Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several innocent short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.

17. Fourth Lesson: Trust

It was half past midday, and the sun was at its hottest. Not that 77ºF was terribly hot, but with no water and little shadow, it felt a lot worse than it really was. Creed advanced through the valley, cliffs rising everywhere, and trained his eyes on the shadowy nook he knew Irbis was hiding at. Walking as silently as his boots allowed him to – which was pretty noiselessly – he entered the shadow. Irbis was sitting, her back resting on the cliff. She was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, a pullover lying on her lap, and he realised she had cut her wavy locks just below the chin. Her feet were white with the dust they'd accumulated and didn't betray any wound, whereas a bandage on her left wrist betrayed an older wound that Creed suddenly understood had been caused by the girl herself, though he couldn't understand why she had played the suicidal brat at the Friends of Humanity's headquarters. Her face was tanned and filthy, the skin cracking around the mouth, the short hair dishevelled and dusty, her breathing serene, her eyes closed.

"Well, well..." And he enjoyed the jump that accompanied the interrupted breathing. "Ya're still alive."

Eyes wide open, Irbis's gaze fell on him. Unexpectedly, they betrayed no surprise or relief, only anger.

"Obvious I'm alive. You want dat I die, you have to kill me you." But then she frowned and the anger boiled into something else, almost murder. "You don't come logo because you think dat I die here?"

Had there been any sign of up-coming violence in her body language, Creed would have been amused; but the only promise of violence was in her eyes and her voice and that meant she wouldn't act unless it was to be a fruitful act. Not that she'd have the chance for that.

"Figured ya'd be dead whatever time I got here, so it really made no nevermind." He crouched in front of her studying her clenched jaws and her regular though deep breathing. "'Course after that disappearin' act o' yours, death is the least ya deserve."

"Hun!?" She frowned so hard, her face wrinkled into an ugly grimace, moreso because of the indignation seeping through her voice. "Disappear act?"

It ticked him. She knew damn well what she had done. "Yeah, disappearin' act! Waltzin' out, leavin', takin' off, goin' away, vanishin' 'nto thin air. That disappearin' act!"

Incredulity added to anger and indignation as she shook her head lightly. "Disappear?! I don't disappear; I leave you a note in de bed!"

That was something new; worse, nonsensical. "Why the hell d'ya put a note inside the damned bed?!"

"Is not inside de bed; is in de top off de bed!" She was getting exasperated, but that was nothing compared to Creed's exasperation as he grabbed her arms and tried to shake some basic linguistic knowledge inside her head.

"ON top! It's ON! IN is inside; ON is on top of; on the surface of. ON!"

She fell backwards as he let go of her, getting up himself to take a step away from her before he lost the remainder of his temper. It didn't take her a moment to get herself together, though.

"Não interessa, c******! I leave you de note ON de bed. I explain dat... if you change de information de sheriff and de teenager are wid dem and dey know de true information! And if dey see de information is false when you change it, den dey go search me in Wausau because dey know the true information! So I go so dey can see me, or I can see dem, and you can see dem and kill dem!"

Creed was looking back at her, listening to her icy speech with a deep frown.

"But de bus is too slow and I think 'he ainda goes and stop de bus' or I arrive in de station and you are my waiting. But you don't appear! And I find de sheriff and de teenager, and dey want to kill me but you aren't nowhere so I escape, and dey escape too because you didn't come!"

Creed clenched his teeth. He wasn't about to take lip from the frail, no matter if she had been following sound logic. He slapped her hard, though not hard enough to knock her out, then clenched her throat in a tight grip; even if, naturally, none of it bothered her the least.

"Watch yer mouth, girl." It was securely shut by now, though, and it might have made more sense if he had warned her about her irritating murderous glare. "First of all, there was no note on the f****** bed. Second, I trailed ya all the way and killed everyone who as much as heard anythin' 'bout ya, whichever persona that was. There's no more threat t'my house other 'an you."

More than the threat, it was the information that calmed her glare. "No, I leave de note on de bed. Até a pen! I put de pen in... on top off de note."

Well, at least she was using the right preposition now. He watched her as she closed her eyes, fatigue getting over now she had no more reasons to be exasperated. Then she insisted a couple more times on the note. She was telling the truth, he knew; but he was also very sure that no one had entered the room to take it. The room had had no one's scent but hers. How had the note disappeared then? He revised the whole scene in his head. There had been a strong air draft as he opened the door, he recalled, which had attracted his eye to the window and to the white card, beaming to him amidst the darkness of the room. Nothing on the bed had attracted his eye, and he was sure that a piece of paper would have. Perhaps the air draft had blown the paper off the bed. It might have been just strong enough... He hoped she hadn't written anything suspicious enough to warrant calling the cops, when the cleaning maids had gone in; or that they were all Mexican runaways that wouldn't dare to get the Law... maybe not even able to speak English well enough to bother reading it. Whatever. It was much too late to worry about that now, anyway.

