Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Naomi, Irbis and several innocent short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.

7. Confrontation

The fields were green and speckled with some light colours – flowers which hadn't yet opened their fragile heads to the blue and white sky. The air was cold because of the early hour; nevertheless, the temperature inside the car was warm enough.

He passed by Edgar, a town a couple of miles to his right. It wasn't much further, now. It had been some time since he'd last been in Wausau, where he had a house. It wasn't really his house: some rich would-be mafia guy had fixed the building just before meeting an early death, and Sabretooth had decided to keep it. After all, it isn't every day you're faced with the chance to get a house with an underground shooting room and escape route, not to mention a large garage, plenty of rooms, a quiet neighbourhood and good, thick wood coverage right in the backyard. But then again, it wasn't really his house because it was still under its previous owner's name. Not that it mattered, since he'd fixed it so that no one would come bother him.

As a matter of fact, not having the house under his name just made it a better and more precious place to keep: whenever he wanted some time out, he could come holidaying up here and no enemy of his would have a clue as to where he could be staying. The only drawback was that he really had to keep himself at his best behaviour when he was in town. And since he only came here when he wanted to get away from the hectic life of a super-villain, he never did any business contacts so as not to compromise the spot's secrecy. The closest thing he had to his own little spot in Paradise. The perfect thing would really be a nice comfortable cabin out in the woods and away from any annoying asshole around… Nevertheless, if you wanted to cut yourself off from the "real world" but not cut yourself off from the "modern world", then Wausau's suburban area was pretty close to Paradise, indeed.

There was only one thing that really ticked him off. Every darned lane, street, road or avenue this side of the river was named after some good for nothing flower or tree. It was roses, primroses, ivy… And his house had landed precisely on Lily Lane. It gave him goose-bumps just to think about it. Lily! No wonder he kept away for so long.

"Hey, kid! Rise an' shine an' all that. We're almost there."

She wasn't asleep, though, and opened her eyes just as they were passing the Marathon City area. Blinking, she bit down a yawn and discreetly stretched her muscles; then she stole a few glances at Sabretooth. In the end, though, she returned her head to its night position and stared at the many fields crossed by a little zigzagging river. Very soon, the trees overcame the fields, and amidst the trees glimpsed the water shining in the morning sun. Then the houses started to appear both to the right and to the left, and she could now see the large wetland area just a couple of miles from the road. Even as the houses grew in number and size, and as the town roads and streets shot around in straight lines, she still kept her eyes steadily locked on the shimmering water and the green enveloping it.

He hadn't been here for at least two years. Which meant the house hadn't been cleaned for over two years. Usually, he stopped by once or twice a year and that was long enough to force him to rent a room in a hotel for a day while a cleaning agency made the place inhabitable. Having been two years away, it would probably require two days of cleaning. Nevertheless he smiled. Finally, he didn't need to keep away anymore. He'd just brought home his own "cleaning agency". He knew she'd be useful the very first time he'd set eyes on her. Sometimes, he just loved his gut instincts.

There weren't many houses in the long lane, but they all looked big and stately, built in rows and with long empty gaps in-between. Sabretooth's house looked particularly lonely, embraced by dark trees instead of by green lanes and neighbouring houses. The house was sitting on the left, almost opposite a street that climbed a gentle hill filled with more empty house plots but which ended up as a towering forested hill.

Sabretooth parked the car in front of the garage and told the kid to get out. As she did, he caught her looking around carefully. He followed her gaze and saw what he usually didn't care about noticing: what should have been a lane looked like a jungle of huge green grasses. The grey, two-storey house looked like a big L, with the protruding leg being the garage, on the right side of the house. Judging by the light depreciative frown on the girl's face, she didn't like the place that much. Well, it wasn't exactly a pretty place, he admitted, but the grey two story main body was reasonably impressive, especially because of the thick patch of trees standing over it.

Having looked more closely at the house than he had in the last years, Sabretooth headed for the door, located right in the middle of the building, with two windows to the left and three to the right.

"Stop starin' 'round an' come in already!"

