The Fall and Rise of Creed Diskence

An Alternate Universe Redemption Fic based on Yabuki Kentaro's Black Cat series
Black Cat and pretty near all the characters in this story belong to Yabuki Kentaro

Author's Forward:

I will be posting author's notes at my Live Journal ), so as not to take up space here. Answers to any questions or comments and various trivia involved in creating this massive piece of fanfic will be posted there. As another note, after some backing and forthing with , I've worked out that I can use a single '-' mark to separate sections. So, one line with a dash mark equals a change of voice, two lines marks a change of scene on the same day. Oh, and if you'd review here, even if you discuss the fic on my LJ with me, it'd be really great. Thanks!

A TALE OF TWO SWEEPERS

October 31, 2003

Train walked around Creed, eyeing the pale-haired figure. "Well, I suppose you'll pass." The admission was made grudgingly, but Creed seldom managed to look quite as quietly understated as he did this particular morning. Neatly and plainly dressed in a white shirt and black pants, his hair carefully pulled back away from his face, Creed almost looked like a young businessman on his day off. Almost. Not even a simple black tie could make Creed look entirely normal.

Gotta admit, though, he doesn't look nearly so bewildered or out of it as he did when we went to France. Train thought Creed might well be getting better at covering up his lunacy without falling back on the old patterns. His housemate smiled uncertainly. "I washed behind my ears and my neck and brushed my teeth." He opened his mouth to show Train. "I shined my shoes. I have a new handkerchief, and a fresh pair of." Whatever he was going to say was stopped by Train's quickly raised hand.

Well, almost covering up, Train corrected himself as Sven snickered. "I'll trust you on the underwear," he told Creed. "You don't have to go into every detail." Especially when one considered just how much detail Creed was capable of providing.

"I was just going to say I have new socks on," Creed said plaintively, "I don't wear."

Sven choked. "TOO MUCH INFORMATION!" He covered his ears and Train couldn't help laughing at his partner's expression. Eve, too, had that look that said that she was the only sane one in the asylum.

Looking offended, Creed glared at Sven, then sighed. "Sorry."

"Never mind. Guess you're as ready as you're going to be. What do you think, Sven?" Train glanced at his partner.

"He's getting a bit long in the hair, don't you think? You want a barber visit, Creed?" Sven asked, picking up his attaché case. "I'll make you an appointment if you do."

It was even money as to whether Creed would take offence but apparently he was in a good mood despite his momentary sulk. "Just for a trim. I think I'll let it grow out a bit." At Train's raised brow, Creed shrugged. "Don't need it short for fighting anymore and I'm not at the hospital." He paused, "If it's okay with you, Train?"

"Why should it matter to me?" At Creed's mildly hurt look, Train winced. "Sorry, phrased that badly. I'm not much on men's fashions, Creed. It's not that I don't care if you look good, just that how you achieve looking good isn't important." Creed still looked a bit crestfallen and he added, "You look fine no matter what you do with your hair."

-

As Creed perked up, Sven shook his head. This was one of those conversations you really couldn't win. Sort of like answering the question 'Does this make me look fat?' If Train acted cavalier about Creed's appearance their housemate would be hurt. If he appreciated it, he ran the risk of encouraging certain emotional reactions.

Rather to Sven's surprise, though, Creed smiled shakily and nodded, managing, somehow to set aside his need for Train's approval and behave himself. Sven gave him a look of approval, pleased at the sign that Creed was improving. It was a bit startling to realize that he was beginning to feel much towards Creed as he did towards Train, if quite a bit less patient. Creed was like a little brother who just wouldn't grow up. And can't, past a certain point.

Oblivious to Sven's approval, Creed went to the closet and got his coat. It was getting cold outside and Sven hoped that Creed's rooms would be finished before the first snow. The work had started two weeks ago, but in the tradition of construction workers everywhere there were always reasons for delays. "I'm not sure if it looks okay, though," Creed murmured, still on the subject of his hair.

"Ask 'VeeVee'," Eve suggested, as the group headed out the door.

"He I mean 'she' is out of town. One needed her to do something in China." Train answered the question before Creed could.

