by 1Grrl4Vic
Rating: R for violence and language.
Summary: Victor changes his mind.
Disclaimer: Victor Creed and Birdy both belong to Marvel. Anyone else in the story is mine. I'm not making any money from this.
Author's notes: This is a fic that was never meant to be. I hadn't planned on a sequel to "Little Birdy" but was hounded by co-workers. Next time, I'll just give 'em write-ups for their personnel files. Hah. I'm a manager. I can do that. You might wanna read "Little Birdy" first. This hasn't been beta'd or edited. It's all me, baby.
As always, constructive feedback greatly accepted while all flames will be given to St. John.
****
"Fer now, I'd prefer it if my Little Birdy didn't think about mother hennin' anyone but me"
"Sure thing, Boss." I can hear the resignation in her voice, even through the yawn. I don't know what she expected outta me. That'd I'd say 'yes?' Girl must be foolin' herself if she thinks Vic Creed's gonna have a stinky, little brat runnin' around his house. I mean, what the hell am I gonna do with a kid? Even if I got Birdy to take care of the thing, I ain't fatherin' material. 'C'mon now, boy. The secret ta stalkin' yer prey is ta stay hunkered down and quiet-like, then springin' up and runnin' like the devil himself was after ya, ya got it?' Uh... no. No boy o' mine's gonna end up like me. He's gonna be better than that. And mutie or not, long as he's proud o' who he is and where he came from, I almost wouldn't care what he did in life. Listen to me.. actin' like I *did* tell her yes. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. I guess it wouldn't hurt to let Birdy have the kid. Might hafta change some things 'round the house, maybe tighten up on security. Can't have none o' my enemies comin' ta hurt Birdy and the kid while I'm away. Eh... we'll see how all'a this looks in the light o' day 'cause I'm probably just to damn tired to care right now.
****
I wake up slowly the next morning. I was drained to the teeth from that job in Spain. And comin' home to a knocked up Birdy was just the frosting on the cake o' my day. Oh shit! Birdy! What time is it? I look over at the clock on the nightstand and it's, damn! It's after 10:30! I throw off the covers and jump outta bed, racing down the hall to the stairs, hollerin' all the way. "Birdy! Birdy, you still here?!"
"Yeah Boss, what's up?" She's standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at me with a question on her face. Probably wants to know what all the yellin' is about. O' course, I'm always yellin' so it could be a number o' things. I start down the stairs and stop, puttin' my hand on the railing to look.. whatta they call that? nonchalant-like.
"Look.. uh.. I been doin' some thinkin' and I figure if you want a kid, then I don't see no good reason why you can't have one." Boy, this is harder than I thought. She's lookin' at me like I'm speakin' Chinese. I got my hands wavin' around like that's gonna get the words outta my mouth easier but it ain't doin' nothin' but make me look like an idiot.
"Cuz I know how you women get with yer clocks tickin' and whatnot and ya need somethin' to do durin' the day when I'm out on a job and whatever and lookin' after my boy ain't gonna be an easy task. So, uh.. if my kid's what you want then you go on and have him, all right?" Birdy's just standin' there like she don't know what the hells goin' on and I'll admit, I'm obliged to follow her with that notion. Then she gets this small smile creepin' on her lips but it's gone quick. Guess she don't want me knowin' how much this means to her.
"Um, ok, Mister Creed. Uh.. thanks." She turns around and heads for the office, I reckon to call off the appointment. Not that I expected her to be runnin' up the stairs and throwin' her arms around my neck and start showerin' me with kisses and 'oh, thank you, Mister Creed's' but I wouldn't'a minded. I still got red blood in my veins and havin' a beautiful little thing like Birdy wrapped around me, well.. there ain't nothin' wrong with that. I'm still standing on the stairs when she comes outta the office and heads upstairs. As she walks past me she gently pats my shoulder. Huh. I'm gonna be a daddy.
****
Eight months later
"Birdy? Whattya think yer doin'?" Her head pops up and she gives me the biggest smile I've ever seen on her pretty face.
