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.
11. Misadventures
Creed crouched and gazed at the robots he had just finished off. He had been in the Danger Room since morning, but he hadn't been able to get away from the edge of a berserker rage. He was calmer, no doubt, and could even pull a decent conversation, but once he needed to fall back on his instincts for quick reactions, everything just raved out of control. Cracking his fingers, he looked up at the control room.
"Ready for a team work out now?"
Another one. The first one, right after breakfast, had been a complete waste of time because he had snapped. He had been so cool! Then Summers had informed him that Picard had been killed remotely thanks to some chip he had implanted in his brain and that he would need to go back to Paris as soon as possible, and everything had started going down the drain. Creed had ended up ignoring the X-morons (not purposefully, though; his brain had simply stopped acknowledging them) and lunged at anything that moved. They had fixed him a rip-'em-up routine, afterwards. And as much as he hated admitting it, Summers hadn't given him any grief over that, as he usual did when he didn't do exactly what the 'fearless leader' wanted him to do. On top of it all, Summers had swallowed down the pill pretty well, after breakfast, and guaranteed that Emma wouldn't be left in charge of Lilia ever again. Anyother day and he'd have been a happy camper.
The Danger Room prepared the original routine for the day while Logan, Rasputin and Summers came down to the room. He was still not ready for this. He was calmer, no question about it; but he still wanted nothing but to go berserk. Let lose. And he couldn't. There was no telling what the X-Men would do if he kept on slippig into berserker rages. He had always known that, he just hadn't thought he'd be given so many reasons to go berserk. And Summers had been very clear that going berserk meant being locked away from his woman and kid. He took a deep breath as Summers set out the rules and forced himself to think of Isabel and Lilia. But the thought, which usually helped him keep his urges in check, only pushed him closer to the edge.
When the simulation started, he tried to focus on the job at hand, but he had missed out on what he was supposed to do. An explosion went off to his right, shaking him off balance and he lept, without thinking, after the shadow of a human form. It was a simulation, and he buried his claws in the make-believe chest while his right hand clamped around the neck and broke it off.
"Watch before you attack, Creed! That's a civilian you've just killed!"
Right. A don't hit the innocent-by-stander routine. The growl erupted of its own accord and Creed was all too aware that his control was going to slip away. Damn! He just wanted to check on his woman; why didn't they let him? Because she was still asleep? Well, with all the tranquilizers they were pumping her up with, she wouldn't wake up in a zillion years, would she?
Logan's command rang in his ears and he obeyed, ripping through the mob until he reached the building where another simulation was shooting from. He heard the angry complaints – don't harm the civilians, dammit! – and it drove him harder through the crowd. He roared as he lept to the building and literally ripped the scentless man apart, the image of Isabel's pale, tired face before his eyes, lying in the infirmary bed. The image of his little girl hiding under the bedcovers, frightened out of her mind. And the thought of his son. His would-be son.
He snarled. Scentless people were crying and whimpering in front of him. Like his daughter had been, in his arms. Like his woman must have been, when she had started miscarrying. His mind shut down the moment his vision went red, and Creed roared with all his might as he started ripping away.
When he finally calmed down, the Danger Room had finished the simulation and the other men were looking at him suspiciously.
"It's nearly lunch time," Summers stated curtly. "We'll continue in the afternoon."
One by one, the X-Men emptied the room, glancing at him side ways. Summers lagged behind and, once the others were gone, called out to him.
"Think what you will, but you're walking on the edge, Creed. You're going berserk at the drop of a hat and you know you can't let that happen around Lilia. If this is still because of yesterday's situation with the child, you really need to get over it."
Creed growled and headed for the door; unfortunately, Summers hadn't finished.
"But if what's driving you over the edge is Hank not letting you near Isabel until she's awake and stable, then you really need to stop and think rationally. Understand that she's just gone through hell and needs time to recover without anyone lashing out at her."
Yes, because, obviously, that was exactly what he was going to do the moment he got face to face with the woman. Obviously! Closing his fists hard, he carried on towards the locker room, Summers trailing behind him.
"You're edgy, lashing out at everyone. Is it such a wonder Hank is shutting you out? You even snapped at Lilia..."