Sven frowned. "Hope 'she' has got someone good to keep an eye on the kid. All we need is for that Lugado fellow to try again." With a shrug, he decided not to sweat it too hard. Admittedly, this was a peculiar sort of day – considering that they were going to be leaving Creed with Annette for most of it – but they'd be rejoining him by late afternoon. Lugado Wong might try to take Creed on again, but the middle of the day was a damned bad time for an assassination attempt. "Oh well, no point in worrying about it. Creed, you sure you'll be able to handle this?"

"Annette just needs someone to help her out," Creed pointed out. "I'm not going to be working with the customers much. Just cleaning up and food preparation. I think I'll be okay." He smiled a little, obviously proud of the fact that he was being trusted. "Everything will be fine, Sven. I'm sure of it."

Sven winced. "I just wish I could be."

-

-

Annette fought down a surge of nausea and nodded approvingly at Creed before smiling wanly at Train. "I really appreciate this." She rubbed at her stomach, sitting down as a faint sheen of sweat formed on her face and arms. "I hate having to close the café. The rent doesn't pay itself." As long as she didn't try to move around too much, she felt okay – well mostly okay – enough to direct Creed in the running of the café.

"I'm still not so sure this is a good idea," Train said, watching Creed as he started busying behind the counter. His housemate didn't look up, but Annette could tell he was listening intently. "Are you sure he can handle things?"

"He's helped out in the store before. Not for all day, I admit, but he's cooking well enough to handle my afternoon clientele and I don't have to stand up to handle the information trading part of things. I might lie down in my office for a bit, but he can always come get me if there's an emergency." Annette shrugged, sipping at the ginger tea she'd made to help settle the pain in her belly. "I don't think it'll be a problem."

Sven glanced at his partner. "We already discussed the hell out of this, you know. There's not much point to going on about it now." He gestured at Creed. "Besides, you going to tell the kid he isn't going to be trusted after all?"

"The kid isn't so childish that he doesn't understand," Creed pointed out sourly, glaring at Sven. Then his eyes lit on Train and hope shown in them, "But I really would like to try. Miss Annette's done so much for me and I really want to help her."

Annette smiled at the eager tone in Creed's voice. "It'll be fine, Train."

-

-

Creed wiped the last bit of grease from the stove and rinsed the towel in the sink. The café was empty, meaning that now that the morning rush was over he had nothing much to do. As he hung the towel up to dry he glanced over at Annette. "His dark secret love?" As she raised a brow, he worked out what he'd meant to say. "I mean, are you feeling up to this?"

"I feel lousy, Creed. Given the usual run of these bugs, it may be a day or so before I get better." She typed something into the computer beside her and added, "And I'm not going to die of it, either, so don't look so worried." By which, Creed knew, she'd checked the source of his quote – a William Blake poem – and realized how worried he was about her.

"Perhaps you should knit the ravel'd sleeve of take a nap?"

A soft chuckle escaped Annette's lips and she smiled. "You're getting better about it."

"It's still early," Creed pointed out wryly. "I don't think I'd do this well in the evening. Too much static." Fortunately, he wouldn't have to work on self-control later since Eve was going to help out after she got back from the job she and the other two were doing. He could cook and leave the talking to her.

With a nod, Annette got to her feet. "Your suggestion is a good one, though. I'll go into my office and sleep on the couch. Wake me if you have any problems." As her face turned more than slightly green, she added, "I'll sleep on the couch after I've finished business in the washroom."

-

"So, take my advice on this, Kevin. The best thing we can do is get a good meal before looking for our next job. Luckily, Cait Sith's owner is not only a good cook, but a great source of information."

Kevin sighed as he listened to his companion. River was a good Sweeper and a decent enough partner, but sometimes Kevin had to wonder why he put up with the more experienced blonde's consistent and clueless assumption that Kevin couldn't figure out even the most basic procedures. Okay, so I've only had a few jobs before we started working together, but I had a good trainer. I wish he'd realize that. How long have we been partners? A whole year? Admittedly, that first job was a complete bust, but. He made a face, remembering the remote island where the Hoshi and their leader were supposed to be, remembering the tension, the knowledge that at least a hundred before them had failed. All that fear and worry and preparation for nothing, for invading an empty island long since abandoned by the enemy. River had been loudly vociferous in his discussions of what he would do with the weirdo who'd sent them on that wild goose chase.

