(Six)

Kristalay groaned and opened his eyes. He was bathed in a pleasant kind of fog, comfortably numb as it were. He turned his head and saw Kimble asleep, curled up awkwardly in a chair next to the bed. He looked so small and fragile there, balled up under a blanket, a soft frown ruining the lines of his face as he slept.

Kristalay wanted to say something to wake his friend, but his throat was so dry he couldn't make a sound. He was relieved when Kimble suddenly stirred as if knowing he had awakened and turned to smile at him. At the sight of those pale blue eyes and soft gentle smile, Kristalay felt a surge of love so powerful it almost took his breath away. It had been so long since he had seen Kimble and he had suffered so much.

How long had it been since he had seen the pilot last, before he was taken away by SHIELD and put back into service for the good of mankind? Kristalay was no longer sure. Time was fuzzy to him, it always was since Weapon X had destroyed his memory and then restored it. It tended to make things liquid and unreachable, like a greased pig slipping out of his grasp. He didn't remember much of what had happened after Jael had begun to torture him either and didn't want to. It was best forgotten and buried with the rest of the unmentionables of his life.

He did recall with clarity the moment Kimble's hands had touched him again and the joy his body had felt when the Kundatesh had poured into him. That had been so sweet. After that was black, except for the recurrence of a very strange dream he had been having. When Zander had stabbed him all those years ago, he had actually died and went up to the light. He met someone on the way, a woman who had claimed to be his mother. She offered him a choice - death or a chance for glory, for a moment of great power. The vision she had showed him was vague, but somehow there had been lions, great roaring lions. He was one of them, all powerful and magical, for once a force for good, for doing something very right. It suckered him in and he chose that destiny. The woman was pleased, she called him Kristalay as Kimble had done, making him cement his decision to take that name forever more and be Sabretooth no longer. This great destiny he had been promised hadn't happened yet, but sometimes he still dreamed about it in small snippets, just enough to make him wake with a driving sense of purpose. He'd had that dream again, heard the roaring of lions, and refused to be denied. It kept him alive and here he was, horribly broken but still very much alive.

Kimble stretched and rose, rubbing his eyes. He lightly brushed Kristalay's cheek, 'feeling' him. Without being asked, he took a cup of water from the night stand and brought it to his former Master's lips, tipping the straw into his mouth. His touch had told him everything he needed to know.

Kristalay drank gratefully, and felt much better. "Hey, kid," he rasped, his voice still strained. He had screamed the whole time he had been tortured, first with rage then with real agony when his body would not heal.

"Kristalay," Kimble said, using his pet name for his former Master. Kimble had chosen it because he had despised the code name Sabretooth had chosen for himself. Creed had never questioned Kimble's name for him and rather liked the sound of it, especially since Kimble always said it with such affection.

Kimble smiled down at him, his eyes still tired. "How ya feelin'?"

"Not too bad now. Prob'ly don't wanna know what yer blue fur pumped inta me. Sure is nice."

"Henry says yer gonna be fine. Just gonna take some time, is all."

Kristalay was covered almost head to toe in plaster casts. Both his legs and arms had been broken and he had suffered severe internal injuries. The tips of his fingers had been cut off with a knife, removing his notorious claws and his canines were gone as well. If his regenerative capabilities never returned, he would have some nerve damage and more than a few surgeries in his future. It was a testament to his will to survive that he was even still alive. Jael clearly hadn't expected him to walk away from this intact.

Kimble sat carefully on the edge of the bed, wanting to be close without hurting him. "I thought you wuz dead. You know, when they tooks you away."

"They tried. Everyone keeps tryin', but there's always someone else out there figurin' I'm better off workin' fer them than bein' fried."

"Where ya been?"

Kristalay just shook his shaggy head. "You don't want to know an' I ain't in the mood ta talk about it."

"I'm sorry," Kimble said, taking the blame as always.