Creed turned on him, snarling.
"Snap?! All I did was ground her! Or what the hell did ya expect me ta do? Pat her in the back an' congratulate her fer throwin' her milk at Frost? Encourage her tantrums? She's five! When she messes up, she gets grounded; if she talks back, she gets told off. Was I snappish? Yeah. Is she gonna be traumatised? No. It happened before and it's gonna happen a lot more times. End o' story."
The man crossed his arms.
"I'm just saying she's acted up before and you were nothing if not the epitome of patience and leniency. Unlike today. You were almost growling!"
Oh, he meant all the other times when he'd been melted over by her tears and puppy dog eyes or when he'd watered down punishments because he'd been amused by her cheekiness? No, he was not going to waste his time explaining she'd gone over a limit. Harmless cheekiness promptly followed by apologetical puppy eyes was one thing, another completely different was pestering would-be baby-sitters followed by unapologetical talking back.
"Ya know what? This is probably your fault, too." And thinking about it, yes, it probably really was. They were all spoiling his girl behind Isabel's back. "If I left the kid in yer hands, ya'd let her get away with murder!"
Creed didn't wait to hear the man's answer. He just turned his back on him and glowered into the locker room for a shower.
He ignored them when he entered, even if it was hard to ignore their glances, marking his movements, expecting him to go berserk anytime. Forcing himself to think about Lilia. He had grounded her for the morning, but the afternoon would be a different story. There was schoolwork to think about – she was going to be way ahead of all her future colleagues if he had it his way – so Creed peeled off the uniform and stood under the cold shower, thinking it over. Maybe he'd take her out and do some Maths applied to the real world... like how many times she could climb up and down a tree in five minutes. He almost grinned at the idea, relaxing somewhat. He loosely noticed that the men had finished their own showers and were now getting dressed, so he washed up quickly and closed the shower, too. When he reached for his towel, though, he heard Kitty's voice.
Frowning, he listened intently. The girl was definitely angry but too far off for him to understand what she was saying. Then she yelled "Lilia!" just a bit louder and there was little doubt what could be happening. A growl immediately in his throat, he made a bee line for the door while he wrapped the towel around his waist, alarming the X-Men. To the left, he could even see Logan ready to unsheathe his claws. They were such morons! He was nowhere near to go berserk, damnit!
Reaching the door, Creed opened it, sniffed the air and hollered: "Lilia Victoria!" He listened for another moment, his nose guaranteeing that no one was coming closer. "I ain't gonna repeat myself, Victoria; get in here now!"
Now there was some movement. Behind him Logan told the others that Lilia must be playing up again, because Kitty had been calling out her name, and his blood boiled anew. It seemed like an eternity before the child showed up in the corridor, completely covered in mud, Kitty walking annoyedly at her side. Head down, she stopped in front of him, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her previously light blue dress. Clenching his teeth against the sudden urge to break everything around him, Creed growled.
"Why ain't you in yer room, Victoria?"
The men in the room were trying to peek around him, but his bulk, still wrapped in nothing but the towel, wholly covered the entrance. Vexed, Kitty closed her fists and claimed she had taken her out to make a get-well card for Isabel.
"If I says she's ta stay in her room, she's ta stay there till I says so!"
She had been expecting some type of reproach, obviously, but she still wasn't happy about it. Behind him, he could feel Rasputin getting fired up.
"Why're ya covered in mud, Victoria? Look at me when I'm talkin' t'you!"
Lilia's chin trembled and shivered as she did look up and Creed clenched his teeth harder. It wasn't mud but earth, covering most of her cheeks and forehead, not to mention her shoulders, arms and the front of the dress. Her hair had not only dirt but grass leaves, roots and little twigs; a definite rat's nest. She mumbled something that sounded like camouflage to his ears while her eyes teared up. She didn't have a guilty look about her, as she usually did when she knew she had done something wrong; she just looked frightenedly expectant. And it wasn't really her fault she wasn't in her room if Pryde had been the one to get her out.
He couldn't trust any X-Men would-be babysitters! He took a step back to give her passage.