If it weren't for the fact that he enjoyed River's company – aside from the tendency to patronize – Kevin would have walked off on his own within one week of their rather rocky start. "Annette Pierce, right?" he asked, pointedly. Not that it helped. River just patted him on the head in a congratulatory manner before opening the door. Maybe if I bit him?

"Welcome," a soft, light, alto said. "May I help you?" Kevin glanced behind the counter where a pale haired figure was sitting staring at a small television set, clicking the remote so quickly that Kevin thought they must be looking for a specific channel. That's not Ms. Pierce, surely? I thought she was older. Despite the grey hair, the stranger wasn't a lot older than himself and River, slimly built, with longish, shaggy hair and pale skin. Only the brows and lashes were dark, putting Kevin in mind of someone, though – just at the moment – he couldn't put his finger on whom.

Setting down the remote, the stranger stood up and smiled a sweet little smile at them, obviously waiting. River didn't hesitate, planting himself at one of the tables near the middle of the empty room. "A pint of your finest, my man. And tell Annette that River is here for some sweet info."

Kevin blinked. He hadn't really realized the waiter was a man, though now that he looked at the slim figure he realized his mistake. The prettiness had fooled him. Good thing I didn't open my mouth and say 'miss'. Trust River to know better.

The waiter nodded slightly. "Miss Annette can't be disturbed right now," he said quietly. "And, if you don't mind telling me what you consider our finest? I'm afraid I'm rather new at this."

"A beer, my man. A beer. Think you can manage that?" Kevin winced at his partner's manners, but to his surprise the waiter didn't take offence. Instead he simply bowed and went over to the beer tap.

Kevin sat down and glanced around the café. It was a pretty, neat and well cared for place. "Wonder what's up with Miss Pierce?" As River shrugged, unconcernedly, leaning back in his chair, Kevin continued trying to work out where he'd seen their waiter's face before. Suddenly it hit him, that job a year ago. The leader of the group that had escaped them entirely. That person's hair was shorter and his expression a lot less pleasant but he was almost certain. He pulled out his Palm Pilot.

"What's up?"

Kevin glanced at his partner. "I know that guy's face," he said in a very soft voice. "Here. Isn't this the same man?" He handed the unit to his friend.

"Awww, c'mon. Don't talk crazy." At Kevin's glare River lowered his tone as he frowned at the PDA. "What would he be doing here at Annette's? Though it does nah can't be."

The waiter came over to the table, a chilled glass in hand. "And yourself, sir?" he asked Kevin quietly as he started to hand River the beer.

"Is there a reason Annette can't come out?" Kevin responded.

The man frowned at Kevin's tone, then smiled in a manner that looked like it was intended to reassure. "She's indisposed. No need to go into the messy details, is there?"

"Why not?" River started to ask, but Kevin stopped him, saying instead, "And you are."

"Her assistant. Is there something wrong?"

The puzzled tone left Kevin confused. Still, he had to know. "Your name?"

"Creed Disk." Dark eyes went wide as the so-called waiter took a step back, expression chagrined. "Er I mean."

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH ANNETTE, YOU BASTARD?" It was River who roared the question, leaping to his feet and grabbing for the pale-haired man.

-

Training, long past but hammered into Creed's thick skull so hard that it probably would need to be removed entirely from his neck to go away, allowed Creed to dodge the blonde man's grasp. Oh that's just brilliant. Utterly completely brilliant. You really aren't safe at all on your own, are you, you stupid. He paused in his self-analysis, the sudden rush of adrenaline at least allowing him to keep his thoughts on the here and now. "I don't suppose there's any chance I could say I was joking?" he offered weakly, dodging again. Somehow he kept the beer from spilling, a feat that he was particularly proud of, all things considered.

The blonde leapt over the table that Creed had rolled over and grabbed a chair. "ANSWER ME!"

"You shouldn't be doing that, sir. Annette wouldn't want her furniture smashed." Creed leapt over the counter, intending to head for the door and the back room, but a sudden instinct made him pull back just before a bullet zinged into the door frame. "Hey!" Beer sloshed on his hand slightly as he did so.

