Hunter in the Shadows
by
Zerelda X


X-Men and Nick Fury belong to Marvel. Charlotte, Thomas and other unknowns belong to me. No profit, no foul. Feedback appreciated.

Rated R for language, violence and rape, so be warned now.

This damn idea that Em started with her 350 word challenge about six months ago. (Thank you, Em!) It was untitled at the time. It didn't stay that way.

Michele gave it a boost when she asked if I'd ever written anything about Nick Fury. That led to a huge amount of info and a care package from Michele, plus the manager at the local Heroes comic book store to recognize me by sight. I've been converted to the wonders that are Fury. (Someone save me!)

Thanks to Dannell for giving me a nudge of encouragement every so often, and reading bits and pieces. Her comments on Vic were very welcome.

A big gigantic thank you to Zanne and Lomas, who both answered pleas to read parts for any bit of sanity over the last few months. Without these two, it would have been so much more difficult and probably a great deal saner than it is.

Thanks to the wonderful betas Rogue, Amber, and Lomas.

---

Well, well, well.

The rumors were true. The runt's got a new bitch.

He forgot the rules. He don't get a life, or a woman, while one of us is still alive. How quick he forgets. Remember, runt?

You should remember some o' the ones ya had that didn't have a name. I do. They were still fun. One night stands are still breakin' the rules.

Ever wonder why they all die?

She's gonna have to go.

I like this part.

There they are, standin' outside the movie house with some o' the others. I gotta perfect view from up here on the roof of the building opposite. If I had a rifle....

Nah, ain' as much fun as doin' it y'self. The personal touch means so much more.

If it was just the two of 'em, I'd make a grab for her now. Make him hurt real bad, make him bleed for her. You attached to her yet? Will ya miss her when she's in the ground? Will you even remember her name when she's gone?

There'll be time. He don't look like she's gettin' away from 'im any time soon.

She's real young, too. Good. She'll last longer than the others. She'll fight me. I like that. Like ta see the little girlies try an' fight back.

Got to admit, he's got some great fuckin' taste in women. Wonder what her excuse is....

She's all over him, arms around his waist, head on his shoulder. Touchin' my property. No, bitch, he belongs ta me....

Gonna have ta pay for that. Soon. Real soon.

I'd like ta give that mouth a workout. Want a real man between those lips, honeybitch? Got somethin' for ya ta swallow. Better'n the runt.

Wonder what yer blood'll taste like, what it'll feel like when I ram inta ya n' tear the life outta ya the same time.

Wonder what the runt'll do when he hears me fuckin' his woman. Hears her screamin' for him ta save her.

That'll teach him ta forget.

Can't wait.

Comin' for ya, honeybitch.

~*~*~*~*~

Charlotte pushed the bedroom door open to the sounds of slamming drawers.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Logan paused to look at her, his hands full of clothing, her clothing. "Yer leavin'," he said shortly. He dropped the pile in the open suitcase on the bed.

She stepped inside and shut the door behind her, leaning against it as her knees threatened to give way. "Is this your way of telling me the romance is dead?" she said lightly, trying to joke and make him smile, laugh, something other than tear her heart out.

Her attempt fell flat, along with her stomach, when he didn't respond.

"Why?"

"Safer," he gritted out between his teeth, lifting his dark eyes from the jumble on the bed. "Yer leavin' now."

That wasn't the answer she expected. She watched him go to the closet, the shoji screen folded and propped against the wall.

He was scared. Damn scared.

"Tell me."

"No time. Gotta get ya packed an' then ya can gate to the summer house. Stay there till I tell ya it's okay." He pulled clothing off the hangers, tearing fabric as he did.

"Do I get to know why, or are you just going to stuff me in there with my socks?"

"Ain't important ya know."

The fear gave way to irritation. "You know me better than that, Logan. You either tell me why you've decided I have to leave or I'll just start asking around."

"Don't concern the others."

"It concerns me?"

He dropped the load and gripped her upper arms hard enough to bruise, shaking her slightly like a child. "Would ya just listen to me for once? Would it kill ya to do that?"

"Would it kill me not to?"

His face darkened even further, his fear almost palpable. He released her and turned away.

"That's it, isn't it?" she asked very softly.

The silence filled up the space between them.

A crumpled photograph on the floor got her attention. She crossed to the corner to pick it up.

Logan made a grab for it, but her psi-shields held him off. She'd never shut him out before, not outside the Danger room. He bounced back.

Charlotte smoothed out the picture. It was her, looking off camera at someone, a soft smile on her face. She placed the time as the day before yesterday, the background scene the cafe she, Rogue and Bobby stopped at for lunch while running errands.

The picture was slashed, with four straight cuts across her face.

It was all falling into place now. "Who sent it?"

Logan didn't answer.

She didn't have any personal enemies that were still alive, and the photo had been defaced in too intimate a manner to be a random threat.

Charlotte might not have enemies, but her husband did. Very personal ones.

"Sabretooth."

That got a response from him. "Yer gonna do what I tell ya."

"Not without a damn good reason." Now she got angry back. "I'm your bondmate, not a piece of property."

"Ya don't understand..." How could he explain the mind numbing fury he felt when he saw that picture impaled on the front gate, Creed's stink all over it? The fear that immediately followed, knowing what he did about Creed and his tastes, his perversions. His need for the blood kill. His crazed vendetta against Logan.

He had to get her out of here and somewhere safe until he could hunt Creed down and settle this once and for all. He couldn't lose her, not like this and not to Sabretooth.

"I'm tryin' to save yer life."

He didn't have to tell her, the look on her face and her presence in his mind told him she already knew.

She knew, and she wasn't going to run away. Not like this. "No, you're not. You think you are, but sending me away just makes me a visible target."

"Not if ya go home."

"I'm not going home."

"Char-"

"Oh, I'll leave, don't give that another thought, but don't think you have any say over what I do now. You're giving up your rights."

He could feel her withdrawing from his mind, leaving behind an aching void. Why wouldn't she understand? Creed knew about her, about them, and knew what she meant to him. She was hunted now. Sabretooth wouldn't back off until one of them was dead.

"I know what you're doing. If I leave now and go back home to my nice, safe, shielded valley everything will be fine. How long? A week? A year? Fifty years? Well, it won't. You're trying to make my decisions for me. I'm taking over now."

The coldness of her voice, her words, found an echo in his soul.

"I have three choices. I can go home and hide, I can stay here and play target, or I can become the hunter." Her mouth stretched into a terrible smile. "I choose to be the hunter." She moved past him to leave.

He reached out and grabbed her shoulder, bringing her into his arms. "No," he muttered into her hair.

Charlotte let him hold her, losing herself in his touch and scent for a few brief, comforting moments. She didn't know if she would ever come back, not after this. She opened her eyes and leaned back, brushing her lips against his. "I love you, Logan," she whispered against his mouth. ~sleep~

Surprise crossed his face, then anger as he realized what she'd done. His eyes closed as his body sagged down out of his control, sprawling on their bedroom floor, asleep.

Charlotte made two stops. One to collect her weapons and homing belt, the other in Xavier's study to leave a note for Scott. 'Will call.' No one saw her leave.

~*~*~*~*~

Four days later, a large, heavy manila envelope arrived special delivery for Logan. Jean signed for it and took it upstairs to his room.

She knocked. No answer. "Logan, you've got a package." No answer. Same as it had been since Charlotte left. She set it down outside the door.

It sat in the same spot for the next five days.

~*~*~*~*~

He'd spent the time since she left alone as much as possible. Other than training sessions, he was either in his room or outside in his favorite meditation place, trying to figure a way through this, his emotions swinging from loving her and wanting to choke the goddamn breath out of her.

He refused to speak to anyone. How could he explain?

Maybe this would be all it would take to throw Creed off her trail. He couldn't take burying another woman, not this one. He didn't want to think about her last words. Didn't want to even consider her trying to hunt Sabretooth down. She really wouldn't do that, would she?

The fuck she wouldn't.

~*~*~*~*~

Betsy and Rogue stood outside Logan's door, planning to drag him out and make him explain himself. All anyone knew was that Charlotte was gone. As far as they could tell, she and Logan had been happy, there hadn't been anything that led up to this current situation. And, quite frankly, they were tired of his moodiness. Answers were wanted, one way or the other. He'd either talk to them, or Rogue was prepared to touch him and absorb them.

Betsy picked up the package still on the floor. She knocked. "Logan? We know you're in there. Let us in."

No answer.

"Ah'll break the door down if ya don't," Rogue warned him.

"Go 'way," he said. His voice was tired.

"What's in the package?" Betsy asked. "It's from a lawyer. William Addison. Isn't that Charlotte's lawyer?"

No answer.

With a shrug to Rogue, she opened the flap and pulled out the contents, scanning the cover letter. "Logan, you'll want to see this."

Still no answer.

Rogue turned the handle and forced the lock, swinging the door in. A cloud of cigar smoke billowed out into the hall.

Waving a hand in front of her face, she moved into the room. "Where are ya, wildboy?" she asked, looking around. The room was a mess of empty beer cans and cigar butts, smelling stale and sweaty. She opened the windows.

Betsy spotted him in the corner in a chair, dressed in ragged cut-offs, unshaven and bleary eyed. She caught his eyes. She'd never seen him look so...human, hurting. ~Jean, we need help.~

"Get out!" he ordered. "I don't want to talk."

"Don't talk then. I'll talk." Betsy shoved the letter from the envelope under his nose. "You know what this is?"

He turned his head away. Wouldn't just one woman do what he wanted?

"It's a will. Charlotte's will. It says she's turning over your inheritance now. What's going on? Is she in some kind of trouble?"

Jean and Ororo arrived very quickly. Ororo immediately created a breeze to whisk away the offending odors and smoke.

No answer.

"'...the enclosed papers represent your portion of Lady Charlotte Katherine Ashcroft's estate, as first instructed September 30, 1942. My client has asked to have these assets turned over to the custodian of your selecting as quickly as possible. Also enclosed is the portion of her last will and testament, recent update August 15, 1999, that pertains to your inheritance.'" Betsy finished. "Is she dying or is this an alien kiss-off?"

He glared at her.

Rogue took off her gloves.

Logan turned his glare on the southern belle, but she didn't back down.

"Ah'll do it," she told him. "Won't like it, but Ah will. She's more'n just yer woman, Logan, she's our friend, an' part of this team. If Char needs us, we gotta know."

He looked in their faces. They wouldn't give up. "She left."

"That's not good enough," Jean said. "Why?" If he was talking, she wanted as much information as possible.

"Creed saw us in town couple weeks ago. Saw her touch me. He knows what she means to me. Made a threat to her." He handed Rogue the damaged picture. She looked at it and passed it on. "He's gonna kill her." There wasn't anyone as intimate as an enemy. He and Creed knew each other better than anyone else in the world.

Each woman was stunned. Betsy shuddered inwardly.

"So where is she?" Rogue demanded.

"Don't know. Tried to get her to go home where she'd be safe, but she got mad at me. Said she had a choice an' I didn't have any right to tell her what to do. I think she's huntin' him down." Each word was a fresh stab in his soul.

"Ya just let her go?"

"Let her?!" Now his anger escaped him. "I couldn't stop her. She knocked me out an' left me on the floor."

"We must find her," Ororo said.

"I been tryin' to find Creed," Logan said. "Callin' people I ain't talked to in years. No one knows where he's holed up."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Jean asked. "Let us help?"

