Waking up was an incredibly slow process. Almost like peeling back layers, Creed expected to wake up and feel pain or cold, but when he finally made it back to the land of the living, there was neither. Blinking at the all too bright light, he tried to get his vision to focus, but everything remained foggy.

He couldn't complain, really. Wherever he had ended up was warm and dry, and he didn't even feel a touch of pain. Somewhere in a more subconscious and instinctive part of his brain he might have realized that he was drugged up to the gills, but he didn't process that. All he was completely sure of was that it was an improvement, that he felt about as relaxed as a human being could get without being dead, and that McCoy was dead and he wasn't going to show up. The last assurance he made to himself was the one he needed most.

A few minutes passed as he debated without actual thought on whether to stay awake or give up and drop back out. Curiosity, the bane of any good cat, finally won out and he made a more serious struggle for reality. His eyesight cleared somewhat and he stupidly looked at the IV in his arm with one eyebrow raised in complete incomprehension. Shaking that groggy fascination off, he made an effort to get his bearings.

Ah. Okay, the X-Mansion medbay.

Great.

Of course, he wasn't really that pissed at the moment. Anything was up from where he had been, and it was better than being locked back down in the basement. He was just about to get up -- maybe not the brightest idea -- when someone wisely interrupted before he could land on his ass.

"Welcome back," Hank said, raising an eyebrow as he walked in. One of his arms was in a sling, and the opposite hand was bound, but he was looking a good deal better.

Creed gave him a look, very mild under the influence of whatever he was being tanked up on. He was pretty sure he had it pieced together now. "Drugged?" Damn, but his mouth didn't want to work right.

Hank nodded, frowning and sitting down in a chair. "It was either sedated and up here or wide awake and locked up down there... unfortunately, Professor Xavier didn't give me any other choice."

"Been usin' th' wrong shoeshine on his head," Victor muttered, just a bit slurred. Reality was seeping in more by the second now.

Beast fought down a chuckle, but the mental image was enough to make the corners of his mouth creep up. "Well, since you're awake, why don't you tell me which you'd prefer?"

"A shower." Vic gave him the faintest of smiles, rubbing his eyes with one hand. The light was waaaay too bright. He was fairly cleaned up (he didn't want to even contemplate how or why), but he still didn't feel particularly clean. What he really wanted was a nice, hot, long shower, a good razor, and a pair of scissors. One flippin' step at a time. Then he could worry about being held captive again.

Hank nodded. That was a more than reasonable request, and one he had no problems granting. "Let me take that--"

Vic yanked the IV out and handed it to him with a faint smirk, his arm healing without so much as a drop of blood falling. "There ya go."

"How generous," Beast said, deadpan, taking it carefully in his bound hand and turning the flow off. "Will you please behave?"

"Who, me?" Creed smirked and got to his feet. Still weak, but a whole lot better than before, and he stayed still until his balance came back. He noted the sweats with a certain appreciation... Hank had at least given him some consideration and he wasn't in one of those damn paper gowns. He tired not to notice that they smelled faintly of Bishop, or that he was still wickedly thin compared to normal. Time would take care of that. "Yea, I'll behave. Jus' keep th' rest o' the twits away."

Hank chuckled, humorlessly. "Fair enough, Herr Toothmonger. Bathroom's through the door to the left."



Crawling into a scalding hot shower was practically heaven. Well, Vic thought it was heaven. The water was hot enough to burn most, but it wasn't intolerable to him, and after months of being cold, he could stand it without so much as a flinch. How long he let himself just stand there, shaking off the last of the sedation and letting the water flow down almost like rain, was anyone's guess. The X-Mansion wouldn't want that badly for hot water, and he wasn't going to let anyone rush this.

He must have scrubbed himself red and even drew blood at some points, trying to shake off the lingering traces of the Black Beast's scent from himself. It didn't matter, he healed quickly enough. Healing factor was stronger than it had been, though he wasn't about to pick a fight for another few days at least.

Finally as satisfied as he could possibly get without tearing out of his own skin, he basked for a good hour, kneeling, head bowed, with the water pouring down.