Creed fished the card out of his pocket. It was actually a good thing she hadn't died; he'd have the chance to do her in himself, should she say the wrong thing or reek of the wrong feeling. Crouching closer to her, so as not to miss the smallest sign, he put the XSE card face up in front of her. She looked up frowning slightly, not understanding what he was getting at.

"Where did ya get it?"

Her frown didn't smooth away, as if she still didn't understand why he was making that question. "De man wid de tattoo give me because he wanted dat I stay and when I said I can't, he gave me de card for de case I change ideas."

"And why did ya keep it with ya? Why didn't ya get rid of it?"

She shrugged, the frown changing from loss to irritation.

"Were ya thinkin' o' callin' 'em?" That was the main question and both his voice and his glare betrayed it. "Of askin' fer their help?"

Her eyes shone with deep indignation almost immediately, as she took a deep breath of pure wrath. "I promised," she seethed through clenched teeth, "I die before I hurt you."

"People don't keep no promises."

"Maybe you," and there was plenty of revulsion in her voice, "are like people. I am not."

He struck her once, making her fall over, then got up. From the rocky ground, her glare was so murderously intense it impressed him.

"I make a promise. If you smell de true like you say, den you know I don't break my promise. You don't believe me?"

But again, her body language didn't follow-up on her glare. Even if she knew she was helpless against him, still he'd expect the slight slouching of the shoulders, the face slightly turned downwards, the clenching fists, the tensed muscles. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and further exposed her chest, her face completely turned towards his, her muscles neither relaxed nor tense. Perhaps the chin rising a bit more than usual.

Creed considered the girl and her stupid naïveté for a moment, his anger over her betrayal gone. After all, there had never been any betrayal or even intention.

"I know ya're sayin' the truth. And I believe ya mean it. At least fer now, ya mean it." She clenched her teeth and inhaled deeply. "Thing is, everyone means it when they make promises, but they'll all change their minds sooner or later. So, yeah, I believe ya mean it; and no, I don't trust ya t'keep yer pretty promises."

"I – am not – people." Her glare became reddish, probably because there wasn't much water in the body for it to waste on tears. "Doesn't interest what you do and say, even if I want see you dead, I don't do nothing to hurt you because I promise. Now and forever, and if I change ideas, azar! I still do what I promise. Always."

She was being truthful – irrationally so – and Creed hesitated.

"You're like everyone." She said with despise. "You talk and talk, but you don't respect what you compromise to do. Pois, listen good: if you don't believe dat I maintain my promise until I'm dead and after, den you kill me now. If I go to de X-Men and dey ask about you, I cut my neck but I don't say nothing. Dey can say and do anything. If dey torture me, I don't say anything. If dey promise take me home I still don't say anything. Nothing. Never. Believe it or kill me. Now! I don't admit dat I say something and you think is a lie, always a lie. Não! Believe me or kill me."

Creed blinked once, the intensity of her truthfulness had had an impact on him. She meant it with every fibre of her being and he could smell how intensely she did mean it. But it didn't make any difference. He took a bottle of water from his backpack and threw it down at her.

"Drink. We got some way t' go 'fore ya're out o' here."

She gazed at the bottle angrily for a moment, then she clenched her teeth.

"I don't need your water."

Her glare surprised him, even if she wasn't directing it at him. He had allowed her to vent her frustration so now she should be able to get over herself and act sensibly. If he remembered correctly, her promise had included obeying him. Maybe it was the lack of water getting to her. Dehydration tended to make people act in stupid ways. As if to prove his assertion, he noticed how she reached for a stone and weighed it in her hand. He was almost amused at the thought that she might attack him. Hadn't she just insisted that she'd never do anything to hurt him?

"Don't be stupid, ya moron. Ya're dehydrated... ya ain't careful, ya gonna end up dead at yer own hands." Then as to remind her of her promise: "Ain't ya supposed t'do everythin' I tells ya?"

She looked up at him as she got up. Those weren't the eyes of a dehydrated dimwit, as sunk and reddened as they might be.

She took two steps to the side before looking away, not betraying any of the dizziness even the lightest dehydration often provokes. Not betraying not even sore feet. Following her gaze, he spotted the birds perched on the cliff. Nevertheless, he kept an eye on her hand, judging the certainty of the swing when she threw the stone and hit one of the birds. She didn't look at him, keeping her eyes on the spot the small creature fell to, and then walked on to retrieve it.