"Don't want anyone to get hurt."

"Well, we know now," Betsy told him. "We can find her. We'll start with Cerebro."

Jean shook her head. "That won't work unless she wants to be found. I think we need to start with the lawyer. She's had contact with him recently."

"An' her boy," Rogue said. "She musta told him somethin'."

"Remy has contacts that might be able to learn something," Ororo offered. "I will speak to him." She left the room.

"Why don't you join us in the war room," Betsy told him, "after you shower and make yourself more presentable." She offered him the envelope. "And you better take care of that. That doesn't just concern you."

He took it and watched the women file out, Rogue closing the door behind her. Strange, but he was feeling better about the situation.

He pulled the letter out that Betsy had read from and looked at it. His eyes gleamed with unshed tears. Charlotte thought of everything, including trusts for the girls, Jubilee and Kitty, because he considered them his girls. Her odd notions of family.

He tried to put the sheet back in the envelope and dropped it, everything spilling out. He got down to pick up the papers and found a dozen sealed envelopes, some brown with age, his name and the date written in a neat hand on the front of each one. The dates ranged from 1942 to 1998.

With trembling hands, he held the oldest envelope, 'Logan, Sept. 25, 1942.' He opened the flap and removed the single sheet of paper, smoothing it between his hands.

~*~*~*~*~

Logan
Sept. 25, 1942

It's been several months now since that night in Austria. Hal told me what you're doing. I don't like it, but I wasn't willing to stay around to do it myself.

I still feel your soul inside me, still cherish your warmth.

I am sorry I didn't stay that morning, but I needed to be away. I'm less than human now, but healing a bit every day. You gave me the will to do that. You were there when I needed the one person who would understand, who wouldn't judge my actions, to get me across the abyss. You opened your soul and let me in.

'Love knows no boundaries, my soul will find yours.'

I'll be there waiting for you when the war is over. Please be there.

Charlotte

~*~*~*~*~

He emerged from his room, showered and dressed, and made his way to the war room. The medallion felt warm against his skin, the metal seemed to give off a sense of self awareness. He was off his ass now, ready to find her, beat the crap out of her, then chain her to him if necessary. He could look back and see where he went wrong. She'd been even tempered too long, he'd taken that mood for granted. Forgot how dangerous she was.

He forgot she was a predator in her own right, and he'd given her a prey to hunt.

~*~*~*~*~

Logan entered William Addison's outer office in a banked rage, Emma Frost behind him. Logan wore his usual jeans and T-shirt while Emma wore an almost, for her, demure business suit, carrying the package he'd received. She'd read through it, Logan adamantly refused to have anything to do with it. She didn't know the particulars of his assets, but she suspected that Charlotte had easily tripled his net worth with one stroke.

He allowed Emma to come with him when she offered because of the unusual friendship Charlotte had struck with her. Allowed? Hell, he knew he needed help. Emma would be able to deal with the lawyer, and she was smart enough to figure what Charlotte might have done. His damned wife had friends in some of the worst places.

Remy tried to get information about her from his own contacts, but it was as though she simply vanished. No one had seen or heard from her in days. There wasn't any option left after this one.

The secretary asked them to be seated until the attorney was finished with an emergency meeting. Logan growled at her, but she held her ground.

Emma stared down at him. "This won't help," she reminded him.

He glared at her in turn, then reluctantly sat in a chair. He wanted to be out doing something, anything but just sitting here.

After a few minutes sitting, he stood up and began pacing the small room. A raised voice through the door got his attention. He moved closer, and got a warning look from the secretary.

"What is it?" Emma asked.

He listened a moment longer. "Raven." He strode towards the office door, but the gray-haired secretary stepped in front of him.

"I told you he'll see you when he's finished," she said sternly.

Logan brushed her aside and opened the door.

Thomas stood at the window looking out, hands balled into fists. The lawyer sat behind the desk, his dark features tired and worried. They both looked up at Logan's entrance.

The shaman scowled at him. "I was coming to see you next. What's going on?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I got a package sent special delivery. A copy of Charlotte's will," he gestured to the pile of papers in front of William on the desk, "and lists of all her assets and accounts."

"I got my own," Logan told him, taking the package from Emma and tossing it down on the desk. "I don't want it." It was all there, everything but the letters. Those he kept, reading and re-reading them. Catching glimpses of the woman who'd written them. His wife.

"Charlotte's wishes were very specific." William began. Thomas and Logan both turned on him.

Emma intervened, more to get the discussion on track than to save the man. "The cover letter indicates you spoke to her two weeks ago."

He nodded. "She was here to sign some final papers."

"Where did she go from here?"

"I don't know, she didn't say."

"That ain't good enough," Logan snarled.

Emma stopped him with a look. "Did she do anything unusual?"

William thought a moment. "Aside from these transfers, no, nothing out of the ordinary. She did arrange for several large wire deposits to a new account and she made a phone call, but that's not unusual."

"Who did she call?" Emma warned both men with her eyes while she spoke. They looked like they might just get out of control.

"I don't know the name, but Mrs. Sanders would have the phone number, she placed the call." He used the intercom to ask the secretary to bring her phone log and come into the office.

She showed them the telephone number, then dialed it at William's request, turning on the speaker phone.

After a few rings it was picked up.

"Yeah?" A gruff male voice answered.

Emma and Logan looked at each other. "Cable?" Emma asked.

"Yeah. Frost?"

"Where is she?!" Logan yelled.

A pause.

"Where's who, Wolverine?"

"Be quiet, Logan, or I will make you be quiet," Emma told him. "We're looking for Charlotte, Nathan. She's disappeared and one of the last things she did was call this number."

"Haven't spoken to her."

"Would you join us, Nathan? This is a serious situation and we need help." Emma stared Logan down, waiting for him to lose control.

He managed to keep it to a low growl.

"All right. Where?"

Thomas spoke up. "Her Manhattan apartment."

"Be there in an hour."

~*~*~*~*~

"I'm trying to tell you, I didn't talk to her." Cable all but shouted at Logan. "You do something to drive her off?"

"She called ya!" Logan shot back, fists clenched tightly.

Domino sat back on a couch, watching silently.

"She might have called, but I didn't talk to her." Then he stopped, a suspicion crossing his mind. "Dom?"

She didn't say anything, merely lifted a brow inquiringly.

"She call you?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't ya say somethin'?" Logan turned on her.

"Didn't ask me. She's a big girl."

Logan made a choking sound, turning away from her.

Silence.

Emma tapped the arm of her chair thoughtfully. "Charlotte's disappeared, has arranged disposal of all her assets, and now she's off hunting Sabretooth. The only things she appears to have taken are her blades and a great deal of cash, if the lawyer is correct. Why would she call you?" She looked at Domino. "I could understand her calling Nathan, they have a shared past/future. She might have called him for help. The only thing the two of you seem to have in common is Nathan, a similar outlook on life, and a network of, shall we say, less than desirable contacts."

Domino gazed back at Emma with bland eyes, random thoughts of mayhem chasing through her mind. She could feel Nathan pressing on her from his side of their link.

"Chances are Thomas could follow her if she used her own, and she's determined not to draw anyone else into this." Emma turned her attention to the shaman. "You did contact her usual sources?"

His eyes blazed at her before he nodded curtly. "I've already visited her acquaintances, and I've been to the mountain house and her other retreats. There's been no sign of her."

"So she looks for the next best thing. Domino."

"What did you tell her?" Nate demanded.

"It's not your business," Domino shot back. "Just like whatever relationship the two of you had is none of mine."

With a strangled oath, he turned away from her.

"Ya know what Creed'll do to her," Logan said. "Ya know what'll happen. I gotta stop her."

"I don't know any such thing. For cryin' out loud, you're acting like she's made out of crystal. The spoiled little rich girl can take care of herself, she's been doing it for more than 300 years."

"Ya don't understand," Logan told her, "he ain't after just some other woman, he's after mine. He's gonna hurt her bad, an' if I'm lucky I might find enough of her pieces to bury."

"What, did I just hatch yesterday?" she asked him with an edge in her voice. "You don't think I know what Sabretooth can do, even on a good day?"

"Ya sent my wife out there to face that animal alone?"

"You don't understand," Dom answered. "She only asked me to deliver a message. That's all I did. I did not send her anywhere, and I sure as hell don't care for your accusations."

"How come you didn't tell me?"

"She asked me not to, and she said please," she retorted sarcastically. "Something about you locking her up in a closet if you got your hands on her. I figured she had a point. Sending her away was a bad idea. I wouldn't have gone if Nate did that to me."

"You aren't her," Nathan said.

"You're right, I'm not. She's got a couple centuries more experience in dealing with this sort of thing. I say let her do it."

"Who'd you give the message to?" Logan demanded, "an' what did it say?"

"I don't know what it said, I didn't read it. I handed over a message to an old acquaintance of hers from the war."

"War?" Logan's head came up. "That so? Who?"

She didn't respond.

Nathan gazed at her, his left eye flashing in frustrated comprehension. "Fury," he said in a soft voice. "You gave it to Fury."

~*~*~*~*~

Nick Fury stood on his terrace, turning the piece of paper in his hand over again, re-reading the few words printed on it. He thoughtfully chewed on his cigar, considering the invitation. He didn't hear Val speak to him from the doors.

The note itself was innocent, it was the name that had him lost in memory. He didn't care for the memory, but it had a way of showing up in his nightmares.

He didn't like being reminded of his failures.

Cash.

"Nick?"

He looked up at the voice. "Yeah?"

"What is that?" Val walked over to take a look.

He slipped it back in his pocket. "Nothin'."

"You sure? You don't look happy about it."

"It's nothin," he said again, curtly.

She frowned at him. "Well, come in for breakfast."

"Be there in a minute."

Nick watched her walk away. He'd snapped at her, and she didn't deserve it. He wanted to tell her, but this wasn't something he could talk about, at least not yet. Cash's existence pre-dated Val by about 20 years or so, he didn't think he'd ever mention Cash to her at all. If this turned out to be a hoax....

He hadn't heard that name since W.W.II. It carried some weight in certain circles back then; it guaranteed his attention right now. Cash had been one of the premier, and faceless, B & E's during that chaotic time in history.

Cash was supposed to be dead. He should know, he'd been there. This had to be a fake.

He'd been there, had given the command, and watched the base explode. No one could have lived through that. Now he knew better, of course. People lived through worse every single day.

The invitation to talk had arrived this morning from an unexpected source, asking him to meet at 2:30 am tonight, or rather tomorrow morning, at a private establishment in a quiet part of the city. He knew the place, but had never been there. It was most definitely private, in every sense of the word. A gentleman's club in the old tradition.

Probably a trap -- most likely a trap -- but he was too intrigued to ignore it. If anything, he'd get to finally meet Cash again face to face, if Cash was still alive. That alone was worth the effort.

~*~*~*~*~

The day passed in a slow motion blur, his mind distracted by the note inside his pocket. More than once Dugan asked what the problem was, but Nick couldn't tell him. Not yet. He wanted to check this story out before telling Dum Dum that Cash was still around. The ol' walrus had been upset enough at the time, no use them both reliving old memories.

Just before the meeting time, he approached the unobtrusive side entrance, as per instructions, and raised a hand to knock on the door. Before he could, it opened and an attractive dark-haired woman motioned him inside. He stepped around her and waited while she closed and secured the entrance, then gestured him to follow her. She didn't speak to him.

