Vic & X-Factor are Marvel’s. No money. Don’t sue.

Kai and the organization Three Eyes are mine. Touch them without permission and suffer my wrath.

Continuity-wise, this fits in right where Vic is "resigning" from X-Factor after tearing off the inhibitor collar they fitted him with. Anything else you might need to know comes up in the context of the story.

None of my stories are for kids, but this one particularly isn’t. There’s violence, bad language, and other nasty things. At this point, Vic is a Bad Man, and I’ve chosen to write him as such. You have to deal with the worst before trying for the best. Wait for your eighteenth birthday, or whatever the heck the legal age is, to read this.

Last thing: As a criminal justice major, I get to study people like Victor and see pictures of what they do. In the real world, I may have sympathy for whatever abuse contributed to the monsters they became, but I’ll also be the first to suggest taking them out back and putting them out of everyone else’s misery…mainly because the primary concern should be safeguarding innocents before trying to correct the psychological problems of murderers. However, this is a work of fiction, and as such I’m allowed to indulge the part of me that really wants to find another option for people like Creed. In the past, he’s shown a few stumbling efforts in the direction of becoming a better person. I want to build on that.

Enjoy! (But not too much…bad stuff happens.)

By Kaylee

Mystique screamed between her teeth as Victor’s claws ripped through the muscle of her abdomen. She fell, motionless and bleeding. Even as her head hit the ground, a shout of pure rage split the air.

"Sabretooth!" It was the boy they called WildChild. He sprang out of nowhere in a futile attack that didn’t even dent Vic’s casual defense. The kid obviously had potential, but his training didn’t compare to his enemy’s. In a moment, WildChild would likely be dead.

But then, that was what I was there to prevent. The lights were out. Victor was focused on the boy. I raced in on silent feet, my katana out and ready. The sword was left to me by my sensei after his death. All told, it has more experience shedding blood than I do…which is saying a good bit. Vic drew back his clawed hand to deliver the death blow to WildChild even as I struck. A clean thrust through the rib-cage, cutting into heart and left lung at once.

With a man like Victor Creed, you don’t mess around if you wanna get his attention.

He screamed as he lunged forward off the blade. WildChild dragged himself aside with wide, pain-filled eyes. I suppose this must have seemed like a miracle to the kid, and me some sort of warrior angel.

I would have snickered at the thought if I wasn’t so distracted. It was no miracle that brought me here, and I sure as hell wasn’t any angel. Valerie Cooper, government liaison for X-Factor, had put in a frantic call to the X-Men saying that Creed was a sleeper…was about to go nuts and take the team out. I’m the one who took the call. I’m the one who assured her that the X-Men would be informed and take action.

I’m the one who lied. See, I have some history with Vic, and an interest in keeping him out of government hands. When he was a "guest" at the X-mansion, I spent a good deal of time with him…trying to ease the near-insanity of captivity I knew too well. Things happened out of my control…Victor found an opportunity to escape, and took it with a heavy toll. I hadn’t even known he was alive until that frantic call from Cooper.

I figured that if he was gonna be kept alive, it was up to me to go and try to talk some sense into him. In other words, the X-Men had no idea of what was going on. Which meant, quite simply, that I’d better make sure there wasn’t any collateral damage to anyone else, no matter what went on between us.

"WildChild, get Mystique and Forge outta here." The kid was frozen. "Now, boy!" Too slowly, he started to move. Victor ignored him for the moment, turning to me with disbelief masking his face. He had my scent now. He recognized me. And I guess he figured I’d have been the last person to show up here and attack him.

"Kai?" Blood came up with the word. The wound wasn’t debilitating, not for him, but it was enough to give him pause until his body re-knit itself. I hoped.

"’Lo, Vic," I said in as steady a voice as I could manage. His eyes flicked to the sword in my hands, then back to my face. I saw the anger start to wash away the momentary shock of recognition.

"What the fuck are you doin’ here?" he demanded. "This ain’t got nothin’ to do with you."

"Someone had to come. Thought if it was me instead of the X-Men we might be able to keep everyone alive."

An ugly grin crossed his face. "’S that whatcha think? Ya think I won’t kill you?"

Actually, I thought nothing of the sort. He was enraged and excited, all the old blood-lust and twisted psychosis brought to the surface again by X-Factor’s tender loving care. Inwardly I seethed at Cooper and Forge for doing this to him; for collaring him and forcing him into a service that would only snap the small reserves of control he had. Outwardly, though, on seeing the sickening gleam to his eyes and the splashes of blood that already marred his hands, I prepared for the fight of my life. Vic was stronger than me. His senses were keener. He healed faster. Hell, he might even be quicker. But I had years of intensive martial arts training from the best in the biz. That’s the one area Victor’s let slide over the years. He got so used to overwhelming opponents with sheer size, speed, and savagery that he hardly needed his martial skills any more. That was the only edge I had on him, but it was a sharp one.

If it came to using it, which I fervently hoped it wouldn’t. "Vic, we don’t have to do this. I just came to make sure these people keep breathing. This doesn’t have to be a fight between us."

