Hank walked back into his lab, so knotted up that he knew sleep was impossible. Frowning deeply, he started working on some data he had set aside recently, but his heart certainly wasn't in it. He came to that conclusion not too long after he began, then flipped the monitor off and leaned back in the dark room, rubbing his eyes.
How long he had been working on the Legacy Virus was a testament to his determination, but it was hard to work after being kidnapped, and after having his life ripped from him, even if only on a temporary basis. He hated himself for putting it off, and hated himself for allowing the situation with Sabretooth effect his research.
Champion of fundamental beliefs.
The more he knew, the more Beast saw how fitting that description was. There was a monster there, but the monster wasn't all of Creed, just a part. The man was actually admirable, from the dignity he seemed to hold onto like a life-raft to the sarcastic but clever humor. Even the animal side was amazing -- all instinct and hyper-senses, and the same nobility all animals possessed to some degree. But the monster... the monster killed for pleasure, for profit, for no good reason.
Hank sighed, trying to drop that line of thought, but he wasn't having any luck. He thought back to their discussion of prisons, and of mind over matter, and it didn't surprise him when he realized that they would never agree. Hank was able to see beyond to the next level of human thought... Creed was as basic as they came, and taking his freedom wouldn't bring back the dead. It may save others from the same fate, however, and that was why Beast went along with it. But even as he reassured himself it was the right thing to do, he felt the sting of compassion. It may save others, but it would undoubtedly kill Sabretooth, mentally if not physically.
Was it worth it? He had been perfectly reasonable until he was locked in the basement. Hank could even understand Creed's violent response to Xavier sneaking into his mind, even though he still wasn't sure he agreed with it. Then they had stuck him down in the basement, and things had slowly gone downhill.
No, it wouldn't do to entertain those thoughts. Hank sighed again, driving himself crazy. He remembered how close to breaking Sabretooth had been the Dark Beast's cell, and it was nothing compared to how unfocused and shattered he seemed earlier that evening. Just... forlorn. It made anyone with a heart hurt, seeing someone who had fought so hard for freedom about to be locked away forever.
"Do you want to repent for your crimes?"
"Right now, all I want is somethin' resemblin' peace."
So many found that inner peace in prisons -- people who had killed and raped, who had no other chance for redemption. Hank tried to console himself on that count as well, but he knew better. He knew that there would never be peace for Creed, not now. Not locked away, living what could only fairly be described as a caged life, like the tigers in the zoo who pace so restlessly, looking to the other side, to freedom. They were kept behind bars, for they would kill to be free.
The tiger in the basement probably would as well.
But he hadn't. He had his chance to take Hank down, though it might have meant his life. But he didn't.
Hank stood, walking out and starting towards the floor below and the cell. He wasn't sure why he was going, but he wouldn't know peace himself if he didn't.
The walk didn't take as long as it felt, and he looked in. A week ago, Creed would have been wide awake and surprisingly civil. Now he was just silent, laying with one shackled hand outstretched and eyes closed. Beast cleared his throat, hoping to get a response, but he knew better. Sabretooth wasn't about to talk to him or anyone else, and Beast couldn't blame him for it. He punched in the door code allowing him to walk in, and did so silently.
Still no reaction. Hank frowned, walking over and kneeling, ready to jump if Sabretooth attacked. The attack never came, though, and Creed remained as still and quiet, probably off in a drug-induced sleep. Hank knew he hadn't given him a heavy dose, but under the circumstances, sleeping was probably preferable to pacing... or staring at the shackles with a lifeless look.
Lifeless...
Beast frowned deeper, noting for the first time just how shallow Creed was breathing, his chest barely raising and falling. He checked the other man's pulse, and a rush of alarm nailed him as he realized what was going on. "Dear Lord..."
He was turning himself off. Like a sparrow who had fallen from the nest too young and refused to eat, or a badly wounded animal, he turned his attentions from surviving to dying, like all animals do when they know there's no more fight left. Hank fought back panic, quickly unlocking the muzzle and the shackles, running on instinct. He dealt Sabretooth a slap that normally would have gotten him gutted in an instant. "Dammit, don't do this!" Nothing. Almost shouting, Hank shook Victor hard, "Don't give up, not like this!"
Creed was far beyond hearing.
How he managed to find the mirror was something he couldn't guess, with the blinding light flooding in and with his own exhaustion. But he did find it, having stumbled, staggered and crawled until it was close enough. Then he leaned on it, closing his eyes with a heartbroken sigh that echoed softly. He couldn't fight anymore, couldn't find it left in him to do anything more than die.
Under other circumstances, he might have found it ironic. After being tortured by professionals, raped by the Black Beast, and spending decades struggling, all it took was a few bits of metal to break him. But irony was the furthest thing from his mind.