"Get in the shower and wash that dirt off ya." Obediently, the girl hurried up to the showers and took off the dress before crouching to fumble with the shoes. "Pappa will get ya some soap in a minute."
Creed glared at Kitty, who was also glaring at him, although he couldn't fathom why. She had been the one breaking the child out and then letting her get all messed up.
"I said she was grounded," he snarled in a low voice. "Ya had no business gettin' her out."
The girl flushed a bit but didn't immediately say anything. He didn't bother to give her much of his time, either. He walked up to the showers and picked up a bar of soap from his locker, handing it to Lilia.
"Careful," he said distractedly as her little face lit up over the toy. She loved playing with soap, laughing delightedly every time she grabbed it hard and it shot out of her hands. "It ain't fer playin', Victoria. I mean it."
She shook her head in a gleeful negative and Creed knelt down to finish taking off her shoes. Then he opened the shower, helped her get plenty of soap on her hands and put the bar on the ground, by the drain, so she couldn't turn the showering into a game with the slippery soap.
"Go on. Rub that face an' those arms clean."
Fresh water drops were trickling down his right arm but he ignored them. He didn't ignore Summers's remark, though, that Lilia shouldn't be showering in the men's locker room.
"Why?" His mood softened as he watched the girl rub her arms with serious determination. "Ya gettin' flushed seeing a five-year-old havin' a shower?"
He turned to Pryde before the man could retort. Maybe he should demand Wagner's woman to babysit. She was a Mamma herself, so she should know how to be strict with a punishment while being able to deal with tantrums safely. But first things first.
"What happened? Why's she covered in dirt?"
Rasputin had gone over to her side, like some knight in shining armour, and Kitty raised her head, both vexed and haughty.
"We had been making a get-well card for Isabel in her room, but then we went out to get some flowers so we could go back to the room and glue their petals to the card."
Creed nodded.
"And ya were yellin' after her 'cause."
Taking a deep breath, she conceded.
"I turned my back for a moment and she disappeared. When I found her, she was rubbing dirt all over herself; then I brought her inside to give her a bath and she ran away from me."
Rasputin was looking at him as if daring him to try and rebuke her. It made him sick, the whole lot. Creed glanced at Lilia to calm himself and saw the child hadn't been rubbing at all, since she was still covered in dirt.
"Didn't I tell ya ta rub the dirt off ya, Lilia. Don't ya know how t'shower anymore?"
Lilia looked up with an expression of injustice and claimed she was wubbin'.
Creed had never allowed the girl to get away with talking back. He might let a cheeky, puppy-eyed retort slide, he might even overlook sassy comebacks when they were playful and mellow, but any angry retort or grumbling, usually accompanied of either a stubborn frown or sulk, was quickly squashed by immediate grounding. It was a completely different thing when she simply defended herself with a justification, which was basically an excuse. Creed tended to listen to her then. Kids do see things differently, after all. He needed to understand the girl's reasoning if he wanted to set her straight and make sure the faulty reasoning wouldn't get her in trouble again. Although it usually did. It often took several explanations for a faulty reasoning to be uprooted and replaced by something sensible. Common sense doesn't come naturally to children, he'd discovered.
In this particular instance, he frowned and went back to the shower to inspect the problem. He picked one arm up and rubbed a finger over her skin. A look of incredulity relaxed his clenched muscles for a moment as he crouched next to the girl, taking a better look at her arm, then her face.
"Did ya put glue on yer skin?"
A hand hovering over her eyes to protect them from the falling water, Lilia shook her head energetically.
"Not skin, Pappa. Ony a wee'a bit on the face an' the a'ms. Ah, an' the dwess, 'cause it's vewy wight and Kitty and ev'yone can see an' they see me, and I camouf'age!"
Creed straightened up with a defeated sigh and massaged his forehead, shaking his head slightly.
"Ya don't camouflage with glue an' dirt, Lilia!" He growled under his breath. "Ya use paint. Special paint fer the skin that can be washed off easily; not markers, nor felt-tip pens nor anythin' like that; an' certainly not glue."