Hank looked up near two hours later when his patient/captive walked back in. Well, he preferred not to think of Creed as a captive, though in all reality that's exactly what he was. Still, he looked better, more alert. For a moment Beast wondered if that really was a good thing, but there wasn't anything threatening in his stance, more just tired and temporarily complacent. "Better?" the blue-furred biochemist asked, forcing a smile.

"Yup," Creed answered shortly, looking around. He had taken a pair of surgical scissors to his hair, cropping his bangs short enough to stay out of his eyes, and a razor to the almost beard he had acquired. Not exactly like a trip to the barber's, but there wasn't much of a chance of that... yet. "How long've I been out?"

"Not long... just under a day and a half, actually." Hank went back to cleaning up some of his equipment as well as he could, keeping one eye on Creed. "I'm amazed that blast didn't do more damage."

"Ole One-Eye holdin' back, ya think?" Vic asked, perching himself on the edge of a bed and still cataloguing the room piece by piece, automatically making mental notes.

"I can't really say." Beast glanced up, eyeing the other man for a moment. "Hungry?"

Vic frowned, trying to figure out how to reply without sounding pathetic. Immediately 'fuck it' came to mind. "Starvin'."

"Me too." Hank smiled, walking out in a somewhat leap of faith. He knew he wouldn't be longer than a few moments, just long enough to call up to the kitchen and have Jean bring something down. He wasn't sure if he could expect a set of claws buried in him, or if Creed would stay put and behave like he said he would.

Victor waited mildly, sitting back and fiddling with a nearby doohicky that could have been an artificial insemination tube for a cow for all he knew. It was handy and it kept him from getting too restless... having some semblance of strength back did that. He glanced back up at Hank when he walked in, secretly grinning to himself as he thought about how nervous he was making the other man.

"New York Strip, practically still seeping vital fluids, correct?" Hank asked, sneaking over to carefully free his equipment before it ended up broken.

Vic let him take it, not even raising a lip. He could afford to be civilized for now, and it was keeping him out of the basement. He hadn't failed to notice that he wasn't shackled and muzzled, and that was another small appreciation he added to the list. "Yep."

Hank nodded, wondering what he was going to do with Sabretooth after dinner. He couldn't leave him alone, he didn't want to drug him again, but he most certainly didn't want him banished to the basement. Beast knew he wouldn't take being locked down in the dark well himself, and the idea of inflicting it on Creed was something he honestly didn't want to resort to. Still, there wasn't much he could do with the man... well, nothing that would be allowed by the Professor and the rest of the team.

He knew that they weren't happy about Sabretooth being back in the mansion. If not for some mild pleading on his own part, Creed would have been immediately shipped off. Cecilia had seconded him, though, and in the end, so had Jean. In truth, Hank wasn't sure why Phoenix had agreed with him, but if she hadn't, the balance wouldn't have been tipped. She had her reasons, though, he knew that much.

Not that it would last forever. Psylocke's near death had been the icing on the cake, and it was only a matter of time before Creed would be thrown to the government to deal with.

In a way it would almost be a relief. Marrow had gone missing the minute that they had agreed to keep Sabretooth there for the time. Scott had protested adamantly, even with his wife's acceptance. Logan went the way of Sarah, no doubt back out into the woods. The tension could be cut with a knife.

But even as he thought about how it would allow life to go back to normal, he didn't want to think about it happening too soon. Whether it was psychology of a POW at work, or simple human compassion, Hank couldn't help but feel uneasy at the idea of Creed being locked away in a cell for the rest of his life. A year ago, he would have accepted it and even advocated it. Then, a lot had happened in that year, and he had a hard time seeing just a monster. It was much harder to condemn a man.

A knock on the door made both of them startle, and look up. Jean set down the tray, her stance aloof and appraising. Hank didn't need to look back to know that Victor was on his feet as well.

They looked at each other for a long moment, and if Beast didn't know any better, he would say that both were like territorial animals, not attacking but getting a feel for who the other was. The tension was there, almost enough to smother.

Creed kept his face neutral. Grey was one of the few people he knew he would have a hard time defeating in a true battle. She had the upper hand when he was in the basement, but they were on even ground now, and she knew that.

