Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists. I also do not own Jenny, which Dizi created a few years back and which is a fabulous character. I strongly recommend you read her adventures with Wolverine and the X-Men.

Foreword

My Irbis Saga is divided into two cycles: the Irbis Cycle proper, and the 'Taming of the Hearts' Cycle. This is the second story in the second cycle.

You do not have to read the first cycle, just be aware that Creed met his match (sort of) in this Irbis OC. In the second cycle there are several plot points of the first cycle that are mentioned but they don't really require going back to read it (if you disagree, let me know). Do note that this cycle is set in an AU that diverges from the canon comic books shortly after M-Day.

Be aware that the stories in this cycle segue one into the next and, even though each story has its own arc (with a few subplots), there is one line that follows all of the stories. If you wish to start this cycle at the beginning, keep in mind the list below

Previous stories in the 2nd cycle and how essential they are to know before you read the current story:

1. The Proposal – focus on Remy and Rogue. Not essential to the current story.

2. The Ressurrection – focus on Creed, Irbis and Lilia. This is an essential read as it explains the basic premise to the whole cycle.

1. The Clone

Logan growled on his way up the Parisian street. It was mid-August and, while most locals were gone for their vacations, Paris was stocked up with tourists, like the solid group of selfie-snapping youngsters that was keeping him from going up the street. Walking at a snail pace, either giggling or lolling out loud (because they did go about saying 'lol' as if it were a half-witted alternative to an actual laugh), the group extended from the buildings to the road, not even a foot shy of incoming traffic, and was so tight that Logan just couldn't manage to pierce it through. To make it worse, the girls, who comprised the majority of that crowd, seemed to have bathed in cheap cologne, leaving behind them a cloud of toxic stink. Chewing on his cigar, Logan was careful to inhale the smoke in an attempt to dull his nose as he tried to overcome the group. He just needed to wait till no car was coming down the road... or he could shove a few of the pricks out of his way and to hell with keeping a low key. Ah, an opening! Logan quickly moved onto the temporarily empty lane and overcame the group.

When he finally entered no. 67, Logan had managed to get rid of the phantom scent of the girls' cologne and was feeling less moody. He jogged up the stairs to the third floor and knocked.

"Homme, 'bout time you showed up, non? We started t'inkin' you was lost."

Logan grunted that the tourists had taken over everywhere and followed the Cajun into a wide musty room. The morning sun was shining through the creamy curtains, its warmth accentuating the dusty moldiness while brightening the legs of the chair where Bishop sat, looking intently to six screens. Sam was sprawled on a couch facing a switched off TV.

"Trouble findin' the spot?"

Logan shook his head and asked if Tigard had reached the café.

"About a minute ago," Bishop said. "Hasn't even ordered anything yet."

Gambit humphed with contempt and turned to Logan. "And Petey, ça va?"

Logan sneered. Gambit had admitted to having unwillingly assisted their comrade choose a perfect little diamond ring back in June and, ever since then, he'd been checking the pulse of the comatose proposal.

"He's still swingin' 'tween cold feet an' freezin' feet," Logan admitted. "If someone doesn't give 'im a push, I doubt he'll ever manage t'do it."

Gambit looked at him suspiciously. "I hope y' ain't t'inkin' o' givin' no push. De homme's fine as 'e is... Let 'im enjoy life."

"An' that's why ya ain't ever gettin' the ring yerself, am I right?" Sam laughed from the sofa. "Ah hope Rogue never dreams that's yer reason."

"I love Rogue," Gambit blurted angrily. "I love 'er more 'an anythin' an' I'm stickin' t' 'er through hell an' high water. But marriage, dat is a love killer. I can love 'er enough t' go through it, but I t'ink be better avoid more stress in 'er life, non? Women change when dey get a ring. Makes 'em miserable, marriage."

It sure made some men miserable. Logan couldn't help chuckling, wondering how the Cajun could commit so staunchly and still dread the only logic step to the level of commitment he claimed. It made him wonder how thorough the Cajun's commitment really was, deep down. It was Sam's hearty laughter that enfuriated Gambit, though, and enough so to get him to look at the screens and ask about Sabretooth.

"I thought we were supposed to never mention him by that name," Bishop frowned.

"Is who he is," Gambit griped. "It be best if no one fergets it."

"It'll also be best if no one ever finds out the man is alive," Logan grumbled.