Looking about him, Creed set his eyes on the wide bench and moved for it. There was a towel on it, as well as a shampoo bottle, but they weren't his so he didn't care when he picked up the bench and made them fall. In a fluid movement, he let the bench down near Lilia, careful ot let it make a big bang, and then went to his locker and got a clean towel.
Summers complained but he didn't even hear it – no use getting bothered with whatever the man might be saying. Instead, he wetted the towel under the still running shower, closed it and sat down on the bench, pulling Lilia closer. Then he started rubbing the glue off the girl's face. He focused on the job at hand, forcing himself to ignore the X-chumps behind him. To ignore everything besides the here and now, besides Lilia's hissing and mute whining, her face grimacing when he rubbed too hard.
"Next time ya thinks o' gluein' yerself t'somethin', ya'll remember takin' it off ain't nice."
It was coming off easily enough, though; peeling off her skin bit by bit and leaving behind only a slight redness. Soon – and he was glad she hadn't put much glue on her face – he started working on her arms.
"I can do that," Kitty caught him off guard, having approached till she was standing next to him without him noticing. "You don't have to worry ab..."
"Shut yer yap!" He snapped immediately, the anger he had almost forgotten simmering back to the surface. "Now ya don't want me worryin' 'bout my own daughter?!"
"She didn't say that," Rasputin warned him. "She's offering you her help. You should be thankful there are people willing to help you."
Creed looked back at the Russian man, almost snarling. As if anyone was willing to help him. They were willing to help the child, not him.
"I'd be thankful if she was a babysitter I could trust instead o' bustin' the girl out of her punishment."
Pryde's face reddened, but she clenched her jaws and signalled Rasputin to be quiet.
"I'm sorry. I should have talked to you first."
Creed pulled Lilia's other arm to him and once more focused on it, finding it a good way of keeping his anger in check. His voice was still hard and spiteful, though.
"What you, and everyone else in this joint, by that matter, gotta do is remember that I am the father, whether ya like it or not. And I ain't 'bout ta go berserk, damnit!"
Kitty remained standing besides him until Creed interrupted the rubbing to get up. Towering above the young woman for the couple of seconds it took him to readjust the towel around his waist, his eyes studied her determined expression.
"Did ya put glue in yer hair, Lilia?" He asked without taking his eyes off the young woman.
"No, Pappa. No g'ue in my hair. Uh-un."
He turned to go to his locker, picked up his comb and shampoo and then stopped in front of Kitty, dropping it on the bench.
"Ya still wanna make yerself useful? Start combin' those leaves an' twigs out of her hair."
He didn't wait for her response and again sat down, continuing his work on Lilia's arm. Next to him, Kitty picked up the comb and got down to her job, disentangling Lilia's hair.
"Uh... Lilia, honey, are you sure you didn't put glue in your hair?"
Lilia's head shook energetically, but Creed's booming voice drowned her words.
"Didn't she just say she didn't? Ya're callin' her a liar or somethin'? Or is it another of yer misunderstandings?"
Glaring straight at him, Kitty spit the facts: "She's got glue in her hair."
Creed's hands itched with the urge to grab that neck and shred it into little pieces. Instead he picked Lilia and placed her on the bench, standing up, to study the claim. Handfuls of hair strands were indeed glued and the reason was obvious: the child had had glue on her hands. Which meant she had accidentally transferred some of the glue onto her long hair, which was now all glued to hell.
Clenching his teeth again, Creed made up his mind. First of all, he was not going to acknowledge that Pryde was right. Secondly… Isabel herself would have done it, if she'd been around. He held the girl's hair in one hand then unsheathed his claws and cut the whole thing in a swipe. Then he picked more handfuls and cut them off, too, ocasionally combing the hair with his fingers looking for more glued strands. When he fancied all the glued up hair had been chopped off, he picked the child up and took her to the shower, turning the water on. He ruffled the hair until he thought it was wet enough, then took her back to the bench and started shampooing it.
"Keep yer eyes closed." He said matter of factly before again picking her up and taking her back to the shower to rinse it.