She obeyed quickly and joined Sabretooth in the rectangular hall. Although he didn't usually waste much time gawking at the house, he did have the habit of scrutinising everything inside it after a long absence. His eyes went over the two large wooden closets straight ahead of the front door, noting the dust that assured him no one had opened them in the last two years. A couple of chairs on the left end of the hall, with a tall ashtray between them, were connected by an old strong-looking cobweb. The first of the left side windows lit those hall chairs and a rectangular pot whose inhabitants had died a long, dry death and whose dusty earth tickled his nose disagreeably.

He left the hall by the only passage allowed – an arched passage to the right which gave entrance to a half-hall, half-corridor area, lit by the first of the right side windows. Stepping into the hall-corridor, Sabretooth examined the door on the left and the ensuing steps of the staircase, and he equally examined the small cupboard on the right wall, just before the double-door he had never used. It all stinked of dusty cobwebs shimmering lightly under the morning light, filtered by the filthy wind panes. It wasn't a long examination, though, and the girl who was following behind him probably didn't even notice his analysing gaze.

The girl walked behind him up the corridor and into a grand living-room. Sabretooth quickly studied the three windows, the sofa and the armchairs surrounding the coffee-table and facing the huge flat TV screen over the fireplace, the piano, the dead plants. Then he glanced to the left, noting the cobweb that separated the living-room from the divisions to that side of the house, a library-study and two sitting-rooms, and he turned to the right, going into an even grander kitchen. As he did, though, he looked backwards in time to see the girl moving uncertainly towards the piano. She turned her head around, mouth slightly open, probably at the complete abandonment that the rich room evidenced.

"Ready ta see the kitchen?" Sabretooth grinned, suddenly good humoured.

She looked at him and blinked before following him through the arched passage into the kitchen. It was divided in half by a U-shaped counter in whose middle rested a large kitchen table, although without chairs. Sabretooth noticed she held her breath as she dared into the room, her eyes taking everything in: the two windows opening onto the counter; the wall on the right fully covered by a large wood cupboard with a microwave and a wood oven, interrupted only for the presence of a door. She passed over the last arm of the U-counter and found herself facing two windows, with a bay-window to her right and a square corridor to her left, which enclosed three doors. She went over to the window, going past a large round table which stood in the middle of that kitchen area, and noticed the dead mass of dried plants in several pots which cluttered that side of the wall.

Although her awe amused him, he didn't intend to spend much time with it.

"Ya may wanna check what's up with these doors over here." The ones that would be the most important for her new functions.

She obediently walked back to the doors. She opened the door in front of her and almost entered the garage, but Sabretooth pulled her back to the kitchen and closed the door with a bang.

"I wasn't talkin' 'bout that door. Here, check this one."

And he promptly opened the left door for her and pushed her inside. She looked at the washing-machine and the tumble drier, lined up on the right wall and followed by a large wooden closet. Then she looked at the counter on the left wall, lit by the only window in the room. She finally looked at the blonde man with a puzzled expression.

"It's the laundry room," he stated emphatically.

She looked at the place again before turning to him still puzzled, but also a bit suspicious. He got out of her way and motioned for the third door, opposite the laundry room. She entered the place, while Sabretooth switched on the light. He was quick to enlighten her as to the function of the long room, filled by several shelves of different sizes and heights on both sides.

"It's the pantry."

She quietly left the place and returned to the kitchen. She went to the bay window, making sure to keep the big round table between her and Sabretooth. He grinned at her cautiousness and held his ground near the three doors.

"You don't kill me. Why?"

"It sure took ya time ta ask me that!" His grin grew wider, showing his fangs. "See, I saved yer life. That ain't somethin' I usually do, I usually kills folks 'stead o' savin' 'em. And I'm usually paid fer doin' it. And since I saved ya, I figure I gotta get some payment o' sorts. Ya followin'?"

She narrowed her brown eyes somewhat, but didn't say anything.

"So, I saved yer life, and ya get ta clean this place in exchange. Seems a fair deal ta me."

She kept her gaze on him, and her narrowed eyes looked both uncertain and adamant.

"Save my life?"