He shook his head and made a clucking noise of disapproval. "Oh no, babe. You come and get between me an’ my prey, ya gotta be prepared to pay the price. That was a really dumb move, Kai. You can’t take me, and ya know it."

Something uncomfortable clenched in my chest. "I’d rather we didn’t have to find out." He laughed at that, and I didn’t hear the wet rattle of blood in the lungs anymore. His healing factor had already worked its magic.

"Look at you…playin’ the good Samaritan. How noble. And no backup either, huh? I thought you were smarter’n that." His wound was healed; now he was just toying with me. I sized up the ready tension in his shoulders, the furious gleam in his eyes, and realized with a sinking heart that he was gonna attack no matter what I said.

But still I tried. "Vic, we can end this now. No one else needs to get hurt."

"Wrong, babe," he snarled, all humor vanishing from his face. "At least one more person’s gotta get hurt." And then powerful legs were launching him towards me.

A wide sweep swung over my hastily ducked head. His chest impacted with my right shoulder and spun me. My sword raked a wild arc that just missed gutting him. Somehow he turned before I did, tearing at my back with his claws even as I reversed my grip on the hilt to thrust behind me. He pushed forward despite the sword jabbed through his lower abdomen and gripped fingers tightly around my throat.

"Leggo the sword," he growled in my ear. Seeing as I didn’t have a lot of options, I did. It was strange to see the hilt suspended in midair right by my rib cage. "Good girl." His left hand reached around me and closed on the hilt, then he began to draw it out with a low groan that sounded frighteningly sexual. My heart thudded painfully hard. I’ve seen men who get off on pain, before…and giving or receiving can make little difference, sometimes.

I was neatly trapped while he tugged at the sword. His left arm encircled me while his right threatened my throat. With his pain threshold there wasn’t anything I could do that would inflict enough damage to keep him from ripping my throat out, not from this position. I cursed myself inside my head with every oath I knew, telling myself what a cocky, careless, stupid idiot I was. Sensei woulda disowned me if he was alive to see this.

Victor freed the sword with a final sickening jerk and held the bloodstained blade out to examine it. "Nice sword. Shoulda gone for my neck, Kai. Ya ain’t gonna cause enough damage to stop me any other way." Faint light glinted crimson off the metal as he turned it. "This is one o’ the real old ones. Quality work. Betcher sensei gave it to ya."

"Yeah," I said tightly.

Victor tossed the weapon away. I winced when it clanged down on cement. His arm slid back around my waist securely and his head bent to nuzzle my hair. "Do you like it, babe? Does it turn you on to be mastered like this?"

"No," I growled. He knew enough about my past to know better than that.

"Oh, that’s right." Claws tickled a little pattern over sweaty skin. "You were a slave for a bunch o’ years. Didja learn a lot about pleasin’ your masters back then? D’they teach you what men like?"

Bile rose in my throat. "Yes."

He chuckled coldly. "Ya know what I like? What turns me on?" The hand on my waist shifted over to my abdomen. The muscles there clenched in preparation as my mind quailed from what I knew was coming. "I like to hear screams." Claws parted the tough BDU fabric like paper, then parted flesh with equal ease. I gave a strangled cry and jerked in his grasp, but his hand tightened on my neck and held me in place. I couldn’t restrain the moan as blood spilled down my pelvis.

But at least it wasn’t a scream.

He breathed harshly into my ear. "How’s that feel, huh? Ya like that?" I only groaned and fought to contain the pain, mentally begging my healing symbiont to work double time. "Ya shouldn’t’ve gotten involved, Kai. I wouldn’t’ve picked you to do this to, but you hadda go an’ push me."

"Vic," I hissed through the pain. "Stop this. Remember back at Xavier’s…there was more to you than this."

"Oh no, girl. This is who I am. You just didn’t get to see it before."

"Saw more…than you think."

"What’s that s’posed to mean?" He turned me in his grasp to face him. I blinked eyes that didn’t want to focus right at him.

"Saw…the little boy…trying to get out of the cellar."

"Oh." Blond brows lowered slightly. "So Xavier told ya about that, did he?"

"He told me. But I saw it…before he said anything." The symbiont had almost closed the wound already. It still hurt…but pain I can deal with. I struggled to formulate a plan as he debated his.

Maybe the "boy in the cellar" comment ticked him off. "Ya know what? I wanna take my time with you." He gripped my wrists together in one of his big hands, and before I realized what he was doing he’d slung me up over his shoulders and clamped his other hand firmly around my knees so I had nothing free to strike with. "We’re goin’ somewhere private to finish this."

I didn’t say a word, but only feigned more pain than I was feeling and hoped he didn’t know how fast my healing ability worked. If I could get him away from here, lull him into a false sense of confidence, perhaps I stood a chance of causing enough damage to keep him from slaughtering me while I tried to reach the man I thought I knew at Xavier’s. I stared after my sword longingly as he jogged us out of there, feeling a pang of loss and regret at how it had been treated. Well, if I survived this, I might be able to recover it later.

I told myself firmly that the word "if" wasn’t even an option.

***

Surrounded by miles of woodlands, he stopped; then dumped me none too gently on the ground and stepped back. "Here we are. Ain’t no one gonna hear you scream out here."

