Marvel owns the rights to Sabretooth & Birdy, all others are my creation.

Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.

Creed had gone in search of an available washroom when it was apparent that Emma would not be leaving the one in his room any time soon. When he had returned, she was gone. She remained gone while he was briefed by the neuro-surgeon, when he scared away the nurse who had come to shave his head, and while he grumbled to himself as he shaved his own head.

He refused the wheelchair they had brought to his room and stomped after the orderly who showed him the way to the operating room. They asked him to lay down on a gurney and wait in the hallway, Creed only half complied by sitting on it with his legs hanging off the side. He ran his hand over his scalp, he could feel his hair growing back in already, thank goodness.

A nurse commented on the time as the surgery was supposed to start at 3:15pm. It was now 3:17pm. The crowd of doctors and hospital staff who would be in the room with him stood around with a bit of impatience. Finally someone spoke.

"Mr. Creed, do you happen to know where your wife is?" It seems they had all been waiting so that he could see her before the surgery. A normally useless feeling popped up within him, he was touched by their kindness. He shook his head.

"Let's get this dog n' pony show on the road." He replied gruffly but as he lay back on the gurney, worry and a bit of fear curdled his stomach. He realized he wanted to see her, he needed to see her badly, somehow it would tell him that he would be okay. Instead of saying anything however, Creed continued to scowl and let them push him into the operating room to begin.

The anesthesiologist was talking to him but he tuned the woman out. His head was buzzing and he could hear his heart beat rapidly on the monitors, he loathed himself for his fear, and that seemed to calm him down some. A needle was slipped into the crick of his arm and the anesthesiologist nodded to the others as she applied the sedative. They all stood around him with their palms out to maintain sterilization, just staring at him, waiting. It was completely unnerving.

"Cordova, what's the hold up?" One of them, armed with a scalpel, asked from behind his mask to the doctor at his head who was supposed to be drugging him.

"It's not working." She mumbled while fiddling with something out of Creed's vision.

"The drugs aren't working or the machine isn't working?" The first doctor asked with impatience.

"I'm not terribly su—oh my god!" They were all staring at him again with a bit of disgust. All Creed had done was open his left eye.

"Problem doc?" He growled at the arrogant prick standing over him with the knife.

"Your eye seems to have regenerated. It's, um, not the same colour as your other one." Creed still couldn't understand what colour could have shown up that would make them react the way they had. He didn't have much time to think about it as his head was beginning to swim.

"It's going now." He heard the anesthesiologist say from far away. Just as he was slipping away, he saw someone standing above him in some sort of viewing room to the theatre. It was Birdy, and beside her was Emma, bawling her eyes out.

ooooooo

Emma was not particularly squeamish, but she just couldn't watch as the doctors cut into Victor's head and peel back his scalp, saw his skull cap off and then begin to prod through his head with a metal detector. Instead she sat in an uncomfortable chair that faced away from the window of the balcony. She could still hear them, but she only saw Birdy, quietly reading a magazine. She seemed unconcerned.

"I brought your knitting." Birdy looked up, trying to distract her as the saw started up again. "Knit On, with confidence and hope, through all crises." She quoted Elizabeth Zimmermann, which she deemed appropriate at a time like this.

Emma agreed silently and dragged the bag of yarn towards herself. She picked up the gray socks she had been knitting for Victor, a completely thankless task as his feet were so big and he went through socks so quickly. Finding her composure, she knit.

"He's gonna be okay, you know that right?" Birdy asked her. "I mean, hello, healing factor – I've seen him set on fire, and I mean self immolation kinda on fire. He was fine that evening…a bit grumpy, but you know what I mean." That made the other laugh.

There was some mild swearing coming from the operating theatre now. "Speaking of healing factor…" Emma murmured. They both approached the glass to watch the doctors fight Creed's body as it tried to close itself up.

The rest of the operation, all three hours and an extra two to close him up (and shave his head a second time, which was difficult to say the least), passed without incident except for the hourly use of the bone saw. Birdy read Cosmopolitan articles out loud and Emma stitched up the toe of her second sock – amazed that it had only taken her a year to finish them. One of the surgeons interrupted them when he came through the door of the viewing room.

"We managed to find what we hope was all of the shrapnel, and he's healing just fine. We're just going to run some tests and then you should be able to greet him as he wakes up." He made what passed as a smile as Emma exhaled.

As he left, Birdy remarked that she hadn't seen a ring. Not knowing how to respond to that, Emma shook her head and stretched her limbs. The stairs down from the room were treacherous after hours in a seated position so she took them slowly. A nurse swung past them and directed them on to the room where Victor would be after they were finished with him, then continued down the hall.

Birdy mumbled something about getting a coke when she caught sight of the doctor who had just spoken to them, and left Emma alone in the recovery room. She clutched the finished pair of sock to her and waited nervously. As infuriating, annoying, brutish and abusive as he was, she loved Victor Creed.

It wasn't all that long before he was wheeled into the room, still unconscious. The nurses left after hooking him up the some monitoring equipment and Emma found herself at the end of his bed so without much else to do but wait, she put the socks on him. They fit rather well, she was momentarily proud of herself until Creed groaned and his arm moved.

If there was one thing she had learned over the years, it was not to stand over or near him when he was regaining consciousness as he had a tendency to attack without discretion. Emma waited in a chair against the wall, his face turned to her.

There was a cough, a choke, and then his eyes fluttered open. She couldn't help but tilt her head to match his, a puzzled look on her face. They stared at each other in silence.

"What is it already?" Creed asked hoarsely.

"Your left eye…" She stood and walked to his bedside.

"What colour is it?" He cleared his throat.

"It's all black, with a yellow iris."

"Is that all? The way they were lookin' at me in there, I thought I had a cue ball for an eye." He found he couldn't sit up quite yet on his own, but she helped him up. Creed reached out and held her to him tightly but briefly. Then he noticed his feet. "What're those?" He flexed his toes and stretched the fabric.

"I made you socks." She replied while he looked at her incredulously.

"You knit me socks?" Emma responded with a deep kiss despite his terrible sleep breath. When they broke, he gave her a wary look. "Where the hell were you?"

"I couldn't…" Emma shook her head and trailed off.

"Yer such a girl." Creed sneered in feigned disgust, not ready to admit that he had needed her there.

"You're such a jerk."