by 1Grrl4Vic
Summary: Victor changes his mind.
Disclaimer: Victor Creed and Birdy both belong to Marvel. Anyone else in
the story is mine. I'm not making any money from this.
Author's notes: This is a fic that was never meant to be. I hadn't planned
on a sequel to "Little Birdy" but was hounded by co-workers. Next time, I'll
just give 'em write-ups for their personnel files. Hah. I'm a manager. I
can do that. And.. you might wanna read "Little Birdy" first.
As always, constructive feedback greatly accepted while all flames will be
given to St. John.
****
"Fer now, I'd prefer it if my Little Birdy didn't think about mother
hennin' anyone but me"
"Sure thing, Boss." I can hear the resignation in her voice, even
through the yawn. I don't know what she expected outta me. That'd I'd say
'yes?' Girl must be foolin' herself if she thinks Vic Creed's gonna have a
stinky, little brat runnin' around his house. I mean, what the hell am I
gonna do with a kid? Even if I got Birdy to take care of the thing, I ain't
fatherin' material. 'C'mon now, boy. The secret ta stalkin' yer prey is ta
stay hunkered down and quiet-like, then springin' up and runnin' like the
devil himself was after ya, ya got it?' Uh... no. No boy o' mine's gonna
end up like me. He's gonna be better than that. And mutie or not, long as
he's proud o' who he is and where he came from, I almost wouldn't care what
he did in life. Listen to me.. actin' like I *did* tell her yes. Maybe it
wouldn't be so bad. I guess it wouldn't hurt to let Birdy have the kid.
Might hafta change some things 'round the house, maybe tighten up on
security. Can't have none o' my enemies comin' ta hurt Birdy and the kid
while I'm away. Eh... we'll see how all'a this looks in the light o' day
'cause I'm probably just to damn tired to care right now.
****
I wake up slowly the next morning. I was drained to the teeth from that
job in Spain. And comin' home to a knocked up Birdy was just the frosting on
the cake o' my day. Oh shit! Birdy! What time is it? I look over at the
clock on the nightstand and it's, damn! It's after 10:30! I throw off the
covers and jump outta bed, racing down the hall to the stairs, hollerin' all
the way. "Birdy! Birdy, you still here?!"
"Yeah Boss, what's up?" She's standing at the bottom of the stairs,
looking up at me with a question on her face. Probably wants to know what
all the yellin' is about. O' course, I'm always yellin' so it could be a
number o' things. I start down the stairs and stop, puttin' my hand on the
railing to look.. whatta they call that? nonchalant-like.
"Look.. uh.. I been doin' some thinkin' and I figure if you want a kid,
then I don't see no good reason why you can't have one." Boy, this is harder
than I thought. She's lookin' at me like I'm speakin' Chinese. I got my
hands wavin' around like that's gonna get the words outta my mouth easier but
it ain't doin' nothin' but make me look like an idiot.
"Cuz I know how you women get with yer clocks tickin' and whatnot and ya
need somethin' to do durin' the day when I'm out on a job and whatever and
lookin' after my boy ain't gonna be an easy task. So, uh.. if my kid's what
you want then you go on and have him, all right?" Birdy's just standin'
there like she don't know what the hells goin' on and I'll admit, I'm obliged
to follow her with that notion. Then she gets this small smile creepin' on
her lips but it's gone quick. Guess she don't want me knowin' how much this
means to her.
"Um, ok, Mister Creed. Uh.. thanks." She turns around and heads for the
office, I reckon to call off the appointment. Not that I expected her to be
runnin' up the stairs and throwin' her arms around my neck and start
showerin' me with kisses and 'oh, thank you, Mister Creed's' but I wouldn't'a
minded. I still got red blood in my veins and havin' a beautiful little
thing like Birdy wrapped around me, well.. there ain't nothin' wrong with
that. I'm still standing on the stairs when she comes outta the office and
heads upstairs. As she walks past me she gently pats my shoulder. Huh. I'm
gonna be a daddy.
****
Eight months later
"Birdy? Whattya think yer doin'?" Her head pops up and she gives me the
biggest smile I've ever seen on her pretty face.
"I'm waxin' the cars, Boss. Don't they look great? See, I started with
mine then I thought maybe your cars could use a little shinin' up so I kept
right on." She straightens up and wipes the sweat from her brow. If I ain't
mistaken, that's one of my old T-shirts she's got on coverin' that big belly
o' hers and some old, raggedy sweat pants. She's got her hair pulled back
but a few strands have found their way loose and hang down around her face.
She tucks 'em behind her ear and goes back to rubbin' the hood of my Porsche.
"Birdy, we got a boy who comes and does that. I pay him. Remember?" I
walk over to where she's at, waitin' for her response.