"I'm waxin' the cars, Boss. Don't they look great? See, I started with mine then I thought maybe your cars could use a little shinin' up so I kept right on." She straightens up and wipes the sweat from her brow. If I ain't mistaken, that's one of my old T-shirts she's got on coverin' that big belly o' hers and some old, raggedy sweat pants. She's got her hair pulled back but a few strands have found their way loose and hang down around her face. She tucks 'em behind her ear and goes back to rubbin' the hood of my Porsche.
"Birdy, we got a boy who comes and does that. I pay him. Remember?" I walk over to where she's at, waitin' for her response.
"I know but I was bored after cleaning the house so I thought I'd clean up the Beamer and after I was finished with that I thought the Yukon looked a little dull so I waxed that. Boy was that tough. It's so big! And then I just had to wax the Porsche 'cause it's red and red cars always look best when they're waxed and.." I put my hand up to stop her. She's makin' my head hurt as fast as she's talkin'.
"You been workin' in the garage with the door closed? I think you must'a inhaled some fumes or somethin'. Now quit doin' that and go get in the house."
"But.."
"Eh. In the house. Now." She puts out a dejected sigh as she walks past me and back into the house. All I can do is shake my head in disbelief. What in the world was I thinkin'? Lettin' Birdy keep that baby? This has been the most annoyin' almost-nine months o' my life I can ever remember. I turn off the lights to the garage and walk back into the house, through the kitchen. Birdy's pullin' things outta the cabinets and talkin' a mile a minute.
"And after I take my shower I'll go ahead and fix something for dinner and oh! You know what would be great? I got these fabulous tomatoes yesterday at the store, they're just gigantic, and the lady at the checkout told me this recipe I think I'll try with them. But we don't have any oregano so I'll hafta substitute something else but they should be all right anyway. And I found this really neat idea for steak in one of those women's magazines and I was thinking that maybe if you wanted, I could try that. I know you don't like changing things like that but if you want to, I could make it. I mean, it's no big deal. It sounded easy enough and then.." I cant take it anymore. I grab her shoulders and spin her around to face me.
"Just stop it, Birdy, would ya? Yer drivin' me crazy. Now go take yer shower, take a Valium, whatever it takes to calm you down. Then you can come down here and make my dinner anyway you want so long as yer quiet when ya do, OK?" She just gives me that big ol' smile again and pats me on the cheek.
"Sure thing, Boss!" I just watch her leave the kitchen, and wonder again, what possessed me to let her have a kid.
****
It's well past two in the morning when choked sobs wake me up. Birdy's not in bed but there's light coming from the bathroom where the door's partially open. The feelin' I'm gettin' in the air just ain't right so I throw off my covers and head towards the bathroom.
"Birdy? Ya all right, darlin'?" She doesn't answer but I can hear her sniffling. I reach out with one hand and give the door a little push and it swings open to reveal Birdy bracin' herself against the counter with one hand while the other's holdin' a towel between her legs. She looks up at me with wet, red-rimmed eyes and it don't take a rocket scientist to figure out what's goin' on. I walk back out into the bedroom and grab Birdy's sweatpants she'd thrown over the back of a chair earlier and take them to the bathroom.
"Here. Put these on an' let's get goin'," I hand her the pants and help hold her steady as she works her way into them. After I've made sure she's got her balance, I pull on a T-shirt and step into some Nikes. I grab an extra towel from under the sink and we make our way out of the bedroom and down the stairs. She tugs on my arm and I stop.
"My bag. It's in my room. I need my bag," she stutters out.
"All right. I'll get it." I let her go and I head back up the stairs to her room at the end of the hall. I grab the black duffle bag sitting on the floor next to her bed and jog back towards the stairs. Birdy's already by the door to the garage, leanin' up against the wall, both hands on her stomach.
"C'mon, girl, let's go." I open up the garage door, expecting her to go through but she doesn't. She keeps leanin' against the wall with her hands coverin' her belly. Her breaths are heavy and even. "Right. I'll.. uh.. start the car." She just closes her eyes and nods.