After leading him down a dim hallway, then outside through an exquisite garden, she ushered him into a small isolated suite. Cash obviously didn't want any interruptions for this little meeting.

Inside, the room was dark, the only light emanated from several candles set up along the mantle by a large mirror, reflecting the light into the large room. A figure sat in a chair facing the door. A woman.

A young woman dressed in black, with a shiny length of metal in one hand, tapping the pointed end against one knee.

This might've been fun, if all the warning bells in his head weren't going crazy.

"Have a seat, Col. Fury."

The voice was soft, definitely female, young. The face turned towards him was a blow from the ancient past, even in the dim light.

Nick expected her, but it was still a shock to him. He knew this woman, that voice. It had been a long time, decades, but once you'd seen her you didn't forget, not Cash.

After a glance around, seeing nothing out of the ordinary - for an upscale bordello - he took the offered seat. Every sense he had was on full alert, including his common sense. There was no way this could be Cash.

There was no one else she could be.

"It's good to see you again, Col. Fury."

She did remember him. "It's surprisin' ta see ya, Cash," he said mildly. "Last I heard you were killed in the bomb blast."

A smile that didn't reach her eyes. "'Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,'" she paraphrased.

"Wondered fer a minute if I was wrong, but yer eyes give you away."

"I've heard that a time or two." Faint humor.

"Ya haven't aged." Not even a little bit. More than fifty years, and she didn't look like anything over 21. He had to wonder how she'd done that. Was she a lab rat like him?

"You have, some," she tilted her head at him, her gaze considering. "But not as much as one would expect in a half-century. The white looks good on you. The eye patch is a nice touch. You must tell me your secret sometime."

He thought of Logan briefly. Did the fuzzball know she was still around? He didn't think so, Logan didn't even remember her and Nick never brought the subject up. He had no reason to after hearing Logan had married the year before. "Care ta tell me why ya come outta hidin' an' asked me here?"

The humor vanished from her face, giving him the impression of staring at the cold perfection of a death mask. She turned her eyes on him, small fiery golden flares in the reflected candlelight. "I'm looking for someone. I understand you can assist me in learning his whereabouts."

"What gives you the idea I can get any information?"

"Please don't play games with me. I may have been in seclusion, but I didn't bury my head in the sand. It is important I find this person as soon as possible. As the head of SHIELD, you have sufficient resources to help me."

"What's in this for me?" This was getting better by the second.

"I could offer money, but I believe there is something I could offer that you might find more useful."

"There are lots of things I'd find useful, but I got a girlfriend." He said the practiced line without thought, his brain already ticking over things he wanted to know about her. The first of many would be how she survived and why she hadn't aged.

That took her aback, then she laughed. Really laughed, from deep down inside. She sounded as though she hadn't found humor in anything for a very long time.

Her laughter confused him, until he realized what he'd said. It was enough to embarrass him just a bit for jumping to an obviously wrong conclusion.

"I wasn't offering my body," she said, still chuckling, "At the risk of insulting you, it hadn't even occurred to me. My husband frowns on me making that type of offer to anyone but him, and my doctor on necessary occasions. I'm afraid he's a bit on the possessive side."

For a brief moment he felt some envy for her husband, even for her doctor, whoever they were.

"Thank you," she wiped her eyes. "I needed a good laugh." She picked up a glass from the table beside her chair. "I'm doing a little big game hunting. All I need from you is his current location, I'll take care of the rest. In return I offer my assistance for one of your projects."

"Assumin' ya come outta this alive." It could be helpful, he thought. Who knew what she could really do? She survived a direct bomb explosion, she hadn't aged. She'd been fairly good at hand-to-hand fighting, nothing a little training couldn't improve. Maybe she had other tricks in her bag that would come in handy. "Ya gone inta headhuntin'?"

"No, just this one. He's threatening something I treasure and I won't allow it." She sipped her drink. "I will be coming back."

There it was again, that look in her eyes he remembered from the war. She was serious, she was going to hunt someone down and kill him. "Who's the man?" He didn't doubt she would survive this one.

"Victor Creed."

~*~*~*~*~

May 2, 1945

Logan

I sat tonight in my room 'listening' to you and Hal downstairs talk of your upcoming mission. I had to completely mask my presence, distraction at this point could be dangerous for you. If I'd known about this last assignment, I would have waited to come back. Hal told me there would be no more, but he is a brass man. For them, there is always one more.

These long years have been hard, war always is. Every single war I live through seems to steal decades from me. This one must be over soon. I've missed you, and I want to rejoin you as a whole person, not the crumbling wreck you rescued 3 years ago.

I've watched you these last years, sometimes close enough to touch you. You've felt me at times, but it was easy persuading your mind you were dreaming. I shouldn't have, but I needed to be with you. Needed to crawl into your bed and be held. Needed....

I'm amazed you and Hal have become friends, though why I should be I'm not sure. He tells me about you, how you're doing, the things you're involved in. Charges me for it, too, in 100 year old French brandy. He's trying to single-handedly run through my entire cellar.

He tells me you ask about me, to the point of plying him with liquor. I wonder if you've realized by now Hal doesn't get drunk, or if the two of you have fallen into a comfortable rut. You must be spending all your pay on his favorite alcohol. I've spent plenty on the old man.

I agreed to wait for you to come back from this last mission. I didn't want to, but Hal insisted. He's right. I've waited this long, what will a few more days, or weeks, mean? I can wait a while longer if I must.

Charlotte

~*~*~*~*~

Nick Fury had seen her exactly three times during the war.

The first time had been early on. She was pointed out by one of his buddies; an appreciative whistle all but died on his tongue at the sight of her. He watched her walk with General Forkner across the muddy compound, one hand tucked under his arm. Nick thought maybe she was the general's daughter, or even granddaughter. That was the kind of girl Ma Fury always told him he should be keeping company with. Pretty, modest, well mannered. She spoke nicely to anyone who said anything to her. He wondered briefly what she was doing here. This wasn't any place for nice girls.

His buddy did whistle at her. When she turned to give the man a cool, dismissing gaze, he got a good look at her. Something in her face gave him pause. Aside from her youth and the company she was with, it was the eyes. Fierce eyes that told of loss and death, and life. Eyes that turned in his direction, daring him to say something. She unnerved him. More than the general with her, or the group of men surrounding them. No one that young should have that look.

Maybe she wasn't so nice?

The second time had been later that same month in a local bar, a watering hole for military commando types, full of loud, drunken soldiers looking for an evening's respite from the war. The only women in there were either serving liquor or lounging against men all around the smoky room, offering themselves for a price. She was the only one in there he noticed. When he looked around, he saw he wasn't the only one who did.

Why, he couldn't say. She was pretty, but there were women in there that were beautiful, if a little used and worn. She laughed and drank with the men at the table she sat at, just like the others in here.

Maybe it was the group of men she was with, the same group he'd seen before. Yeah, it had to be that. She was a part of that group, she belonged with them, to them, just like they belonged to her. She wasn't a prostitute they'd hired for the night. That was definitely not a woman who could be had for any price.

She sat in a corner, four large, burly men around her, the youngest man in his late twenties, the oldest in his fifties. They clustered around her protectively, growling at any one else that came too close. It brought to mind a pack of vicious dogs protecting a tiny kitten. Until you got a look in the kitten's eyes and realized she was the most dangerous member of the pack.

One at a time, the men would wander away occasionally, to get more beer and talk to the business girls. The youngest disappeared for awhile with one, only to return to ribbing and crass jokes from his comrades. She smiled wryly, but didn't comment. Nick felt embarrassed for her to have to hear all the crude language flying around.

He'd thought about trying to get an introduction to her, but after watching the others go down in flames he decided he didn't need to run through the self-appointed father figures with her. Besides, she was so young. Couldn't be more than twenty years old. What in the world was she doing in a place like this? She didn't belong there.

Damn war. Putting people into places they didn't have any business being in the first place. War was not a spectator sport, but the innocents died all too easily.

~*~*~*~*~

"Victor Creed? Are ya crazy?"

"Hmm," she pretended to ponder the question, tapping her fingertips against her pursed lips. "I don't believe so. Is this your way of telling me you have no clue to where one of the most dangerous mutants on earth might be at any given moment?"

"Humph." He didn't care for her sense of humor.

"Col. Fury, my reasons are exactly that, mine. Will you deal with me? I don't have time to go looking on my own, but I will. Perhaps people will die in the meantime. If he's loose, then you have your own reasons to see him back under control."

"What makes ya think he's loose?"

"Let's just say he's put in an appearance near my home, and I am fairly sure he shouldn't be there. Are you going to help me or not? Tell me now so I can plan accordingly."

"What're ya gonna do if I don't?"

"Then I'll do this the hard way. I'll start with his last known sighting and go from there. I am going to do this. The question is whether or not you would find my services worth the information."

"How long I got ta think about it?"

"Oh," she looked at her watch, "I'll give you until this time tomorrow evening." She smiled at him. "And don't bother the establishment here, okay? They've got nothing to do with this, and they wouldn't be able to give you any information about me. You know all you need to know."

~*~*~*~*~

Logan
May 19-

When Leo told me he found you, I was frozen. After all this time.

Hiring Leo was the best idea I'd ever had. It took nearly 15 years, but he found you. He's worth every penny I paid him.

It wasn't his fault.

I wish he'd never found you.

The utter pity on his face when he told me you were getting married. I don't know what I hated more at that moment. You, or his damn pity.

He took me to that little teahouse you liked so much to break the news to me. He knew you would be coming in shortly. I suppose he thought a quick break would hurt less than a long, slow story.

I still feel I could shatter if I took a deep breath.

Then you walked in.

You hadn't changed much. I still recognized you. Everything in me cried out to run to you, throw myself in your arms.

You looked around the room and I waited for you to see me. Your eyes rested on me briefly, then moved on. I was a stranger to you. You still wore my soul next to your heart, and I was a stranger to you.

I WAS A STRANGER!

I'm leaving Japan tomorrow, leaving you to her and your new life. Perhaps in another few decades you will be ready for me.

Charlotte

~*~*~*~*~

The third time had been late in the war. The Howlers were assigned to run support for an infiltration team, but orders came down for just two backups. He and Dugan were selected, the rest of the team indisposed with the current run of camp crud. General Forkner was quite specific on what he wanted and how it was supposed to happen. Like that ever mattered in the heat of combat.

He and Dugan were to back up Logan's team and make sure the base was destroyed. Nick's surprise to learn someone else was in command of it vanished quickly, followed by curiosity. Logan had disappeared, no trace of him had been found. The rumors said Cash was taking over.

To find out the girl he'd seen before was the infamous Cash shocked him enough. Stories of her first team's death had been hushed up, but the rumors still got around. The stories that she was Logan's woman, if they were true, made it just that much more interesting.

Sgt. Fury had his orders. He was to back her up anyway he could. She called the shots on this one; he was expected to follow her lead. General Forkner made it clear he was expected to bring her back alive.

Five of the six bodies assigned to her unit had been hand-picked by Logan, the sixth a recent reassignment to replace a lost man. The cocky private hadn't been around long enough to know about her like the others had. The moment Private Gomes opened his mouth to make his first smart-assed comment she decked him -- elbow to the solar plexus, knee to the groin, kick to the jaw. The private was then dragged out and dumped in the gutter.

Cash wasn't taking any crap from anyone. The kitten didn't need to be surrounded by wild dogs for protection. She took down the hulking 6'2" private without breaking a sweat or cracking a smile.

Who would protect the dogs?