The dark haired young Sweeper had his gun out and aimed Creed's way. His expression wasn't quite so manic as his partner's but it was determined. Creed dodged the blonde again, leaping over the counter, this time avoiding spilling the drink in his hand. "Don't do that!" he yelled at the gunman. "You'll mess up the café!"

"You're not getting away, Diskence." The words were calm and even, determined in a way that told Creed the man meant it. "Where is Annette?"

Creed brought his left arm – shielded in nano-machines – up to block the blonde's next blow. "Cut it out!" he gasped at the younger Sweeper. "If I stay in here will you stop shooting?" As a peculiar, startled, look crossed the young man's face Creed jumped backwards from the blonde and raised his left arm, forming small wings. He wasn't a particularly creative user of the nano-machines, but hanging around Eve had at least given him some ideas of how to use them. Whoops, backwards. He hurriedly reshaped them so that the feathers were aimed at the blond Sweeper, rather than himself.

-

River's eyes widened as Creed Diskence's arm transformed. Only long practice and instinct permitted him to use his knuckle-protectors to bat away the fast moving feathers that were being flung his way. Rather to his surprise, instead of frustration or anger the criminal blinked at him in an astonished sort of way and said, "Oh, that's very good. Almost as good as Sven."

Growing a curse, River swung at the man again, eliciting a sharp protest as Creed dodged and River's fist crunched into the wall behind the man. "Stop that. You're making a mess!"

"I'm taking you in, you bastard. If you won't tell me where Annette is, you'll tell the police!" River glanced sideways at his partner who was watching the fight with a confused look. "Aren't you going to help?"

"You're handling him. I'll keep him from getting away," Kevin answered, still looking puzzled. "But he's right. I start shooting in here I'll mess up the place worse than you two are."

Exasperated at the fact that his target wasn't acting the way he thought a wanted criminal should act, River shouted again, "STAND STILL AND TELL ME WHERE ANNETTE IS!" It particularly aggravated him that, throughout all this, Creed had managed to avoid spilling more than a few drops of beer.

"I told you, she's indisposed. Leave her alone." Creed dove over one table and rolled under the next, still holding the glass, still not spilling it. " And I'm not on the wanted list anymore, so would you stop." He stopped, blinking at the television. "oh no"

River took advantage of the moment, striking Creed in the right eye and knocking the man backwards. Rather to his satisfaction Creed finally dropped the beer glass. To his utter amazement, however, the man practically ignored the blow, and the shattered glass, in favor of heading towards the counter. The tinny music playing sounded vaguely familiar and as Creed put his hand on the remote, River grabbed him by the hair, only to have that hair wrap itself around his fingers and the tips drive themselves – lightly – into his skin. "What th"

"Shhh. I've been waiting all morning for this." Creed's hairs released River's hand almost as quickly as they had grabbed it. He was staring at the TV screen, dark eyes rapt and River realized what it was he was watching.

It took River over ten seconds to react. "102 DALMATIONS?"

"Hush. It's starting," Creed scolded. "I haven't had a chance to see it yet."

"You're kidding, right? You're going to ignore someone trying to take you in so you can watch that tripe?"

-

Creed glanced at his attacker, irritated. "How am I supposed to know if it's tripe or not? I just said I haven't seen it!" He ducked the blow aimed his way. "Come on. Let me watch. I'm not going anywhere."

The blonde Sweeper pointed at the TV. "It's been out for years now."

"So? It's not like I had time when I was with the Hoshi and I spent most of last year in the loony bin." Creed barely attended to the Sweeper's reaction, being more interested in watching the opening credits. "ELLA? Now that's just silly."

Leaning on the counter beside Creed, the blonde gazed at the screen. "The first live-action was bad enough."

Reaching up with his left hand, Creed reshaped it into a gag. "Wanna watch, not listen to you gripe. Shut up." As the Sweeper pulled back, Creed let him go. "Still want a beer?"

"Uh yeah."

"I'll charge you for two. And the broken glass," Creed pointed out and ignored the grumbling that followed as he clambered over the counter during the commercial break and filled another glass, handing it to the other man wordlessly as the movie started up again. "And don't whine. It was your fault the first one got broken."