"Look, ya moron, ye're alive 'cause o' me, right?" Her expression seemed etched in stone as she nodded slowly, suspiciously. "So now, ya gonna clean the place."

"You save me... to clean your house?" Her voice was both soft and rigid, suspiciousness flaring in her eyes.

"No, I…" Stiffling a growl, he massaged his forehead. "Look, I didn't kill you because you, seemed, useful. Got it? Smart, useful." And added under his breath, "apparently worth delayin' yer death."

"Useful," she mouthed the word, still suspicious. She looked at him so intently she might as well be trying to see into his soul. After a short moment, her expression still suspiciously guarded, she nodded slightly, a loaded intonation sipping in. "Ok, I clean."

"Yes!" And Sabretooth was ready to sing Alelluiah. "'S about time ya got it. Now, I wanna be sleepin' in the house tonight, so ya better start by my room upstairs. Come on, I'll show it ta ya."

She followed him very quietly, up the stairs and through the door dead ahead after the last steps. Sabretooth's room was the largest in the house, the biggest king-sized-bed in the market set imposingly against the wall opposite the door and surrounded by a bedside table and a bedside mat on each side. To its right there were two windows, and to its left there was an impressive wooden chest of drawers with a matching mirror, followed by four mirror panes, which were obviously a closet's sliding doors. Everything looked as covered in dust and cobwebs as the rooms on the ground floor. When she walked further into the bedroom, Sabretooth opened another door, next to one of the windows, and grinned at how her eyes widened at the image of the enormous bath tub which occupied more than half the bathroom. There was also a toilet facing a washbasin next to the door, and a window opened on to the bath, lighting the dirt which covered the white and blue tiled surfaces.

"Well, then, this is what ya have ta clean. I expect ta have it all fixed by dinner time, so ya better get down ta workin'."

She looked at him in mild surprise.

"Any doubts?" He asked in a mock worried tone.

She was again silent for a few seconds before speaking, frowning at the bathroom and bedroom, her eyes wandering about a bit frantically.

"I…" The girl swallowed down hesitantly, but then bit her lower lip with determination. "I need clodes."

"What for? Ya look dressed enough."

"I need clodes." She insisted. "You want… I ave to clean dis room, n'é? Pronto. I need sings… to de cleaning."

He growled, annoyed. The girl had a point: she'd need cleaning stuff and since he wasn't about to go shopping those things for her, she'd need clothes to go out by herself.

"Fine." He grunted. "Ya check around what cleanin' stuff ya need ta buy while I get ya some clothes, and then ya can go shoppin' fer them things. But ya just keep in mind that ya'd better have this whole room cleaned by dinner time, got it?"

She nodded her understanding – although he wasn't sure she meant it – and he grunted again.

"What's yar size?"

"Size?"

"Yeah, size. What's yar clothes' size?"

"Ah… It's tirty-four or sirty-six. It depends off de models. Shoes are sirty-seven or sirty-eight."

He cocked an eyebrow. Oh, goody: she only knew the European sizes. This was going to be great.

"Right. Tell ya what, I'll get ya anythin' that has an S on it an' ya can look fer shoes yarself later on."

Having given his take on the matter, Sabretooth strolled down the stairs, yelling a "ya better get ta workin' while ya're waitin' fer me ta come back". He hadn't yet got a full idea of what the girl was really like, but from what he'd seen so far he expected her to be the no-nonsense kind of girl. He got in the car, reminding himself he still needed to get rid of it and sped off.

Sabretooth returned half an hour later with a track suit, a couple slippers in different sizes and some hamburgers and drinks. The girl was upstairs, getting ready to bring down curtains, bed sheets and covers, towels and an assortment of his own everyday clothes. There was something odd about her gaze when he told her to come down and get a bite. It was fiercely determined, her movements a tad dawdling. Her eyes trailed his presence thoughtfully, although he wasn't sure what she might be trying to assess. It was the same gaze she spared the burgers, before sitting down in the dining area of the kitchen, picking one of the sandwiches up and dully eating it.