A raised brow got no response from the rest as she took measure of everyone left, her team and the two extra bodies. Damn, what a woman. Logan's woman. Lucky bastard. Stupid bastard if he didn't get back here soon.

Cash didn't want to lead the mission, she was more than willing to give over command to him. She had no official rank, even her existence was questionable. He thought he heard the general refer to her as Lady. That's all he needed, some Lady he had to baby-sit.

Nick had to wonder why she was included in this at all. He argued with the general about her presence. There was no reason why he needed her. How hard could it be to just blow up the damned base?

That's when he discovered there was more at stake then just the base. She was sent there for something very special, and it was a need-to-know situation. He never did find out what it was.

They stood by to lend support, but it wasn't needed. He and Dugan set the charges and waited. She proved her worth and that of Logan's team. They got in and out in record time.

After watching the bodies scramble back under the fence, Sgt. Fury gave the order to blow the charges.

That's when he discovered she hadn't come out with the rest. He'd just blown up an innocent woman.

Her men cried. Hell, they all shed a few tears. Never found the body, or any trace of the body. It was wartime, casualties were a fact of life. They moved on with the business of killing.

It still haunted him occasionally. In his nightmares he could hear a woman screaming as her body caught fire, struggling to get out of the inferno.

It wasn't his fault, but it still felt like a failure.

~*~*~*~*~

"Fury!"

Nick looked up from his drink at the face glaring at him over the rim. "Hey, Logan," he said mildly. What was this, old home week? First Cash, now him? He had things to think about right now, and he didn't need the distractions. Especially when they concerned Logan's old girlfriend. Too many memories were coming back these days, he just wanted to sit here and decide what he was going to do about Cash and her request.

That's why he'd come to Stoney's Bar. A place he could relax and think without being bothered.

"Only gonna say this once," Logan growled. "Where is she?" Logan was at the end of his rope, the only lead he had was Domino's information. She'd passed on Charlotte's note to an old acquaintance from the war. The second Cable mentioned Fury's name, Neena's scent changed. That's when he knew. He was ready to beat the information out of his friend if he had to.

"Where's who?" Maybe it was because the past was on his mind right now, but he couldn't mean Cash, could he?

"I already know ya saw my wife. Where is she?"

Nick relaxed a bit in relief. "You got married? That's right, 'member hearin' somethin' bout that. Got an invite, but I couldn't be there, 'cause I was dead, an' all. Congrats. My sorries ta the lil' woman."

Logan's hands tightened to the point Nick could actually see the claws straining to burst free through the skin. Having an angry Wolverine ready to skewer him was an unpleasant, but a common enough occurrence over the years. There were things he couldn't tell him about his own past, oaths he'd sworn to uphold.

"Where is she?!"

"Don't know what yer talkin' about."

"Charlotte, my wife. I know she came to see ya. Wha'cha tell her?!"

"I'd remember if a woman named Charlotte came ta see me, 'specially if she said she's yer wife. I'd want ta get a look at the woman that'd marry an old goat like ya." He grinned at him. "She pretty?"

That did it. His flippant tone drove Logan over the edge. The claws snikted out and came down on the table between them, shredding it into kindling.

"I ain't playin' games!" Logan growled between his teeth. "She's out tryin' ta find Creed an' I gotta stop her before he kills her."

"Calm down, fer Chrissakes," Nick told him with a scowl. "Have a beer an' let's talk 'bout this." He moved over to another table, motioning to the bartender to bring another round. He was thinking fast, trying to buy some time to sort this out before he said too much. "Pull them claws back in before you get us any more attention."

Logan did so reluctantly. He finally sat in a chair across from Fury. "I know she met with ya, wha'cha tell her?"

"No one sayin' her name was Charlotte come ta see me," Nick answered in all honesty.

"I gotta find her."

"Why don'cha tell me what happened. Mebbe I can help."

The bartender set a couple of beers down on the table, his eyes on the pile of splinters nearby. "There going to be a problem?" he asked.

"Naw, no problems. My friend here's just a lil' upset. Thanks, Stoney."

The old man nodded, giving Logan a hard look before retreating back behind the bar.

"Nothin' to tell. Creed made a threat, an' I made the mistake o' tellin' her what to do. She's out huntin' him down." Logan drained one beer, then picked the other up. "If she ain't been to see ya yet, then I can grab her when she does."

This wasn't gonna work. If Cash and Charlotte were the same person, which he was more than positive about now, Logan's presence could scare her off and she'd go about doing this a whole other way, by herself or with someone else's help. Face it, he told himself, ya don't trust anyone but yerself to keep her safe.

"I don't know why yer wife'd come see me," Nick said. "Not like I could help her any. I could hide her, mebbe. Put her on the Helicarrier. Mebbe move her in with Dum Dum. People'd think the old man's got himself a young one." He grinned. "Dum Dum likes 'em young and pretty, or he would if he had a life outside o' SHIELD, before he turned respectable."

Logan stopped, the beer halfway to his mouth. "I didn't say she was young."

"As old as you are, they're always young. Too young fer us both."

~*~*~*~*~

Logan
June 15, 1978

Tonight I took another man to my bed.

He is a fine man. Young, idealistic. I used him to sate the passions of my body, but he couldn't feed the hungers of my soul. Only you.

It was the hunger that urged me to take him. I've felt it on and off through the years since Austria, but never like I did tonight.

The problem is mine. I needed, wanted someone tonight. Especially tonight. Our night.

It's lonely not having someone to share the night with.

It's even lonelier in the arms of a man who can't touch my soul.

He talks of a future together, an adventurous, exciting life of mysteries and magic. Things that keep us together now. It would be good life.

How could I do that to him?

I can't. I respect him, I like him. I can't love him. Not when you still own my soul. Damn you. I hope you're dead. I hope you're as miserable as I am.

I hope....

Charlotte

~*~*~*~*~

Charlotte opened the door herself this time. She held a finger to her lips to request his silence, then led him to their previous meeting place. There were still no sounds in the building he could hear, no indications that anyone else was even in residence.

"Do you have the information I need?" she asked without preamble.

He stepped inside the suite behind her. "Why?"

"Do you have the information I need?" she repeated.

"First I want ta know why ya want it."

"Conditions, Mr. Fury?"

"Just want ta know why ya come outta retirement for this."

"My reasons don't concern you."

"They do if yer husband's comin' after me, Charlotte." He used her proper name and the information about Logan to gauge the effect it would have on her.

She disappointed him; not so much as an eyelash flickered in surprise. She even smiled at him. He didn't trust that smile.

"Mr. Fury, Logan may have contacted you, most likely he has by now, but the fact he's not here tells me you didn't give him a satisfactory answer. Now, are you going to tell me what I need to know or must I take it from you by force?"

Nick stared at her a long minute, those amber eyes regarding him with bitter amusement and warning. He'd had enough experience with dangerous women to not underestimate this one. "I'll tell ya on the way."

"No, I'm not taking any backup on this one." She dropped into her chair, leaning her chin on her cupped hand. "Forget it."

"Yer damn well gettin' it. Ya got me inta somethin' that could get me killed." Damned if she still didn't look like a kid. An' Logan married her?

"You could get killed if you go with me. I'm not taking responsibility for anyone else but myself."

"No one asked ya to." He could smell a win here. "I'd rather be off huntin' Sabretooth then havin' ta try an' tell Wolverine why his wife's in pieces."

"You'd prefer a fight with Creed over Logan?"

"Wolverine'd take it personal, makes him more dangerous."

She sighed. "True. He takes a lot of things personally, especially when it comes to me."

"Ya wonder why?"

"I won't be responsible for pulling your butt out of the fire."

"If Creed gets his paws on ya I'll leave ya behind, 'kay?" he said sarcastically.

"You read my mind. I didn't realize you're a mutant." Her brow lifted in mock surprise. "That's just what I had planned."

"Yer serious, aren't ya?"

"That depends." Her head tilted to one side, her eyes unfocused. One hand touched the now glowing pendent around her neck. "Damn."

"On what?"

"If you managed to cover your tracks." She stopped a moment, then picked up her bag off a side table. "If you're coming with me, say so now."

"What?"

"One of us is getting sloppy in our old age, and I'm betting it's me. I forgot about the damned bonding promise." She held out a hand and waited.

He took it cautiously. "Sloppy-"

The rest of his sentence was cut off in a flash of light.

~*~*~*~*~

The light disoriented him, the dizziness of his trip through the gate causing him to sway against her a bit.

"Steady there." Charlotte helped him with his balance.

He looked around, blinking. "Where are we?" He pulled away from her, a little unnerved at the abrupt way she transported them here.

"Nowhere," she threw back over her shoulder as she left the platform. "Need to know basis."

"Fer someone who wants ta know where Creed is, ya sure don't want ta give up anythin'."

"Call me fickle. You were the one who insisted on coming."

He followed her up the stairs and to the kitchen, looking around curiously at the surroundings. Glimpses through the windows told him he was in a forest, but he wasn't quite sure. He'd have to guess they were still in the States, but as to where....

She stood by the table, her hand reaching down slowly to pick up a piece of paper resting on it. He watched her face pale, then she crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the trash.

"Coffee?"

"Got anythin' real ta drink?"

"Coffee isn't real?" She poured water into the coffee maker, then took a canister from the freezer. After scooping out an enormous amount of ground coffee, she flipped on the machine and reached up for mugs from the cupboard.

"Not after the day I'm havin'."

She had to laugh. "If this is a rough day for you, you must go through life drunk."

"That's the idea. Well?"

"Give me a second here, will you, kid?"

"Watch who yer callin' kid!"

"Let's settle this like grown ups, shall we," she turned to look him in the eye. "Anyone who was alive during W.W.I, raise your hand?" She held up hers.

He shot her a disgruntled look.

"No? Let's try another one. Anyone in this room alive during the Civil War?" She held hers up again.

Nick clenched his teeth.

"This is fun. How about one more, okay? The Revolutionary War?" Again her hand was up. This time she waggled her fingers at him. "Have we settled the kid issue yet?"

He glared at her.

~Might as well spit those words out as think them.~ She finished measuring ground coffee into the machine and turned it on. "Let's go get you that drink, kid. Should I ask for some ID?"

"That's Col. Fury ta you." She was a damned mind snooper, too.

"Well, *Col. Fury* doesn't get any of my private stock, which, I might add, is older than you are, or any of Logan's stash, so make up your mind quick. And I might be able to direct you to Logan's humidor."

He thought about it all of two seconds. "Furball drinkin' any better stuff these days?"

~*~*~*~*~

"Who did that to ya?"

He stood by a window in the library, staring out at the forest, in between glances back at her. Now that he could see her clearly in the dawn light, he could plainly see she hadn't aged one bit since the war. Him, Logan and Charlie, three oddities from a world that few remembered, or even cared about. Old war horses that didn't know enough to stop making trouble everywhere they went.

"Who did what to me?" Charlotte didn't take her attention off her coffee cup, or the papers she scribbled on at the desk. The file she'd pulled from the X-Men's computers on Sabretooth was open in front of her, along with bits and pieces of what she'd learned from other sources. She made a note to send Frohike a bottle of Coyote's best honeyed wine.

"Made ya so ya can't get old."

"My mother," she answered absently.

"Yer ma?"

The tone of voice got her attention. Charlotte set down her pen and turned towards him. "You think someone deliberately did this to me?"

"Didn't they?"

"No. I was born this way. My mother wasn't human. You have come across aliens before, haven't you?"