"I know but I was bored after cleaning the house so I thought I'd clean
up the Beamer and after I was finished with that I thought the Yukon looked a
little dull so I waxed that. Boy was that tough. It's so big! And then I
just had to wax the Porsche 'cause it's red and red cars always look best
when they're waxed and.." I put my hand up to stop her. She's makin' my
head hurt as fast as she's talkin'.
"You been workin' in the garage with the door closed? I think you must'a
inhaled some fumes or somethin'. Now quit doin' that and go get in the
house."
"But.."
"Eh. In the house. Now." She puts out a dejected sigh as she walks
past me and back into the house. All I can do is shake my head in disbelief.
What in the world was I thinkin'? Lettin' Birdy keep that baby? This has
been the most annoyin' almost-nine months o' my life I can ever remember. I
turn off the lights to the garage and walk back into the house, through the
kitchen. Birdy's pullin' things outta the cabinets and talkin' a mile a
minute.
"And after I take my shower I'll go ahead and fix something for dinner
and oh! You know what would be great? I got these fabulous tomatoes yesterday
at the store, they're just gigantic, and the lady at the checkout told me
this recipe I think I'll try with them. But we don't have any oregano so
I'll hafta substitute something else but they should be all right anyway.
And I found this really neat idea for steak in one of those women's magazines
and I was thinking that maybe if you wanted, I could try that. I know you
don't like changing things like that but if you want to, I could make it. I
mean, it's no big deal. It sounded easy enough and then.." I cant take it
anymore. I grab her shoulders and spin her around to face me.
"Just stop it, Birdy, would ya? Yer drivin' me crazy. Now go take yer
shower, take a Valium, whatever it takes to calm you down. Then you can come
down here and make my dinner anyway you want so long as yer quiet when ya do,
OK?" She just gives me that big ol' smile again and pats me on the cheek.
"Sure thing, Boss!" I just watch her leave the kitchen, and wonder
again, what possessed me to let her have a kid.
****
It's well past two in the morning when choked sobs wake me up. Birdy's
not in bed but there's light coming from the bathroom where the door's
partially open. The feelin' I'm gettin' in the air just ain't right so I
throw off my covers and head towards the bathroom.
"Birdy? Ya all right, darlin'?" She doesn't answer but I can hear her
sniffling. I reach out with one hand and give the door a little push and it
swings open to reveal Birdy bracin' herself against the counter with one hand
while the other's holdin' a towel between her legs. She looks up at me with
wet, red-rimmed eyes and it don't take a rocket scientist to figure out
what's goin' on. I walk back out into the bedroom and grab Birdy's
sweatpants she'd thrown over the back of a chair earlier and take them to the
bathroom.
"Here. Put these on an' let's get goin'," I hand her the pants and help
hold her steady as she works her way into them. After I've made sure she's
got her balance, I pull on a T-shirt and step into some Nikes. I grab an
extra towel from under the sink and we make our way out of the bedroom and
down the stairs. She tugs on my arm and I stop.
"My bag. It's in my room. I need my bag," she stutters out.
"All right. I'll get it." I let her go and I head back up the stairs to
her room at the end of the hall. I grab the black duffle bag sitting on the
floor next to her bed and jog back towards the stairs. Birdy's already by
the door to the garage, leanin' up against the wall, both hands on her
stomach.
"C'mon, girl, let's go." I open up the garage door, expecting her to go
through but she doesn't. She keeps leanin' against the wall with her hands
coverin' her belly. Her breaths are heavy and even. "Right. I'll.. uh..
start the car." She just closes her eyes and nods.
****
"Excuse me. Mister Creed? You can go in now. She's the second door on
the left." I toss the seven-year old National Geographic back on the coffee
table and make my way down the hall to Birdy's room. Once they got her
strapped into that torture device they called a 'bed', I opted to sit out of
this little event. As it was, I could hear Birdy screamin' all the way down
the hall. I almost felt bad, too. But then I remembered she wanted this.
It's all her.
"Hiya, Boss." She's lookin' a little rough around the edges but she's
got a smile on her face and after all the hollerin' I heard from her, I'm
suprised she's still got a voice.
"Ya wanna see?" 'Do I wanna see?' O' course I wanna see my boy. We
never really discussed names but 'Victor Creed, Junior' sure has a nice ring
to it. I stand next to the bed and she pulls back a corner of the blanket to
show me this little, pink thing. A pair of blue eyes, just like Birdy's,
look at me before blinking shut.
"Isn't she just the cutest thing you've ever seen? Seven pounds, ten
ounces. Blonde hair and blue eyes. I was hoping she'd get your eyes, 'cause
I thin green eyes would look so much cuter but the nurse said maybe they'll
change a few months down the road. Whatcha think? Cute, ain't she?" She
stops talking for a minute but I barely notice. Did she say 'she'? As in
girl?
