – look at her, but let her lean into him because the bare act of comforting lent her as much strength as it did him. They both blamed themselves for letting Tabby get taken. Neither was to blame, and academically they knew that, but emotionally …

"Where is she? Tell me where she is!"

"Are you okay?" Jean asked.

Scott reached behind and rubbed her shoulder.

"Okay, dumb question."

"Pretty dumb."

"Nobody else would get away with that comment."

"What do you mean she's gone?"

"She went in by herself before we had time to check the place out. There were …it wasn't as safe as we first thought. She was outnumbered."

"What are you saying, Bobby?"

"You think she'll be okay?" Scott's voice was rough as a dump truck spilling out gravel, testament to his sleepless night tracking the Friends of Humanity com links to this safe house. One night was all it had taken, but it'd nearly been too long. They'd nearly been too late.

They might still prove too late.

"Tabitha or Amara?"

"Both."

"I honestly don't know, Scott. Tabby lost a lot of blood."

She didn't need to tell him. The light was dim, but he could still see the stains on the floor and walls. The metal gauntlets they'd put Tabby's hands in lay discarded by the entryway. They leaked dark fluid and were crusted round the edges, like the knives and cheese cutter discovered in the kitchen. Sam had blasted out through the window to throw up when he found the dish full of … pieces. Scott felt like he was standing in a slaughterhouse.

"Tabby, baby, look at me. Look at me, Tabby."

"…'mara? That you?"

"Yeah, it's me. Don't you pass out on me again, okay?"

"Bossy … cow…"

"You better believe it. Oh, baby, what've they done to you?"

"I didn't … didn't scream. Not once… not …"

"Tabby? Tabby!"

"Beast said the SHIELD agents are on their way. This is too big for local cops. There's too much scope for anti-mutant interference. SHIELD will clean up this place, and they'll do it while making sure no evidence goes missing."

"Yeah." Scott stared at the mess and tried to think beyond the current moment.

This time it'd gone too far. This time … it wasn't like when they rescued Kurt and Kitty from the FoH rally, or when Jubilee and Ray were brought on stage, trussed like turkeys during Reverend Cole's lecture at the amphitheatre. This was a unique capacity for cruelty. This time it wasn't just about making a statement and using X-Men, the most public of public mutants, to do it. This time it was about pain and prejudice and vindictiveness. This was the end result of unadulterated hatred and the avenue it gave the brutality thought lost when mankind moved away from the campfires and into caves.

"Amara, no!"

"I want to kill them, Scott. I want vengeance. Don't rob me of that."

"This isn't the way we do things, Amara. You know that."

"They hurt her - "

"And the authorities will deal with them!"

"NO! They're MINE!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you do this."

Scott flexed his fist. Amara's jaw hadn't felt like the kidnappers'. It'd cracked loudly, and he suspected there would've been more damage when she hit the floor if Rogue hadn't caught her. Rogue's expression as she looked up at him – understanding without a hint of reproof – had corroded his conscience far more than the actual act.

"It's not your fault," Jean whispered, holding onto him like she'd never let go.

"I know," he replied, but it was hard to accept with the stench of Tabby's blood and fear thick in his nose.

This was the side of their fight the public didn't get to see.

Scott envied them their ignorance.

fin.