"Lemme get this straight. Yer a mutant an' you don't age?"

"I do age, just very slowly. A year or two every century. Not a bad life. Someone did that to you? Experimentation?"

"Wolverine didn't tell y'about me?"

"It's been a busy year. He's mentioned his friend Fury, but I'm afraid I didn't make the connection." A wry smile twisted her lips. "He's rather closed mouth about what he does remember and, to be honest, I just wasn't interested at the time."

"Ain't supposed ta get old an' die."

"You're going to look like that forever?"

"That's what I hear."

"Interesting. Another piece of the Twilight Subculture."

"What's that?"

Charlotte settled back in her chair, picking up her cup. "There's an entire subculture of people, beings, creatures, aliens, whatever term you chose, that have extended lives, or they're not quite human, some that will live forever and never age. People that aren't mutants. You're hardly alone here."

"Not what I want ta hear."

She shrugged. "Tell me what I want to hear. Where's Creed?"

He sighed. "There anyway I can talk ya outta this? This ain't a good idea. Ya can still back out, an' me an' Logan'll go take care of Sabretooth."

"You ever been hunted, Nick? Of course you have. Did hiding ever work for very long? I saw the message Sabretooth left for Logan. It was extremely personal, and Logan's too deep in this to think rationally. Do you know why they're like this?"

"They got history together."

"That much I know. But why?" She tapped the file on the desk. "I've got everything Xavier has on Victor Creed and what I've managed to glean from various sources, but I'm still missing a piece of the puzzle. Considering the fact they both were both operatives for various governments from time to time, they've got to have history together. There's quite an assortment of dangerous women in his past, too. I just might start a sorority someday, if any of them are still alive."

Nick gazed at her with concealed dismay, not commentin on any of her speculations.

"Canadian Secret Service, Central Intelligence Agency. The Clan Yashida. Weapon X. Madripoor and the Princess Bar. Shiva. You know, it's a good thing he can't remember everything, I'd never get him to shut up."

Nick still didn't say anything. He glanced at the papers in front of her. Several bore official letterheads. Where and how she got those he didn't know, but he'd damn well find out.

"It just doesn't explain Victor Creed. There are other men in here, but none of them seem to have such a problem with Logan that Creed does. It's almost like ownership." She turned away from him and let her psi sense open up to read his reactions.

Nothing. Fury had been too well trained to deal with psis.

"If you don't tell me what I need to know, I will do this without you," she told him coolly. "No matter what you do, or what Logan does, right now I'm the target. I'm not going to stop being a target because Sabretooth gets bored."

"There are options. I could stash you on the Helicarrier." He finally sat down in the chair across from her. "Lots of protection." He'd ribbed Logan with it earlier, but it was actually an ideal solution. Couple hundred SHIELD agents on board, and he'd make Pierce her new best friend. Piercey might even survive the experience.

"Temporary, at best. I need something more permanent."

"There ain't gonna be no winners here, ya know that. Why're ya so hot on huntin' him down?"

Charlotte bit her lip and swung the chair towards the window he'd been looking out earlier. The sun was completely up, soft yellow light streaming through the trees. "Have you ever thought about the concept of time?"

"Every damn day." He dreamed about it every day and night.

"I mean really think about it. I don't know about you, but for me the days are slow, it's the decades that pass so quickly. Do you have a family?"

"A son." And Dugan and Val. That bothered him at times, that he'd outlive them; he was already watching them grow older, seeing little things that hadn't been there even five years before.

"I have a son, too. I love him so very much, and he's aging faster than I am. If I'm lucky, I'll have maybe another two-three hundred years with him. I've got Logan, too, but even if he manages to not get himself killed, he still won't live very long. I won't tolerate anyone stealing any bit of it away from me. Victor Creed has already stolen two weeks of my life with Logan, and I'm not giving up any more than I have to." She drained the rest of her coffee. "I want the coordinates."

They had a great deal in common, the two of them, Nick thought; he could understand her position, and it just made things worse. He sighed again. Might as well get this over with. "We know he's got a cabin in Canada, somewhere in a remote part of the wilderness. He spends time there between rants, an' he was spotted a couple days ago." SHIELD kept casual tabs on the place just for reference.

"Now, was that so hard?" She picked up her pen. "And the exact location?"

He gave it to her.

"Thank you." She wrote it down. "I'll have another cup of coffee and a shower, then I'll be ready to go. What about you?"

"I'll be ready." He had no choice now. There was no turning back.

~*~*~*~*~

After showering in the guest room and putting back on his clothes, leaving the suit behind and just wearing his usual black combat outfit, Nick wandered back into the kitchen. Charlotte hadn't reappeared yet, he was all alone.

With a glance around, he picked up the note she'd read earlier.

Mother,

I don't appreciate you disappearing on me, or having William send me your will. Whatever's going on, just come home and we'll deal with it.

Thomas

Footsteps down the hall warned him of her approach. He dropped it back to where it was and turned to face her.

Charlotte entered the kitchen dressed in a skin-tight, dull olive-colored spandex outfit. She had a leather belt around her waist with a sheath tied to her thigh. Her hair was braided back and fastened up out of the way. She carried knee high boots in one hand, and her coffee cup in the other, draining the last of it.

"That what y'use?" he nodded at the blade.

"Yes. I'd take the sword, but I think it would just get in the way."

He blinked at the word 'sword.' "How come ya don't use a gun?"

"Just because I'm an alien doesn't mean I use a raygun or a lightsabre." Her eyes flickered at him over her cup. "Satisfy your curiosity?" she asked dryly.

"No," Nick answered honestly. No point in trying to lie about it. He was curious. She looked like she should be getting ready for a prom, instead of arming herself to fight a madman.

"Good." She rinsed her cup in the sink and set it in the dishwasher. "You ready to go?" She sat down at the table and pulled on her boots, slipping smaller knives into specially designed slots.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

~*~*~*~*~

The gate opened in a small clearing not too far away from the location of Sabretooth's cabin. Nick thought to himself he must be used to her transport methods, it hardly bothered him now.

He had to try to convince her one more time. "This ain't a good idea," Fury said again. "We can still get outta here."

"I can't," Charlotte answered. She scanned the area with her eyes closed. "He already has my scent. There isn't anywhere I can hide he wouldn't try to find me."

"Listen to the honeybitch, Fury. She's right." Sabretooth dropped from his hiding place. "Me an' her's got business to settle."

Fury drew his weapon and pushed Charlotte behind him, keeping a tight hold on her arm when she tried to pull away. "Yer comin' with me," he told the Creed in a cold voice.

He wasn't paying attention to the right mutant.

She laid one hand against his temple, the other bracing his body against hers as she 'encouraged' him to sleep.

"Wha-?" he began, his head swiveling around to her, before succumbing to the suggestion.

He was heavy, she couldn't lay him down easily. She winced a little at his hard landing, then knelt down next to his body. She removed the medallion from around her neck, kissed it, then slipped it over Nick's head to cloak him in her body armor.

"Look's like yer help just left ya here alone, sweetness," Creed drawled. "I didn' know y'were so anxious to die. Guess I get to play Santa."

Charlotte rose to her feet. "Why?" Her voice was quiet, thoughtful. "Why do you want to kill me?" She took a good long look at the cause of some Logan's worst nightmares. He seemed to be more than 6 and a half feet tall, massively built and thickly muscled. The pictures she'd seen didn't do him or his attitude justice. Without the sneer and the crazed light in his eyes, he was probably a good looking man.

"Nothin' personal, ya just fell in with the wrong kinda crowd."

"You're not just going to go away, are you?"

"Ain'cha scared? Naw, you ain't scared o' me, are ya? Yer mad, though. I can smell it." He grinned. "Not scared yet, but ya will be. I hope ya like screamin', sweets, 'cause ya'll be doin' lots o' it."

"I'm not scared. Should I be?" Charlotte stepped towards him slowly. Everything Raven ever taught her about hunting the hunter scrolled through her head.

Lesson 1 - If you are foolish enough to hunt the predator, running will not help you.

She took deep, even breaths, shutting down the psi field around her. His file indicated he had a special yen for telepaths. She had no desire to find out if she was to his taste.

"It's yer funeral, if there's enough left after I'm done. Yer gonna fight me, ain'cha?" Creed clenched and unclenched his fists, happily contemplating his plan to twist another knife into Logan's existence.

She'd seen that look on Logan's face a time or two. It struck a chord in her, one she didn't like. "If I have to."

"Yer gonna have to, honeybitch, 'cause I hear yer fuckin' my runt. Ya got his stink all over ya."

"Nothing wrong with your ears. Must've had them cleaned recently. Should've had your coat brushed, too." As always, she reached for the joke to distract her mind.

Lesson 2 - Do not taunt the predator, be respectful at all times.

That lesson was shot to hell, along with her runaway mouth.

"Aww, temper. I like that in my woman." He flexed his hands.

"You have a woman?" Charlotte shifted herself away from Nick, drawing Sabretooth's attention along with her. "My condolences to her."

"I always got a woman. The runt's bitches are mine, one way or another." His mouth stretched into a feral sneer. "Sometimes both."

"Where did you hide her?"

"I'm lookin at her" Creed ran his tongue over his teeth. "I'll be tastin' ya soon 'nough. Bet your blood tastes sweet, honeybitch. Bet yer a wildcat under that prissy face."

Charlotte looked over her shoulder at the surrounding forest. "You must be imagining things. I hear that can be a problem for psychos." No one around at all. If she wanted to scream it would do no good. She wasn't the screaming type, anyway.

"Sense a humor, too. Just don't make me mad. That'll make sure ya suffer before ya die. Tell me, pretty girlie, ya want a real man?"

"I have one, but thank you for your oh, so kind offer."

"Runt can't go the distance, yer wastin' yer time with him. I can be nice to ya, for a while."

"I'm wasting my time on this conversation. So, if you have a point....?"

"Never was one for talkin' much. I do other things. Want a demo, babe?"

"If you say you're the best at what you do, I just might scream."

"I like it when the girlies scream. Makes me feel good. Scream all ya want, ain't nobody gonna hear ya. 'Cept mebbe Fury there, an' I'll be takin' care a that. Wha'cha do ta him, anyway?"

"That doesn't concern you. This isn't his fight, and I suggest you don't touch him."

"Why should I listen to a skirt?"

"'Cause this skirt's making sense. I've read your file. You're a lot of things, but you've never been stupid. You take me out, all you've got is Logan coming after you. You touch him, you've got SHIELD hunting you down. Even you have limits."

"I see ya done yer homework. Makes me feel all warm an' fuzzy inside to meet a fan. Mebbe yer makin' sense. Ya yap a lot, don'cha?"

Damn, he figured it out, she thought inanely. Should've known he'd not be so easy to just bore into going away.

"I have conversation skills. And a manicure. You might want to look into one yourself."

"Naw, I like m'claws nice n'bloody. Especially if I get to play with the runt. I own him, he belongs to me." He swung out, catching her across the face, backhanding her against a tree.

Without her shields, she had no protection against his attack. Her world exploded in a blaze of white light; she staggered away from him completely dazed. She had to get herself together, and fast, otherwise she would have no chance whatsoever against him.

Once again, finding her feet and her wits, Charlotte glared at a clearly amused Sabretooth.

Lesson 3 - Never give up your defenses.

"You're just a real man, aren't you?" she snapped at him, her voice loaded with venom. "Slapping the women around. Real caveman type. I bet we're feeling real proud of ourselves right now, aren't we?"