He didn't like her detachment and watched her intently as she ate. Had there been any signs of aggressiveness in her figure or any innuendo of plotting, Sabretooth would surely have regretted not killing her; but there was only that detached thoughtfulness and determined posture. Once she finished the first burger, she glanced at the second and couldn't help a slight twitch of distaste. Instead of picking it up, she rubbed her hands lightly and gazed straight at him.

"I clean," she stated. "I'm not your toy."

Sabretooth growled. "Ya're whatever I says ya are. I saved yer worthless life, girl; ya belong t'me now."

She blinked once, neither frown nor mouth evidencing shock or revulsion. "I'm sorry, I don't have certain I understand exactly what you want to say..."

Had the girl been indignant and sputtered an offended 'no', had she defiantly opposed him, Sabretooth would have taught her immediately that whatever rights she might imagine to possess meant nothing. But her frankly determined gaze failed to aggravate him because it bore no shadow of defiance, even if it promised to be as strong as a wall of rock. Nevertheless, Sabretooth leaned forward, to impress his words deeply into her mind.

"You are mine. Ya do everything I tells ya to, when I tells ya to do it. Makes no nevermind what ya wanna do... You ain't got no 'I want' anymore. D'ya understand now?"

"Yes, I understand."

There was no opposition, no aversion in either her eyes or on her expression. Anyone in his proper mind would have at least a moment of rebellion at being stolen of freedom of action, which would allow for the teaching of the most precious lesson required: a good beating to rid the person of stupid notions of individual rights.

Instead, she asked him if he wanted the other burger, because she didn't want it.

"Sav'it fer later, then," he grumbled, feeling awkward over the girl's apparent submission, which didn't look like submission at all.

She nodded and got up. Her movements were no longer thoughtfully listless, and it was with efficient swiftness that she put the burger in the empty fridge and walked over to the cooking area of the kitchen to put the burger box and the napkin in the rubbish bin. There was no edge or hurry in her movements, but he was still feeling uneasy. And then he heard the silverware drawer being opened.

Jumping off the chair, Sabretooth lunged at the girl, ready to teach her how stupid her attempt at attacking him was. Instead, he saw her holding a meat knife to her own neck.

"Stop!"

He froze at the same time she issued the command, though more from surprise. It wore off quickly enough, though, and he growled at her, clearly showing his fangs and claws. For the first time since he'd got back with the clothes and food, she was taken aback and hesitated. Nevertheless, she kept her left hand holding the back of her head and pressed the meat knife harder against her slim neck.

"I don't belong to you," she said quietly. "I don't belong to no one."

Eyes shining bright with resolve, she set her jaws determinedly.

"I'm sorry I don't clean your house first," she stated softly as her hold on the knife handle stiffened, signalling she was ready to slit her own throat. At the same instant, he made his move. Sabretooth jumped and nearly flew over the kitchen table, effectively disarming her and knocking her down. She only had time to let out a low yelp, and his hands were on her neck, covering the shallow wound she had still had time to inflict upon herself.

She opened her eyes and breathed in with some difficulty, the big hand holding her neck tightly. Sabretooth was amazed that he couldn't smell any fear coming from her, even if her heart was beating away at a crazed speed. People who aren't afraid of dying, he thought, are immune to death threats, but they aren't necessarily immune to the idea of pain.

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear. So let's start from the beginnin': first off, nobody tells me what ta do, got it? Nobody. That means, YOU do not tell ME what to do. Am I bein' clear now?"

He looked straight into her eyes before continuing.

"An' if I told ya belong t'me, then ya belong t'me and ya do everything I tells ya to. And as fer dyin', ya'll die when I decide t'kill ya. Not before, not after; only when I decide. And ya know why? 'Cause ya're mine. Are we clear on that?"

Her heart rhythm died away into a calm throbbing, and her eyes glazed over with that same dead-like quality he'd seen before. He swore to himself. She was letting herself slip into a passive defeated poise, when he wanted her to get scared, to understand her only way out was to obey everything she was told.

"Oh, no ya don't. Snap out of it!" Sabretooth slapped her hard, breaking her lip, and forced her glance back at him. "Ya better start behavin', lil' girl."