Gambit grunted something in French and Logan got ticked. Gambit had his reasons to hate Creed, fine; what he seemed to forget was that Logan had a whole lot more. And if he was making an effort to make this thing work, the least Gambit could do was toe the line. Especially where it came to not use the alias 'Sabretooth'. It was about time someone got some sense into that swamp rat head of his.

"Creed's a freekin' asshole, but at least he's been tryin' not t'act like one. You, on the other hand, are doin' yer best t'actually act like one."

Gambit turned to him, red pupils shining over the blackness of his eyes. He had better not think about charging any cards, because Logan would really teach him a lesson then.

"Alors, now ya defend 'im, non? He save yer life and ya're all bff!"

Was the guy becoming retarded all of a sudden?

"How's about ya think 'fore ya spit stupid crap like that! Or are ya fergettin' ya've got kids yerself an' that these assholes are just as likely t' try an' get their hands on 'em as they do on everyone else's?" If the sudden flushing was any indication, he hadn't. "I may hate Creed, but that doesn't keep me from respectin' what he's doin' fer his kid's sake."

"He's a psycho! Ya can't trust 'im just 'cause he claims t'be a family man."

"First off, nobody's fergotten nuthin'. Second, if ya bothered t'stop by, ya might realise the man really is takin' his father duties seriously. Third, he wants this mutant-sellin' slave ring brought down and he's willin' t'go a long way fer it. Four, there's never been no matter o' blind trust here, 'cause we are as distrustful of 'im as Creed is distrustful of us."

Gambit was simmering, dying to blast something, but Logan could see he knew he was wrong. As the Cajun growled he was going out for a spin, Sam shrugged and shook his head. Guilt. When a man feels guilty over past mistakes, he will hardly ever feel he deserves a happy turn in his life. Seeing a monster, far worse than what Gambit might see himself as, welcome a good turn like he's deserved it... it just had to eat him alive. Logan couldn't help and wonder if that was why the Cajun kept away from Rogue and their children as much as he did. It could just be the fact that Gambit loved his freedom too much and hated being cooped up in the same place for too long, but Logan still wondered.

"Is that why Cyclops didn't warn Creed?" Logan turned to Bishop, not immediately getting what he meant. "That Mystique's been impersonating Sabretooth."

Logan shook his head. "Creed was worried 'bout this playin' his own clone and all that."

As well he should be. They had a long story, those two, and not just because of Graydon Creed: it was common knowledge they had been lovers long after the whole mess involving their son. She was probably one of the few living persons to actually know Creed well enough to be able to see through this whole clone thing.

"Scotty figured that lettin' 'im know Mystique's been impersonatin' 'im in Paris would just make' im more nervous and... well, he'd either have his cover blown or he'd kill her."

"What if she tells him?" Bishop insisted.

"I reckon that if she does, she'll probably also explain why."

"So," Sam walked over to them, "ya don't think she's tryin' ta lure ya out here, then?"

Logan shrugged. "Why would she wanna do that? If Gambit is right an' she really is involved wi'the slave ring here in Paris, why would they want me t'poke around? It don't make no sense."

But what made sense in the whole story? When Creed had first come to the X-Men for help bringing down the slave ring, he'd brought so much information on the cell operating on the Western Coast that the group had swiftly been taken apart, in a set of joint missions with the FBI department working on Superpowered Affairs. Even though the group's financial details had eluded the breakdown, Creed had already gotten his hands on that information and the X-Men had kept it quiet, following any movements and getting frustrated over how difficult it was to match those financial movements to actual people or organizations. Gambit, however, had managed to match Mystique, or her current Mlle. Chantal Moreau alias, to a rather hefty payment in July, which seemed to imply she had placed a request for someone to be captured. That in itself had been strange news: Raven Darkholme was very well capable of locating and kidnapping whoever she wanted by herself so why pay this slave ring to get the job done?

Gambit, Bishop and Cannonball had spent the last couple of weeks shadowing Chantal Moreau as best they could and had set a number of street cameras on the places she regularly stopped by. Logan could see Creed on screen 4, sitting at an outdoor café Mystique visited at least twice a week, sipping coffee and enjoying the morning sun. The three men had also managed to identify her intermediary, a bearded man by the name of Vincent Gautier, and were now working on identifying all the people he associated with in order to determine who else might be involved in the ring. Unfortunately, he worked at an auction house and dealt with a whole lot of people.