Damn right, I promised grimly. I gained my feet slowly, as if the wound still hurt. "Vic, I found out about the collar they used on you. I know it pushed you over the edge. But can’t you remember how you were trying for something better?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Stupid ideas, babe. I was wrong. X-Factor cleared my head…reminded me of what I love to do best. Kill."

"Anyone and anything?" I asked bitterly. He answered with a cold chuckle.

"You’re a quick study. Always thought ya had some brains."

I dug deep for the will to stay calm. A karate master taps into a force the Japanese call ki. It’s a total balance of mind and body…the ultimate control over oneself. A person with totally balanced ki can do amazing things with his body: Heal it, kill with it, keep it going long after all natural energy reserves are burned away. My own personal ki is a long way from balanced, since my mind’s always been a bit too messed up for that complete union, but I do have a deep well of stubborn will that, when managed right, carries me through and keeps me fighting. I tapped into this now, knowing I’d need it. This was gonna be a rough one. This was gonna hurt.

"Shame it hadda be you," Victor said with a small shake of his head. "I really hadn’t planned on killing you before."

"I bet you’re just crushed." I waited for his move…would let him commit himself.

A grin cracked his face. "I knew you had guts. Let’s see what they look like, shall we?" A sudden rush, one hand reaching for my hair, the other drawn back to reopen my stomach. He expected a flinch, or a desperate dodge.

Nuh uh. Not this time. I stepped in to the attack, twisting to the outside to grab his leading hand, then dropped swiftly to my right knee, rolled my shoulders…and neatly put him down. Breath whooshed out of him when he hit the ground. If I was going for restraint with a typical opponent, the next move woulda been to twist the wrist into an excruciatingly painful hold and wait for him to scream uncle. With Victor I wasn’t gonna mess around that much. I broke his wrist, continued the turn of the arm, and with a sharp outside block delivered to the upper arm I dislocated his shoulder. Then, before his free right hand could reach back and claw me, I sprang away.

He half-shouted, half-growled as he pulled his injured arm to him. I watched as he rolled over that shoulder to pop it back into place in a move no normal person coulda managed…but he did. He stood slowly, laboring to catch his breath. "Lucky you. Looks like those pain pills wore off."

Pain pills! That explained why the sword thrust didn’t phase him!

His face was twisted, but he wasn’t about to quit. "It’s gonna take more’n a little broke wrist and sore shoulder to stop me, though. You know that, doncha?"

Adrenaline was pumping. I showed teeth. "Keep coming, and I’ll keep dishing it out."

"Oooh…cocky! I like that in a frail!" Another sudden attack. This time he sought just to bowl me over and take me to the ground. I started to dodge, saw how quickly his reflexes responded, and decided to go head on instead. He hit me like a line-backer, head low and arms out to go around me. I bent, grabbed the tattered throat line of his uniform, and threw myself back and down. My feet planted hard in his pelvis as he started to come down with me, and in a textbook maneuver I used his own energy to thrust him up, over, and slamming down onto his back. Smoothly, I continued the move and rolled backwards until my knees planted firmly on each side of his broad chest. I was furious. I was pumped full of adrenaline. And yes, I’ll admit it…I was scared.

So I proceeded to pound his face with every ounce of strength I had. The symbiont that heals me and enhances my senses also ties in to reflexes and strength. I can match an Olympic class power lifter, and I’m not stuck with all that slow bulk, either. In other words, I was giving Victor Creed’s face a powerful dose of "think again." I’d probably caused half a dozen brain hemorrhages when he managed to close his hands on me. He wasn’t thinking of anything but getting me offa him at that point. With phenomenal strength he flung me across the clearing. I didn’t quite manage the roll I tried, but I did avoid slamming head first into a tree. Barely. I thought I felt a rib crack when I hit the ground, but I wasn’t about to waste time worrying about it. I lurched to my feet, guarding my injured right side, and looked frantically back at Vic.

He was groaning…rolling to his knees and holding his head. Even from here, I could see the way the whites of his eyes were stained red with blood and the pupils were almost totally dilated. My stomach churned: I’m not used to beating on someone so hard. Few opponents I’ve faced can take me not holding back and live. The scary thing about Victor was that even the cracked skull and internal bleeding he sported now wouldn’t keep him down long. Healing factor and furious will would have him attacking in no time.

Would I have to…would I be able to kill him?

"You’re…good," he muttered. "Better’n I thought." His head rocked back and forth. Brain damage. Temporary, maybe, but still disconcerting to see. "Any normal man…be dead by now."

"Let it go, Victor," I hissed. That rib was cracked, I was sure of it. "No one’s gonna win, here."

"Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, babe." His voice grew stronger by the moment. "I’m gonna win. I always win, sooner or later."

Desperation made my voice sharp. "Damn it, Vic…I don’t wanna fight you!"

He looked up. The red in his eyes had faded. "’Cause o’ the ‘little boy in the cellar’?" he taunted.

"’Cause I wanted to try and help you, you dumb shit!"

He chuckled throatily. Staggered to his feet. "Only one of us is walkin’ outta here." This time he advanced slowly, finally having learned caution. "I didn’t think you had this much fight in ya. Best scrap I’ve had in ages."

