X-Men-First Class: Rise or Fall
Chapter One Hundred Nine
Author's Word: So life pulled a major stressful 180 on me. How do I respond to this? Let's see. Drugs, tobacco, alcoholic beverages… nah. Writing it is. Please enjoy and review!
Sunrise penetrating through his partially open blinds, the brown eyes awoke to absorb and adjust to the intense light. It still constantly amazed him what the "new gig" had to offer. His last bedroom, built by his own hands, had been a basic ten by nine square feet that contained nothing more than a bed and dresser. Though admittedly, he tended to spend more time in his barn loft, anyway.
Now, his current quarters had enough space to keep a double bed, a pair of dressers in addition to the closet, a big desk, and random chairs and small tables. Yet up above he still enjoyed his own away space, though lately the new loft had become more of a man cave. Not that he particularly minded that arrangement.
Shifting to the opposite side of the bed, Victor's face met with a teeny foot. On closer investigation, he saw that the little appendage belonged to his nephew. One arm dangling off the side of the mattress, the child laid with his head down on the edge and his right thumb crammed into his mouth.
Ever carefully, Victor gathered him up and placed the boy over his chest. Not stirred for a moment, Cody instinctively nestled into the blonde fur covered spot. Covering them both up with the blanket, Victor delicately removed the thumb out of his mouth. He knew if the boy's father had seen it, even as an unconscious act, Cody would have definitely received a firm smack on the suckling hand.
IIIIIII
Undisturbed by the tickle to his nose, he immediately recognized it as his wife's long lush hair. Running fingers through the ebony strands, Logan felt her move over him a little and her eyes greeted him. Normally so filled with a combination of wisdom, mystery, and intrigue something about the brown orbs delighted him first thing in the morning. Probably the innocence they carried before memories and daily duty hit them so hard.
"Thought you'd be flingin' waffles right about now."
"There's no school today, remember? Let them have their precious tooth-rotting cereal." Kayla snuggled closer, if possible, against him. "I'm cold."
"Let me help." He rearranged their positions so that his body lay on top of hers now.
At the reminder that neither had a need to go awaken their offspring for school and that he certainly would not be barreling in any time soon, Logan seemed to fully awaken with a great zest.
Having gone to bed in only a pair of sleep pants, he quickly got them down before slipping in under her night dress. Still a bit drowsy, Kayla enjoyed his pulsing against her while she simply got to lay there and give him access to her neck for kisses and occasional nips.
Sometime later, though he had completely lost track as to just how much later, he looked down to see that his wife had peacefully returned to sleep. He lowered down to cover and gently kiss her exotic features some more then found the will to detach himself from her.
"I love you," he left in her ear before he headed for their private bath.
After a brief shower, he dressed in sweat pants and a black t-shirt. Socks and running shoes on, he left the suite and went to the bedroom nearest to it. Finding the bed bare yet, of course, unmade he decided to let his nose lead him around. It came as no surprise when the child's scent proved heaviest outside Victor's door. Logan looked in and discovered his son, completely zonked out, but not the room's actual owner.
IIIIIII
Though he caught the scent immediately, Victor still had to make sufficient use of his ears to hone in on the footsteps and figure out which half of the Howlett couple approached. With such an "active" married pair, they often smelled like one and the same.
"Hey, big brother." Newspaper in hand, Logan took a seat on a stool at the kitchen island to scan through it.
Victor returned, "Mornin', runt." He got out a mug and poured the coffee for him the same way as ever; black with two heavy lumps of sugar. "It's a ghost town around here. What're the kids out for again?"
Logan shrugged. "Schools in the states, it's probably something like Scratch-Your-Ass Day." He took a long sip of coffee, eyes still attached to the article.
"I wouldn't put it past 'em." Victor prepared their fried egg sandwiches and gave Logan his plate.
When they finished eating, Logan rinsed out the plates and mugs. He often wondered why exactly most of the house's residents would turn to the dishwasher for something as basic as cleaning off a used fork. Though he knew he couldn't rib at them too much. Charles Xavier especially proved the least spoiled behaved of anyone in that class status Logan had ever met, not to mention the best natured. Erik Lehnsherr had his moments, too, but Logan more liked the money-making-hustler vibe he got from the metal wielder that reminded him of Victor.
Down in the gym, neither Erik or Alex could be found. That had to be the strangest of all since the WU freshman did not have school, either, and would normally be pumping any iron he could get his hands on with the downtime.
Logan put forth, "Ever feel like the last bub on the planet?"
"Yep," Victor replied, starting warm-ups with a series of one-armed pushups.
XXXXX
Night air frigid and sky dark with clouds, the transient moved along on all-fours in frantically desperate strides across the land. The lace scarf tied around his neck acted as map and compass alike with his overstocked satchel weighing him down. However after what had just taken place, what he had wanted to do for so many years, he felt nothing but renewed strength.
