Instinct: Fight or Flight

Creed watched the girl as she practically shoveled meatloaf, potatoes and corn into her mouth. She ate like she believed she would never see another meal. He chuckled, and glanced back toward the buffet counter. The little truck stop had good food, he had to admit, but the stares that bounced off of him from every corner of the diner made him moderately uncomfortable. Calmly, he reached for his beer, and he took a long slow pull off the top.

"Y'know, frail," he muttered, letting the glass rest naturally in his hand. "You don't have to eat so fast."

Kylie glanced up at him, something baleful and placating in her dark eyes. She obviously couldn't spare breath for words, as she reached for the ketchup again. Creed found it… cute… that she buried the meatloaf with the red stuff. After a another few mouthfuls, she glanced back toward the buffet, and sighed.

"As long as I'm with you, you can take your time." He began to turn the glass in his hands, watching the movement behind him in the reflection. "Enjoy your food. It's on me."

Those dark eyes fixed on him again, and she swallowed her current mouthful. "You don't have to do this, you know," she whispered, her eyes flickering to one side, watching the path of another patron. "I'm fine on my own; I just have to stay ahead of them."

"I don't think you could stay ahead of a tortoise right now, kid," Creed pointed out. "Why don't you let me drive this time? You catch a few catnaps, and I'll get us to someplace that you can hole up in for a day or so. How's that sound?"

Validating his worry, Kylie stifled a yawn. Creed couldn't help but chuckle, with a belly full of protein and carbs, this girl would be hard pressed to stay awake for very long. She glared at him; oh! She had a cold stare that could freeze steel. As she stared, Creed drained the rest of his beer, but no buzz would be touching his system tonight. Some days he just couldn't drink fast enough to outrun his healing factor.

Kylie shifted slightly in her seat, and dug around in her pocket for a few seconds. She held the keys in her closed fist, and reached across the table toward him. Her hand trembled slightly as Creed held his out beneath it; she eyed those talons that had shredded flesh so easily just hours earlier. She hesitated.

"Why are you doing this?" she finally asked, daring to look him straight in the eyes. "Because someone ordered you to? Because someone paid you?"

Creed shrugged. "I could have just followed you. Kept tabs on you, and rushed in like some friggin' knight when the shit went down." Creed shook his head. "Not my style at all. But yeah, I was told to keep an eye on you. This is business, frail, simple, easy business."

Kylie's eyes flicked away, dropping down to study the tabletop. Wordlessly, she dropped the keys into his open palm, and withdrew her hand. After a few moments of silence, she pushed her plate away, refusing to look up. Creed's chest suddenly felt… tight.

What the hell? Was he really regretting just crushing this kids prayers? Oh, yeah, now he definitely felt like heel. The kid has a sketchbook filled with you, dumbass. Creed's quietest inner voice whispered. As he pushed himself up out of the table, he rubbed one hand along his forehead. Without a word, Kylie followed him out of the diner, and back to her Jeep.

Creed settled in and fiddled with the controls until the Jeep accepted his long frame. Kylie watched him without comment, but she flinched slightly as he revved the engine. Yeah, Creed figured this vehicle was, in every effect, Kylie's baby.

"Look, kick back and enjoy the ride," Creed reached out to rest his hand against the back of her headrest. "I'll be nice to your ride, I promise."

She eyed the arm stretched toward her, and shifted away after a second. Creed scented distrust, and… sadness. She cast him a baleful sidelong glance. "I'm gonna hold you to that," she muttered, crossing her arms.

Creed returned the sidelong glance. He'd known enough women in his life to leave them alone when they crossed their arms like that. But he knew he would never be able to figure out just why they got that way. With a sigh, Creed settled into driving, and a steady, not quite comfortable silence fell within the Jeep.

The Jeep was good on gas; Creed figured they were well into the quieter forests of Quebec by the time he was beginning to get concerned about fuel. Kylie had fallen asleep no more than an hour after they left the diner, and they had passed over the Canadian border without so much as a hiccup from her. She was still curled against the door, shivering in the cooling night.