Something hard clenched my jaw. "It’s not over yet," I told him coldly. "If you wanna fight so bad, let’s get to it."

We circled each other warily, eyeing possible openings. His reach greatly exceeded mine: I’d have to watch distances carefully…be sure of every strike. My heart pumped energy through my system, dampening pain and heightening reflexes. Even now, with the hard knot in my chest and futile words of reason choked off in my throat, I felt a strange sort of calm…a confidence in myself and my abilities.

And that, of course, was my mistake. I was focused totally on him, waiting for his next move. He, on the other hand, paid attention to the ground. He feinted left, starting me into a swift dodge…and my foot snagged on the gnarled tree root just as he’d planned. It was a small stagger, but Vic’s more than skilled enough to take full advantage of such things. The moment I was off balance he closed the distance between us and delivered an inelegant blow to the face that sent me sprawling. Even as I slammed towards earth my mind was screaming denial. Before I could start to gather wits he was on me in the same position I’d so recently had over him. Neatly, he caught and trapped my hands. I stared up at him in mute surprise. My legs weren’t long enough to reach up and hook his neck. I didn’t have enough leverage to break my hands free. I wouldn’t be able to wrench my hips up hard enough to dislodge his substantial weight. I couldn’t find a single move to get out of this.

Power now firmly in his hands, he allowed himself another grin. "Was just a matter o’ time, kid. Ya couldn’t stay outta reach forever." His right hand dropped to cup my chin, claws nipping lightly into cheeks. "You gave me a world o’ hurt. Here’s where I return the favor."

Pride is a senseless thing. I was almost glad we were so far away from anyone else. I wasn’t sure I could handle other people hearing my screams.

***

Hours later, he rolled off of her with a grunt of satisfaction. The rape had only been the finishing touch: Both of her legs were broken at the knees, both arms at the elbows. Somewhere during the torture he’d realized that her bones healed significantly slower than soft tissue. She wasn’t going to be walking for a while. Not even dragging herself, with those shattered elbows.

It was simpler than tying her up.

At the beginning, before he’d done more than carved her clothing off of her and cut a few shallow lines into flesh, he’s whispered into her ear, "I’m gonna keep you alive ‘til ya beg me to kill you."

"Won’t happen," she’d vowed between clenched teeth. And it hadn’t, even though she’d finally been unable to suppress her screams and her auburn eyes had been so clouded with pain she probably couldn’t even see what was coming next.

"You’re a good fuck," he told her in a conversational tone. "Sturdier than most." He meant it to taunt her…to show her how little control she had over the situation. For a person like her, who’d spent years developing a fierce and stubborn individuality, that lack of control had to be more frightening even than the threat of pain.

He didn’t rationalize that he knew this because he felt the same way.

Kai didn’t answer him. She just lay there very still, staring up at the rising moon. Her chest rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm, and there was a faint wet rattle to her breathing that told him a rib had pierced a lung.

Stupid girl, he thought grimly. Shoulda known better than to get in my way. Oh sure, she’d stopped him from slaughtering X-Factor, and even managed to get in some pretty good licks at her first real opportunity. But keeping Victor Creed down wasn’t an easy task, as she’d quickly learned. He always clawed his way back…and then made those who put him down pay. In Spades.

Her silence unnerved him. He wanted a reaction from her. Needed a reaction. "Betcher tough enough for a lot o’ rounds like that, aren’t ya?"

Her voice was harsh and hoarse from the raw-throated screams he’d wrung from her. "Would you? Be tough enough?"

He turned his head sideways to look at her. Limbs twisted, held carefully still to avert agony. Half-naked body splotched unevenly with fresh and drying blood. But her face…he’d left her face alone. Those sharp, high cheekbones. That proud, strong nose. The dark brows over the intense auburn eyes. A fierce face; one that blazed her personality out like a weapon, when she so chose.

"Would never happen to me," he told her confidently. "Not me."

She blinked at the sky, the moonlight making her eyes shine brightly. "If it did…be interesting to see your reaction." A bitter, thick note crept into her tone. "To be made…helpless. To be…hurt…by someone you wanted to help."

"Don’t want your help."

"Once. Once you did."

He shifted to his side and propped his head on his right hand. "Haven’t you figured it out by now? I was acting at Xavier’s. You were nothin’ but a distraction from bein’ bored. Baldy figured that out at the end."

"Xavier never figured out a fucking thing about you. He lost interest in the game. Gave up."

His left hand reached out to play with her sweat soaked hair. She tried to flinch away, but froze with a gasp when the motion jostled her arms. "An’ you think you were right?" Creed asked softly, not even having to put the note of taunting in his voice to make his message clear.

She glared with impotent fury. "I saw the man you were trying to become. Now you’re out to ditch the evidence that he ever even started to live." Her words were choked off with a cough. Blood came up. She started to roll to her side instinctively in an attempt to ease her breathing…hissed in pain when her injured arms moved. Creed sat up and raised her to a sitting position, ignoring her strangled gasps. With her torso elevated the coughing fit eased.

"Blood in your lung," he told her. "You’ll live longer if ya sit up."