Sabretooth's face bristled with fierce amusement, an evil smirk loaded with contempt at her defiance.

"You know, I thought you bein' Wolverine's bitch an' all you could do more'n just yap. Runt must be gettin' soft, settlin' fer somethin' like you."

Charlotte felt cold fury wash over her at the insult. Pivoting on her heel, she swung in a lightning fast roundhouse kick, aiming straight at his head. She expected the crunch of impact, but there was nothing as her heel swept past Creed, leaving him unharmed.

Letting let her momentum carry her over, she redirected the kick straight into Creed's chest. With an almost lazy motion, he caught her foot in a meaty hand just prior to impact and flicked her away.

Catching herself in a roll, she backed away from him and the unconscious Fury. Creed just stood there, arms crossed over his barrel like chest.

Warning bells went off in her head. There wasn't one indication in the files she'd read that he wouldn't go for a quick, violent kill. What a time to change the way he did things.

She was thrust back to awareness by his thick, gravely voice.

"Gonna make it fun fer me? Ya wanna be hunted? I'll hunt ya, sweets." With a sick sneer on his brutish face, Victor circled her as if she was his prey.

Charlotte moved quickly to open ground in order to give herself some room. Getting cornered by Creed was a bad idea. This whole thing was a bad idea. Nick's words came back to mock her, but she pushed them away. Now was not the time to be thinking that way.

He just grinned at her, bunching his shoulders and swinging his arms, loosening up.

She felt the anger grow inside her again as she watched him. Creed wasn't taking her seriously. Her first impulse was to attack, but deep inside she knew that she would be playing right into his hands.

He wanted to bait her into doing something stupid. Too late, she'd already done that. She lashed out at him with her tongue instead.

"Tell me, furball, you warmed enough yet? I don't have all day to play with you, you know."

The taunting had the desired effect.

Creed swiped at her, intent on taking her head off, but this time she expected it.

*Fool me twice, shame on me,* ran through her head.

She grabbed hold of his wrist firmly, locking her other hand around his forearm to yank down hard with the hand that held his wrist. She expected to hear the bones break.

Nothing.

Instead, she had to duck away from his other hand that was aimed at her face and throat. She was just quick enough to feel the hand pass inches from her face.

Once again, he just crossed his arms over his chest, the expression on his face conveying his utter boredom with the situation. "I hope you can do better'n that, honeybitch. So far, yer the worst o' all Logan's bitches."

Charlotte gritted her teeth and got to her feet quickly. Pain burned through her back and shoulders where she fell, but she ignored it. Not waiting to see what Creed's reaction would be, she acted and slammed into his face with a fast double kick that sent him crashing heavily to the ground.

"Better?" she snapped, her own lips pulled back in a feral sneer.

Creed leaped back onto his feet lightly, graceful despite his size.

"Nope. I give ya a three fer yer efforts, honeybitch, an' only cause I like ya." With a grin, he licked away the blood from the now healing gashes her boot heels had given him. "You just ain't useta fightin' a real man, are ya?"

"Maybe I'm not fighting one now." She bit her tongue belatedly. The tension was letting her mouth run away from her again.

"Yer technique's sloppy. How 'bout I teach ya some real moves?" he leered at her with a bloodstained smirk.

"Don't need your help, furball," she snapped as she moved into him with a well placed foot-sweep, taking Creed down to ground again. She aimed a sharp shot at his throat in an effort to cut off his air supply, or even crush his throat, but her fist was caught in one massive hand.

"Good idea, honeybitch." Creed snorted at her. "Coulda worked if ya weren't so slow."

Charlotte didn't respond, but drove a knee into his midriff instead. The blast of rank breath in her face, along with freeing of her hand from his grip, told her she had surprised him, but not for long. She rolled away quickly, launching a sweeping kick right at where Creed would have been, but he wasn't there.

She felt the sharp sting of impact as he swatted her away like an insignificant fly. His claws left bloody scrapes over her body.

"Yer lucky, that move don't work on me."

Charlotte could hear the hot fury in his voice, and the warning bells in her head went off louder than before. He was playing with her, letting her do whatever she wanted. She couldn't really hurt him. Wouldn't stop her from trying, though.

Common sense told her to let it go and get the hell out of here, but she ignored it. She didn't believe in Hell.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but that move did work. Perfectly."

The only response that Charlotte got was the snarl as he charged her. Dropping down, she grabbed hold of one outstretched paw and dug one foot into his thickly muscled midriff, allowing his movement to carry him straight over her head.

She scrambled to her feet quickly; she could already hear Creed growling as he got up.

"What'sa matter, bitch?" he taunted her. "Scared to get physical with a real man?"

"Last time I checked, you overgrown furball, you weren't what I would call a 'real man.'" The tension was letting her mouth runaway from her again. It was time to start believing.

Creed launched himself at her again, his powerful muscles throwing his bulk at her at an incredible speed.

Charlotte tried to take him down with an arm drag, but she was much too slow. She cried out in pain as she felt Creed's 320 pounds slam into her shoulder, igniting every nerve in her body with a haze of pain. His momentum slammed them both into a tree. She was the buffer for the impact.

Charlotte wanted to scream from the pain that tore through her, but she couldn't, all the air in her lungs exploded from her. Her whole body was a celebration of agony, black spots dancing through her field of vision. Everything was a haze.

*Focus!* she ordered herself, but it was impossible. No matter what she did, she couldn't.

She didn't feel Creed hoist her up by her neck, a savage growl on his lips, pinning her painfully against the tree. His body crushed her into the tree, the rough bark digging into her back.

His claws dug into her neck, drawing small droplets of blood from her skin, but she was unaware of it. She didn't see the sick smile on his face as he held her there, inches away.

"See, honeybitch? I knew ya wouldn't last it out 'gainst a real man." Still grinning at her, he started squeezing her neck, intent on crushing her throat.

The lack of breath jerked Charlotte out of her daze. She knew she had to do something fast, or Creed would choke her to death. Drawing on some reserve of strength she'd forgotten she had, she slammed the heel of her hand into his face, the sound of his nose breaking satisfying some deep primal need. Blood splattered over her. A grimace of satisfaction crossed her face.

Creed let out a savage growl, but he didn't let her go. He spun her round, crushing her to him in a suffocating hold, her body dangling limply from the crook of his arm.

Feeling the panic well up inside of her, Charlotte whacked him in the ribs with her elbow, forcing a grunt from him, but he didn't let go of her. Grimacing with effort, she kicked him in the thigh, grinding her heel into the thick muscles. Creed retaliated by tightening his hold on her neck, cutting off her air at an even quicker rate.

Charlotte felt small pockets of hot air explode in her ear as Sabretooth nuzzled her, rubbing the blood on his face into her skin. "Ya smell good, sweets. Yer gettin' scared, an' I like that," he purred at her in a throaty voice.

She tried squirming to get more air, but it was useless. Creed only held her tighter. Her mind swirling with panicky escape plans, her frantic attention locked onto her boot knives.

Reaching down as far as she could, she slipped one from its sheath and drove it into his thick thigh muscle. Warm blood gushed over her fingers.

*Must have hit an artery,* she thought as she twisted the knife sideways to keep the wound from closing up too quickly.

With a vicious roar, he flung her away from him, to land heavily a short way off. Gasping and retching, she dimly heard Creed roar in pain as he pulled the blade from his flesh with a meaty tearing sound.

"Ya wanna play rough, do ya?" he rasped in her direction.

Struggling slowly to her feet, she all but screamed at him. "Play? Oh no, no playing. I want to kill you, you bastard!" The urge to take a life had never been so strong.

His face bristled with ferocious amusement. Still wearing a crazed grin on his broad face, Creed moved towards her, already recovered from the knife wound.

The moment slowed down to an unbearable crawl. The air was thick with the smell of dirt, leaves and branches. The sounds of the forest were gone. A fanciful notion of all the creatures listening to them crossed her mind. Her own heartbeat suddenly seemed deafening. The satisfied snarl on Creed's face told Charlotte that he could hear her beating heart, smell her fear.

Charlotte did something she'd never done before.

She ran.

Blood burned in her heart, hammering as she dashed through the brush, dodging tree trunks and branches. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled with sweat and panic. The aching muscles in her legs and arms screamed in protest, but she pushed the pain away, her only thought, if it could be called a thought, was to put as much ground between her and Creed as she possibly could.

The crashing branches, coupled with the insane laughter right behind her, told her that Creed was not far behind her. He tracked her openly. Charlotte could have sworn she heard his breath snorting behind her ears. The mere thought of the killer right behind her spurred her onwards, driving her hard.

The sounds of pursuit were close behind her, no matter which way she turned he was always there. He toyed with her, never closing the gap or letting her too far away. She could sense him staring at her from the shadows. His blood hunger flowed around her like obscene whispers in the dark.

Creed waited for her to give herself up, confident he could devour her and her will at his whim.

The underbrush tore at her clothes and hair as she ran. Instead of being one with the forest as Raven painstakingly taught her, she was a stranger fending off the its help. Her logical brain deserted her, pure instinct taking over. Every cell, every urge of her body strained for escape.

She was the prey.

The sound of breaking underbrush faded away completely, to be replaced by a thick, heavy silence. She was alone.

Charlotte slowed down, her harrowing need for survival fading away, leaving her standing amid the heavy foliage of the forest, seemingly alone. Hot breath sheared through her lungs, her body burning oxygen at a furious rate. Every muscle felt like water; it was all she could do to not crash to the ground in total exhaustion.

Instead, she sank slowly to her knees, blood pounding furiously in her head, driving out all sound from around her. Charlotte closed her eyes, slowly laboring to bring her racing breath under control.

She didn't notice the silence of the forest around her, the warning the forest all but shouted out at her.

With a blood curdling roar, Creed launched himself at her from his concealed hiding place, virtually right above her.

Charlotte saw him flying straight at her, but she was powerless to avoid the impact as he slammed into her. It was all that she could do to brace herself.

The impact of Creed's leap sent them rolling across the soft, earthy forest floor, their limbs entangled intimately as they rolled over and over again. Charlotte tried her utmost to gain control of the lethal tumble, but it was useless.

After a brief struggle, Creed pinned her down into the dirt. His face was a filled with brutal satisfaction as he regarded her with glowing eyes. Gripping her wrists in one of his massive hands and forcing them over over head, he stroked a thick finger slowly across Charlotte's cheek, tracing the line of her jaw almost lovingly.

She shuddered involuntarily at the familiarity of the gesture. It reminded her of the many times that she and Logan played 'Hide and Seek' on the mansion grounds. Her body didn't know how to respond, her mind whirling rapidly with confusion, spinning out of control.

Her eyes saw Victor, but the gesture was Logan's. A personal gesture between them.

Desperately, Charlotte drew on her inner strength to try and regain control, but he was already destroying her heart.

"Yer just like all them other bitches, girlie. You all run in the beginnin', but Sabretooth gets ya in the end. Wolverine never teaches 'em ya can't run from the hunter," he purred happily above her. "Remember, girlie. Yer mine. Mine to hunt, when I wanna hunt. Mine to kill, when I wanna kill. Ya can think yer the runt's but yer not. Yer mine. Don't ever forget that, honeybitch."

Revulsion crept through her as Creed bent over to lick her cheek roughly. She twisted her face away sharply to get away from him. "Get your hands of me, you goddamn animal," she snarled at him in icy tones, her amber eyes flashing fire.

