Dear Tempting

Wanted

Xavier paced about the room like a caged house cat. He had been on the phone all morning, mostly with Rebekah. She had found Daniel in Russia with some of their... friends. Daniel apparently wasn't happy about being found. But that wasn't the only issue...

Xavier didn't want to be on this island anymore, for several reasons.

"Xavier," she said trying to make his pacing cease. "Come on."

His gaze snapped to her with an angry expression. "You come on Reid!" he yelled. "We can't stay here."

She glared back at him, "I can't leave," she said for the second time. "I have told you this. You can leave whenever you want. Who am I to stop you?" her gaze lit a fire in his chest.

"Why exactly do you have to stay?" he snarled, beginning to pace again.

She really didn't want to do this now. "There is something I need from here. Something she will need." she glanced down, resting a hand on that flat stomach.

Xavier's face softened, and he moved to stand in front of her. "Can't we get it anywhere else?"

She shook her head and then looked up at him. "You do not need to stay with me. You can leave whenever you like. You have done enough for me, more than I deserve."

"No," he said stiffly stepping away.

"Why?" she snapped back. "If you want to leave, then leave! There is nothing holding you here!"

He snarled at her. "That's bullshit, and you know it."

"If it's that bond keeping you then break it. You said it could be done. If you don't want to be here then-"

He was in front of her in the next second, visibly shaking with anger, snarls coming through his teeth. She just glared up at him.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he said so quietly that she almost didn't hear him.

She shoved him across the room. "Then fuck, start talking." She'd had enough with his mind games.

He stepped away from the wall, green eyes never leaving hers. "I know you don't want me here-"

"I never fucking said that," she snapped pointing a finger at him. "Don't put words in my teeth."

He spun, a fist landing under the window. It went through the wall. "I shouldn't be here," he said when his breathing finally leveled out.

She threw her hands in the air. "Why!"

Then he was in front of her again, chest to chest. "I have a target on my back. I am not good for this," he spat the words in her face. "I was not made for this."

Her stomach dropped, and he slowly began to step away from her, running his fingers through that black hair.

"What were you made for?" she asked, seething.

He stayed there against the window, looking out over the sea. He felt sick like he was going to throw up everything but his memories. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

He had to tell her, tell someone.

"I woke up with no memory of who I was or where I came from. I killed people when I ran and several hundred after that in the years I was loose.

"They tracked me down eventually, and when they did, I spent the next fourteen years on a table and in a cell being experimented on. They wanted to keep me like that, a lab rat they could test on and morph as much as they pleased. A genetically modified thing."