Several hours later, having not stopped for so much as a drop of water, the young body proved sufficiently worn as he dropped to the ground. Any chance of movement proved futile, his face buried in the dirt under him.
After a few minutes, his ears picked up on a wagon stopping. A cloaked figure came up on him, but he could do nothing as his consciousness faded.
X
The first thing he saw when his eyes opened again were large flames and he knew right away where he had to have been sent. However, the warmth surrounding him quickly debunked that theory. Sitting up a bit, he found himself on the couch inside some sort of parlor. The flames crackled from the nearby stone fireplace. From the pair of windows, daylight seeped in.
"Good morning, friend."
All senses firing up at once, Victor glanced around until his eyes fell on an older man of medium height. "Who are you?"
"Pastor Cret Pelletier," he introduced himself, coming around. "You were found late last night in near deadly exhaustion."
"You… you helped me?"
"I was not the one who happened upon you," he explained. "My daughter was returning from delivering a dress order to one of the farms. She was later than expected so only by mere grace did she run into you."
"Your daughter?" He became further confused.
"Ah," a bright faced redhead entered, standing just a foot away from the couch, "you're awake. How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," Victor told her. "I… th-thank you."
"It's only a relief that you're alright," she assured. "What is your name?"
As if having to think a moment, he answered, "Victor… Creed. Who're you?"
She replied with a smile, "Abigail."
X
After a lengthy scrub in the bathtub they kept in a small upstairs room, Victor started to towel off then paused at the sight of his hands. Though it had all been sufficiently washed away, most of it gone during the previous night, he still saw it and the image replayed over and over in his mind. The blood, the smell that had not left his nostrils for hours, the overwhelming silence that rang out all while he made his escape.
At the knock that sounded, he turned to the door with a demand of, "What?"
"I'm sorry to disturb you," came the timid reply, "but I forgot to put these out for you."
"Abigail…" Immediately feeling guilt racked, he hastened to open the door.
Realization hit very had and he tightened the towel tighter around his waist.
The young woman's eyes jumped and a clear 'oh my' expression covered her face. "Um… here. Here you are." She handed over the clothes.
"Thank you," he said for the second time that day, hiding most of his body behind the door as best he could.
"Breakfast is on the table. We'll wait for you." She started to go.
"Miss Pelletier," Victor called after her.
She quickly looked back in urgency. "Yes?"
"Why did ya do it?" he wanted to know. "Why'd ya stop last night?"
"I had to," she reasoned strongly.
Victor glanced down as he told her, "You shouldn't have," and shut the door back.
Abigail stared after it a moment before continuing back downstairs.
Victor soon joined them in the small kitchen, dressed in the blue shirt and suspender pants he'd been offered.
"Ah, much better," the Pastor said positively. "I see you found your boots, too." Victor nodded. "Well, don't be so bashful. I'm sure you're famished."
The young man awkwardly lowered into a seat at the circular table then remembered something. "My scarf…. Where is it?"
Abigail looked up from preparing a plate for him. "I left it with your bag. I was going to launder it for you."
"No," he said immediately, surprising his hosts. "I… I need it the way it is. It's… it smells like my mother."
Abigail asked, "Are you trying to find her?"
"She's not far from here, I know it. I can't explain how, I just do."
"What's her name?" Cret asked.
"Elizabeth."
Abigail quickly had an idea and turned to her father. "You don't suppose he means the Widow Howlett?"
"She's the only Elizabeth I know who would be the right age," Cret looked thoughtful himself, "but how could she possibly have another son?"
Victor immediately picked up on the last two words he used. "Another son?"
An uncomfortable air seemed to fill the room all at once until Abigail finally told him, "A little boy. Logan."
The tall young man appeared to rapidly decrease in height at the unexpected news.
Cret then proposed, "Let us say grace."
X
Fingers tracing the intricate pattern of the scarf, Victor remained frozen in place for the most part, trying to take in his surroundings if nothing else. Robin Plains; he had yet to spot the designated bird that justified the name, but the town itself seemed a little bigger than where he'd fled from. A few people passed by on horse and carriage but none really took the time to gawk at him. Victor knew his long loose blonde locks made him stand out somewhat since most working men would not dare keep their hair at such a length, but he cared not. Not that he knew exactly what he did care about, anyway.
Abigail stepped out with a shawl draped around her shoulders.
She studied her pondering guest a moment then spoke up. "Do you mind?" At the shake of his head, she sat by him on the porch steps. "I must not have been two or three when Elizabeth first arrived here. I remember my mother describing her as this terrified prey, constantly looking over her shoulder. John Howlett changed everything for her. They married, had little Logan, but it always seemed a part of her could not be satisfied."