The light felt warm, soothing and honest, unlike so many other things. He found he didn't care what came after that moment, be it Heaven, Hell, or nothingness. Just the light, the mirror, and himself. No cells, no shackles or muzzles, no morals, no fighting. It was almost peace.
The mirror he had searched for, the last seriously coherent thought he had, was not of the peaceful past he still couldn't remember, but of a moment of peace he did. A moment of peace with Birdy laying against him, her legs entwined in his, and her head resting on his shoulder. That was peace which she gave, and which he understood for the first time. He never had before, even if he had appreciated it in a twisted way.
She did because she cared.
He loved her.
It was in such a warped manner, mangled by a brain that had more problems than could be counted. Still, deep in the core and to the most fundamental of things, there was something pure he hadn't known until then. He felt that now, felt it keenly through the fatigue, and it felt like sunlight.
"I made a big mistake, boss, gettin' attached to you. At first it wasn't a problem, y'know? I mean, it's not a problem manipulating someone you can't stand, and not a problem to do your job when you're being paid as well as I was."
He tried to open his eyes, tried to see her, but he couldn't. He was too worn down...
"Then you had ta go and show a glimpse of that damn nobility. Kinda laughable, since nobility didn't equate into killing, but you can't hide that from the person who roams your mind, can you? Then I found the courage and honesty, and then I found your heart and I made the big mistake of getting attached."
"Wha...?" he mumbled, barely able to force even that small sound out.
"I wondered how someone so violent could be so appealing. You made it hard for me to care, Mister Creed, but not impossible. So I broke contract. Now it's costing me my life, and I'm sending this I guess as an explanation. An echo, if that maybe helps you understand it. There's a whole lot of technical names for it... psychic imprints, psi-transfer, and a whole bunch of others." She chuckled, quietly. "Like a recorded, slightly interactive message." Her voice turned more serious again. "But if you're hearing this, boss, it means something bad's happened. Don't know what, but whatever it is, promise me you'll come out of it okay."
He couldn't answer, couldn't promise that. Instead he shook his head slightly, leaned on the mirror so heavily that it alone supported him. He wanted to explain, wanted to tell her why he was giving up and why there wasn't anything left to fight for... he just couldn't find the strength. A moment later, he felt her hand touching his face, tracing along his eyebrow, across his lips, warm and gentle. "You have to promise me, Victor," she said, softly. "Promise me you'll keep fighting."
He tried to tell her no, tried to reply in the negative... he couldn't deny her. He never could, even when it meant letting the man who killed her walk away, son or not. He tried all the time, tried to refuse her, but when she said it and meant it, he never could argue. Finally he nodded. Then she put her arms around him and he felt the sun, and then the silence.
Coming back to the real world was something he didn't want to do, but Creed finally woke back up. He didn't immediately remember anything, his own name included. Then it came back, piece by piece, and he opened his eyes. Back in the medbay, he noted without much interest. The clock on the wall read four in the morning, and he could hear Hank rummaging around not too far away.
Letting his breath out slowly, he drifted back off, taking more refuge in a dream state than he usually found in real life. Beast startled him out of it not long later though, and he looked at the scientist, unsure of how to interpret the worry, anger and frustration wearing creases into the blue-furred face.
"If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I will personally flay you alive with a hot branding iron," Hank said, quietly. He might not have meant it, but it felt good to say it anyway.
Victor frowned to himself, rubbing his eyes. He really wasn't in the mood to talk, particularly with Cooper coming to get him in a matter of a few hours. "Might as well take me back ta my 'guestroom', McCoy."
Beast growled, resisting the urge to slap the other man silly. "Are you so much a coward, Sabretooth, that you're willing to face death before facing repentance?"
Creed sighed... he didn't feel like fighting or listening to a lecture, either. Carefully he got up, taking a moment to steady himself. "Let it drop."
"I will not let it drop!" Hank said, fiercely. "I will not just ignore your little brush with death!"
"Let. It. Drop." Victor turned, giving him a look that normally didn't allow for argument. "It's none o' yer damn business ta begin with, an' if ya weren't so fuckin' self-centered, ya woulda left me to it."
"Self-centered?! That's truly the pot calling the kettle black and round, Creed. I'm not the one who wanted to throw my life away because I was too afraid to face punishment for my crimes."
Sabretooth snarled, righteously stung. "Afraid? Boy, yer head's up yer ass further than I thought, now ain't it?"
Hank took a step closer, his fists balled up. "What would you call it?"
"None o' yer fuckin' business!"
"Answer me! What would you call it?!"
Creed narrowed his eyes, teeth bared. "I told ya, an' if ya have an ounce of common sense, you'll let it go."
"No." Hank leapt after Vic so fast he wasn't anything more than a streak of blue, and barreled into the lighter man. They crashed over a bed, landing on the floor, and Beast pinned Creed down. "Tell me."
