Marvel owns the rights to Sabretooth & Birdy, all others are my creation.
Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.
Creed was out back, enjoying the breeze of the late afternoon air. He needed to get away from Emma, she was making him soft the last three months while he was cooped up in the house, unable to fly the airlines. He should just get himself a private jet.
He was sitting on his haunches in the February snow. His heavy winter boots unnecessary but were a Christmas gift from his wife. They were fur lined and warm. He leaned forward and cracked the thin ice of the man made pond with a sharp rap of his claw. It split the opaque glass-like covering into a spider web shape. Seeing it broken seemed to cheer him up.
The headaches had become less frequent now, but were still evident. They seemed to come without warning and without cause. Emma had caught him a few times using his claws to dig into his own head. The last time this had happened Emma left the room for a moment only to return with the meat cleaver, pulled his hand away from his temple onto the coffee table and broke three of his finger with a sharp smash. He had of course returned the favor by grabbing her by the throat and choking her until she fell unconscious, but the pain of his headache was effectively diverted while his hand healed. Regardless, she had chosen to sleep in one of the spare bedrooms that night. They were still not talking and it made him feel just the slightest tinge of guilt.
Thus he was here.
More snow was coming. He could smell it in the air. The wind was picking up and the squirrels among the trees surrounding him were chattering away at each other. He pulled himself up and started to walk to the back of the property, deeper into the trees. He met the tall stone wall built for security, hidden among the brush so looking out from the house, you couldn't tell where the yard terminated. Victor had wanted more acreage but acknowledged the value of security and keeping a smaller area safe was easier. Besides, he still had a cabin out in the wilderness of Alberta without borders as he owned most of the land that surrounded it and there were no neighbours for miles. He had bought it all decades ago for pennies compared to today's standards. He hadn't even changed a thing about the cabin, which made Emma a little reticent to visit it since she would be forced to use the outhouse that stood a good handful of yards away. It was swarming with mosquitoes in the summer and freezing in the winter, and bears lurked around during the time in between.
Creed chuckled to himself remembering once, while Emma has been pregnant, they had visited the cabin in the early winter. The baby had sat on her bladder making bathroom trips frequent. She would have to get up a few times in the night to use the outhouse and she would wake him up to escort her out. They had lost that child, a boy, very soon after that. Victor's thoughts turned dark. Emma didn't know this, but even though it had been years since then he still blamed himself for the death of his son. He never should have taken her out there in the first place.
She had the smell of pregnancy again but he refused to get his hopes up anymore. They hadn't yet had one live birth in all their years – his son had been the closest they had come at seven and a half months. She must have stopped taking her birth control sometime after coming home with him. That pleased him but now it was a waiting game. Did she even know she was pregnant again? Creed suspected so, how any woman could not sense her own body's change was beyond him.
The sun was low in the sky and a chill was kicking up with the ever increasing wind. There would be a storm tonight. He caught Emma's soft knock against the glass sliding door to the back letting him know dinner was almost ready. He felt a twinge in his temple again and wondered if another headache was coming on or if it was only a figment of his imagination. He prayed the latter and then, almost as an afterthought, prayed for a healthy child.
Victor trudged up to the house through the thin blanket of snow and peeked into one of the kitchen windows where Emma was working. She looked up at him, the marks on her neck he had left, before he caught the smell of a child inside her, were healing well. Her healing factor was sluggish in this instance – it then occurred to him that maybe it was busy fighting off foreign bodies elsewhere in her body. Emma seemed to become really concerned, looking at him through the glass then, and he realized his expression had turned sad without him noticing.
ooooooo
Creed left his boots at the back door, the snow melting off of them. It had turned dark out very quickly once he came in. The wind was howling now and snow was beginning to come down. He picked at his bean soup, which he only ate to make Emma happy. Birdy was away on a date that evening so it was only the two of them eating at the kitchen table.
Emma had been surreptitiously watching him play with his food before clearing her throat and putting her spoon down. "It's too salty." She said quietly. Creed nodded. She pushed back her chair and removed both their bowls and dumped them down the garbage disposal, loaded them into the dishwasher, then plated the roast beef and mashed potatoes. Emma sat back down after serving him, and added a generous amount of gravy over her food.
Creed continued to pick at his plate.
"Too dry?" Emma asked.
"It's fine." He muttered and took a bite to shut her up. It was too dry. He added gravy. "When are ya going to the gyno?"
She wasn't surprised that he knew without them saying a word, but it didn't make her feel any better if this was the reason for his morose mood. "I haven't called yet."
"Well do that, would ya?" Creed barked at her.
"Is this why you're so damn cranky? Because I'm pregnant?"
Creed slammed his hand down on the table, it shook so hard that the salt shaker jumped about two inches. "Just get me some friggin' Advil?" He recoiled his hand to rub his eyes.
Emma obliged him but said over her shoulder as she reached up in the cabinet over the fridge, "I want you to go see a doctor."
"No! No doctors." He grumbled.
"Victor – "
"No doctors!" Creed yelled at her, his eyes red from rubbing.
"Victor!" She snapped back to get his attention. "Your nose is bleeding." Emma walked over with a tissue box and the Advil. Creed felt a healthy drip make its way from his nose, down around his mouth, and settle around his chin. It itched. He snatched up a few tissues and wiped at his face. "No, you're going to have to wash your face." Emma said as the blood smeared into his skin, making it look like an oddly situated blush on his left side.
"Has it stopped?" He pulled the tissues away from his nose for her to take a good look.
"I think your healing factor may have staunched it." With a nod, he grabbed the Advil bottle and shook out some pills. He was up to three now, which he swallowed with a mouthful of milk while ignoring Emma's frown.
"I ain't goin' to the doctor." He growled and handed her his bloody tissues so that he could continue to eat his dinner.