Jean raised an eyebrow at him, briefly. Whether it was a challenge or a question was in the air, and he answered it by picking his chin up slightly, proudly. If it was a challenge, he wouldn't back down. If it was a question, then that was all the answer she needed. Green eyes searched, but there was no telepathic intrusion, and after a moment she nodded so slightly that only someone paying close attention would notice. Then, in a flag of red hair, she was gone.

Victor shot Hank a somewhat amused glance when the scientist visibly relaxed, but didn't say anything. He was puzzling over the nod, wondering what the Hell she meant by it. Setting those thoughts aside after a minute, he decided just to concentrate on food and then plan the steps after that.



"Hey, blondie, make yourself useful and take these to the sink."

Victor raised an eyebrow at the lithe black woman who was ordering him around, wondering exactly who she was. He knew her name was Cecilia Reyes, and that she was fairly new to life around the Mansion, but aside from that, he wasn't sure. He saw Hank stiffen out of the corner of his eye and fought down a smirk. He was as jumpy as a jackrabbit on speed. But it had been his idea to drag Creed down to the lab, and given the alternatives, Creed didn't protest much. He was starting to think about it now, though. "You got two arms, babe."

Cecilia shoved the bin of instruments against Vic, scowling. "So do you."

Sabretooth narrowed his eyes at her, but decided it was wiser to oblige. Muttering to himself, he carried the tub over to the sink, "From assassin ta prisoner ta fuckin' lab assistant."

Hank chuckled to himself now that he was sure there wasn't going to be a fight, and went back to reading from the monitor. Cecilia joined him a moment later, and he did honestly try not to notice how good she smelled as she leaned over his shoulder.

Victor watched, grinning slightly. He wasn't sure if he was disgusted or amused with the way they were dancing around each other. It almost reminded him of a couple teenagers, and the fact that it was two people with more combined education than half of the X-Men appealed to his sense of irony. Shaking his head to himself, he sat back down in the only reasonably comfortable chair and leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest and closing his eyes. Let the kiddies have their fun... he was going to take a nap.



The house had a single window this time, high up and towards the center. Light came in gently, but not brightly, casting on the hard wood floor and reflecting off of the mirrors. There were more this time, but they didn't seem to crowd the place, and as always were in different states.

He stood in the center, looking around. More detail than last time, and he was a good deal more aware of it. He couldn't hear anything but his own breathing, but even the silence seemed in motion.

Stepping lightly, carefully, he made his way to where the mirror had been that he had leaned against last time. It was still there, and he knelt on one knee in front of it, hoping to see something more. He wanted to know, wanted to see the memory that had been blocked for so long.

The background seemed a little clearer, but nothing had actually been added to it. Definitely a log cabin of some sort, though. He didn't know how exactly why he was so sure of that, but that's what his instincts said. He listened.

The reflection that looked back seemed so young, so peaceful. Damn, he envied himself, as odd as that sounded. Envied the face looking back, even though it was his own. It couldn't have been him, though... peace was something that only came in brief moments, only when he was completely clear headed or when...

Or when Birdy came to him.

Damn her.

He turned and looked at the mirror that showed her death. Clenching his teeth, he worked his way over almost like a skittish animal, ready to leap away if it burned. The mirror was still cracked through, showing the fragmented image of her and Graydon.

"You can't kill him! He might really be your son!"

Her voice rang through the quiet, setting him ready to run. He felt almost uneasy about that statement... why did she care? She had accompanied him on more than a few contracts, and she didn't have a problem killing. Whether Graydon was his son or not shouldn't have been relevant.

Before he even had time to process it, he was looking down at her, laying at his feet. His jaw knotted tighter, feeling a fresh wave of ache run through his chest... she looked so surprised, her deep blue eyes wide open and her mouth hanging open... fuck, it hurt. He heard his own voice, as cool as ever, and he heard Graydon's higher voice answering, bordering on insanity, but all he could really see was Birdy dead at his feet.

He felt it now like he hadn't then, felt the sense of loss and of lonliness. He hadn't even really realized it then, but he knew now.

He didn't know why she had cared about whether his rat-bastard kid lived, though.

Touching the mirror and feeling the sharp cracks, he knelt down and traced his fingers across her broken reflection. The edges cut, but not quite so deep, and he asked her, the dead girl, "Why?"