****
"Excuse me. Mister Creed? You can go in now. She's the second door on the left." I toss the seven-year old National Geographic back on the coffee table and make my way down the hall to Birdy's room. Once they got her strapped into that torture device they called a 'bed', I opted to sit out of this little event. As it was, I could hear Birdy screamin' all the way down the hall. I almost felt bad, too. But then I remembered she wanted this. It's all her.
"Hiya, Boss." She's lookin' a little rough around the edges but she's got a smile on her face and after all the hollerin' I heard from her, I'm suprised she's still got a voice.
"Ya wanna see?" 'Do I wanna see?' O' course I wanna see my boy. We never really discussed names but 'Victor Creed, Junior' sure has a nice ring to it. I stand next to the bed and she pulls back a corner of the blanket to show me this little, pink thing. A pair of blue eyes, just like Birdy's, look at me before blinking shut.
"Isn't she just the cutest thing you've ever seen? Seven pounds, ten ounces. Blonde hair and blue eyes. I was hoping she'd get your eyes, 'cause I thin green eyes would look so much cuter but the nurse said maybe they'll change a few months down the road. Whatcha think? Cute, ain't she?" She stops talking for a minute but I barely notice. Did she say 'she'? As in girl?
"Um, Boss? You OK?"
"Huh?"
"I asked if you were OK."
"Well, jeez, Birdy. Not really, since yer askin'. I thought you were havin' a boy. What the hell is this?" I ask, waving my hand in the direction of the baby.
"Well, 'it' is your daughter. I don't know where you got the idea I was having a boy."
"Ya sure as hell never said you were havin' a girl! What the hell am I suppose ta do with a girl?!" The bundle in Birdy's arms starts mewlin' and fussin'.
"Would you try to keep your voice down?" she asks me in a loud whisper. "I never said anything about a boy or a girl because I didn't know either way. I don't see what the big deal's about anyway. She's a healthy baby. So what if she's a girl?"
"I didn't want a girl!" Now she's startin' to aggravate me. Doesn't she know me well enough to know that I ain't really the type to have a daughter? A son is more my style, ya know?
"Well, you didn't spend nine months carrying around your kid."
"Damn it, Birdy! I put up with you and your hormones and everything else for what? A girl? What the hell, huh?"
"Maybe you should just go. You're going to upset the baby and I can see you're in no mood to accept such a joyous event for what it is." Birdy focuses her attentions on the baby. Throwin' my hands up in defeat, I turn around and stalk outta her room. That damn girl! I swear one'a these days she's gonna piss me off but good and then I'll hafta find myself a new telepath. Fer now she can sit in that damn bed 'till I feel like takin' her and that damn baby home.
****
"Hullo?"
"Are you gonna come and pick me up or do I hafta call a cab?"
"I dunno. I just sat down to a hockey game. Don't feel much like drivin' down there to pick you and the brat up."
"I see. Well, after we get home I'll be packing our things and go so we don't hafta burden you with us being female. Wouldn't want it said that Victor Creed couldn't handle a woman and a newborn baby. So we'll save you the humiliation and find a place of our own."
"Oh, shut up, wouldja? I'll be there in twenty. Be out front."
"Bring my car. Her carseat's already in the back." I hang up the phone and resign myself to havin' to go pick her up. Birdy's good with the guilt trippin'. I useta think it was the look in her eyes but even over the phone, she's got it.
****
"Here you go, sweetie. Your very own room. Lookit all the pretty things you have. You have a bunny wabbit an' a puppy doggie an' a wittle duckie to play wif."
"Birdy. Could you not do that? You're gonna.."
"What? 'Baby' her? She doesn't mind. Do you? No you don't. You sure don't. 'Cause you wove your mommy, yes you do. My wittle, bitty, baby girl."
"Birdy." I hope that sounded more like a threat than a plea. She goes to stand in front of the window, baby in her arms. Birdy's pointing out the window, talkin' to the kid like she can understand. She's probably asleep, anyway. I leave the baby's room and walk across the hall to Birdy's room, tossin' her duffle bag onto the bed. I can still hear her talkin' to the kid in a quiet voice as I head towards the stairs.