When he sat Lilia on the bench, his towel was so heavy with all the water it had absorbed, it was slithering down his waist. Creed went to the closets where the clean towels were kept and took two, one which replaced the one around his waist, and the other that soon landed on Lilia's head. She giggled when Creed started ruffling the extra water off her hair with the towel and held on to it when he handed it to her. Finally he reached a hand out for Kitty, gazing impatiently at her until she returned him the comb, and then started combing Lilia's hair. When he figured it was good enough, he took a step back.
"Look at me, girl." She did so with a bright smile and Creed frowned, taking in the short and uneaven haircut. "Yer Mamma's gonna have a fit when she sees ya."
"Why do you say that?"
There was a hint of worry in Kitty's voice and Creed looked at her, hesitating a moment.
"Isabel's all about little girls havin' long hair," he ended up answering without any taunts.
He was feeling thoroughly spent with the roller-coaster of emotions swinging from anger to somewhat calm all morning. He just wanted to get away from everyone and pull himself together near his woman and child. Was that so much to ask for?
"Think ya can get her dressed? And maybe make that haircut a bit more even, if ya got any hairdresser's skills."
"I'll handle it," she answered just as neutrally.
Perhaps Pryde wouldn't bail Lilia out of other punishments from now on. He might want to give Wagner's woman a try, but Pryde lived at the Mansion so she would always be the best baby-sitter he could get his hands on for the time being.
"Com'ere t' Pappa."
Lilia's smile shone eagerly as she spread out her little arms and he picked her up. Her little hands clung to his neck and he kissed her cheek, breathed in her scent. It was so soothing, so reassuring.
"Ya're gonna behave now, ain't ya, my Lil' Devil?"
Lilia straightened up, sitting on his arm and scrapping her tiny fingernails over his jaw before nodding happily.
" 'Course ya are. And ya ain't gonna use no glue an' dirt t'camouflage, are ya?"
Her smile turned a bit embarrassed and she shook her head from side to side.
"No, 'course ya ain't. 'Cause Pappa is gonna get ya some proper camouflage face paint so ya don't do no more nonsense stuff like that."
She giggled and swung excitedly in his arms. The sudden idea made Creed grin.
"And how's about Pappa gets ya a huntin' camouflage suit, too, huh?"
Her eyes shone wide and she shrieked a 'yes'. Where the hell he was going to find one to fit her little size was beyond him, but he'd find it. If Isabel was in any condition, she'd probably want to make the little suit herself. Oh, well. Back to serious matters.
"That settles it, Lil' Devil. As soon as Pappa can go out int'a shop, ya'll have yer whole camouglafe kit. But first Pappa needs ya ta listen up, ya hear?"
Her enthusiasm cooled down.
"You ain't ever, ever runnin' away from Kitty, ya hear? She calls ya, ya stop yer fun an' games and do what she says. No buts. Are we clear on this?"
Lilia's little shoulders sagged and she sulked.
"Are we clear?"
She nodded.
"Good. Now speak up, girl! What d'ya do when Kitty calls ya?"
With a resigned sigh, the girl droned the words out.
"I stop pwayin' an' do what she says."
"That's my Lil' Devil."
She looked up and swung in his arm a bit more.
"And when do I camouf'age, Pappa?"
"Soon." He kissed her cheek again, once more breathing in her scent, then passed her on into Pryde's arms. "Right now, ya're goin' back t'yer room with Kitty, ok? She's gonna get ya dressed, and she's gonna fix yer hair, and ya're gonna behave, ain't ya?"
She nodded.
"One more time: what d'ya do when ya hears Kitty call?"
"I do what Kitty says," she mumbled, pouting slightly.
Creed held her little face with a hand, caressing her cheek with his thumb.
"Pappa'll take ya out t'play after lunch," he told her, promising himself he'd spend the entire afternoon with her no matter what Summers said. Her smile came back, joyful. "Go on with, Kitty, now. Go on."
As Pryde took the child away, his emotions started swinging back into resentful frustration. He needed to feel the woman in his arms, to see her safe, to hear her heartbeat steady and calm, to smell her. He needed to find out what she feared and then fix it, since he was now sure that had been the reason why she'd kept silent. But until he could talk to her and find out the problem… until then there was nothing he could do.
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