What the cat dragged in.

21 The "M" word

The cultured voice on the other end of the line made Creed's stomach turn.

"Xavier." There was more of an edge to the voice now. This was a fucking stupid idea. He knew it. His thumb moved to end the call when the frail's hand gripped the front of his shirt. She wouldn't make it to a hospital and he couldn't let her go without a fight.

"This is..." He shifted his free hand to cover her exposed ear. "This is Sabertooth."

There was silence at the other end of the line. He didn't bother to wait for a response.

"Can you treat a human in those fancy ass medical facilities of yours?"

"Why?" The tone was guarded. Maybe curious, maybe not. Right at that moment he didn't give a shit.

"Because I'm about a minute and a half away from your front gate, but you already knew that. I got a frail that ain't gonna make it to a hospital. You gonna help her or you gonna let her-" He couldn't bring himself to say it. "Are you gonna help her or not?"

"Help her, or help you?"

The car stopped and Creed looked out through the windshield and saw the ornate iron gates still firmly closed. At the end of the long well-lit drive there was some kind of activity though. Probably marshaling the troops.

"You know me, right?" The frail made a pained little sound. He let out a soft, rumbling purr. "You know the shit I do to people."

"You've never tried to hide it."

"And I been doing it a long fucking time. I know how to get what I need before I break 'em and afterward I ain't inclined to fix 'em. Now am I?" Her fingers moved, gripping the fabric of his shirt and releasing it again. He stroked the back of her hand carefully. It was the only place he could see that wasn't bruised.

"There's a first time for everything."

"So I pick now to call ahead, to ask for help and to try and save a frail? Hell of a day I'm having. Better write it on your calendar."

"I'll send a medical team to collect her-"

"I go in with her."

"That's not possible."

"Bullshit. You been fucking around in my head since we rolled up on the gate and I been letting you. You know I don't give a shit about you or your little freak show, or anything else you got goin' on in there. 'Sides, it ain't like I never been invited to dinner before."

Silence on the line. At least the frail's breathing wasn't getting any worse. He tucked his coat around her. "There will be conditions."

"I got conditions too."

"You'll walk in with the girl. Your driver stays outside."

A narrow gate in the main one opened. Creed ended the call and got out carefully, making sure that the frail's head was cradled against his shoulder. Her hand gripped his shirt tighter again. "Almost there, frail." He worked to keep his tone reassuring, even though he could see the procession coming down the long driveway. The fucking runt was in the lead, his claws out and ready. Cyclops was a close second. The hairy blue doctor was next, though at the moment he looked more ready to fight than treat anyone. He wondered absently where the weather witch was. Bitch was always getting in his way, he didn't see why now should be any different.

"You got a lot of balls coming here." The runt growled.

"Always did, but you remember all that shit, don't you Jimmy. Shouldn't you be in a cage kicking some redneck's ass for a few bucks?"