Creed was almost mesmerised when she picked it up and wrung its head off, taking the body to her mouth and sucking the blood flowing from the neck. That snake had not been killed out of despair. His heart beat faster when she looked back at him, her lips blood red – no metaphor – and her eyes indomitably wild. She walked back to him, choosing her path carefully amidst the rocks and uneven ground.

"I have my... water." She stated when she got back to his side, the bird still in her hand.

Creed swallowed down. A sudden thirst got hold of his throat, his blood burning in his veins. She looked like a young, weakened hag, dusty and at the end of her physical strength, but there was no end to her inner strength, he was certain. Her eyes held all the power and energy her frail body didn't and he couldn't help inhaling deeply, tasting the strength of her scent, intensified by those days without a shower. Despite his taste for ampler breasts and wider hips, he admitted that her undomitable gaze was far more alluring than any body he'd ever seen.

"Suit yerself." He wondered how long she'd hold out before accepting his water. "The car's a few miles away, so we better start movin'."

They walked in silence. The pale earth had turned whitish under the sun rays, the dried up under-brush standing like dwarfish sentinels. The sun was at its zenith and, hadn't Creed wanted to break the girl, he'd have let her sit in the shaded nook until later in the day.

Behind him, Irbis walked slowly but determinedly. She hadn't asked for water and Creed knew she wasn't going to. She'd let herself die first. He couldn't help admiring the girl's strength: he knew that she would keep her word until the end, even if he would never admit it out-loud. But just because he believed her, it didn't follow that something wouldn't happen that would somehow make her betray him. Maybe she'd have to be tricked into it, but it could happen. It would. He stopped and looked back.

Irbis's short hair made her look younger, while the dark circles under her eyes made her look older. She was wearing the pullover, protecting her skin from the unforgiving sun, but her face was getting reddish. She didn't look at him as she closed the gap separating them, nor did she stop when she reached his position.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the backpack and took a long sip. The liquid had lost its coolness a long time ago since he hadn't bothered to bring icy water, but it still felt good to the throat. He put the cap on and took a couple of strides, enough to catch up with the girl. His hand clamped down over her wrist and she stopped, the frown she had kept on over the last three hours melting into naïve surprise. Creed suddenly realised she wasn't really angry any longer, just upset. He placed the bottle in her hand, not having to force it there as he had expected. Then he kept walking.

Irbis had stopped, looking at the bottle, so Creed had to stop too. The girl would have got too behind if he didn't. He saw her gazing stupidly at the bottle, then unscrew the cap and take a shy sip. After that, she took a longer sip, screwed the cap back on and resumed her walking.

Creed waited for her to catch up before starting walking again. Irbis got immediately behind, but he tried to walk slowly so she couldn't get too behind.

"I trust you."

Her voice had been low and for a moment he wasn't sure if she had actually said what he thought she had. She looked up to meet his frown and stopped a step away from him.

"I trust you," she insisted. "I trust dat you don't let anyone hurt me because I work to you. I trust dat you don't treat me bad if I don't do something dat you think is a provocation and I trust dat you treat me bad if you think I provoke you. I trust dat you... dat you kill me when you think I'm not... convenient. I trust dat you don't sacrifice you proper because of me, dat you prefer to kill me instead off having trouble because I exist."

She swallowed down, her voice wavering for the first words. "I trust you like I trusted de dog of my grandfader. Bobby was a bad dog, he bit people. But I trusted him because he only bit you if you touched his food or his house or his ball. If you didn't do dat, you could play wid him and he never hurt you. And I trust you like dat."

It was implicit she wanted him to trust her like that too. Her eyes were wide and her gaze intense as she handed him the bottle back.

"Thank you for de water."

Creed glanced at it, but her brown eyes held a greater attraction.

"That ain't trust."

There was a smirk at the corner of her mouth, which had a bit of bird blood clotted in a dusty mess.

"What is it?"

"A fact. Ya knew what made the dog play nice or play rough and acted on that knowledge. Facts."

He could hear her heart beat rising, and her cheeks grew redder.

"You believe in... facts?"

Her eyes shone anxiously and Creed held back a grin. He could play her game better than she could.

"Facts ain't necessarily permanent."

Her smile opened up unexpectedly and he frowned. "No. Is always de exception dat confirms de rule." Then the smile diminished and the intensity of her gaze strengthened. "Do you believe in facts and deir exceptions?"

He hesitated. She knew the answer to that specific question as well as he did.

"Keep the water. Ya'll need it again 'fore long."

She was smart enough not to gloat, or maybe she had understood that, whatever he believed, it was none of her business.

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