"I thought Kurt was coming in too."

Logan looked at Sam and smirked. "He's on sick leave: Zelig's got a stomach bug. Bobby came in instead."

"Bad luck," the Southerner shrugged. "So, Creed's now a proper family man, huh?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Logan admitted. "But he's a devoted daddy if there ever was one."

"What about his wife?"

"They ain't married," Logan clarified, suddenly thinking about Jubilee and her Justin dramas. "Creed's life revolves around his kid, that's why I said he's all 'daddy' but not 'family-centric'."

Bishop looked up with a 'what?'.

"I mean he ain't interested in no family, just the kid. He pretty much ignores the woman."

"And what are they like?"

"The kid's a completely obsessed daddy's girl but she don't look nuthin' like Creed: she's got dark hair, brown eyes and it seems she's short fer her age too. She's kinda sweet, I guess, but wilful like hell an' can kick up a shriekin' tantrum like ya won't believe it. As fer the woman... she's quiet, distrustful, an' devoted t' the girl as if nuthin' else exists."

"Ya know, I can easily picture him bein' all daddy to a boy, but not a girl. It's just that weird, imaginin' him playin' at tea parties an' dolls."

Logan actually laughed at the sudden image in his head. "The kid's a serious tomboy, Sammy. They play at huntin' or wrestlin' an' climbin' trees an' stuff like that. I mean, he braids her hair like a pro, true, but that's the girliest thing he probably does."

Bishop sighed, and glanced at the screens. It was almost eleven and Mystique hadn't showed up at any of the cafés yet. Creed was on for a long wait, that was for sure. Looking back at Logan, he grunted.

"What I find really difficult to understand is the woman."

Logan shrugged. "If ya ask me, he decided ta get 'imself a woman an' picked one he knew would be too scared of 'im t'do anythin' 'gainst 'im."

"So she is afraid of him."

Logan nodded. Though she was also in love with him. Jubilee had accidentally revealed that one to him, after the girls' night out, and then forced him to swear secrecy. Of course Logan had already been on to something of the sort because, despite the fear he could always smell on the woman when Creed was around, he could also smell some definite arousal, and not just on Creed's end. He wasn't going to bother guessing how that relationship could work, fear and lust hand-in-hand. Maybe she was a masochist. It was none of his business anyway. And he could totally imagine Creed would go into the BDSM thing for as long he was the one dishing it out. But again, it was none of his business. The only thing that pricked his curiosity was that, when Creed had been recovering from his near-death experience, her fear had skyrocketed, according to Hank. Once the man was up and nearly recovered, though, the strength of her fear had slowly toned down. Even if it was none of his business.

"Are they living together? In the Mansion, I mean."

"No," Logan grunted. "Scotty got it in his head that the woman needs rescuein' an' both Kitty an' Jubilee have jumped into the bandwagon."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means they're set on keepin' her away from Creed's influence. Scotty forbade Creed from talkin' t'her over anythin' that doesn't directly relate t' the girl an' Jubes wants the woman t'go partyin' with her every weekend. Started last week wih a girls' night out that had Creed so pissed he could barely focus on baby-sittin'."

"He better not be too pissed today, he'll need his wits about him if he wants to trick Mystique."

Logan grinned. "Jubes got called away t' California, so Creed won't have t'worry 'bout no one stealin' his woman away from under his thumb. He'll be focused." He bit down on his cigar thoughtfully. "He's committed to uprootin' this slave ring targettin' former mutants an' their families and when he's out on a mission, he's as focused and determined as anyone could wish fer."

Besides, Logan could smell the man was itching to get in any woman's pants that came his way. Pissed or not, he was bound to do his best clone impersonation just to get in Mystique's bed.

"What about those toxic slugs you were attacked with? The ones that nearly killed Creed."

Bishop was gazing at the screens again so he didn't see Logan's annoyed smirk. "Jubilee's boy, Justin, got an uncle working wi'the ATF. He told us two weeks ago he'd get in touch with'im so we're waitin' t'hear from him. There's really not much more we can do."

"Oh, yeah, Justin." Sam grinned. "Ah've heard a few things 'bout him an'Jubes. Are they a serious item?"