Victor kept his gaze ahead as he listened. "What happened to him? Her husband I mean."
"The plague," she answered. "It took him this past spring."
"The boy… Logan," Victor spoke the name for the first time since he'd learned of it. "How is he?"
Abigail encouraged, "You could find out for yourself."
Victor turned that down with, "I ain't… It's not my place. I don't even know why I bothered." He scoffed lightly. "I don't know why I bother suckin' in air."
"Victor, I know it seems like no one in the world cares," she urged. "And as far as this world goes, it's sick how likely that is. But there is someone else who will never stop caring. He gave His life for you on the cross."
He turned to look at her, clearly unimpressed by the words. "Your preacher daddy tell ya that?"
She said, "As hard as this may be for you to believe, a minister's child does not have some kind of advantage. In fact, we usually have to look a little harder."
Victor thought a moment then said, "I owe you something for helpin' me, Miss Pelletier."
"If you really wish to repay me, continue with what you came here for."
Taking that in, Victor got to his feet. "How do I get to her?"
A now delighted Abigail stood with him. "I'll loan you a horse from our team, but I have two requests of you."
He looked at her again. "What?"
"Regardless of what happens, don't be so quick to leave here."
Surprised at first, he gave off a nod. "And what else?"
She smiled at him. "Call me Gail."
Victor's features lightened. "Anything you say."
X
Broom brushing back and forth to rid her walk of the excess leaves, the woman gazed up at the distinct trotting coming upon her property. Most certainly not expecting company, she stood by and tried to make out the face of the one on top of the approaching light brown nag.
Close enough, he made the horse come to a halt and climbed down.
Suddenly limp hands made the broom fall from her possession.
The visitor remained firmly in place at her eyes locking in on him and her face brightening like the rising sun.
He tried to think of something to say, but she beat him to it.
"Victor!" She nearly fell over her skirts as she flew down the stairs and jumped to throw arms around him. "Oh my son! My son!"
Completely astonished yet careful not to drop her in his surprise, Victor clutched her in turn, memories of the embrace returning to him all at once.
X
"I can't believe how handsome you are," Elizabeth marveled, buzzing around the kitchen, "but you're so thin. Oh, let me get you some of these fresh grapes. They'll probably be the last of the season."
Victor currently worked on the biscuits with butter and jam, the piping hot soup, and assortment of vegetables. "This is more than I need already, really."
She grabbed the tea kettle to freshen up his cup. "Do you still like green grapes the best?"
"My favorites," he told her.
"I remember how fast you gobbled them up, sometimes before we even made it home." New tears came to her eyes and she had to place the kettle on the table before she dropped it entirely along with herself as she lowered to hug him again.
"What's wrong?" Victor asked in alarm.
"I feel like I'm dreaming. You're alive," she pulled back, taking his face in her hands. "You're here. I prayed every night after I left you at that church. I knew he'd never stop so long as I had you with me. I don't know how he found you. I… baby, I am so sorry." She began to weep.
Victor took her wrists and said straight to her face, "It's not your fault. You don't need to explain it. He drove ya to it, I know it."
Her blue eyes filled with worry. "What if he comes? What if he tries to take you?"
"He ain't comin' after either one of us again," Victor promised. He then lifted his satchel and dumped the money and other small valuables he had within. "I took all this with me."
Elizabeth examined a gold watch and uttered, "Victor…"
"This'll get us by," he went on. "And I'll find a job. I'll do about anything. We'll be just fine, Mama."
She reached out to stroke at his long hair. "Oh honey." She then gasped as a black and white ball of fur landed in her son's lap, startling him a moment. "That's your brother's cat. Pickle Toe."
"Pickle Toe?" Victor echoed in disbelief.
Elizabeth gave him a look that plainly read 'don't ask me'.
X
Using the long stick in his hand, the small-for-his-age boy whacked at anything he remotely came in contact with, mainly bushes and rocks. When he got close to his property, he started to take a leap into a massive mud puddle.
"Not in your school clothes," Elizabeth requested, stepping out of the house.
With an annoyed grunt in his throat, Logan started up the steps instead. "Hi, Ma. What's for supper?"
"Logan," Elizabeth stopped him before he could enter the house fully. "We need to talk."
He let off a sigh, having heard enough adult chat in school. "'Bout what?"
"…Victor is here."
This definitely captured his full attention. "Victor? Ya mean your…"
"Yes," she confirmed. "He arrived after you left for school this morning. He was helped by the Reverend and Abigail."
"Oh." Logan thought up something to say. "So's he stayin' here now or what?"
Elizabeth replied honestly, "I hope so. Is that alright with you?"