Victor only laughed at her. Grinning, he got off her and hauled her to her feet with a sharp jerk. Before she could do anything to free herself, Creed pulled her towards him, crushing her against him.

His voice whispered softly into her ear. "Run now, my lil' honeybitch. Run, before I kill ya." With that, he let her go.

Adrenaline exploded into her blood, and she ran, Creed's roaring laughter the only sound in her ears. It was only her will, the survival instinct that drove her onwards, forcing her to her limits, and beyond. Everything was a blur as she crashed through green foliage. Branches tore at her, drawing blood, but she didn't care. She was no more than a mindless creature, intent only on escaping the predator behind her.

She was the prey.

Each time she reached her breaking point, his sickening laugh would echo around her as he followed her in easy pursuit. She would continue on, desperate to avoid capture.

The forest thinned, and Charlotte suddenly emerged in an open area, a small pond at its center.

The sudden retreat of the forest shocked her to a stand still. She blinked rapidly, viewing her surroundings, and herself, in odd detachment, along with the blood smeared all over her .

With slow agony, her senses returned to her. The injuries of her body screamed at her sharply, but she pushed it back with shaky control learned through the ages, until it was little more than a dull buzz in the back of her head.

*He'll track me by the blood scent alone.* Her eyes locked onto the green algae-filled pool at the center of the clearing, the water's surface coated with a thick layer of slime.

Her lips pressed together grimly, she advanced towards the water's edge. Damp, decaying odors thickened the air, mud coating her boots as she reached the waters edge. The stink of the water filled her nostrils, making her blink in distaste at the smell, but she ignored it. Filling her already tortured lungs with air, Charlotte plunged into the foul water.

She submerged herself fully into the oily, green water, pulling herself through the length of the pond with desperate strokes. Time lost all meaning for her as she swam; it wasn't long before she felt the soft, slick ground of the pond's slippery surface beneath her feet. Charlotte pulled herself out of the stagnant water with aching arms, taking only the briefest of moments to catch her breath and survey her surroundings. She then moved on, trying to be as quiet as possible, regaining the barest sense of 'one-ness' with the forest in an effort to better her chances of throwing Creed off her trail.

Reaching the edge of the forest, Charlotte sought the largest tree nearby. She still wanted to run, but she had come to the end of her physical strength. She had no other option than to hide.

Moving to the tree, she gripped an overhanging branch firmly, pulling herself up into the tree. Swinging her wet legs over, she began to climb into the dense foliage of the tree until she reached a thickly concealed limb. Unconsciously, she scrunched her body up in an effort to become smaller, less visible.

Charlotte rested her head against the trunk of the tree, her wet hair clinging to her face. She breathed in rapid gasps in an effort to catch her breath. Her head was a spinning vortex of emotions, the strongest of which was fear.

The physical manifestations of fear were foreign to her, as was the pain she felt. Now she gave a brief thought to Nick, hoping she'd drawn Creed far enough away to keep him safe until he regained consciousness.

This was what she wanted, right? She wanted the choice of facing Creed on her terms, but she couldn't even do that now. Logan was right, and she might not live to tell him he was right. To tell him she loved him, that she didn't want a life without him.

Time dragged by with excruciating slowness, but Charlotte could not see or hear anything to warn her Creed was nearby. She didn't think to scan the area, her current state of mind too unstable to rely on her telepathy. She tried to relax her aching muscles and mind, hoping the danger was past, but the prickling sensation right between her shoulder blades allowed her no room for hope.

Not even the forest could shake the feeling of unease.

A sudden sharp roar rent the silence, sliding over her skin to make her shudder. The sounds came from just beyond the pool of stagnant water.

Charlotte felt the blood in her veins turn to ice. He would be here before too long.

She wanted to get out of the tree and run, but she was too tired, or completely unwilling. Fighting would be futile. She knew that, but she had no choice. She was not going to roll over and hand her entrails to him on a platter.

With stony determination, Charlotte withdrew her last boot knife, holding it ready in her right hand.

Long, eternal seconds ticked by as she waited in growing frustration. Her eyes scanned the forest beneath her with the intensity of an eagle's gaze, but Creed was nowhere to be seen. Seconds turned into minutes, and through it all, the tension in Charlotte's body grew, until tension turned into pain. But still Creed did not show himself.

She listened intently to the sounds around her, hoping that the forest itself would warn her of the predator's approach, but the forest gave her no sign at all.

*Maybe I shook him off with the water,* she thought hopefully, but her long years of experience as the hunter told her that assuming something like that could be nothing but fatal on her part.

Finally, a lesson that she didn't throw over immediately. Somewhere, the gods must be rejoicing.

Charlotte didn't track the passing time, but her long vigil was taking its toll. With a soft moan between clenched teeth, Charlotte closed her eyes for a short moment, rolling her neck to relieve the tension in her muscles. Her exhausted mind sought brief moment of unconsciousness that lengthened into minutes of reluctant sleep.

A heavy weight suddenly clamped around her ankle.

Startled to dizzy consciousness, she looked down to see Creed's hand around her boot.

"Let go of me, you goddamn animal!" she demanded, kicking at him with the other foot. She felt her foot connect to his face with a hard thud, but it made no impression. With a harsh yank, Creed pulled her down into his arms, crushing her to his chest, his hot breath fanning over her face. Her arms were pinned to her as Creed crushed her up against him, rendering her knife useless. She did not even realize it as the blade fell to the ground, dropped by nerveless fingers

"An' here I thought the runt mighta taught ya somethin' useful. That trick with the water almost had me, honeybitch. Took me some time to find ya," he rasped as he nuzzled her neck, re-opening the small wounds he inflicted before. "Ya shoulda made a run for it, but then ya perched up in this tree, waitin' for me. Just makes me think ya wanted me to catch ya. Yer in luck, I don't wanna play no more."

Sabretooth's fist smashed against her temple, knocking her to the ground. The world around her became a mass of pinpoint lights and dulled colors, the pain flaring through her head as she struck a rock. Black waves of pain clouded her vision until she lost consciousness.

~*~*~*~*~

Charlotte regained consciousness slowly. Her head pounded with a sickening, steady rhythm, wave after wave of headachy pain slamming into her relentlessly. She hadn't had an experience like this since the last time she'd drunk too much honeyed wine at a tribal celebration. She waited for the world to stop whirling before opening her eyes.

Oh, bad move. The world spun just a little faster, except this time she could watch it. She gritted her teeth, waiting for the sensation to pass. Finally it slowed down to a stop, and she took a cautious look around.

She was lying on her side on a rough wood planked floor, in the corner of a room. Jagged splinters from the wooden floor jabbed into her cheek and side. She tried moving into a more comfortable position, but then realized her hands were tied behind her back, effectively rendering her helpless for the moment. The rough cords of her bonds bit savagely into the soft, tender flesh of her wrists, but she ignored the pain for the moment.

Shifting her head up and down, she tried to get a better view of her surroundings. The room was surprising clean, if somewhat musty, but it still gave her the impression of an animal living here. The stench that choked her was a mixture of sweat, blood and stale body odor. She ground her teeth against the panic that swamped her, trying to force her groggy brain to slow down and think clearly.

Then it all came back to her. Of course an animal had been living here. Victor Creed. He definitely qualified for that status.

Just thinking about him seemed to summon his presence. "Yer awake. Good."

Charlotte tried looking around in an effort to spot him, but it was useless. All she could do was listen to his heavy approach as he neared. The floor under her shook with his footsteps. She felt a heavy hand grab her roughly as he hauled her up and tossed her in a wooden chair. The chair rocked dangerously under her thrown weight, threatening to fall over with her in it, but it settled back reluctantly on all four legs.

Sabretooth swaggered around to face Charlotte, favoring her with a toothy grin, his glowing eyes cold and hard as he gloated over her.

"Glad ya decided to wake up from yer beauty sleep, honeybitch, cause now we're gonna talk 'bout what yer gonna do for me." he drawled at her, his face mere inches away from hers.

"There's nothing I'm going to do for you," she answered him in icy, clipped tones, her old English accent obvious, trying to ignore the scent of him as he breathed over her. Her head throbbed, she could feel more bruises forming even now, bruises on top of bruises. How long had she been out? Couldn't have been too long. He hadn't taken the opportunity to slash her throat.

He wasn't done playing with her.

"Not nice to be mean to Sabretooth," he said silkily. He pulled back one huge paw and slapped her across the face, nails digging into her skin. "Yer gonna get Wolverine out here to save ya, 'cept he ain't gonna be able to do it."

She fell out of the chair, crashing to the wooden floor with a solid thud. She landed hard on her right shoulder, unable to break the fall with her hands and too woozy to compensate for it. Something in her face cracked, warm blood trickling across her cheek. With her shields gone, her body already beaten and battered, the hot shards of pain sparked her nerves, tearing at her brain. Her face contorted to grimace as she fought for control. She couldn't ignore it now.

*This is what true pain feels like,* she thought idly. The whole situation seemed unreal. This wasn't her. This couldn't be her life. Between the chase and attack in the forest, and his treatment of her here, she was getting a makeup course for each time she'd managed to avoid this.

A shiver of uncertainty ran through her as she heard Creed laugh, clearly amused by her expressions. She quelled it through sheer shaking strength of will.

'Captain, mental control at 87%.'

Where did that come from? Bobby and his Star Trek movies? What was her mind doing, anyhow? Trying to make light of the situation. Trying to cope with the unacceptable in the only way it could, reaching for the joke to distract her from becoming completely mad.

His claws left bloody streaks across her cheek that stung like fire. She turned her head to see where Creed was, just as he squatted down to loom over her.

With a lover's touch, he stroked the wounds again, then raised his hand to his mouth to lick her blood from his fingertips, growling softly. "Sweet. I knew yer blood would be sweet. Yer not human, are ya?" he rasped at her, demanding an answer.

Charlotte didn't respond, concentrating on keeping herself calm and trying to get her mind under control.

She wasn't succeeding.

"Yeah, yer not human. Don't know wha'cha are, but I like it," he answered the question himself. He leaned over to peer into her face, using an already bloody claw to deepen one of the wounds on her face, increasing the blood flow.

She jerked away sharply. "What is your problem, anyway?" she asked sarcastically, mindful of the gash inside her mouth where her teeth cut into her cheek. The taste of her own blood was strong, along with the darkening taste of fear. "Mom not breast feed you as a baby? Maybe you were forced into toilet training way before you were ready. Could it be you haven't gotten in touch with your inner moppet? C'mon, don't be shy, tell me all about it."

Breaking Rule 2 again. Damn, but did she like to live dangerously, or what?

~*~*~*~*~

Nick moaned, regaining consciousness reluctantly.

Sitting up, his head throbbed, screaming at him to lie back down, but there was something he wasn't remembering, something he should be doing.

Charlie!

It all flooded back to him. Fighting the nausea, he struggled to his feet, looking around for some sign of her. What the hell did she think she was doing, anyway? Taking on Sabretooth by herself? Damn, what would Logan say when Nick told him he lost his wife?

~*~*~*~*~

He growled at her, his voice a deep, low rumble in the back of his throat. "What do I want? I want the runt, an' yer gonna be the bait. Right now, I'll settle for playin' with my new bitch till he gets here."

Charlotte felt her flesh creep in revulsion as he ran one thick finger over the slashes across her cheeks, tracing a purple crimson path down the side of her neck to cup a breast roughly in one hand.

