AUTHORS NOTE: I Think Clarice has a spine, in AOA she's had to kill people to defend herself and Creed, so why should that change? She's shy and naïve but not weak check
DISCLAIMER: Everything you recognise belongs to Marvel, lucky them, Anyone you don't know which includes Sarah are mine, I made them up in my mad little head, any reference to people real or fictional is a terrible mistake or new psychic powers.
THANKS: Vicchic
FEEDBACK: *deep breath* feedback will be worshiped adored looked over and poured with melted chocolate covered in whipped cream eaten and cherished nourished and thanked for later, everyone who feeds the feedback machine gets the X Man/Woman of choice covered in the feedback chocolate combo and hand delivered via my mail @ the following address.
Silk and Steel
Part Two
What I Am
Warm, that was the first thought that entered her head, she was warm, and cosy, but she still felt terrible. Then something came to her, Mr Creed, he had been there to pick her out of the snow. But that was impossible, she had been ill, she had imagined it. Mr Creed was dead, he had forced her to blink, at the final moment, forced her to go. Without him and Kyle, she hadn't known where to go, what to do, so she had just thrown herself into the blinkspace.
Then it had been cold, and she had been so hurt, because she knew that they were dead, all of them. Magneto and Rogue, the others, and Mr Creed. That had hurt the most, and then the shadow with his face had come to take her out of the dark. Things were muddled after that, warmth, then cold, strangling and muffled. Liquid tracing down her throat, being hot with lava running through her veins and the shaking as if the marrow of her bones had been changed into glacier ice.
And now she was warm again, but she didn't feel bad now, she was snuggled. Kyle had liked to snuggle… She blocked the idea out of her mind and pulled herself upwards, she was in a bed, in what looked like a motel. Tacky décor, seventies style, yeah, a motel. Then she turned and looked down, before screaming.
Eyes snapped open, same feral look, but, but. He almost pounced on her pinning her to the bed. "You awake Frail" She blinked up at him, how did he expect her to answer with his hand over her mouth, typical Mr Creed…….Mr Creed. Her mind hit the pause button as she stared up at him. There were less scars on his face somehow, but the face was the same, the eyes. She swallowed and he moved his hand.
"Well?" the word was a growl and she nodded, eyes wide, the shock was starting to wear off now. She had managed to blink herself into somewhere else, Mr Creed was here, and she was here, but this definitely wasn't Kansas anymore. Something like disgust passed over his face "Then why the screamin'?" he slid off of the bed, the robe he was wearing was really much too short, and she was sure she heard a mutter of 'haven't done 'ny thin' yet'
She coughed, before managing to get a word out, her voice was still soft but it sounded raw. The passage through the blinkspace had been long, and hard. "Sorry" He was leaning against the window and half turned to look at her. Shrewd, the eyes were feral but shrewd, he shifted across the room, same wolf like grace, but more wary, as if he expected to be attacked at any moment. The sound of water pouring and then a glass was pushed in front of her face.
"Drink, pup" She swallowed the entire glass and looked up at him, he was looking out of the window again, and she hadn't noticed him move. But he was watching her, she could feel it. "What landed ya in the snow, frail?" The question was blunt and pointed at the snow outside of the window. "I blinked there Mr Creed" That got his attention, he had half turned so that it was obvious that she had his attention, it came to her then, how ripped and torn her archers uniform was.
If her skin hadn't been purple naturally, she would have been blushing, she shifted so that the blankets pulled up to her chin and continued to watch Mr Creed, he had an almost familiar look on his face, the 'should I ask or not' face. "Blinked?" The word was full of meanings, but not on the surface, just rough growled accent. The other Mr Creed had always known, but this one didn't, she was confused, and her stomach was queasy, but she was going to try to explain.
"I moved" Her brow wrinkled up in confusion, how did you explain it? She made a small blink hole next to her head and gently put her hand through it, concentrating so that it appeared on the other side of the room. Then she pulled her hand back again. "Like that" She pulled her hand back under the blankets to rub it, it stung, to blink a part of herself like that.
He was still watching her, and thinking, but she had to ask, had to make sure, otherwise, otherwise, something in her would go mad. "Mr Creed?" A slight noise, somewhere between a grunt and a cough "Do you know me?" Feral gold eyes turned to her, but there was no recognition in them, she didn't need his shake of the head, but something else had occurred. "But ya know me, dontcha frail" She had to nod, he would smell the lie on her.
A prowling move and he was sitting on the edge of the bed, that was the difference, her Mr Creed hadn't been so close to being feral, this Mr Creed was balanced right on the edge of it. Leaning forward he sniffed, confusion was hidden very quickly "An' I smell myself on ya, but it ain't right" She didn't lean back, in a way this was still Mr Creed, he had still taken care of her, and she could still trust him.
"It is you, sort of" He sat back and she focused on picking at the balls of material that had collected on the surface of the blanket, bobbles of brown stuff. She picked at them with jagged edged fingernails until a larger paw covered her's "Tell it frail" that pricked at her temper "My name's Clarice, or Blink, not frail" She knew what frail meant in Mr Creeds vocabulary, and it wasn't complimentary.
The silence gathered again, he wasn't saying anything but she could almost feel the still waiting, and she sighed in defeat, a huff of air. "I suppose it must have been another place, another universe even. There were two of us with you, had been since we were kids, Me and Kyle." For a minute she had to stop, she was crying again, that had to stop soon, she couldn't grieve forever, at least she hoped not. She managed a shaky breath and started talking again, "We, me, 'n Kyle and you, Mr Creed, were with the other X Men, trying to stop Apocalypse, and we beat him"
The memory still had the power to make her smile "You kicked Holocaust around the room" She could remember the furious denial she had felt that Mr Creed could be beaten, but she wasn't going to say it, it was a private humiliation. "And the bombs were coming, to blow us apart…." Her voice trailed off, she was here, sick but safe but they were gone, gone forever. She had escaped but the bombs had taken her friends, her family, even the babies. The sobs were choking her now, and she felt dizzy and sick, the blackness caught her when her back was turned.
He caught the pup as she passed out, settling her against him almost instinctively. The story she had told was almost unbelievable, but he believed her, she stank of truth, it had built up as she talked, that and the grief and pain. The picture almost fitted, but him, an' pup's that was almost wrong, but only almost.
He looked down at the reddish purple hair against his shoulder and shook his head, looked like he was stuck with this one. Him and the X dweebs… He shook his head, Sarah could take care of her, and he could, a slight smirk crossed his face, she'd do.
A stirring against his shoulder told him she'd com 'round again, they'd move soon, but for now, she had to get well, and he had to examine the state of his sanity.