He shrugged. "Don't care." He looked around. "Where is he, anyway?"
"Asleep on the sofa. I have to run to the market, but we'll all talk at supper. He had a hard night, so be as quiet as you can."
"Yes, Ma." Logan entered the house while she headed away and promptly deposited his books and coat on the floor right next to the rack. A meow sounded and he felt a nuzzling at his ankles. "Hiya, Picks." He picked up his cat to hug before the creature wanted down again.
Going into the living room, his eyes fell straight on the one sleeping soundly, legs so long they dangled right off one arm. Coming in closer, Logan sized him up a bit better and decided him to be too tall. Sniffing, he next tried to absorb his scent and found something very familiar about it. He then touched his hair; like Elizabeth's except hers had traces of red in it under the sun. But what about his eyes?
Deciding to find out for himself, Logan climbed right up onto the slumbering one's stomach. He reached for his eyes, which shot open before he even neared them, making the boy's heart jump. For several seconds, they stayed in stone position and silence.
Then Victor grimaced and jerked with an order of, "Get off me, ya little runt."
"Ah!" Logan cried out when he hit the floor.
"Hm, serves ya right." Victor sat up, peering down at him. "Don't ya know not to go crawlin' around on strangers?"
"I ain't a runt," Logan glared up at him. "And you ain't a stranger. I know exactly who you are."
Victor joined him on the floor. "Oh yeah?"
Logan crossed his arms. "Yeah!" He then backed up a bit when Victor hovered over him now, sniffing.
Unsure as to why the act did not put him off, Logan proved more surprised by the fact that someone else did it. Stranger yet, he then picked up on a rumbling in Victor's chest that sounded exactly like purring.
"Know somethin'?" Victor pulled back.
Logan gazed up. "What?"
Victor smirked. "You smell like a runt, too." He received a pair of narrowed blue eyes for that.
X
After dinner ended, Elizabeth found Victor examining the spines of the plethora of books contained on the shelves of the modest library area they had.
"I changed the sheets in your room," she told him. Victor glanced back. "These were all John's."
"Is it alright if I look at a couple?"
"Oh of course," she granted with a smile. "Anything we have is yours to enjoy, too."
He looked at her closely. "Thank you, Ma."
Later that evening, a couple books grew into a stack very quickly. Victor sat up in his new bed, lighted by the kerosene lamp on his stand.
From the ajar door, Logan poked his head in. "You some kinda bookworm or something?"
Victor glanced over at him. "You got a problem with that?"
Logan stepped in fully. "I just don't see the big deal over a bunch of dumb marks on paper."
"Those dumb marks take you away. To anywhere you want to go."
"It's not the same as real life."
"You're right," Victor agreed. "It's better. You can read, can't ya?"
Logan put his fists to his hips. "I ain't that stupid."
"Then come look at this," Victor invited.
Joining him on the bed, Logan looked at the text. "We read part of this in school. What nut names their kid Huckleberry?"
Victor suggested, "Maybe we should ask Pickle Toe."
X
With a certain degree of hesitation, Victor walked into the bar and spotted the tender behind the counter cleaning up.
He walked up and said uncertainly, "You got a 'help wanted' sign in your window."
The man said, "You'll want to talk to the boss." He indicated the backroom with his thumb. "Good luck getting your foot in with Nate Crane."
Shoulders as set as possible, Victor headed for the back. There a man with dark hair, graying at the temples, sat at a small table murmuring to himself as he attempted to count coins.
"Excuse me," Victor addressed. "Mr. Crane, I'm—"
"Don't care," the man cut in, writing as he spoke.
"I came to see about the job."
"Then pipe down and wait. Can't you see I'm busy?" He groaned in frustration and scratched something out on the paper.
Withholding a sigh, Victor leaned against the nearest wall then spoke after another minute. "Mr. Crane, you—"
"Dammit, boy, I said I'm busy," the owner snapped, whipping his head back. "In my day, we had a little respect for grown folk. Now either pipe down or hit the door."
"Alright." Victor shrugged casually. "Just thought you'd like to know you're cheatin' yourself."
Nate wiggled his spectacles and glanced back at his paper. "What're you talkin' about?"
"You added wrong in two different places," Victor informed.
Nate looked back at him, as if trying to burrow clear through the boy's soul. "You know about figuring?"
Victor nodded. "Got it out of a book. I can write, too."
Nate got to his feet. "How much schooling have you had?"
"None," Victor replied. "I taught myself. Didn't have much better to do."
That visibly took the man aback. "Reading, writing, and figuring…" He frowned. "Ah, but you're nothing but a boy. You're probably out to pilfer my stock."
"I don't drink," Victor informed strongly.