She gritted her teeth, choking down the bile that rose in her throat. If she were to try and pull back from him now, his sickening exploration of her body would only continue at a more faster rate.

"You're jealous of him," she said, biting each word off hard, pointedly ignoring his hands as she glared daggers at him. It was a huge disadvantage to be sprawled on the floor at his feet while he crouched over her.

A roar of laughter exploded from him. "Me jealous? Honeybitch, I got no reason to be jealous of the runt. He ain't got nothin' I ain't had, includin' his sluts."

His hands grasped her shoulders to pull her upright. "An' now I'm gonna have you," he crooned at her.

Cold rage mixed with fear streamed through her. "He has something you don't have, something you want so much you can taste it. He's got control of the animal inside him. He has control. That's why all you ever have is Logan's discards. He has control, you don't."

His face twisted at her words, validating the truth of them. He shook her like a rag doll, then threw her against the wall with a vicious snarl.

Charlotte landed hard with a barely muffled cry, the sound of her own ribs cracking audible even to her. A tremor of panic ran through her.

"I can hear yer heart beatin'. Yer gonna be screamin' any minute now." He could smell the thick, dark rage waving off her, along with strong overtones of fear. "Don't waste it all now, sweets, save some fer the runt to hear."

"Good for you." She spat out a mouth full of blood.

"Runt ever tell ya 'bout the others?" There it was again, the smell of her fear spiking up to overtake her anger. She didn't like the thought of the other women. A calculating look crossed his face.

Charlotte didn't answer him. She lay quietly, desperately trying to shore up her defenses, conquer the agony streaking through her. Raven was right, she thought inanely, I relied on my shields too much. I never learned. I am so stupid.....

"He ever tell ya 'bout Fox? Now that was a woman. Them Indian bitches, they know stuff. He loved her, till I had her." He bared his teeth at her. "You can say she lost her head to me. Shame she didn't last longer."

That sent a flag up in her brain. Silver Fox. There was something wrong with what he was saying about her, but she was too far gone to make sense of it now. She would do it later, if there was a later.

"Gotta be fair, he was kinda upset 'bout it, but not for long. He gets over 'em pretty quick. Good thing, too, if ya ask me, an' I know ya wanna ask me." A cruel hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back to his. "Means he'll get over you quick an' find a new one for me to take."

"Can't find your own?" she tossed at him, allowing the tendril of anger to grow inside. Anger to wash away the fear. Her ribs screamed at her efforts to breath. Raven's voice echoed in her head, telling her to be silent and *think.*

Too late.

"Looks like I just did, sweetness. If yer good enough for Wolverine, ya might be good 'nough for me. Fer awhile, anyway." He pulled her closer to bite at her swollen, bleeding mouth, then to lap at the oozing blood. With a growl, Creed ravaged her lips, cramming his tongue inside her mouth.

Charlotte shuddered violently as a wave of revulsion swept over her.

"Ya like that?" he growled at her. "They all like that, all of them want a piece of Sabretooth." He lowered his head to bite at her neck. "Sweet."

The brilliant red flash of terror in her head released a burst of psionic power directly into him.

*"ARGH!!"* His head whipped back away from her, his hands tightening on her arms, nails leaving deep ragged holes in her flesh. The unintended 'glow' took him over.

The panic swamped her, Creed forgotten in her struggle to conquer the power inside. She'd never felt the power roil like this in herself, had never even realized it was so strong. It became a separate entity, seeking a way out and another mind to latch onto. It slipped her pitiful control for a brief moment, pouring out of her into Sabretooth, linking her in the most intimate manner to the pleasure centers of his damaged brain.

His bloodlust filled her, coupled with the effects of his 'glow'. She could smell herself through his heightened senses, her fear and his arousal. The taste her blood in his mouth. The urge to gag fought against the sweetness he craved. She simultaneously felt his erection rammed against her body, and his body pressing closer to soft female flesh.

Creed roared out, his claws penetrating deeper into her as he hauled her up, slamming her into the wall. He ripped at her clothes, his canines still tearing into her flesh to get to her blood. "Yer gonna...love it, honeybitch," he panted at her, still in the grips of his 'glow', "never wanna go back to the runt." He freed his engorged penis and sank himself to the hilt in her.

She felt sickened as Creed's insane pleasure took over as he started thrusting wildly inside her, his breaths leaving him in short, explosive grunts. She screamed in bitter, hateful ecstasy as she felt his animal lust overwhelm her, forcing her to respond, hungrily, unwillingly, joined together in mind and body.

He felt her tear at his brutal invasion of her body, even as she climaxed uncontrollably around him. "Yer mine now, bitch!"

With the onset of orgasm, any pretense of control vanished completely, leaving them both open and vulnerable to the psychic backlash. It exploded from her, through the link into Creed, jerking him back, forcing him to release her.

Charlotte dropped to the floor, striking her head against the rough planks, the merciful black void sucking her in.

Creed collapsed a few feet away from her with an tortured roar, writhing as the exquisite agony danced along his primed and ready body until it overwhelmed him. He surrendered to unconsciousness.

~*~*~*~*~

Nick's head shot up at the scream; he fought back the nausea to force himself to run towards that awful bellow. Goddamn it, what if he was too late? Damn her!

~*~*~*~*~

"Don't want to hear any more of yer lyin', Fury," Logan growled at him as soon as the front door opened. "Where is she?!"

"I don't know." At the thunderous look on Logan's face, he shook his head. "I really don't know." He led the way outside to the terrace, selecting the option of being thrown over the side rather than replacing whatever Logan destroyed in what could be a homicidal rage.

"She disappeared from medical in the Helicarrier, right after the doc got her patched up." He leaned against the side, lighting a cigar. His nonchalant attitude masked his anger with himself for not anticipating her disappearing act. He should've seen it coming, but he'd thought she was hurting too much to run.

"Yer tellin' me she just walked outta there an' no one saw her? 300 SHIELD agents on that flyin' rat trap can't keep track o' one woman?" Logan's voice was sarcastic and degrading. "Ain'cha supposed to be better'n that?"

Nick bit back a sharp retort, settling for a glare. He didn't want to be the one to tell Logan his wife was gone, again, but it was his fault. He let her get the drop on him with Creed, then slip out of SHIELD custody with a broken nose, a concussion, a few cracked ribs and some blood loss. Where she found the strength to do it, he didn't know. As soon as he discovered her gone, he called the mansion to have Logan meet him at his apartment.

"I just wanted to let ya know she's alive an' to give ya this." He pulled the medallion out of his shirt pocket.

Logan felt his heart tighten at the sight of it. "What're ya doin' with that?" he asked in a low voice.

"She put it on me after she put me to sleep. She wanted to face Sabretooth alone, so she ambushed me." He dropped it into Logan's hand. "We tested it. Some kinda weird metal, puts a force field of some sort around the body, keeps the person from serious hurt." It wasn't something they could replicate easily, although the techs continued to study what little information they were able to get from it. "She mighta save m'life." Saved his life, and got herself battered to a bloody pulp. It wasn't lost on him that she'd given up her own protection for him. A part of him accepted the guilt for the damage Sabretooth did. Another part of him hated her for putting him in this position.

He watched in fascination as the medallion Logan wore began to glow along with the one clenched in his fist.

"What'd he do to her?" The man asking the question was struggling with his own soul to keep from releasing the animal inside. "I gotta know. Is she..." Claws snikted out.

"She's alive," Nick repeated. How much to tell him? Hell, he didn't have all the facts. Charlotte hadn't spoken a word the whole time she was on the Helicarrier to anyone, despite Val's efforts to get her to talk. "She got banged up, broke her nose an' some ribs. She'll still be pretty, if that's what yer worried 'bout." He couldn't tell Logan about the condition of her body when he found her, the obvious signs of rape and mutilation. He couldn't tell Logan, and he couldn't stop seeing it in his head.

"Fuck you, Fury! Ya got no call to say that! Ya don't know what it's like wonderin' if yer wife's comin' home, wonderin' where she is an' who's protectin' her." Logan turned away, ramming a hard blow into the nearest wall, claws and all. The wall cracked under the strike, deep gouge marks left in the mortar.

His attempt to lighten the mood backfired badly. "I didn't mean it like that. Ain't nothin' physically wrong with her after all this. She'll heal all right." Her body would heal, but her head was up for speculation.

A silence stretched between the two of them.

"How could ya do this with my wife," Logan finally asked, gripping the top rail in both hands to stare out over the Manhattan skyline. The metal gave way under his grip. "Why did ya help her? You knew she coulda been killed."

"I didn't know she was yer wife, not at first," Nick answered, running a hand through his hair. "I was surprised to see her. She was supposed to be dead. She wanted my help on Creed's location. I thought she was a headhunter so I said I'd consider it. More'n one on the payroll."

"Even after talkin' to ya I still didn't know Charlie was yer wife, ya called her Charlotte, 'member? Then all I had were suspicions."

"Ya shoulda told me anyway!"

"An' have her run off alone? I figured I could stick with her an' she'd have a shot at comin' outta this alive. Dugan was trackin' me the whole time, 'cept when Charlie flashed us to her place an' when she put that thing on me. He came an' got us soon's I woke up an' found her. I made the only choice I could in the time I had. She's alive, an' she'll be comin' back when she's ready." He hoped she'd come back. The last thing he wanted was Wolverine back at his door over this.

If she didn't he'd hunt her down himself. He wanted a few words with her about what she did to him. He was still angry about it.

"Ain't no guarantees on that. Where's Creed now, an' why's he still alive? He ain't gonna stop comin' after her. I want 'im dead!" And his head on a plate as proof. The metal railing gave way completely, crumbling in his hands like tissue paper.

"Don't worry 'bout him. He's a guest o' SHIELD right now. Whatever she did to him pretty much wiped his short term memory. He don't remember what happened, or even how we got him. It's over."

"It ain't over till one o' us is dead, an' it ain't gonna be me."

~*~*~*~*~

Victor Creed, aka Sabretooth, paced the small cell irritably, taking care to avoid the electrically enhanced bars. One touch would char his body beyond all recognition. He could do it, but it would take too long to heal. He had things to do.

He spent his time snarling at anyone who approached the cell, and trying to remember how he got here. The damn collar they put on him was too tight, but they weren't coming close enough to loosen it up.

Not after the first day when the stupid recruit got too close. With any luck, that was one down, only a couple hundred here to go. There were worse ways to spend an afternoon, but long as this collar was on he wouldn't get far.

There had been a woman in his head, somewhere. He was sure about that. He could still smell her, still taste her blood.

A young woman. Honeybitch.

The blood....

Remembering the blood sent a shiver through him. Hot. Sweet. Wild. Ripe with fear. Just the way he liked it. She gave him 'the glow' like Birdy used to. He just had to find her.

He had to get out of here first.

They were going to offer him a deal. He could see it in their eyes -- in Fury's eye, when he came down here to this pit to look at him. Like he was some animal in a zoo.

Maybe he was, at that. He chuckled at the thought.

The guards watching him on the monitors had to look twice to see what was amusing their guest so much. One looked at the other and shrugged. Who could understand mutants, especially psychotic ones like Sabretooth?

Whatever it was, he'd agree to it, then skip out, taking as many of them as he could. He was good at that.

People to kill, blood to taste, screams to hear, and a certain runt to slaughter -- when the time was right. Wolverine wasn't going anywhere. He could wait. Plenty of time.

All the time in the fuckin' world.



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