"I'm out back, Birdy," I holler up to her as I walk out the back door. There's no sun out today an' it's a bit drizzly but that don't bother me. I pull off my leather jacket and toss it onto an iron bench next to the walkway that leads to the pool. Birdy's gonna gripe at me for that, no doubt. She hates it when I leave my clothes lyin' around. She's a good kid, though. An' if she really wanted to leave, I don't think I'd try too hard to stop her. I sure would hate it if she did. She's good at easin' the pain but it's also nice just havin' someone around. To be with. Aw, now here I go gettin' all mushy and sentimental. That baby ain't been in the world all'a 2 days and I'm already whimpin' out! I knew this would happen. Gotta reaffirm m'self, get back ta nature an' doin' what I do best. Good thing this house came with a few acres of woodland behind it. A few hours out here an' I'll be back to my old, charming self in no time.
****
"Mister Creed? Dinner's about ready if you wanna come in. Uh.. Mister Creed? Where ya hidin'?"
"Where's the kid?" I stalk out from behind a thick tree and hunker down into a crouch.
"She's upstairs, asleep," she answers.
"Alone? Ya got any o' the systems on?" She shakes her head no. "No?! Well, why the hell not?" I stand up an' head for the house, grabbin' Birdy's arm an' draggin' her with me. "What're ya leavin' her alone in th' house for?! An' with none o' the systems on! You cracked in the head?"
"Ow, let go! She's fine. She's just sleeping. I'm keepin' a mental tracer on her. Chill out, would ya?" She jerks outta my hand, rubbin' her arm.
"A mental tracer ain't gonna do her any good when some punk breaks inta the house! I got them security systems fer a reason, girl! An' they ain't gonna do nobody any kinda good if they ain't on!"
"OK, OK. I'll go turn them on," Birdy says in an annoyed tone. She heads back to the house, my sopping jacket in hand.
"No point now," I mutter to her retreating back. I follow after her, cutting short my 'quality time' in the woods. By the time I get inside, Birdy's coming downstairs from the baby's room with the kid bundled up in her arms.
"See? Just fine," she informs me. I give a small snarl as I walk past her on my way to the kitchen. It's not like I give a damn two ways about that kid but it just wouldn't do for some punk to break into MY house and start trouble.
****
This family man schtick is easier'n I thought. Ain't nothin' changed fer me. I'm still takin' contracts an' pullin' some pricey jobs. Birdy takes care o' her kid plus whatever she does fer me in th' way o' her powers an' all. Maybe I got a little more down time 'tween jobs, but that ain't nothin'. My own doin', that. Since Birdy can't come along fer hits anymore I find myself stickin' around the house. It's not like I give a big whoop-dee-do a whole lot about the baby or nothin', but Birdy keeps my head t'gether so I gotta watch her back... fer my own intrests, ya see.
After about two months, Birdy was back ta sleepin' in my bed every once in a good while. But like clockwork that kid would start up cryin' every few hours needin' somethin'. Birdy'd hafta walk the entire length of the house ta get to her since I decided the kid's room would be as far from mine as possible. Some nights, after Birdy'd gone ta sleep in her own room, I'd find myself checkin' in on the kid. Ya know, just to make sure she was still breathing an' all. Birdy was talkin' about that one day.. how some babies just stop breathin' an' that's the end of 'em. An' it ain't like I care or nothin', 'cause I don't, but Birdy'd be a cryin' mess if the kid just up'n died so I peek in on'er every once in a while. Make sure she's all right. Fer Birdy's benefit, not mine. Just so we're clear on that.
****
Another job keeps me away from Seattle for a few days but it was worth the paycheck an' the time spent in that hellhole called New York to make me appreciate the quiet o' where I put my feet up. Baby an' all. I told Birdy not to come get me from the airport, that I'd take a cab. Didn't want her to spoil the su'prise. Now.. call me a sentimental fool an' I'll rip yer face off but, I had to do it. I saw the pile of 'em in the store window an' I just had to get one fer my little Emma Victoria. 'Sides, she needs one ta watch over her when her daddy ain't around an' I'm sure the tail'll be good fer chewin' on when 'er teeth come in.