"Fuck you," she cursed softly. "Goddamn fucking arms…" It was obvious she wouldn’t be able to stay up on her own. He slid around behind her, straddling legs on each side of her body, and pulled her back against his chest. She tried to stay tense. Muscles in her back and shoulders were tight. Pain caused her to tremble, which only rattled broken limbs more and caused even more agony. He slipped an arm around her chest and pressed her against him firmly.

"Ya wanna stop hurtin’ so bad, relax."

"So I can be nice and pliant for whatever else you wanna do?"

He said nothing. She couldn’t keep up that level of tension for long, not as battered as she was. Slowly, as he made no move to harm her further, she let herself sag back against him. Her breathing eased a bit. Maybe her overworked healing factor was finally doing its job.

"This isn’t in your usual routine," she said in a flat, hard voice. "You don’t usually keep people alive after torturing them."

He shook his head, though she couldn’t really see it from her angle. "Most people I just kill."

"But you want me to beg for that." He vaguely remembered telling her as much when he first began. It was almost lost in the red haze of the rage he’d been feeling; the aftereffect of being cheated of his prey and then hurt so badly. Looking at her now…touching her…he wasn’t quite sure how or why he’d let it go this far. Kai was about the last person he would have wanted to hurt like this. During his stay at Xavier’s, when the confining walls of his prison had been steadily pushing him farther and farther into the desperate fury of the caged animal, she’d become a cornerstone of sanity. She’d treated him like a human being…told him with actions rather than words that she understood the madness of captivity that struggled to claim him. Her presence had been a distraction from the utter, mindless sameness and the sterile environment he’d lived in.

With one hand he stroked her hair back. She started to tense again at the motion, but when he did nothing more than run his hand through her hair she let muscles relax again. "Do you wanna die?" he asked her quietly.

She answered with a question. "Do you wanna kill me?"

He tugged fingers carefully through her hair, loosening a twig. "Does it matter, now? I prob’ly will." The long strands began to lie smoothly next to each other.

"Oh." Kai wouldn’t beg. Not for life. Not for death. Maybe it was just pride, though he thought it more likely a mental defense from overcoming years of slavery. Soon, he knew, he was going to have to decide what to do with her. It surprised him that there was even a question in his mind as to what decision he would make.

Night deepened. Creed felt her exhaustion, but she was in too much pain to sleep. The uneven laboring of her breathing irritated him. Don’t wanna lissen to her whimperin’ all night. He remembered something in the inside pocket of his uniform and shifted slightly to dig it out. She gasped…quickly stifled it.

"Here," he said, holding out his hand. She eyed the pills in the palm silently. "Pain killers," he supplied. "Powerful ones. I used ‘em to tear that restraining collar off." He raised them to her mouth. Slowly she opened it and accepted the pills, swallowing them down a dry throat with effort. She was quiet for a while as they kicked in. Eventually he felt lingering tightness fade from her frame. Her eyes were still open, blinking in a dazed way at the darkness around them. He expected her to fade into drugged sleep, and so was surprised when her voice broke the silence.

"Do you remember that Danger Room program we ran? The Universe?"

Reflexively, he glanced up at the stars. "Yeah." She’d told him to close his eyes. When he’d opened them, they were floating outside of the solar system. She’d shown him parts of the Shi’ar galaxy…planets every shade and color he could imagine. Moons and life-forms and suns…even a stretch of open space so vast his mind couldn’t grasp the sheer size of it. And then they’d stood on the moon watching the Earth rise. That little blue and green gem had looked so delicate and fragile and precious. It had made him feel…strange. And odd sort of longing in the pit of his stomach that was so foreign to him he couldn’t even begin to understand it. They’d launched off the surface of the moon, and he’d started drifting away from her. Her hand had reached out and caught his tightly.

"Don’t let go o’ me, babe," he’d said, laughing in alien excitement.

"I won’t, Vic."

Something in the moment had prompted his next unguarded words. "Don’t give up."

She’d met his eyes in a gaze that spoke more loudly than her voice.

"Never."

Her blood dried on his hands. The sounds of her bones snapping still echoed in his ears. Her pain…fear…screams…

"I love the stars," she murmured, head tilted back slightly to stare blindly up towards the heavens. "So many mysteries up there. So much we’ll probably never know." Her voice carried on as she contemplated infinity. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his brow despite the cool night air.

Should just do it. Do it now. Kill her quick and end her pain…end her. He could make it so she didn’t suffer. He could give her that much.

His hand drifted around to her throat. She gave no notice of the claws resting lightly there. "And worlds with two suns, and amazing forms of life…" She rambled aimlessly on, her words slurring a little as she cycled down towards drug-induced sleep. Creed noticed with dull surprise that his breath was coming harshly.

Now. While she was high and painless. He started to flex his claws. Stopped, blinking sweat from his eyes.

"…forms on Europa…life in our own solar system…" Her head turned against his chest while her words became tired mumbles. He snarled silently and pressed claws to flesh again. Her eyes were closed. She murmured something vague.

Creed let his hand slide away from her throat. Once she’s asleep, he promised himself. Let her go in her sleep.