Rolling his shoulders, Creed figured it was a good time to stop for a good stretch. Figuring by the stars, they were still a few hours off from his destination, and a few hours off from dawn. Hitting the flophouse by the time the sun hit the treetops seemed to be a reasonable estimate. Popping his door open, he slide from the seat and arched his back, reaching those strong, taloned hands of his skyward.

That poor kid looked so cold. But installing the soft top would definitely wake her up. No, he couldn't do that to her. She already thought him a cold-hearted asshole. Why would he want to reinforce that?

Waitaminute. Why did it matter what the frail thought? Creed glanced over at her, and paced around the Jeep a few times. Finally pausing by the passenger door, he reached in to slide a curl from her face. Slowly, he shucked his jacket. She's a telepath, he reminded himself sourly. She can probably make me get all confused, and friggin sympathetic like this.

His jacket felt awkward and heavy as he fed it between the windshield and the roll bars. Face it, dumbass, whispered that quietest of voices. You like being relied on. You like being trusted. Creed tried to shake the voice off, all the while smoothing his long trench coat over Kylie's curled body. As he tucked the collar under her chin, she sighed softly, and settled in further. His gut tightened. See.

Creed scowled. He really should have let her be at the motel. He'd have been a while lot more comfortable watching her struggles from a distance. Frustrated, he scrubbed a hand through his mane, and left the passenger door. What did he have to look forward to after all this, anyway?

Lensherr wanted Kylie to join the Acolytes. She'd be exposed to the gentle giant of a Russian, and to that damned snakeskin-smooth charmer, Remy. She'd never want to be near Creed again, that was for sure. Perturbed, Creed climbed back into the drivers seat, and pulled back out onto the road.

He wasn't too much farther down the pot-holed route when the headlights appeared in his rear view. The brilliant lights blinded him for a moment, and Creed gave an irritated snarl. Flicking the mirror to the second surface, Creed glanced over his shoulder. It was a tractor trailer, a massive diesel rumbling up fast on his bumper. Creed realized a few seconds too slow that the semi had pulled into the other lane and was attempting to pass.

As the semi pulled alongside, Creed tapped the brakes, slowing to let the behemoth pass. But the semi slowed as well, and began to ease back into its proper lane… on top of the Jeep!

"Oh, shit!" Frantic for a way out, Creed slammed the brakes hard, flinging his arm out to catch Kylie. The semi swerved an instant later, and Creed watched the trailer begin to jack knife towards them. "Hang on, frail!" he hollered as he jerked hard on the wheel.

Kylie didn't even manage a scream as she woke up. Sparks flew as the front bumper ground against the guardrail, but the rail gave in first. With the shredding of aluminum, the Jeep sprung free, bouncing hard as it pitched down a steep hill. Creed released the girl to fight with keeping the Jeep upright. As they careened down the hillside, a rain of gunfire peppered the grass and bushes all around. Wisely, Kylie ducked down.

Creed hit the tree line with a sharp snarl. The Jeep pitched around as he tried to guide it through the old growth forest, desperately yanking on the wheel to avoid trees. He kept the throttle pinned, outrunning the echo of gunfire, until the Jeep sputtered, and coughed, and ran out of gas deep in the Quebec forest.

Flipping his tawny mane back from his face, Creed managed a chuckle, patting the steering wheel softly. "Well, I tried to treat it nice." Kylie didn't answer him. "Frail? Kiddo?" Creed pivoted in his seat. "Kylie?"

The girl was slumped down, clutching his jacket tightly. He touched her shoulder lightly, but curled his lip as the scent of fresh blood tickled the back of his throat. The windshield had spiderwebbed, and Kylie sported a wide laceration over her eyebrow.

"Well," he muttered softly. "I guess I get to carry you." Creed rubbed his face as he banished all his mental images. He shook his head, reminding himself that he was here to protect the girl… not kill her.

Kylie's head throbbed. It wasn't just that dull ache, she'd grown used to over the years. No, this was an actual physical pain. She lifted her hand, shielding her eyes from the mornings light. Carefully, she sat up, and rubbed at the bandage that wound around her head. Bewildered, she surveyed her surroundings.