"No!" Sabretooth shot back, struggling to get loose and get his wind back all at the same time. "Ya don't let me go, an' I'll--"
"Kill me? Cut me open? It'll certainly be better than watching you destroy yourself," Hank said, dropping his voice slightly. "Now answer me, Creed, or we'll be here until you do."
"Whaddya wanna know?! That I'd rather be dead than locked away? Rather be wormfood than chained down?! Big fuckin' revelation!" Victor struggled harder, blazing mad.
"Does it bother you that badly? Does freedom mean that much to you?" Hank asked, leaning closer, his eyes burning equally bright and twice as intense.
Victor stopped fighting, suddenly tired, and looked away. After a moment, he looked back up and muttered, "Yea."
"Why?"
"'Cause freedom an' peace go hand in hand... don't have one, an' I'll never have th' other."
Hank stood, brushing himself off. Sighing heavily, he offered a hand down, but wasn't surprised to have it ignored. "We'd better get you back downstairs."
A bitter bark of a laugh was all Creed would give, standing again and starting for the door. Hank followed a moment later, and they walked almost like friends might walk, though it was doubtful they would ever call the other that. The halls were empty, echoing the footfalls, and the near silence crackled with thoughts and emotions running rampant.
Victor wasn't sure what exactly he was feeling. He partly wanted to slip back into his little daze, unfeeling and unthinking, and partly wanted to rage at the world and those who would lock him away again. In a nutshell, he was confused -- knotted up and only partly able to think in assembled thoughts.
Beast, on the other hand, was fairly sure he knew what he was thinking, and it was a war the entire way. The idea formed, teased, and otherwise urged him in a direction he would normally never consider. Whether it was fatigue guiding the thoughts, or some other influence, he would never know. But before they turned to the hall, he stopped. Vic looked back after another pace or two, expectantly, and Hank shook his head. Frowning for a moment, he said, "Up for a walk?"
Vic shrugged, walking back, and he followed Hank. The notion of escape played around in the back of his mind, but he doubted he would get very far if he tried, and he didn't have the heart left to make a break for it. Idly wondering what McCoy was doing and why, he meekly allowed himself to be led along through the maze of halls.
It was midsummer, a fact that Victor was actually surprised to find out. He had lost track of time so badly in the past several months that he wasn't sure when it was, but the sound of birds chirping in the early hours, just before dawn, was oddly reassuring. He followed, stepping lightly and certainly, his senses collecting and filtering all of the scents of morning and land, and of the approaching sunlight. Grass, dirt, trees rustling... a rabbit in the bush that he briefly considered chasing down... everything sounded and felt alive.
Alive... heh.
A brief moment of bitterness was chased away by the sensation of mist, swirling low in the half-light. He forgot so often to notice nature, and in ways nature had turned away from him when he became the monster. The animal was welcome, the man was watched warily -- the monster was outright rejected.
There was nothing resentful in the morning air, though. He still didn't know what Hank was doing, be it a last hurrah or whatever, but it didn't matter in that moment. Down the way, down a path, out by the lake. The sun was coming up, and dawn was showing it's banner of color, reds and oranges flickering across the sky and the few clouds.
"Val will be here in two hours," Hank said, quietly. He glanced over, noting the almost communion with nature -- it reminded him of Storm, but at least Creed didn't strip to appreciate it.
"Yep," Victor answered, neutrally.
"You won't be."
Creed looked over, briefly narrowing his eyes. "Whaddya mean, I won't be? Ya think the twits'll jus' let me walk away?"
"They won't be up for another hour, and knowing you, that's more than enough time to hide." Beast looked back at the sky.
Sabretooth frowned before looking back at dawn himself, partly mulling the words over and partly just paying attention to sunrise. "Why?"
"If I knew exactly, I would be more than willing to tell you," Hank murmured, wryly. "Selfish reasons, though. I doubt I would be able to forgive myself if I left you to your fate."
"Didn' stop ya earlier," Creed grumbled, bitterly. He wished he could put more of an edge on his voice.
"...momentary clash of beliefs. Are you going to stand here all day?"
Sabretooth looked from the path out to the sunrise, then back at the path. Damn, but he wanted to believe it was going to be that easy, to just walk out. Life was never that easy, though. It was a constant struggle, one that he was almost scared to take on again. For years he had been a pawn, first to the government, then to his own darkness, and taking on control was just as terrifying as it was exciting.
The sun broke through, cutting a path across a field and burning low and red. In the end, it was the light that made the decision -- he didn't think he could take losing it again. Slowly and almost tentatively, he walked away.
"Sabretooth?" Hank asked, and watched Vic stop. The question was a mixed one... he was asking if Sabretooth was going to be the monster, or the man and animal. He was asking, basically, if he would regret letting him go.
Creed turned around briefly, shoulders set and for the first time in a long time, he lifted his chin proudly. He answered all of the questions as well as he could, not entirely knowing the solutions himself. "Victor."
Hank nodded, and they parted ways.