"Dontcha be takin' this personal, kid. I know how ya are. If you start mopin' around on account of me, I'm gonna kick yer lily white ass all over this place," Kristalay growled, seeing the sadness in Kimble's eyes.

"Promises, promises," Kimble joked softly, knowing he didn't really mean it. "I loves you," he said next, leaning in real close so only Kristalay heard it. There was a nurse not too far away.

"I know ya do. Why don'tcha go on and get some real rest. I ain't goin' nowhere."

Kimble moved a bit closer. His hands brushed Kristalay's cheeks and stayed there long enough to send another delicious bolt of Kundatesh right through him. The big man groaned and shivered, he couldn't help it. The power slid right through him, melting the pain away with its heat.

"Uhnnn... Heh, thanks," Kristalay slurred, his eyes growing heavy again.

"I'll come back. I won' leaves ya alone fer too long."

Kimble gently kissed Kristalay's forehead and brushed his hair back before rising. He was shaking slightly, terribly conflicted inside. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about his former Master's return. Was Kristalay back here to claim him? Would he even go if Kristalay asked it of him? He honestly didn't know. Part of him was eager for the surrender of control. Another part of him, the Zander part no doubt, wanted only to rebel. His time with Kristalay hadn't been entirely pleasant, especially towards the end. He didn't know if he could go back to that again, especially now with Angel in his care. He didn't want her to see him beaten or worse - raped. It was no place for a child. At least Kristalay wasn't pushing any issues, the word Master hadn't passed his lips. Perhaps it was something they would discuss later.

Kimble stood to go, but paused when he saw Scott standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and a look of disgust on his face. Kimble knew what he was thinking. It was bad enough that these two had some kind of homosexual relationship no one could fathom, but Creed was one of the X-men's worst enemies. It was like being a traitor all over again. Kimble kept his head low, being on the short end of the status roster here, and left without speaking.

Kristalay grinned his new toothless smile at the man. "Hey, One-Eye, what's up?"

Cyclops entered the room and took Kimble's spot in the vacated chair. He was nervous being so close to this murderer, but Sabretooth was in no condition to do harm to anyone. His legs were up in traction and he could hardly move. Word was, his enhanced senses were gone along with his healing factor. So easy it would be now to just raise his visor and blow this sick fuck away. He deserved no less.

"How are you feeling?" Scott asked, beginning.

Kristalay just grunted a growly laugh. "Think we both know I've been better."

"Henry's done a fine job on you. You're lucky to be alive."

"You have a mind to change that?"

Scott just shook his head. He was no murderer, he was an X-man, something he took very seriously. "Just reminding you of what's been done on your behalf."

" 'S that a warnin' not a kill the natives? I ain't up to it just yet, kid. But thanks fer thinkin' of me," Kristalay snorted. He was in no mood to play games here.

"Here's the deal, Creed - "

"Name's Kristalay," the ruined man interrupted, his gruffness so much like Wolverine's it made Cyclops pause naturally though he had nothing to fear.

"Whatever. We would turn you over to SHIELD, as you know, but we can't risk compromising this place. They don't know where we are and for now we'd like to keep it that way. That and we can't have Jael pick you up again. We're still not sure how he found you in the first place."

"Guy's got a hand in everything. Had spooks on the same team as me, I figure. You X-boy's 're gonna have yer hands full with him."

"The plan for now is to keep you here until you're better, then we'll move you into a more secure location, probably down in security. Got some holding cells down there."

"All right," Kristalay said, not wanting to argue. He knew he was getting off easy for now. He had no real say in the matter of what they were to do with him, not in his present condition.

"You're co-operation in this will be appreciated."

"I ain't gonna fight ya, boy."

"I hope you remember that. See, all of this, all of what's happening right now changes everything. People are being forced to chose sides. You could say you're being given a sort of second chance. You might want to make the most of your time here."