"Birdy, darlin', where ya at? I got somethin' fer the kid," I keep my voice at a normal level, just in case the baby's nappin', as I head up the stairs to where Birdy's scent's comin' from. I pinpoint her location to the baby's room at the end of th' hall an' as I get closer the distinct taste o' salt's in the air. "Birdy? Hey, Birdy, lookit what I got fer Emma, " I say as I walk into the nursery. "It's'a lion. I figure she oughta have a big, ol' cat 'round her all th' time, huh? Birdy?" Oh, hell. She's cryin'. An' I'm gettin' that feelin' that somethin' bad's goin' down. Dear God in Heaven, I'll gut you myself if you took that little girl from Birdy. I walk up beside Birdy, who's standin' next to the crib. "Hey. What's goin' on?" I quick check of the crib tells me Emma's not there. So what could be wrong? And why ain't I pickin' up any traces of her?
"She's gone," she says quietly.
"Gone? Gone where, darlin'?" I ask her in the same quiet voice. Raisin' my voice any louder could shatter the room so I play it cool an' calm fer right now.
"Just gone," she says calmly with a shrug. "She's not here. I'm sorry." She sits down in the rocker next to the crib, takin' the stuffed toy outta my hands. She smiles, despite the tears still runnin' down her face, "It's cute." She hugs the animal tight, restin' her head on its head.
"Birdy, c'mon. What're you talkin' about, 'she's gone?' Someone take 'er? Didja check the surveillance cameras?" I go down on one knee in front of her, tryin' ta get her ta answer me. She's shakin' her head 'no.' "Well, then let's go downstairs an' check the tapes an' we can see what happened, see who took 'er an'.. I dunno.. take it from there, all right?"
"But she wasn't taken." I barely hear the whisper, muffled by the fur of the stuffed lion she's buried her face into. If she wasn't taken then what could'a.. "I gave her away."
"What?" Am I hearin' her right? "You.. gave her.. away?" A stiff nod. "You. Gave her away?" I stand up and back away from Birdy. I can feel myself losin' it. Losin' control. I might'a been adverse to havin' a kid, an' a daughter at that, but over the past few months I been real protective of 'er. So believin' what Birdy's sayin' is just a little more than I can handle. "You gave my little girl away? My little girl! You gave her away?!"
And now I don't care what gets shattered.
Birdy stands up, reachin' out to me, to try an' calm me down, apologizin', but all I'm seein' is red an' I backhand her, sendin' her to th' floor. I grab 'er by her arms an' yank her back up, yellin' right in her face, "You fuckin' gave her away?!"
"I didn't want her to get hurt! Please, just listen!" She's sobbin' an' got blood from her newly split lip running down the side of her mouth but I ain't in mood ta listen to reasons an' I drop her back on th' floor.
"I ain't listenin' to a goddamn thing you gotta say, you little bitch. But you better fuckin' listen ta me! You better have every single fucking thing in this house that's pink, blue, yellow or any other baby color outta my fuckin' house when I get back. I don't wanna see a bottle, a diaper or a fucking stuffed animal or so help me God I'm gonna fuck you up you'd wish you were dead." I yank the stuffed lion from Birdy's hands and throw it across the room. "You fuckin' get that?!" A shallow nod's all I need an' it sends me outta the room an' out of that house. Away from what she's done an' the fadin' scent of Emma.
****
"I thought I told you to get rid of everything?" She's doin' something in the kitchen an' got her back to me.
"I did." I can tell from her tone of voice she wasn't too happy with the little project I gave her. Oh, well. After everything we've done in the time we been together, you'd think she'd'a learned that Sabretooth is the last fucking thing on the planet to fuck with.