Logan shook his head. "Ain't sayin' they can't turn out as one, mind ya, but they got a lot t' go through fer that. He's family-centric, ya see, an' Jubes ain't. So either Jubes gets brainwashed," which knowing the kid was 'like, duh, not gonna happen', "or she'll get tired o' family meals an' bail out. Personally, I'm givin' 'em no more than a year. Bobby's runnin' the bettin' pool, if ya're interested."

There was a summer thunderstorm rolling lazily in the distance as Creed drank a Parisian coffee. Gambit was still sulking around, mostly because he still refused to work alongside Tigard. Asshole. As if having kids of his own wasn't motive enough to leave the past in the past and focus on clearing away all types of danger threatening his cubs. At least Bishop and Cannonball were more practical. He finished the cup and grimaced. If he spent another day sitting on outside cafés sipping coffee after coffee... Couldn't the assholes locate the woman with any type of precision? That thunderstorm had better not come any cl...

"Well, well, well..." A green eyed blonde sat opposite him and Creed had no trouble frowning with discomfort. "If he's not alive after all!"

"Ya've got me confused with someone else, lady. So get lost."

"Oh, cut the crap, Victor. It's been over five years since Logan killed you. You could have let me know it wasn't so."

Creed looked the woman straight in the eyes. Isabel was always going on how women can easily see through men's ruses. She had better be wrong because otherwise he would have to kill Raven Darkholme very dead. And she was not easy to kill.

"Sabretooth is dead."

She laughed. "So who're you?"

"His long lost brother. As in clone."

Raven's face was frozen for a moment between mirth and incredulity. "Are you serious?"

"I don't know if ya've noticed, but clones tend t' have a really short life span. If they ain't gettin' killed 'cause their pretendin' t'be the original, they're gettin' killed by the original. Me? I've been playin' it low key. Survival instinct and all."

That had her roar in laughter, getting folks' attention. By the time she stopped, she had tears brightening her eyes.

"Oh, my! You're certainly funnier than the original."

"And you are... ?"

"Oh, so rude of me. Mystique."

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and grunted. "Shapeshifter. Brotherhood o' Mutants."

"Oh, it's so nice to be known. Uh... I didn't get your name, Mr Clone."

"Business. None o' yer business."

She laughed again. "Come on! I can't go about calling you clone, can I?"

"Hell, no. In fact, don't call me nuthin' 'cause I ain't gonna be callin' you either."

"Does that mean you won't be joinin' me for dinner and a little night cap?"

And risk being found out when he got distracted? Not likely.

"Night cap, huh? You an' my original were what, then? Lovers, an item, what?"

"Oh, just work colleagues with privileges, nothing special."

"Well, lady, I ain't interested in overlappin' with my original's turf so I'll have t' pass."

"Uh-huh. You've got a very boring survival instinct, you know?"

"All the best ones are."

"In the very least, you could pay me a drink." Good thing Raven was naturally curious. It helped Creed keep his show of lack of interest. Shrugging he called a waiter so Raven could make her order.

"So what are you doing in Paris, Mr Business."

"Business."

"What a coincidence! So am I. Who're you doing in?"

Creed looked the woman in the eye. Once again, he didn't have to feign either suspicion or reticence because he felt plenty himself. Raven was no dummy; if anyone could distinguish between him and a supposed clone, it was her.

"There's some folks around kidnappin' kids from some o' those former mutants an' then sellin' 'em t' the highest bidder." Raven's face became serious and he frowned. "Ya knows who I'm talkin' 'bout?"

"Here's a friendly warning," though her face looked everything but. "You may be sailing free of Sabretooth's turf, but you are crossing into mine."

Time to show some genuine interest.

"Look, if we're after the same mark here, I don't see no trouble if we work together. We both get the job done, and we both get our pay. 'Sides, from what I've heard there's plenty guys sellin' former mutants these days, so we may even be after different guys."

"I'm not after anyone."

Creed frowned. "Ya're doin' security detail fer one of 'em?"

She shook her head and stayed silent. Creed gave her time. Eventually she twitched her mouth in a way Creed had come to know as playful over the years.

"Hope that don't mean ya're thinkin' 'bout tryin' t'do me in."

She laughed, careless. "No. But, if you tell me your name over dinner, I may just tell you who I'm shading and how to get to your mark."

Creed drummed his fingertips on the table top as if he was making a difficult decision.

"Dinner next week," he grunted. "I don't like no distractions 'fore the job's done. But the name's Hyde."

"How appropriate."

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