Kristalay cocked his head with a soft grunt of surprise. This he had not expected. A patch job and some food, yes. But sanctuary? Mercy? What was this? "I'll keep that in mind," Kristalay replied, not wanting to sound too eager. He had no real place to go where he wouldn't be found, this was as good a place to be as any.

"You do that," Scott said, rising for the door. "Oh, and Creed? Stay away from Kimble. He's not yours anymore."

Kristalay squinted, his mouth baring teeth he no longer had. "Don't rightly think that's up to you. He was in here waitin' on me, I didn't ask him to come."

"He won't be here again. He belongs to Remy now, not you. He won't be allowed back," Scott asserted firmly and left, shutting the door with a decisive click.

Kristalay closed his eyes and swallowed the growl that had threatened to rise. Kimble. He hadn't thought about the pilot's disposition or who might be looking after him. Of course it would be the Cajun, Kimble had told him once long ago that he was the one he wanted. Kristalay had let him go, what choice did he have, really? SHIELD was taking him away to be executed. All he had cared about at that point was that Kimble would be looked after. Seemed like Remy was doing a good enough job, Kimble appeared to be happy enough. Well, the usual guilt was there but Kimble had always been that way, taking the blame for things. Remy would set that to rights, no doubt.

It would be nice to have Kimble as his again, that had been one of the happiest times of his life, but he knew better. He was in no condition to play Master again, nor did he think it would be allowed. Did the pilot still speak in different voices? He hadn't the whole time he had been here. There was some lingering fear of Zander, Kristalay would never forget that sword for as long as he lived. It had burned like nothing else, like the fire of Hell itself come to claim him. It almost had. If Zander had a say in things, Kimble would no doubt stay as he was.

Kristalay had been gone a long time. He had no idea that Kimble had been repaired by the Games Master or had any knowledge of Kimble's life since he had been taken away. It was a relief to see the pilot well and he would not disturb that, he promised himself. He would be patient, take his due as it came and live one day at a time. If he was offered a chance for something more, he would take it. Kristalay closed his eyes, and sighed, feeling the deep bruising of his insides. He was wrecked and couldn't fight any of this so he just chose not to. He took another pained sigh and relaxed, letting sleep claim him once more.

(break)

Kimble dumped out the warm laundry onto the folding table and sorted out the clothes into small piles. He was blessed that Remy had thoughtfully seen to it that his bathroom also had a washer and dryer. He wouldn't have to go out to do this. He worked quickly, but his mind was somewhere else. Angel sat on the table, her dangling legs swinging gently as she hummed a soft tune. She kept glancing up at her father, but he didn't seem to notice her.

"Sumpthin' on yer mind, baby doll?" he asked, startling her. She hadn't realized he was aware of her curiosity.

"Who's Creed?"

Kimble hadn't realized word of his former Master had spread that quickly. He simply shrugged and replied, "He's a guy I knows from a while back."

"Why does everybody hate him?"

" 'Cuz he useta hurt people sometimes."

"How did he hurt people?"

Kimble paused, his eyes down. "In really bad ways."

"Does he still hurt people?"

"Not as much I guess. He ain't so angry now." He went back to his vigorous folding, moving through the task quickly and making neat little piles.

"Why?"

"Sometimes when I'm with someone...you know...real close, I kin takes their pain. He had a lot a pain and I could shuts most of it off. When I done that, he just didn't feel like hurtin' people no more."

"Like that guy Grendel."

Kimble looked back at her in surprise. He had no idea she knew that much about him. "What?"

"When you came back from seeing him, you always had big marks on you. You were trying to help him, weren't you?"

Kimble shrugged, trying to act more casual than he felt. He knew Angel was telepathic, that she could pick up things from him, and he took this as a sign to be more careful. He let slip a tiny lie. "Oh, that. Yeah, I wuz helpin' him, I guess, to not be so angry. He didn't means ta hurt me that much, but it wuz okay cuz I knew he wuz gonna do that. He don' mean it out 'a anger or nuthin'. He just plays kinda rough."