-

This is seriously weird. Kevin watched his partner and their former target staring at the TV, the one muttering unpleasant remarks about the movie and the other impatiently hushing him, occasionally pulling that bit of weirdness with his left hand. What the hell is going on here?

Deciding that only one person could answer, and that – since River had seemed to have forgotten about her – he was the only one left to check, Kevin went through the door into the back room, unnoticed by the other two.

An odor hit him immediately when he reached the office in the far back of the building. The sour smell of someone having been sick. On the couch a woman lay, her greying hair limp and sweat soaked, her eyes closed and her face pale. "Miss Annette? What did he do to you? Did he poison you?"

Opening her eyes, Annette blinked at Kevin for a long moment. "Do I know you Oh, wait. I remember. Kevin, right?" At his nod, she frowned. "Why are you back here? Does Creed know"

"Creed is too busy watching TV with River to pay attention to me," Kevin answered, kneeling beside the older woman. "Did he hurt you?"

"Hurt me? Wha?" Suddenly light dawned. "Oh no. Oh damn. I never even thought Stupid of me. He's helping out." At Kevin's stunned expression she added, "Didn't you know the Want was closed? He's on the protected list now." She winced, leaning over into the bucket beside her to gag painfully. "Drat this flu." Her weary tone spoke of long hours spent hovering over that bucket.

Kevin picked up the bucket when she finished. "I'll clean it up," he told the sick woman. "And we'll take care of things up front." At her chagrinned expression, he added, "It's our own fault. We thought he'd hurt you. The way he was talking." Now that he thought about it, though, it wasn't what Creed had said, nor even how he'd said it, so much as the fact that it was Creed Diskence who'd said it at all that had worried him. "Don't worry, Miss Annette," he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "I'll make sure nothing else happens."

-

As the credits rolled, River sat back. "There? You see? Total tripe. Dreck. A complete and utter waste of time." He glared at the pale-haired man sitting behind the counter frowning. "The animation was the classic."

"Well, strictly speaking, the book was the classic."

"C'mon. The book was based on the movie!" River protested.

"No, not the movie adaptations. The movie was based on Dodie Smith's book." Creed shook his head, looking pityingly at River, much to the blonde's annoyance. "Don't you read?"

River growled at the man across from him and decided to change the subject. "Never mind that. Are you going to tell me what you did with Annette?"

"He didn't do anything to her." It was Kevin, who had been quietly moving around behind the two of them for the last hour and a half. River suddenly realized that his junior partner was busily cleaning up the mess he and Creed had made. The dark haired man shook his head at the two of them. "She's got the flu and he's covering the counter for her."

"Huh? What d'ya mean, he's covering the counter? What is a wanted criminal doing." River's voice rose angrily he stood up.

"He's not wanted anymore."

"YOU just showed me the poster!"

Kevin sighed, a long-suffering sort of sigh that River had long since become accustomed to. "River, I showed you the last poster I had. Remember, we haven't updated for six months now, owing to our little detour in Russia. He was taken off the lists two months ago."

River stared, first at Kevin, then at Creed, who shrugged. "I tried to tell you."

Continuing, tone taking on that lecturing note that River hated, Kevin shook his head. "He's not just off the Wants, he's on the Avoid at All Costs. We bring him in, we're likely to get tossed out on our ears and fined."

"Why?" River spun on Creed and glared at him accusingly. "How'd you, of all people, get off the list? And onto the AVOID list?"

"Time off for good behavior?" Creed's tone had a sweetly confused note to it that made River stare, wide-eyed, at him. It was beginning to hit him now, the sheer insanity of the last hour and a half. He'd just watched a movie, a children's movie, for God's sake, with a man who'd been the leader of a vicious criminal organization. This is too weird.

"According to Annette, he has a guardian," Kevin said quietly. "As long as he behaves himself, stays under that guardian's control, and doesn't contact his former compatriots, he's to be left alone."

Deep breath. Take a deep breath and chill. At last River managed, "A guardian. Who the hell would take crazy man here and act as his guardian?"

"That would be me."

-

"There was FLOOD A plague of locusts! It's not my fault. I'M SORRY!"