An hour passed. Two. He sat stiffly awake and listened to her heart beat. Stronger now. Healing factor worked better while she was asleep. The terrible swelling at knees and ankles had gone down to ugly dark puffiness. The deep bruising over broken ribs had faded to a mottled yellow-green. The soft tissue wounds, even those sustained from the rape, were nearly gone. By morning she might be able to drag herself out of there.

No. She’ll be dead. His mind flinched away from what he’d done to her. Why’d she have to be the one to show up at X-Factor’s base? Why couldn’t Val have called Jean Grey or Summers or, best of all, Logan? Why’d it have to be Kai?

She was breathing deeply in the drug-aided sleep. Slowly, he tucked a strand of hair that had worked its way loose back behind her ear. Her breath didn’t change in the slightest. She was well and truly out.

It was time.

He touched her beneath her left ear. No flinching this time, he told himself firmly. Just the claw of his index finger, that was all it would take. A single cut from beneath her ear, across her throat, and to the other ear. She’d die quickly. With the drugs still in her bloodstream, she’d barely feel a thing.

So do it. He pressed lightly down until a dot of blood beaded at the tip of his claw. She twitched slightly, mumbled, then shifted her head closer against his chest.

("Don’t let go o’ me, babe."

"I won’t, Vic."

"Don’t give up."

"Never.")

Well, she’d learned better now. He wasn’t going to change. Wasn’t going to beat his demons back. Had she finally realized that "never" was too long to hold on?

After what I just did to her? She’d be really stupid if she hadn’t. And he didn’t think that Kai was stupid.

So it was a mercy to kill her now…before she woke and faced the bitter knowledge of how very wrong she’d been. Before he had to see the defeat in her eyes accusing him silently of failing yet again.

The thought insinuated itself into his mind as if it wasn’t his at all. But what if she hasn’t given up on you?

Of course she has, he thought crossly. After this?

("Don’t give up."

"Never.")

Very slowly, his hand slid away from her throat. ‘Til morning, then. Just until morning.

***

When she woke in the morning Kai found that sometime during the night Creed had laid her down flat on the ground, now that her lung was healed. Her head felt thick and muzzy, but she had enough sense of the situation to sit up swiftly and force awareness on her dulled wits. He was standing across the clearing, staring off into the woods in a distracted manner. Her elbows still hurt her enough to wring a gasp from her when the abrupt motion jarred them. He turned sharply at the sound.

Silently she stared at him. Kai was not a woman who kept acquaintance with fear, not these days. But last night had changed that. She’d been reminded forcefully of her own mortality, and it had shaken her to the core.

But she was also a fundamentally stubborn woman, and she vowed to herself that she wouldn’t let him see the depth of her shaken confidence, no matter what it took. That was one victory she could keep from him. One shred of self he couldn’t take.

It was Creed who broke the silence in a rusty voice. "D’ya see now? D’ya finally know what I am?" It was all he asked. She met the yellow-green eyes, wondering what her opinion mattered. A part of her searched for the answer that would spare her his further attentions, or perhaps net her a quick death. But her stubbornness was a two-edged sword: Even as it refused to allow her to give in entirely to him, it also kept her from compromising herself for something as vile to her as his mercy.

Mercy. Her mind spat the word out, hating it. She’d endured the worst torture, mind and body, that she could comprehend years ago with Three Eyes…when her essential being had been broken and destroyed so that she could be molded into the agent they wanted of her. She’d been beaten, then. Utterly defeated.

But time had allowed her to heal, and she’d rebuilt an entirely new self from the ashes of her dead and lost being. Whoever she’d been before was gone. That woman had died, and from her remains Kai had been birthed.

And once born, Kai had cast off her shackles and declared with violent action that she would not be chained again.

For just a moment she wavered on the edge: The temptation was there to give him what he wanted…to spare herself more pain. She was aware that he could decide to do it all again. She hadn’t begged to die, and if he was true to his word this wouldn’t end until that happened. Her knees and elbows were still constant sources of fresh agony with every faint move. Her empty stomach quavered at the thought of going through it all again; and again and again until she either broke or died.

No, she told herself with weary resignation. No. If I could take what Three Eyes did, I’m sure as hell not gonna give in to a psychopath now.

"What are you trying to convince me you are?" she asked quietly.

His eyes had a strange sort of wildness in them. "I’m not gonna change," he said harshly. "This is who I am. A man’s gotta be true to his nature."

Realization dawned as she stared at him. She could barely believe the sudden insight she guessed at, and a small, savage flare of hope sparked in her. A tactician, was Kai; by nature an opportunist. She scented that elusive promise of opportunity now, and pulled it to her with an internal shiver of excitement. Even a small possibility allowed a thread of power into her hands.

And damn it all, she’d play it skillfully enough to handle this if it was the last thing she did. Because of course, if she failed, it would be the last thing she did. She forcibly calmed the sudden jump in her heart, but didn’t worry about steadying her breathing. The pain of her injuries would explain away any irregularity there.

"Is that what you want me to believe?" Her voice was deceptively soft. "That you don’t have the strength to try for something better? That you never will?"

He stared at her, blinking sharply, then turned away and looked once more into the trees. She watched the way the muscles along his back tightened as he absorbed her words. "I don’t care what you believe," he muttered, not turning back to her.