"You expect me to believe that?" Nate crossed his arms. "Looking for a work in a bar and you don't even like the stuff?"
Victor explained, "My old man always drank before he threw me around. Trust me. I want nothin' you got around here."
"Hm… fine," Nate decided. "I'll try you out. You can help Levi out front and keep the books." He then tacked on forcefully, "But I'll be watching you."
"Fine by me." He extended a hand. "And the name's Victor Creed."
Giving him a brief shake, Nate said, "And keep that sissy hair out your face."
X
"Victor."
Turning away from where he stood outside the schoolhouse, he saw her walk up. "Gail."
"How are you?" she smiled. "How is everything?"
He told her excitedly, "I got a job. Over at Crane's bar."
"Nate Crane?" She advised, "Go with God."
Victor smiled softly at her. "I think I will."
They both looked over as the swarm of children departed from the school.
"I need to get over to the dress shop. Stop by, though. It's always good to see you."
"You, too," Victor returned then watched her walk off.
Gail glanced over her shoulder at him as she went.
Victor groaned when new weight latched onto his back. "Hello to you, too, runt."
"Not a runt." Logan jumped down. "What were you talkin' to Miss Abigail for?"
Victor ruffled his hair vigorously. "Never you mind. How was school?"
Logan dipped away from his hand. "Stupid."
"Glad it's gettin' better." He gave Logan a look as he shoved his books at him. "Do I look like your beau?"
Logan replied cheekily, "Ya look like Miss Abigail's beau."
"Ah, cut it out," Victor waved off, hiding a smile.
That night, Elizabeth prepared fried chicken with mashed potatoes and peas for their dinner.
"It started out in France," Logan sat on his knees in his chair, speaking grandly, "these pictures are big as all giddy out and they move so quick. It's like a train's comin' right at you so fast that it makes you jump outta the way before it hits ya."
Victor rolled his eyes. "You have to be pretty dumb to get scared by somethin' that fake. That moving picture stuff is a bunch of garbage."
Logan looked at him. "Sure sounds a lot better than your crummy books. If I had my way, I'd forget school and go to work like you."
Victor noticed Elizabeth's apprehension. "What's the matter, Ma?"
She said, "I just don't like the idea of you coming home at night from a bar. Someone could try to rob you."
"Trust me," he assured. "They've got more to worry about from me. Besides, we need the money."
"On to something pleasant." Elizabeth turned to Logan. "I was picking up your books off the floor, again, and I saw your French test." Logan glanced up from feeding Pickle Toe another piece of chicken. "An A plus." Elizabeth smiled.
"Really?" Victor looked greatly impressed. "Why didn't you say somethin'?"
Logan shrugged. "Who cares? It was easy. We even got French kids in class."
Elizabeth said, "Regardless, I'm very proud and I know your father—"
Logan interjected, "Victor's sweet on the preacher's daughter."
Victor choked on his milk a bit.
Elizabeth flashed a smile at him and stated, "Abigail is certainly a lovely girl. You two are about the same age I believe."
Victor shot Logan a look that only made the boy smirk impishly.
X
When the class dismissed for lunch, a blonde pigtailed girl trailed after Logan, who had gone over to a bench to eat.
"Hi, Logan," she smiled warmly. "I baked cookies with my mother last night and she let me bring a bunch to school. Want a couple?"
"If you got 'em," he responded with an air of indifference. "Thanks, Bea."
"You're welcome." She took a seat beside him. "Want to shoot marbles after this?"
"Okay." Logan fished around inside his pocket. "I've got three steelies now." He held one out to her. "Here… if ya want it."
Bea grabbed it up with both hands. "Oh thank you, Logan."
"Keep your mitts off my sister," an older boy ordered, walking up.
Bea sighed in annoyance. "Oh go away, Robbie."
"Yeah, go away, Robbie," Logan parroted.
"Who's gonna make me?" the taller boy challenged.
"You better cut it out," Bea warned. "You know Logan's brother is bigger than you are."
Robbie scoffed. "That's not his real brother."
Logan's face darkened and he jumped to his feet. "Yes he is."
"He doesn't even have the same last name as you," Robbie argued. "And everybody knows why, too. 'Cause your ma was a big—" Logan's fist to his face sent him down.
Bea shrieked but not for her brother's sake. "Logan, you're hurt."
Turning to his punching fist, Logan panicked when the three bony claws poked out. "It's okay… it's…" He did not bother to say more as he ran away from the schoolyard.
X
When about twelve young boys raced out of the building and none of them were Logan, Victor knew something had to be wrong. More often than not, he would be in the lead of children escaping the torments of education.
"Anybody seen Logan?" he asked of the ones that walked by him.
One boy answered offhandedly, "He beat up Robbie Barrett and played hooky," then continued on with his friends.