A sound behind him made him jump, turning with his claws out. So engrossed in the mirror as he was, he hadn't even been paying attention to the rest of the room, and when he turned he came face to face with one of the people he hated, and hated quite a bit.

Charles Xavier stood, his hands clasped behind his back and his face fairly composed.

Victor snarled, shaken at the idea of the baldy just up and invading his mind without so much as his consent, or even without alerting Creed to his presence. "What th' fuck d'you think yer doin', Chuckles?"

"Observing," Xavier answered, mildly. "Quite a change from the last time."

"That's none o' yer business, asshole." Victor took a step forwards, fangs bared and claws at ready. "Get. Out. Of. My. Head."

"I intend to in a moment. But for the sake of my students, I thought it prudent to find out just how much of a threat you are."

"A pretty big one if ya don't LEAVE!" Sabretooth roared, causing the mirrors to rattle from the reverberation of his voice. He was just barely holding back from attacking the Professor, and that was only because he knew he'd be psi-blasted into the next county now that the fucker had gotten inside of his shields.

Xavier looked as calm as usual, replying, "I could help."

"Like ya tried to last time?! Lock th' psycho in the basement, run 'im through mazes, an' insult the livin' fuck outta him when... when..."

"When he doesn't care to try?"

Creed snapped, flying at Xavier with every intent of rending him limb from limb. Much to his chagrin, he flew right through the smaller man and landed on his face. Leaping back up swiftly, he turned to charge again.

Xavier held up a hand, freezing Sabretooth in his steps. "Victor, calm down."

"Calm down?!" Victor struggled against the invisible bonds, incredulous. "Ya invade my mind, offer ta help after all th' bullshit ya pulled last time, an' now yer fuckin' holdin' me down!"

"I'd rather speak peaceably, which looks unlikely with you trying to tear me to shreds."

"Fuck off."

Xavier released the hold, clasping his hands behind his back again and shaking his head. "Do you always attack those who offer aid, or is there a particular reason why you won't accept mine?"

Creed walked around him, almost circling. "None of yer business. Out."

A hint of annoyance crept into the Professor's voice as he said, "It's very much my business when it comes to my home and my students. The last time you were here, you nearly killed Elisabeth. This time, I have two people missing and several more unable to sleep at night. I think I have a right to--"

"Like Hell you do!" Victor yelled, stopping his pacing and growling. "Ya wanna know why I hate yer guts, Chuckie? Huh?!"

"Yes."

"I hate you because yer a self-righteous prick," Sabretooth said, his voice low and cold. "I hate you because you think yer better than me, when in truth, yer not even close. I hate you 'cause when I actually wanted help, all I got was locked away an' told 'ya have ta do it yerself, all I wanna do is stop you from killin' anymore'. I hate you 'cause you never had a right ta judge me. An' now, Chuck? I hate ya because ya just pulled the fuckin' mental equivalent of rape, all in th' name o' what's supposedly good an' right."

For a long moment the Professor allowed this to sink in, and for one of the few times Creed could remember, the old man didn't have a ready reply.

Sabretooth took a step closer, anger and hate burning through his veins. "Get out."

Xavier's jaw knotted, then he was gone, and the silence came back.



It didn't particularly surprise Creed when he woke up and found himself back in the basement cell he had been in last time. He had a sneaking suspicion that Xavier wouldn't allow him loose after the smack he had just dealt. Standing with a savage growl, he paced back and forth in the too small space, throwing a violent glance at the forcefield that blocked the opening. He doubted his body was up to the assault it would take if he decided to throw himself against it, and he wasn't about to commit suicide.

Raging at the mental violation, he made sure his shields were doubled against any further entry. Years upon years of experience had taught him to block out outside interference, and he wasn't going to let his guard down now. Not until he was far away from the mansion and everyone in it. Gritting his teeth together, he kept pacing like a caged tiger, nearly every muscle tense in agitation and anger.

He could smell Hank coming, and when the scientist stopped and looked in, he shot him a glare that would kill if looks could do that.

Hank flinched. "It wasn't my idea, Sabretooth. I tried to talk them out of it, but they didn't listen."