Kai swallowed hard, wondering if her next words would taunt him into another attack. "I told you once that I’d never give up on you."

That brought his head around swiftly. "An’ now you know better," he said after a moment, his eyes searching her face. It wasn’t phrased as a question, but she recognized it as one anyway.

Slowly, she shook her head. "I said I wouldn’t give up."

"I know what you said," he growled, stalking close. She worked to keep from shrinking back as he neared her. "But now you know you were wrong." He looked for something in her eyes. She gave him nothing. "Now you know how stupid it was to promise somethin’ like that."

Very softly, "Do I?"

He dropped to a crouch in front of her, and she couldn’t quite help flinching. His eyes followed the slight motion. Angrily, she met him stare for stare.

"Whadda you expect?" she demanded.

Yellow-green eyes narrowed, but he didn’t address the question. "I never thought you were a dumb bitch, Kai. Even you need to know when to let go."

"I said ‘never,’" she told him doggedly, ignoring the thumping of her heart. "Never."

For a long moment he just stayed there in a loose crouch, searching her eyes. He read the fury, the pain; and despite her best efforts, the fear as well.

But no deception. No guile. She gave him truth, even now.

He hadn’t broken her.

He stood so suddenly that she flinched again, then took a step back from her and dropped his eyes to her knees. Swollen. Ugly. But healing. Elbows the same. Her bare midriff wasn’t even discolored by bruising any more, though faint white scars showed against the tanned skin. She followed his gaze with hers, then raised eyes to look at him again, silent.

There was no reason in his thoughts…no moment of decision. Only some subconscious nudge…some little part buried deep, deep inside that caught on the edge of the murder in his thoughts and smoothed it slightly; blunted the edge. Smoothed it as she had once smoothed the rage and smothered desperation existing in him as a result of his captivity.

She would see. A day would come when she would see how foolish and hopeless that promise was.

He’d make her see.

…Some day.

"The road’s that way," he told her, pointing. "Three or four miles." Her eyes widened in surprise. She nodded once, cautiously. He waited for that acknowledgment, and once he received it he turned without another word and started off in the opposite direction. Her eyes prickled the skin on his back, but he didn’t stop to look at her again.

She watched him vanish into the trees, still not believing. She waited. For an hour…longer…she waited for him to come out of hiding and grin his cruel grin and crush the fragile hope in her chest.

He didn’t return.

At last, with pained awkwardness, Kai gathered broken knees under her and stood, swaying. Blackness nipped at her world, but she held it at bay. Unsteadily, she lurched in the direction he’d indicated, still expecting him to pop out at any moment and laugh. She scanned her surroundings with all her senses; hearing, seeing, scenting nothing.

Just hold it together, she told herself. Hold it together ‘til I’m somewhere I can let go.

She didn’t see the yellow-green eyes that watched her from the deep shadows as she stumbled out of the clearing. They blinked once, twice, and then vanished in the slightest waving of underbrush.

Oblivious, Kai staggered towards the road.

***

I realized as I came to that I’d passed out by the little creek after sating my thirst. Something had woken me. Someone was near. My first wild thought was that it was Victor, coming back to finish what he’d started. The person was following my trail, heading from the clearing. In the senseless confusion of fear I couldn’t think who else it might be.

I pulled myself back from the creek with arms that were marginally better healed than my knees, looking around frantically for a stick, a rock, anything to use as a weapon. I couldn’t go through it again. I couldn’t last through another one. A hand closed on a stout branch. I shoved myself to my feet, feeling knees scream a protest, and clenched the branch so tightly my knuckles turned white. A dim corner of my mind laughed at me, thinking to use a stick against Sabretooth, but fear is as senseless as pride, and so I ignored it.

He stopped in the shadows of the trees when he caught sight of me. I blinked sharply to chase darkness away from my thoughts. I’m not going to pass out again. I’m not going to pass out again. Lips curled back in a rictus of fear and fury. Muscles flexed spasmodically in an effort to keep me from swaying over broken knees.

He stepped forward slowly. A stray breeze blew my hair back from my face, carrying his scent. For a moment, it didn’t register. Then, as he came entirely out of the shadows, realization sank in.

"Logan," I croaked.

His eyes were wide, his mouth open to suck in unsteady breaths. He walked towards me the way one might approach an injured animal; carefully, slowly, offering no threat. I realized that my hand still clenched the branch tightly. I couldn’t seem to make the fingers let go.

My mind didn’t want to touch on what had happened. I cleared my throat thickly and stared at him. "I guess Cooper got a hold of you."

He stopped a stride away. His face was torn as he tried to hide the enormity of his reaction from me. A short nod was his only answer. I wondered if he didn’t trust his voice.

I cleared my throat again. It was strangely hard to keep my voice steady. "I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going," I said in the same tone one might use to say, "I’m sorry I forgot to take the trash out."

One of his hands twitched, wanting to reach for me. My grip tightened even more on the branch without my conscious order. I looked at it with dim surprise.