"Jessie says big people don't play like that. That they're too big to play like us kids."

"Some of us still do, kiddo. Some of us're big kids what ain't never gonna grow up. I don' ever wanna stop playin' and I hopes you never do either. Folks gots ta have fun or theys just gonna go crazy."

"You gonna go see him in the hospital? This Creed guy?"

"His name's Kristalay now and yeah, I'll go gives him some supper, sits with him awhile." Kimble had only just left his former Master, he didn't yet know his movements would be restricted. He was still forming his plans for the night. "Yer gonna stay with Jessie just for a little bit. Remy's got sumpthin' ta do tonight. Is that okay with you?"

"Can I see him?"

"Who? Kristalay?"

"Yeah. I want to see what he's like."

"I don' think so kiddo. He's real sick. Maybe when he gits better."

"Why are you scared?"

Kimble put the folded clothes back in the basket. "What makes ya think I'm scared?"

"I can feel it. Is he gonna hurt me?"

He looked back at her and gestured for her to scootch closer. He wrapped her up in his big arms and gave her a gentle squeeze. "Ain't nobody gonna ever hurtcha, baby doll. Not if I gots anathin' ta say about it."

Angel relaxed in his embrace but couldn't deny the vibration of concern he was giving off. She never understood why it was that big people didn't always say what they were feeling. Kimble was mostly honest with her, knowing she could read him so well anyway, but this time he was holding back. Something about Creed made him nervous.

What he wasn't telling her of course was his indecision about his former Master. The more he had thought about it, the more he didn't want to go back. Zander was humming inside, telling him he deserved better, and Zander was winning. Kimble had had it pretty good these past years. All the violence done to him was of his own choosing, it didn't come out of nowhere as it had been when Kristalay had handled him. He was surrounded by those who loved him, Kristalay was no good substitute for Remy and Molly, and of course his Angel. His fear was from wondering what Kristalay's reaction might be if he was refused. Would there be a fight? Would Kristalay even ask for him at all? Kimble didn't like confrontations of any sort and he was nervous.

Angel sat back. "Can that bad man Jael reach us here?"

Kimble wasn't expecting that, but then again, he had just promised her her safety. "I don't think so," he lied for her benefit. "This place is really secure. Gots all kinda shields and evrathin'. It's even better than where we wuz livin' b'fore."

"Can we watch a movie before you go see Kristalay?"

Kimble smiled, always amused by her ability to change subjects so quickly. At least her curiosity about their safety seemed satisfied. "Shure."

They finished up the laundry and had a quick bite to eat before putting in a taped movie to watch. It wasn't a long one, Kimble didn't want to be too late at seeing Kristalay again. After that, he packed a quick bag for Angel and they headed to Logan's. Kimble knocked on the door and Karen let them in, happy to see Angel as always.

Wolverine was sitting at the dinner table, chewing on an unlit cigar. Logan never smoked around his kids but that didn't mean he didn't have plenty of these around. "Come have a seat, Kim," he said, pulling the chair out next to him.

Kimble watched as Angel ran off to play with Jessie and took the seat nervously. "I ain't gots much time, I gots ta go see Kristalay," he said, wanting only to flee. Logan never had many nice things to say to him, he didn't expect this time to be any different.

"You got plenty of time, buddy. Word just came down, you ain't gonna be allowed to see him."

Mixed emotions crossed Kimble's face, indignation won. "Sez who? I gots a right!"

"Creed's a security risk and a liability. There's a concern he might cause some trouble fer you, bein' yer former Master and all."

"He ain't said nuthin ta me 'bout that."

"That's good, I'm glad fer it. You got enough ta worry about without addin' Victor to yer list."

"Why cain't I sees him?"

Wolverine scowled impatiently. "Thought I just explained all that."

"Wuz this yer idea?"

Logan paused. "Some of it, yeah. But Scott had more of a hand in it than me. Saby's gonna be under constant watch, fer him and fer others trying' ta get in. Everyone stays out, not just you."