A hint of bitterness crept into Creed's voice as he answered, "Doesn't do me any good now, does it?"

"I'm sorry," Beast murmured, rubbing his eyes. He had lost a good deal of respect already from those who didn't know him well, and now he was beginning to concern those who did. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Leave me alone," Vic said, sharply, going back to his anxious pacing.

Hank just nodded, sighing to himself, and walked away.



Hours later found Victor no closer to calm, but he had stopped pacing. The idiots upstairs were probably asleep, or trying to sleep, and he knew that it was in the early hours of the morning.

Even if he had wanted to, and hadn't been angry, he doubted he would be able to fall asleep. Just when he was starting to recover from one prison he had been tossed into another. It had been bearable in the medbay or the lab, with just Beast, but to be locked back in the basement was a bitter reminder if there ever was one of just how recently he had been down in the Dark Beast's lair.

He finally sat down, resting his face in his hands for a moment. Fuck, he wanted out. Over and over, all he could think was how badly he just wanted to be somewhere else, someplace far away from Xavier and his precious little X-Men. Far away from the complex morals and so-called righteousness, far away from the tension. Anywhere else, just not there. Not locked in a cell.

He heard and smelled Hank as the other man approached again, and looked up. Biting down a snarl, he asked, "Whaddya want?"

"Company," Beast answered, keying in the code that would allow him to walk in and out, but that was set to keep Creed in. He stepped in, holding out a cup of coffee and looking around at the four walls. "It is rather small from this angle."

"Try bein' stuck in here," Victor replied, ignoring the peace offering. Not that he wanted to ignore it, but he wasn't in the mood to be friendly to anyone.

"Just take the damn coffee," Hank snapped.

Creed smiled slightly, raising his eyebrows in amusement. After a moment, just given for the sake of not being an easy target, he finally took the cup. "Thanks."

Beast sat down in a chair with his own cup, rubbing his eyes again. He had worked until just a half an hour ago, partly from guilt he couldn't explain and partly to keep himself distracted. He wasn't sure why he had decided to come down and talk to Creed, but he felt slightly better now that he had. "You're welcome."

Victor arched an eyebrow, sitting back against the wall and drawing his knees up without even consciously realizing it. "Why're ya down here?"

"Purely selfish reasons, I assure you." Hank took a sip of his coffee, sighing tiredly. "Guilt, mostly."

"Guilt," Sabretooth echoed, holding the mug in both hands and enjoying the heat it was giving off.

"Why did you have to start an argument with him?"

"Wouldn't you?"

"Well... probably not, no. He did offer to help." Hank looked up, frowning.

Creed smirked, taking a sip of the coffee before setting it aside. "I don't want his help, McCoy."

"Why not?" Beast asked, curious. "He's an excellent psychologist."

"He's a self-righteous bastard," Victor muttered, a fresh shot of anger running through him. "All about what's right an' wrong, but never 'bout what's true or not."

Hank stiffened slightly at the insult, not only to Xavier but to his codes and conducts as well. "Is going on a killing spree right? Tearing through everyone indiscriminately, be they man, woman or child?"

"Depends on th' circumstances," Creed answered, a cool grin playing across his face.

"Do you think it's right?" Hank challenged, looking at the other man intently.

A long moment passed before Victor replied, "Not always. Sometimes they have it comin'. Sometimes they don't. Usually doesn't matter either way."

"So why do it?"

Creed shot him an annoyed look. "Hey, I'm not in th' mood fer psychology."

"I never said you were," Hank said, smirking himself now.

Victor growled, frustrated. He didn't want to be psychoanalyzed, helped, or anything else. Least of all locked in a cell. "Well, since yer so philosophical t'night, why doncha answer me somethin'?"

"Shoot."

"What d'you think's right an' wrong?"

It was a simple enough question, and Hank began, "I think that fighting for peaceful coexistence between humans and mutants is right. I think that everyone deserves fair and impartial justice, and--"

"Whoa, hold it," Sabretooth said, holding up a hand. "Who's ta say what justice is?"

"Courts, I suppose," Hank answered, confused. "The majority of society, who writes the laws, as well as upholds them."