Train looked down at his housemate as Creed kneeled and stared up pleadingly at him. and forced himself not to laugh. Now that one I recognize. Wonder when he got to see Blues Brothers. Putting as much stern authority in his voice as he was capable of – admittedly not much – he asked, "Why didn't you just get Annette? Even if that guy was firing at you, you could have yelled for her." He gestured at the dark-haired Sweeper who blinked, flushed bright red and glanced guiltily at the bullet holes in the doorframe.

"I" Creed looked deeply abashed. "Didn't think of that."

"That's the trouble with you, Creed. You don't think," Sven added, examining the damage done to the wall while Eve picked up a metallic-looking feather and examined it carefully. At last she nodded approvingly and began sweeping the rest up. It was a tribute to Creed's guilty embarrassment that he didn't defend himself from Sven's accusation.

"River really didn't give him a chance to think."

"KeVIN!"

Train was hard put not to laugh out loud as he pulled Creed to his feet and listened to the beginning of an argument between the two other Sweepers. "Guys, it's obvious what happened. We should have warned Creed to expect something like this." The look of utter relief on Creed's face was oddly satisfying, the expression of a child who truly thought he was in trouble realizing he wasn't. "It's okay," he said in a softer voice, reminding himself that Creed still wasn't all that good about being teased. "It's as much our fault as yours. None of us considered what you should do if someone tried to take you in."

The sound of more arguing drew Train's attention back to the two other Sweepers. River and Kevin were yelling at each other, much to Sven's obvious amusement. "Sound familiar?" the tall blonde mouthed while the two younger men fought. Train shrugged off-handedly, pushing their housemate back towards the counter. "I'll go check on Annette. You take care of things back there. It's getting close to her busy hour and I bet you haven't got anything ready that needs to be."

Creed nodded, skirting the argumentative pair and, joined by Eve, began cleaning up the kitchen area.

-

-

Train ambled along, sniffing the late autumn air. "That went a lot better than it could have," he noted. "Though it's amazing what kind of trouble you can cause just by being you."

"Cry havoc and let loose the Dobermans of war," Creed agreed bemusedly.

With a snort, Sven muttered, "Creed. You are not a Doberman. You're one of those annoying little lap dogs that are constantly peeing in someone's lap or biting the mailman. The sort that like to take your leg to the dance."

Train chuckled. "Not going there, Sven. Besides, I may have defanged him, but he's still capable of more damage than that."

"Hmph." Creed gave Sven a sour glare. "I am my Master's dog, it's true. I pray thee sir, what dog are you?"

"Probably a Golden Retriever," Eve murmured thoughtfully. "Slow to anger and loyal to their family." She glanced at Creed. "Even the annoying ones, I think."

The pale-haired man considered that for a long moment. "Okay."

"Okay? Just okay?" Sven stared. "No weird-ass quote from a movie or book no one but you has read? No arguments?"

Creed shrugged. "T'is naught but truth, concealed behind a lie." He paused, seemed to think very hard and carefully and added. "In other words, I agree with her."

Glancing the pale-haired man's way, Train caught a faint, peaceful, smile on Creed's face. He chuckled, particularly as he could see Sven trying to work out whether or not he'd been complimented. "Anyway," he said after a moment. "I won't say you did perfectly, but you did pretty good by yourself today." Before Creed could panic, he added, "Not that I expect you to be on your own all the time. That's asking too much. For one thing, you only just got out. For another."

"Real isn't how you are made." Creed's voice was soft and sad. "It's a thing that happens to you."

Train opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and – after a few repetitions of this – Creed added, "Sorry."

It took Train a few minutes to work out an adequate answer. "No. Never mind, Creed. It's late, you're tired. You don't know where to stop." He sighed. "Besides, I know how you feel, even if I don't understand it."

"Anyway," Sven said, changing the subject quickly, "Aside from that one problem, I have to agree, you did pretty good this afternoon. Your cooking especially."

A big grin crossed Train's face. "Yeah. In fact, you can make supper for us now. How about that meatloaf."

"Meatloaf?" Creed eyed Train with a puzzled air.

"Two nights ago. You know."

"That was a paté!"

"Paté, meatloaf. What's the dif?" Train wandered on, laughing as Creed made dying fish faces. "C'mon. Whatever you want to call it, I'm hungry." As he set off running, quickly followed by his pale-haired housemate, Train grinned. He was going to have fun with this.

To Be Continued...