The room was tiny. Log walls, and a post-and-beam ceiling made the rustic charm of the tiny cabin feel almost cozy. The bed was long, but small, barely big enough for her to stretch out on. A wood stove stood dormant in one corner, and she suddenly doubted the place had running water.

Kylie smiled after a second. Her duffel bags were seated on the foot of the bed. Carefully she reached forward, conscious of the squealing springs. A sound from the floor beside the bed froze her in place. Carefully, she leaned over to see.

Flopped out on his back was the man she probably owed her life to now. Victor Creed. Kylie's heart skipped a beat. His jacket was wadded up as a pillow, and he had one arm thrown over his face. What she had originally thought as sleeves were apparently some manner of buckled-on armor, for both arm guards and the matching chest-piece lay strewn haphazardly across the floor.

He was bare-chested, and snoring. Kylie's fingertips tingled at the image. She reached again for the duffel, and extracted her sketchbook and charcoals. Willing him not to move, she set herself up, the bottom of the pad resting against her knees, her right hand supporting the top. A new sweeping line was born with each rise or fall of his barrel chest. Kylie fought to capture all the leonine grace with which he sprawled, and the rogueish carelessness that he'd left in his wake.

But a flash…

Blue. Red. Brown. Laughter.

Kylie shook her head sharply. This wasn't a good time, yet she found herself turning the page.

Role reversal. The woman sleeps on the floor. The man, awake, stares at her in mute awe. Angular jaw. Swept-back black hair. It found its way onto the paper, regardless of Kylie's wishes. Another flash.

Children. Singing. Christmas carols. The straight jacket confines. The girl with the easy smile. Curled fingers, stiff joints. A wheelchair. Coal dark hair. A sing-song rhyme.

She wanted the flashes to stop, but her hand continued to draw. A large building, beautiful gothic structure with an iron gate and high stone walls. Windows where adults and children alike stare at the landscape. A physical jerk. The bedroom again. The sleeping woman leaps to awareness, eyes wild. Golden eyes. Lupine eyes. Coal dark hair.

"Lexie?" Kylie's voice shattered the moment. She shuddered and glanced down at the her sketchpad. Jumbled images swam before her, setting her brain afire. Three faces. A man. A woman. A girl-child. The two females… youth and adult. "Lex. Oh, my God…" Her hand tightened atop the sketchpad, squeezing to imprint the rings into her palm. "no… No…" the word began to fall from her lips as a mantra. Repeated over and over. She hiccupped.

"Frail?" the deep voice cracked trying to be so quiet. Creed pushed himself up, reaching out for Kylie's leg. As he carefully settled his hand down, Kylie drew a single deep breath and squeezed her eyes closed. Tears filled the room with their warm, saline scent. Creed pulled himself up to his knees, unable to find words for the girl.

Her eyes followed him, dark and moist. She dropped her sketchbook, and leaned forward. Kylie's arms wrapped around his neck, and in moments she was hanging on Creed, sobbing hysterically. Dumb-struck, Creed wrapped her up in his arms, and rested his cheek against her hair. What else could he do? The only way he knew how to stop a woman crying was by ending their life, and he wasn't about to do that to this one. Bewildered, he chanced a look at the open page of her sketchpad…

"So you think something's gonna happen here?" Creed clarified again. "And when it does, you want me to take this letter to Xavier's x-punks?"

Kylie nodded, folding the letter slowly. "You said that's where that Logan fellow works. Lexie's going to be with him."

She sounded oddly calm, and collected for a girl who had been hysterical less than an hour before. "And Lexie is?" Creed prompted, holding out his hand as Kylie's balloon-like handwriting finished off the envelope. Kylie didn't seal the package before he held it out.

"An old childhood friend of mine," she answered softly, watching Creed tuck the letter into his jacket pocket. "So, what happened last night? I remember the big truck… but beyond that?"