"I figured it would be best for me to handle it," I told him, still staring at the branch. "So no one would get killed. You know how it is…emotions get to running high. People lose…control." It amazed me how calm and level my voice sounded, because in my head I was screaming. I nodded firmly at the stick. "Yeah, I thought I’d probably handle it better than the team. Got a clearer head on the issue. Not tons of old baggage."

"Kai," he finally said in a strangled voice.

I smiled tightly at the stick. "And I was right. No one died, if they got Forge and Mystique medical attention quick enough. No permanent collateral damage. Everyone’s fine."

"You’re not," he said roughly. "You’re…you’re hurt."

I shrugged faintly enough not to jostle the arms too much. "I have a healing symbiont."

"That’s not what I meant." Out of the corner of my eye I saw a hand coming for me. I jerked back and slammed it aside with the branch without thinking. The blow wasn’t very strong and probably didn’t do much more than sting. The impact, however, jarred my abused elbow enough to bring a curse at the pain and make me drop the branch. He put hands on my shoulders swiftly, saying my name and telling me over and over again that it was him; not Creed. Him. I ignored injured elbows and slammed forearms out against his arms, knocking them away.

"Don’t touch me," I rattled, sweating suddenly. "Don’t…don’t touch me."

"I’m not gonna hurt you."

"I…I know that. I just…don’t wanna be touched."

"Kai, please." His voice was a travesty. "We gotta getcha outta here. You need a doctor."

"I’m fine. I can make it."

His eyes sought mine. Reluctantly, I met them. He didn’t know what to feel just then, so he settled on the simplest, most basic reaction: Rage. His voice was low and guttural, his eyes fierce. His voice was choked with…fury? Something else? "I swear I’ll kill him for what he’s done."

"He didn’t do it to you," I hissed. "It’s not your place to fight my battles."

"I care about you, woman! And what he did to you…god, Kai, look at yourself!"

I swayed on my feet at the reminder of my condition. Carefully backed to a gray boulder and leaned against it. "I have to handle this myself, Logan."

"Quit tryin’ to be so damned tough! I know how strong you are. You don’t have to prove anything." Suddenly he stopped himself, closing his eyes briefly and taking a deep breath to regain control. "Here I am fuckin’ yelling at you, after… I’m sorry. You don’t need that."

I shook my head to try to clear enroaching fuzziness away. He’s not the enemy, I told myself. He just wants to help. He was looking at me with such pain struggling to surface in his expression that it almost seemed he was the injured one. Part of me was awed that he cared enough to feel so strongly. Another part grappled with annoyance that he would dare presume to hurt for me. I was still too used to playing it solo; too new to this concept of a relationship. I wavered between opening my arms to him and letting him hold me or slamming up mental walls and drawing myself entirely away from his support.

I settled for something in the middle…putting the decision off. "Logan…I want out of these woods. Now." I pushed off from the rock and forced myself to stand straight. He came near, and this time I stopped myself from flinching away when he stepped to my side and put an arm around me to support me.

"I could carry you," he offered, implying with his voice that he would prefer that to seeing me try to walk.

"No," I answered quietly, thinking of being swung over huge shoulders and remembering futile struggles. "I’d rather do this on my own two feet."

Slowly, we made our way out of the woods.

***

I wouldn’t go back to the X-Men. Logan spent a while trying to convince me, but there was no way I was gonna see them in this condition and deal with their pitying glances and horrified words. I refused to go to the hospital, either, so he reluctantly rented a motel room. I showered while he went to buy me clothes, scrubbing and scrubbing long after all the sweat and grime was washed away. I spent a while just feeling numb, and welcoming the numbness for its lack of pain. He brought me food along with the clothing, and I ate sparingly. Somehow I just wasn’t hungry. I curled up on the bed and slept for a few hours. By the time I woke, I’d decided what I was gonna do.

"What?" he asked when I told him. "Why?"

"I need some time," I answered. "To think."

"I wanna help ya through this, darlin’." And he did. It was written all over his face, spread out like a banner.

Not like him to show so much, I noted distantly, focusing gladly on that little point of interest rather than the things his words dealt with. Must be more to this for him than just…just… Must be more.

"I know you do." I swallowed back a numb tightness in my throat. "But I need to handle this. For me. I’ve gotta get my balance back."

He tried to change my mind, of course. I felt a distant sort of guilt for what I was doing to him. But if I stayed, I’d either crumple into his arms or seal myself away from him permanently. The first would never let me find that inner surety I needed so much. The second…was something I really didn’t want.

So I made some phone calls, and in the morning I was on my way to a nearby Three Eyes outpost, where I could surround myself with people who had no idea what had happened and lose myself in work I knew well.

Before I climbed in the cab I let Logan hug me while I fought not to draw away or collapse into the embrace. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to offer what reassurance I could.

"I promise I’ll be back. Once I get my head straight."

He drew back, eyes shadowed and dark, then pressed lips to my forehead and told me to call him as soon as I had a phone number where I could be reached.

And then he was fading behind me, and I was staring at the road ahead; every bit as alone as I’d chosen to be.

That’s when realization finally claimed me. I spent the cab ride in silence, wondering if there would ever come a day when I could look back on the night in the woods without trembling.

Or a day when I could look again at Victor Creed’s face without fear and hate dominating my mind.

I refused to allow another option.