A confused Victor wondered, "What?"
"It was all my brother's fault, Victor," Bea walked up, "Logan didn't hit him until Robbie started saying bad things about you and your mother. So it's okay with me if you want to sock him, too."
"…Thanks." Victor headed away to pick up the scent.
With the number of bodies around, it proved difficult but he finally caught on to the smell he wanted. His nose brought him out to a hill where he spotted Logan making his way up a rock formation with a piece of wood.
"What're you doin'?" Victor called up at him.
"Sledding," Logan said without looking down.
"It's only October. There ain't a spec of snow on the ground."
"Don't care." Logan only kept going.
"You'll break your neck," Victor reasoned.
"Don't care!"
"Oh fine." Victor folded his arms and looked away, mumbling, "He doesn't care, I don't care… … Logan!"
Jumping up to the middle of the stone structure, Victor ran the rest of the way to the edge. He yanked Logan back by his coat, making him drop the driftwood.
Logan turned around, swinging his fists out. "Let go!"
Victor caught both his wrists then spun him around. He got him out of his coat then lowered to his knees to lay the boy face down over them. Victor then went to work pulling down his pants all the while Logan pounded at the ground in-between grunting and making incoherent shouts. Lastly, Victor unbuttoned the small square attachment on his long-johns then started smacking soundly at the now bare behind.
Logan flailed about, waved his arms and legs, and performed every possible motion he could but none gave him leave of the pain. "Ahhh, dammit!" He felt a pointed swat on his thigh. "Ow!"
"If you can't watch your mouth, I'll watch it for you." Victor kept on with the punishment. "Fightin', cuttin' school, tryin' to crack your empty head open- this'll teach ya." He continued until the bottom glowed red.
Logan had been reduced to garbles and murmurs that came off very infantile. He'd stilled at last as well.
Redoing his long-johns and pants, Victor lifted him up by the shoulder and peered into the teary face.
Logan claimed, "Ya… ya can't do that!"
"Like hell I can't," Victor countered. "It's my job to look after you now."
"Why?"
Victor shot out, "Because I'm your big brother, that's why."
For once, Logan had nothing to say. He did, however, fold his arms with a pouting grimace.
X
Immediately hearing the sniffling and smelling the tears as he entered the child's room, Victor put the warm food down on the desk.
"Brought you supper."
Logan laid on the bed on his side, stroking Pickle Toe who remained steadfast at his side. "I ain't hungry."
Victor walked over closer. "Ma wants ya to eat." The boy only sniffed. "I ain't lick you that bad now."
"That's not even it! Besides, how would you know? Not like you got hit."
"I don't hit kids," Victor stated, getting down into the bed with him. "Hittin' is what you did to that Barrett kid earlier. You ready to tell me what that was all about?"
"Lemme alone." Logan moved to bury his face in a pillow.
Victor asked him, "You miss your daddy?"
"Quit talkin' about him!" Logan erupted, raising his head. "He's dead now so we can all quit talkin' about it."
"You can talk to me," Victor emphasized. "It won't bother me none."
"It bothers me." Victor quieted while Logan slowly went on. "Every time somebody talks about him, all it makes me think about is that he's not your dad, too."
Victor put a hand on his back. "That's not important to me, Logan."
"But everything's different between us," Logan rationalized. "Our dads, our names— we don't even look alike. And brothers are supposed to be the same."
Victor picked him up to sit gingerly in his lap. "We're not like any other brothers. We're special."
"How?"
"Ya know how I found ya today. I sniffed you out. You've done it, too. I've seen it." Logan nodded admittedly and Victor continued. "My old man used to beat me, chain me up, call me an animal 'cause of it. But what I can do, you can do, too. That's what makes us special."
Logan asked him, "Can I show you somethin'? I ain't even shown Ma?" Victor nodded now and Logan held his hands up, making three bones rise out of each of them. "It… it started after my dad died. I don't know why. They come out when I get too mad."
Not remotely disturbed by the act, Victor wrapped his own hands around the smaller appendages. Logan then watched as his brother's fingernails grew out until they completely morphed into claws.
"See?" Victor squeezed his hands. "We are the same."
X
When Victor came in from cleaning up the back, Levi cautioned, "Beware, Crane just got in."
"Bad mood?" Victor guessed.
"Good mood," Levi said to the contrary.
Popping in from the office, Nate greeted them with, "Merry Christmas!"
"You're two weeks ahead," Levi said.
"And so are profits," the older man beamed. "Victor, I have to admit, you've done a great job around here. Not just the books, but keeping the riffraff out."
Levi looked back. "And what about me? I haven't missed a day of work in five months."
"He says that like it's a good thing," Nate ribbed. "At any rate, you can both expect holiday bonuses. And I might just take a trip for New Year's."