The big man turned to look out the window, shrugging as he placed his broad back towards her. "The Jeep's outside, beneath those bushes. And we're here, about a hundred miles from anything important." He glanced over his shoulder as she began to move, and watched her replace her sketchbook in the duffel. "Let's go put those back in the Jeep, just in case." He leaned back and snagged one of the bags, heading for the door after. At the threshold he paused, to wait for the girl to catch up.

There Kylie paused, and stared about. The tall cedars and oaks cast a thick, oppressive shade over the sparse undergrowth. As Creed strode out from the tiny porch, Kylie noticed survival gear, and hunting implements scattered around what could barely qualify as a yard. A deer spreader clanged in the wind, striking against the truck of the tree it was suspended by. Creed paused before he began to pull branches from the Jeep, and he took a good sniff of his surroundings.

"Frail…" he muttered, motioning her over with a jerk of his head. "Get on over here." To her credit, the girl sprinted across the moss and leaves, and she pulled branches from the Jeep as she circumnavigated it. The glint of fear in her eyes was real; she knew they were coming. Just as Creed could smell their rot on the breeze.

"They've got us surrounded," Kylie whispered, leaning into the Jeep for a moment. Bullets clicked softly as she filled her clip from a box beneath the seat. Creed's mouth curled into a grin. She was ready to fight. He started to settle down, motioning her closer. She stood behind him, gun at the ready, as a steady breeze whipped their hair about.

Creed registered the snap of a tree limb a second after Kylie reacted. She spun left, raising her pistol defensively. A dark shape, moving through the trees, was quickly joined by more. Creed snarled, canines gnashing at the advancing army. He wasn't going to wait, and he lunged, expecting nothing less than what he received. The army reacted with a strange singularity of purpose. The first four lines were armed with bludgeoning tools, and sharp knives, with which Creed soon found himself being slashed and bashed with.

Counting the echoing gunshots, the vicious mutant realized that Kylie had emptied her clip too quickly. Damn it! He had to get back to her. Throwing off two automatons, he gutted a third as he spun, gathering himself for a leap.

Kylie had thrown the gun to the ground, and snatched up the jack from Jeep. Wildly she swung it, caving in chests and skulls when she struck. Creed leapt, clearing the distance between them easily. His claws dove into the skull of one creature, which he then used as a blocking dummy, knocking down four more.

"Where are they all coming from?" Kylie shouted over the wailing wind. As if answering her question, a sleek black helicopter buzzed the treetops, coming to rest at a hover over the tiny cabin.

"Get out of here, kid," Creed snarled, as he shoved her toward the Jeep. "I'll buy you some time, and meet up with you in Ottowa."

"No!"

"If you don't go, I swear I'll kill you myself!" Creed snapped, flashing his claws in her face. Kylie's sudden burst of motion was refreshing. She leapt into the Jeep and the engine roared to life without hesitation.

"Promise me!" she shouted, her eyes on the chopper. It's side panel slowly slid open; the glint of a gun barrel emerging slowly. "Promise!"

Damn kid, why did she have to stall like that? He shook a scrawny figure from his back, and pivoted toward her. "I promise! Now GO!" He hoped that the empty words would put her ass in gear. The chopper's guns were winding up; he had to get her out of the blast pattern. The Jeep's wheels spun, showering everything with dirt and leaves; fearlessly, she plowed down the mindless army, and made haste to escape.

Throwing his head back, Sabretooth roared to the sky, and pounced. He grabbed the roof of the cabin, and scrambled up. Another good spring, and he would be able to grab the runners on the chopper. He wouldn't get the chance.

Mid-leap, the machine gun began. The first dozen bullets took his shoulder out of socket, shattering bones and spinning him around. The rest pelted into his back, rupturing organs, and bouncing around within his body. Creed hit the roof hard, but the pain of impact was lost in the sheer agony of breathing. As he rolled off the sloped roof, into the bushes, he stared down the path of motionless bodies that Kylie had carved with the Jeep.

He found the strength to draw a breath, and forced his eyes to stay open. The explosion blinded him, fire blooming in the shadowed forest. Creed couldn't get a sound out, but it seemed the pain of his body vanished, only to be replaced by the phantom pain of loss.

Kylie…