"Th' same society an' majority that wants all muties dead?" Victor asked. "The same people who tell ya that ya have ta have car insurance, but don't make it affordable? The same people who pass laws all th' time to register muties, or keep an eye on 'em?"

"Well, yes, but--"

"Now ya follow the law that says ya have ta have car insurance, but ya don't follow the law that says ya have ta report to a court officer if yer a 'dangerous' mutant?"

"The second isn't a just law," Hank defended.

"Yer right, it's not," Vic conceded, then continued, "but the society that says killin' is wrong is the society that makes these unjust laws. Get my point?"

"Are you trying to tell me that murdering innocents wasn't wrong?" The blue scientist looked incredulous.

Sabretooth shook his head, sighing. "No, I'm tryin' ta tell ya that jus' because it's killin' doesn't always make it wrong. But the law says it is every time. I'll admit I've done some pretty fucked up things ta people, but I'll never admit that it was always wrong ta do it."

"What about Psylocke?"

"She had it comin'."

"You nearly killed her! You've changed her life, took away something she can never get back!" Hank exclaimed, angrily, frustrated that he wasn't getting anywhere.

Victor's voice dropped a level, taking on a razor's edge. "If I had my way, McCoy, she'd be dead."

Beast looked across, eyebrows knitted together. He just wasn't sure what to make of Creed. On one part he could see an intelligent creature who could be as calm and logical as any man, and then on another part, there seemed to be nothing but a blood thirsty monster. "Why...?"

"It was her or me, pal," Creed said, almost nonchalantly. "An' I was damned if it was gonna be me. Think she woulda hesitated takin' my head offa my shoulders?"

"Well, yes."

"Why? 'Cause she's one o' you?" Victor shook his head. "She pretends, Beast. She pretends she's higher'n that, that she's somehow better'n me, better'n the average asshole on the street. All o' ya do."

"Because we have morals?" Hank asked. "Because we strive to be better than animals?"

"No. Because when ya fail, it's okay. But when th' rest o' us fail, we get locked away."

"There's a difference between killing hundreds and... and..."

"An' killin' one? Is there?" Creed crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "So when yer little Southern belle was a badguy an' caused innocent deaths, or took some woman's whole life away, that was forgivable?"

Hank wondered idly in the back of his mind just how much Sabretooth knew about them, but didn't voice that. "She's spent years since then trying to make amends."

"What 'bout the runt? He ain't no saint either," Victor pointed out. "Got more blood on his hands than most o' the rest of ya combined."

"The same with him," Beast said, frowning and trying to understand what Creed was aiming at.

"An' the high an' mighty Professor Xavier," Vic said, laying the sarcasm on, "who wiped some guy's brain out."

"He probably saved thousands of lives!"

Sabretooth leaned closer, looking at Hank with a disturbingly intent look. "Here's the million dollar question, McCoy. Who gave him th' right ta judge Mags an' pass sentence on him?"

"He was only doing what he had to," Hank mumbled, feeling his argument floundering.

"Why'd he have to?"

"Because Magneto nearly killed Logan, and would have destroyed many others."

Vic sighed, "Yer missin' the point, McCoy."

Hank raised an eyebrow. "What is the point, Creed?"

"Th' point is, yer beloved messiah takes it on himself ta say, 'This mutant is redeemable, this one is, but this one isn't an' neither is this one, so we'll forgive th' ones that'll follow my own path, but those who chose their own have to be neutralized.'"

"In reference to you and Magneto, I'm assuming," Hank said, flatly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Maybe," Victor shrugged, "maybe not. But whaddya wanna bet if I woulda sat there an' agreed ta fight on yer side, he woulda tried a whole lot harder ta help rather than 'neutralize'."

"You didn't want redeemed, Sabretooth." Hank frowned, leaning back with a distinctly regarding look.

"Guess you'll never know, eh?" Creed finished the coffee in one shot, tossing the mug at the scientist.

Beast caught it easily, standing. "Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you want to repent for your crimes?"

Sabretooth frowned slightly, looking out to the other side of the forcefield. "Right now, all I want is somethin' resemblin' peace."

"I hope you find it," Henry said, sincerely, stepping out to the other side. Without another word, he walked away.

Creed muttered to himself in the dark cell, "Yea. Me too."