Victor asked, "Comin' back with a woman, boss?"
"Please," Nate scoffed. "I don't make money just to burn it. But you, Victor, go ahead and spoil that kid brother of yours. Get your ma something pretty."
Levi said, "They deserve it after the year they've had."
Victor wholeheartedly agreed with their statements.
X
At the bell over the door giving off its pleasant ring, Gail looked over from fitting a jacket over a mannequin.
"Oh Victor."
He walked up to her. "I need a dress."
She smirked, "I'll need your measurements."
"It's for my mother," he clarified. "I want to get her something real nice. Think you can make it special for her in time for Christmas?"
"I'll make it a priority order." Gail went around the counter and got out a book of patterns. "Let's just narrow down what you're looking for."
They went through it together. When Victor settled upon a certain design, Gail guaranteed to have it ready before the 24th.
As he started to go, Victor glanced back at her. "Gail?" She looked up at him and waited. "Think you could spare me a dance at the Christmas party?"
She promised, "I'll be saving myself for you."
Sharing an extended gaze with her, Victor left out.
X
Bottom wiggling in the air for a moment, Pickle Toes took a dive into the strewn about gift wrap, ripping it into further pieces. All of Logan's attention remained with the wooden train set he'd received from his brother.
"Ma, this is too much." Though Victor could not help admitting he loved the way the formal brown suit looked on him.
Elizabeth fussed with his tie. "You deserve something proper to wear for church. Besides, with the way things are going at work, you could easily become a businessman of your own one of these days. You should look the part."
Logan made a face. "You want him to be a prick?"
"Logan," Elizabeth reproached while Victor ordered, "Play with your toys, runt."
While his brother complied, Victor went to retrieve a box. "This is for you, Ma."
Elizabeth grinned. "Thank you, honey." She removed the ribbon followed by the box lid and let off a soft delighted gasp. "Oh Victor," she removed the green velvet dress, finding a matching jacket underneath, "this is gorgeous. Did Gail make this?"
"Priority," Victor answered. "Do you really like it?"
"Of course I do."
Logan commented, "You'll look like a queen in that, Ma." Remembering something, he took an oddly wrapped package from under the tree. "I made this for you."
Taking off the thick amount of paper, Elizabeth unveiled the intricately designed box.
She opened the top, unleashing a cheerful tune. "A music box?"
"You made that?" Victor looked completely astounded. "By yourself?"
Logan nodded. "Yours, too." From the hidden spot between the tree and a chair, he managed to pull out the small bookcase.
Kneeling down, Victor placed a delicate hand over the top shelf. "For me?"
"Nope," Logan smiled mischievously, "for your crummy books."
Later that afternoon, they all got ready for the Christmas party.
"You look beautiful, Ma," Victor told her at the sight of her by the door in her new dress.
Logan came through, yanking on his irritating tie. "You sure do."
Elizabeth leaned a hand against a window in thought. "I thought we'd end this year the same way we began it, in absolute misery." She went over, standing before her oldest. "The joy you've returned to this family, Victor. No loss I've experienced will ever take away from how happy I am to have you with us."
Victor gave her a strong hug. "Let's go show you off." He went over to open the door for her.
Elizabeth proceeded out and Logan darted after her.
The boy then came to a halt, looking back. He did not move again until Victor came close to him. Logan leaned against his side as they walked and soon enough, he picked up on the purring.
XXXXX
Highly feminine giggling preceded Becky and Jasmine's presences in the gym. The former made a beeline for Victor while the latter went to Logan.
"Come with us, please." Becky took Victor's hand.
He shrugged and stood from the floor mat.
"Get up," Jasmine ordered.
"What's the magic word?" Logan prompted.
"Now," Jasmine responded matter-of-factly.
"You're lucky I ain't got nothing better to do." Logan got up and joined hands with her.
"Where're we going?" Victor asked.
"You'll see," Becky promised.
The girls guided them upstairs and into where the rest of the house had gathered. They hardly had time to take in the assortment of red, white, and blue décor before Joey, Cody, Scott, and Cordelia all but dumped confetti on them. Once they got inside the room, Becky and Jasmine joined in.
"Whoa." Logan spit out some of it. "What's goin' on around here?"
"It's Veteran's Day," the children announced.
"Veteran's Day?" Victor echoed.
"It's an American thing," Cody told his uncle.
Kayla went over to kiss Logan. "This is your USO show."
Charles said, "Frank organized all of this."
Frank shrugged from where he stood at the further end of the dining table. "I usually spend V Day talking to the troops at the VA hospital, but I figured, what the heck? I have a couple old troops living with me now. You guys may not be Americans, but you fought on the winning team and that's all that matters."