Kimble simmered quietly, his thoughts turning inward. I gots a right!

If ya wants ta see him that badly, just bust in, Zander said, his disgust for their former Master obvious. I'd be happy to put our little pig sticker back in his guts. Wouldn't be no problem, really.

Leaves him alone! Kimble shouted inside, a flicker of rage crossing his face.

Logan saw it without knowing the why. He didn't much care. His concern was keeping the Siskan in line. "Just think on this a bit, kid. You don't want no trouble. Not here, not now."

Kimble looked up at him and stood, his face still hard. "You still keepin' Angel fer me?"

"Only if you promise ta stay away from Creed."

"Shure. This ain't nuthin a good fuck and a beer won't cure!" he snapped angrily and jerked away, moving to the door, his fists clenched and his shoulders tight.

Wolverine rose behind him, his face turning ugly. "I can just as easily put you in a cell, you don't simmer down."

"You'd like that, wouldn't ya? Yer all champin' at the bit an' everathin'!" Kimble snapped with all the angry resentment of a teenaged child, giving vent to his frustration. It wasn't fair how all these people kept making decisions about him behind his back.

"Just give me an excuse, boy. Just one!" Wolverine blurted out without thinking. It was shocking how fast Kimble could get a rise out of him, it had always been this way. He hadn't intended for this to get ugly, it's just that Kimble's childish attitude was too much.

"Boys!" Karen said, moving in between them. "Kimble, go. Do what you need to do and come back. Just stay away from Creed, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Kimble replied with a lower voice, always polite to her. He said nothing more and left, slamming the door shut behind him.

Logan turned from his wife, his lips tight with fury, and reached for the phone. She started to speak but he shushed her with 'the look', the one that said 'Don't bother, I ain't gonna listen'. He spoke softly into the phone, setting up a small team of escorts, just to make sure Kimble stayed where he should. Any attempt to go to Med Bay and Kimble was to be picked up. He hung up and sat back at the table, chewing on the cigar again in stewing agitation.

Karen came to him and started rubbing his shoulders. "You worry too much," she whispered, coming down low to him. "Kimble will be fine."

"That boy ain't been fine since day one."

"He's not like you."

"He don't hafta be."

"Not with you looking out for him. Let him go. Relax."

"Kinda hard to, knowin' that freak is out there doin' God knows what. That boy's got trouble written all over him. Somebody's gonna get hurt somewhere, mark my words."

"Kimble won't hurt anyone, he's a masochist, remember? He takes it all on himself," Karen said, doing her best to defend Kimble. It wasn't always easy, he simply had too many issues.

Logan snorted. "Masochist? Oh, an' that's okay? He should be locked up. Heh, funny. Here Remy complains that Kimble gets treated different from everybody else. It's true, but not the way he thinks. If Kimble was a regular human, he would've been locked up a long time ago. Drugged up, whatever it took."

"Henry has tried to medicate him, nothing works. His body is too different."

"All the more reason to coop him up. He got away with his shit at the Mansion because he was kept outta the way of most people, now Remy's got him loose all over. Kimble shouldn't be around too many people. It's gonna be trouble. The kid can't handle it."

Karen's hands kneaded a bit harder. "Just let it go. There's nothing you can do about it now. Relax."

"I am relaxed," he replied, actually doing that. Her hands were working through his rage. He had nothing to be upset about really. If there was any trouble, the team would call in.

Karen said nothing more, she just let her hands do all the talking. She kneaded hard, tight muscles until they were loose and he was still and quiet. The cigar had been dropped into an ashtray and his head was low, his eyes closed, and a half smile on his lips. This could have been a lot worse, he knew. They had a good marriage, but it hadn't always been easy. Cursed with a whipcrack temper, he wasn't an easy person to live with. His 'my way or the highway' and uncompromising attitudes didn't make for a smooth ride. They'd had their share of fights, some of them loud and filled with harsh and bitter words, and he knew that they were in no small part his fault. Today, Karen had chosen to let things lie, to give in to his dominance and not argue as vigorously as she could have. No, she was working around his temper and soothing it away instead with her kind and gentle hands.