"Then what's this?" I hold up the rattle and give it a shake. She spins around, looking at the rattle, then at me. Her breaths start coming in short pants an' I can tell she's gettin' a little bit scared.
"I-I thought I got everything. Sorry, Boss. I'll get rid of it right away." She reaches for it but I pull it out of reach and crush the plastic toy in my hand, droppin' the pieces to the floor.
"Birdy did a bad, bad thing," I give 'er a smile that ain't nothing but hate. Pure white and sharp. I step closer to her and with my free hand I grab her wrist. I yank her forwards, leaning down so I'm right in her face.
"You shouldn't'a done what you did, darlin'. Now I'm gonna fix it so you don't ever pull a stunt like that again." I use her arm to throw her against the wall and before she can react, my other hand grabs her by the throat and pushes her up the wall so we're eye to eye.
"Gotta admit, I didn't think you could ever hurt me, Birdy. I'd outright kill ya if you were anyone else, but them psi-powers o' yers are still good for me. That stinkin', schemin' head's all yer good for now. So you won't mind if I disable other areas." Her eyes widen as I bring my other hand up for her to see me extend four o' my claws. This'll put her outta commission for a while in the 'servicing department' but there's other thing's she got a talent for. She realizes what I'm about to do an' starts sobbin' an' beggin' me not to, to stop. She oughta know that beggin' only gets me goin' more.
"Please, Mister Creed. I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't want her to get hurt. It was the only way! Please? Please listen." But I ain't gonna listen. She took my little kitten away an' now she's gonna pay. Both her hands are on my one that's wrapped around her throat, tryin' to pry it loose when my claws sink into her abdomen. She stops her struggle as I pull my claws out an' drop her to the floor. Immediately, her hands move to cover the small wounds of her lower abdomen. She doesn't scream and she doesn't cry but she's lookin' for all the world like she wants to. I stare down at her for a minute longer before turnin' an' walkin' out. I had to do it. She took my kitten away.
****
Birdy managed to get herself to the hospital on 'er own. Much as I'd hate to lose her telepathic powers her betrayal struck me deep an' hard and I wouldn't've given a hell if she'd died right there on the kitchen floor. But maybe somethin' just as deep made me hold back when I brought my claws ta bear down on 'er. I been hangin' out back in the woods, not wantin' the walls of what could'a been a real home closed up around me. It's been a good week or so since Birdy left an', in all honesty, I thought that was the last I was gonna see of 'er but I'll be damned if that ain't her BMW I hear pullin' inta the garage. I shake the rain from my hair as I stand an' make my way to the house. She's already made it halfway up the stairs by the time I reach the main hallway.
"Birdy." My voice echoes in the quiet an' she stops an' turns to look down at me. Her eyes tell me things she won't ever say. Mostly that she's tired an' hurtin'. Hurtin' more from her own actions than mine, I'll bet. "Thing's are gonna change 'round here. Back to the way things used ta be. I run the show an' you do what I tell ya with no backtalk. You keep yer mouth shut an' do whatcher told, an' we won't have no more drama 'round here. That understood?"
"Yes, Mister Creed." She bows her head a little when she finally answers. She's so quiet I almost hafta turn up m'own hearin' just to hear her.
"An' we got a job tomorrow. Some punk named Matsuo's got somethin' goin' on w/ a couple 'o psi-talents by the name 'o Fenris. Be ready early."
"Yes, Mister Creed." I watch her disappear from my view as she walks to her room. A soft click an' her bedroom door closes. I sit down on the steps thinkin' about the last week an' what's happened between us. Took a long time to get to this point. A lot o' yellin' an' hittin' an' fightin's gone on since I took 'er as my own an' I was hopin' that maybe she was the key ta my sanity. She was the closest thing I'd ever known to 'normal' an' now we're back to square one. She kept the screams an' the nightmares away an' I thought she was tryin' to give me somethin' good to replace 'em. But she just took the horror an' replaced it with hurt an' betrayal. She's had her one chance, though, an' if she tries to stab me in the back again I'll play out my threats. It's fer the best, anyways. I wouldn't'a made a very good daddy.
end