Erik told the Howlett-Creeds, "That's the highest compliment you'll ever receive from him."
"Take it or leave it," Raven added.
"Frank, kids," Victor spoke, "you ain't have to go through all this trouble."
"Speak for yourself," Logan sharply disagreed. "I want my show."
Emma patted a couple of decorated chairs that the other adults all stood near. "Sit, sit."
Trick, piano set up in one corner of the room, began to play a few soft notes for a background effect.
Hank, Raven, Alex, and the younger X-Men all gathered over by Frank.
The city native started things in a solemn tone. "Between 1775-1783, a legendary war for independence was fought and won. Thomas Jefferson once said that the price of freedom is eternal vigilance. He was right because for many years to come, there was still more work to do."
Scott took his cue. "In 1863, Abraham Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation, resulting in the freeing of slaves from bondage. Though a very important victory, there was more to be done in so many areas involving integration."
Jasmine stepped up next. "In 1920, the dedication of the Women's Suffrage Movement gave American women the right to vote at last. However, further had to be done to offer safety to working Americans, and more importantly, protection for children." She moved to make way for Becky.
"Nothing we fight for within the US would mean anything without the men who fight outside of it to protect the ideas of freedom we hold dear," the curly haired girl spoke. "We use Veteran's Day as a time to remember all that they've done for us."
Swiping at a match, Sean touched the flame to one of the three thick candles on the table. "The red in the American flag represents valor and bravery. Like our heroes."
Cordelia lit the one next to it. "The white represents innocence and purity. Like our children."
Maya took the last one. "The blue represents perseverance and justice. Like our people."
Raven turned to them all to say, "Here in the X-Men, we're the most fortunate. We have our own protection team."
"Two who proved their dependability long before they joined with us," said Hank.
"The brothers Howlett-Creed, Logan and Victor," Alex indicated.
The youngest members of the house came toward the table.
"Oh God, they're lettin' the babies talk," Victor said lowly.
"Keep it together," Logan whispered to him,
Joey began, "We're grateful to have Victor Creed here because he shows us how to do things and he's nice to us even when the other grownups are grumpy. He gives us treats, too, even after we've been really bad. And Becky says he's an official knight so that makes it true."
Cody went after him. "Logan Howlett is a brave soldier, fighter, and security man. He's done so many things, but I like him best when he's just being my dad."
Logan dipped his head. "Yeah, I'm just gonna go—"
Erik forced him back down. "I couldn't escape during Father's Day and neither do you."
IIIIIII
Changed out of his patriotic attire and into more comfortable clothing for the remainder of the evening, Frank turned around at the knock on his door.
"Come in."
Logan stepped in. "Hey. Just wanted to let you know we really appreciated you puttin' this whole thing on for us."
Frank looked somber. "Adults think kids don't care about anything. But I know what happens in a lot of these other countries. I've wanted to do something like this for my dad before, but I feel like whenever I try with him… like what's the point?"
Logan removed something from his pocket. "Heard you like to collect things." He tossed it to him.
Catching the silver object, Frank discovered it to be a pair of dog tags on a chain. "Whoa, thanks. But wait," he looked up, "shouldn't you be saving these for Cody?"
Logan let off a snort. "So long as he gets my old pistol, he's happy. Besides, that's my set from World War Two. Figured they'd mean a little more to you."
Looking at them again, Frank clasped the tags tightly in the palm of his hand.
IIIIIII
"I hope we didn't embarrass you back there."
Victor glanced back from where he perched on his tree branch to see the young scientist behind him. "If that's what passes for embarrassment around here, dump on the shame. You kids really are something else."
Hank lounged in the tree. "We "kids" try our best. You deserved it."
"Did I?" Victor put forth thoughtfully. "How'd I decide to feel better about my family? Using war as a cheap thrill."
"And some men were forced kicking and screaming by the draft," Hank brought up. "You're a hero, Victor, like it or not." The older man started down the tree. "Where are you going?"
"To do my job." He leapt down and started for the house.
It surprised him to find Eye Spy vacant because Logan normally waited for him to come in before he took off. Shaking his head, Victor took a seat in one of the swivel chairs.
A minute later, Logan reentered with an armload of various snacks. "Fridge was gettin' low."
Victor looked up at him. "Thought your shift was up."
"So I'm pullin' a double." Logan stuffed the small refrigerator they had then went to flop into his chair. "That okay with you?"
"Suit yourself," Victor said, eyes on the monitor.
Attention going to his beer bottle, Logan growled in utter frustration as he tried to remove the seemingly glued on lid. Before he could use his claws to wreck the bottle altogether, Victor snatched the glass container from him. Uncapping it, he handed it back to him wordlessly. Reclining in his seat with feet propped up, Logan guzzled away.