Gently now she raised his head and tipped it back for a kiss. He didn't fight her, just opened up and let her have her way. The kiss deepened and the scent of her arousal and desire to play drifted down on him, making him warm.

"The kids will be busy for a while," she whispered suggestively.

"Kids are curious," he replied, always uneasy about indulging when the kids were awake and running around.

She simply laughed at him and pulled him to his feet, dragging him to the bathroom and locking the door behind her. Quick hands began fumbling with too many layers of clothing, soft grunts in complaint. Like Remy, Logan tended to dress in layers. Probably to frustrate her, Karen reasoned. The man himself wasn't exactly co-operating, he was chuckling a low throaty growl in amusement as she attempted to strip him down. She gave up and simply yanked his jeans down to his knees, stooping down to take him in, her attention stopping that growl and turning it into something else.

"God, Karen..." he gasped in a throaty cry of shock and happiness. The animal lust in him surged, blocking out everything else. The tension in him was forgotten, blasted away from this, from her. Her hands slid up his belly, sliding through the dark, dense body hair that covered it up to his chest. He took that hand in one of his own, the other burying itself in her hair, encouraging her to continue. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back in surrender.

They hadn't been at it long when there came a soft voice from behind the locked door. Four year old Leslie, god bless her. "Daddy, what you doin'? Yer breathin' funny. Is Mommy in there with you?"

"Daddy's fine," he mumbled dreamily, feeling Karen quiver slightly around him as she laughed. "We'll be out in a minute, darlin'."

"I want juice."

Logan shuddered as Karen did not relent. She wasn't going to let him waver. He was so close now. "Ask Angel, pum'kin. She's big enough."

Soft mumble of agreement and her feet padded quietly away.

Wolverine relaxed, happy they were once more alone. Karen was still busy, intent on her goal and he considered himself blessed to have such a young wife. With all of the tensions around him, he sometimes forgot how nice it was to have her around. In spite of their tendency to argue, she was always eager for him, always seeming to know just what he needed. She had never lost her love for him. He shuddered and let go, feeling the release rock right through him, bleeding all of that tension right out of his body.

"Feel better?" Karen asked after a moment, already knowing the answer.

He pulled her up for a kiss, laying her against him. "Much."

"Good. No more grumpies."

"No more grumpies," he repeated, playing a private ritual game they had made between them. "What about you?" He could smell her arousal, sharp in his nose and reviving his own.

"Later. When the kids go to bed."

"M'kay."

His thick callused fingers began to restore his disheveled clothing to order. Karen kissed him briefly and left him to it, going out to look after the kids. He lingered, taking stock of the day's situation. He never should have allowed Kimble to fire him up so quickly, he was getting too tense. He had to be stronger than that. Maybe he needed more exercise. This new job had cut back in his time for working out. Time to adjust that.

He turned to the sink and glanced in the mirror, scowling when he caught a tiny glint of silver streaked through the dark black of his hair. When had that happened?

Two kids ago, came the soft reply from within. Old man.

"Cripes..." he muttered to himself and splashed water on his face. Being over a hundred years old took a lot out of a man, but why did it have to show? Not quite fair. He disliked anything that resembled weakness.

Like a quick loss of temper.

"I'm gonna have a beer and relax," he grumbled, trying to calm that nagging voice that had been in his head just a little too much lately. He would pretend that there was nothing usual going on, that his half brother wasn't ripped to shreds in a room only six doors down. That Kimble wasn't loose and prowling for his next fuck.

You just got off, look what it did for you. Imagine he could use the release himself...

Logan shook his head at that and decided simply to stop thinking about everything. Nothing was going to go wrong tonight. Nothing at all.