"You watch me all de seconds?" His eyes narrowed and she continued, her voice a mere whisper which his growling threatened to overcome. "I don't tell you what to do, Mister Creed. I tell you what I do. And I kill me. You can urt me… you can... Don't make difference. I kill me. In de moment you leave me alone, I kill me."

He growled and pressed her neck harder. She held her breath for a moment but didn't whimper.

"You will do what I tell ya ta do, an' nothin' else."

A tear trickled down her cheek, but there was still no fear, no despair in her eyes, just a pained, stubborn emptiness.

He noticed the blood trickling down his own fingers. He let go of her neck and checked the wound. She had just missed the jugular. She remained down, her every muscle as relaxed as if she was taking a carefree nap. Her eyes were looking aimlessly at the ceiling. He decided to take a different approach.

"Ya see this?"

He noticed her eyes focusing on his thumb, tears drying slowly on her face, and only then did he unsheathe his claw.

"Ya think ya wanna die? I can make ya really wanna die. I can hurt ya so bad, ya'll do anythin'… just anythin' ta make it stop."

He slowly brought his claw to her cheek. Her eyes, having lost their original target, focused on what was straight ahead of them: the man's amber eyes, which were already locked on hers. He slowly pressed the natural blade against her soft skin and slid it down a couple of inches, leaving behind a thin bloody trail. Her breathing continued as even as before. He cupped her face in his big hand, pressing just the tip of his other four claws on the other cheek.

"Or ya can fix it so it won't hurt. How's it gonna be? Are ya gonna be a good lil' girl? Or do ya want me ta hurt ya inta doin' what I tells ya?"

Her eyes gazed emptily at his, blinking peacefully. That was not the response he was after. Then he noticed her muscles working and waited for her hand to come up to his own, expecting her to grab it and push it away. He saw the moister come up again and a new tear started forming as her small hand looked for the tip of his fingers. He didn't move as she pressed his hand down, making his claws enter her flesh. He felt her shudder and her heartbeat raised slightly as she tried to pull his hand down, leaving four not so thin trails. His own heartbeat was rising, now, and he grabbed her hand and pinned it down on the tiled floor. He closed his eyes and licked the blood on her face, delighting himself in its bitter sweetness and in the salty taste her tears had given her tender skin. But even as he did, he felt the small body under his going limp. He gazed into her eyes, but they were looking past him, as if he weren't blocking their view of the ceiling. Another tear was lazily sliding down her right cheek.

He grunted, frustrated. Aside her body's warmth and softness, she wasn't much better than a corpse. Her scent had no fear, no excitement, no emotion. And yet he couldn't deny some sort of allure in her immunity to the threat he represented. Sabretooth felt the urge to shake her, hit her, hurt her; anything that would make her react. It was unnatural: both her wish to die and this complete lack of reaction. His breathing had gone ragged without him noticing, but now he struggled to control both breathing and instincts.

She wanted to die, he remembered himself; she wanted to be hurt and to die. He forced himself to think the best approach to this… this problematic kid. Fine. He'd just have to make sure that she would neither die nor get hurt. He let go of her hand, which he had still been pinning down, and pressed his closed fist against the cool tile. He was going to hold his temper; he was going to control himself. He gazed at her abandoned expression. She didn't want to live? Then he was going to make her want to live! Yes, that was it: he'd make her enjoy life again. He smiled eagerly in anticipation. Because when she started enjoying life again, she wouldn't think of dying; she would do anything to escape pain and death. Oh, yeah. His breathing became ragged again as his imagination played a not too far off future. She'd fight first, he was sure – she had enough hot blood to fight him. Yes, she'd fight, and then she'd beg. And he'd have his well-deserved fun. He licked his lips, parted in a predatory grin.

He willed his imagination back to the present and to the limp body under him. The only question was how to make her want to live. His grin became wider as he realized the challenge that awaited him. This was going to be fun…

Thank you for reading and reviewing.

Excerpt from chapter 8:

He could just kill her. That'd be the end of all trouble. He could. But he'd be damned if he was going to! He had already decided she'd clean the place first, and he'd find a way to have his will done. One way or the other.