"Um, Boss? You OK?"
"Huh?"
"I asked if you were OK."
"Well, jeez, Birdy. Not really, since yer askin'. I thought you were
havin' a boy. What the hell is this?" I ask, waving my hand in the direction
of the baby.
"Well, 'it' is your daughter. I don't know where you got the idea I was
having a boy."
"Ya sure as hell never said you were havin' a girl! What the hell am I
suppose ta do with a girl?!" The bundle in Birdy's arms starts mewlin' and
fussin'.
"Would you try to keep your voice down?" she asks me in a loud whisper.
"I never said anything about a boy or a girl because I didn't know either
way. I don't see what the big deal's about anyway. She's a healthy baby.
So what if she's a girl?"
"I didn't want a girl!" Now she's startin' to aggravate me. Doesn't she
know me well enough to know that I ain't really the type to have a daughter?
A son is more my style, ya know?
"Well, you didn't spend nine months carrying around your kid."
"Damn it, Birdy! I put up with you and your hormones and everything else
for what? A girl? What the hell, huh?"
"Maybe you should just go. You're going to upset the baby and I can see
you're in no mood to accept such a joyous event for what it is." Birdy
focuses her attentions on the baby. Throwin' my hands up in defeat, I turn
around and stalk outta her room. That damn girl! I swear one'a these days
she's gonna piss me off but good and then I'll hafta find myself a new
telepath. Fer now she can sit in that damn bed 'till I feel like takin' her
and that damn baby home.
****
"Hullo?"
"Are you gonna come and pick me up or do I hafta call a cab?"
"I dunno. I just sat down to a hockey game. Don't feel much like
drivin' down there to pick you and the brat up."
"I see. Well, after we get home I'll be packing our things and go so we
don't hafta burden you with us being female. Wouldn't want it said that
Victor Creed couldn't handle a woman and a newborn baby. So we'll save you
the humiliation and find a place of our own."
"Oh, shut up, wouldja? I'll be there in twenty. Be out front."
"Bring my car. Her carseat's already in the back." I hang up the phone
and resign myself to havin' to go pick her up. Birdy's good with the guilt
trippin'. I useta think it was the look in her eyes but even over the phone,
she's got it.
****
"Here you go, sweetie. Your very own room. Lookit all the pretty things
you have. You have a bunny wabbit an' a puppy doggie an' a wittle duckie to
play wif."
"Birdy. Could you not do that? You're gonna.."
"What? 'Baby' her? She doesn't mind. Do you? No you don't. You sure
don't. 'Cause you wove your mommy, yes you do. My wittle, bitty, baby girl."
"Birdy." I hope that sounded more like a threat than a plea. She goes
to stand in front of the window, baby in her arms. Birdy's pointing out the
window, talkin' to the kid like she can understand. She's probably asleep,
anyway. I leave the baby's room and walk across the hall to Birdy's room,
tossin' her duffle bag onto the bed. I can still hear her talkin' to the kid
in a quiet voice as I head towards the stairs.
"I'm out back, Birdy," I holler up to her as I walk out the back door.
There's no sun out today an' it's a bit drizzly but that don't bother me. I
pull off my leather jacket and toss it onto an iron bench next to the walkway
that leads to the pool. Birdy's gonna gripe at me for that, no doubt. She
hates it when I leave my clothes lyin' around. She's a good kid, though.
An' if she really wanted to leave, I don't think I'd try too hard to stop
her. I sure would hate it if she did. She's good at easin' the pain but
it's also nice just havin' someone around. To be with. Aw, now here I go
gettin' all mushy and sentimental. That baby ain't been in the world all'a 2
days and I'm already whimpin' out! I knew this would happen. Gotta reaffirm
m'self, get back ta nature an' doin' what I do best. Good thing this house
came with a few acres of woodland behind it. A few hours out here an' I'll
be back to my old, charming self in no time.
****
"Mister Creed? Dinner's about ready if you wanna come in. Uh.. Mister
Creed? Where ya hidin'?"
"Where's the kid?" I stalk out from behind a thick tree and hunker down
into a crouch.
"She's upstairs, asleep," she answers.
"Alone? Ya got any o' the systems on?" She shakes her head no. "No?!
Well, why the hell not?" I stand up an' head for the house, grabbin' Birdy's
arm an' draggin' her with me. "What're ya leavin' her alone in th' house
for?! An' with none o' the systems on! You cracked in the head?"
"Ow, let go! She's fine. She's just sleeping. I'm keepin' a mental
tracer on her. Chill out, would ya?" She jerks outta my hand, rubbin' her
arm.
"A mental tracer ain't gonna do her any good when some punk breaks inta
the house! I got them security systems fer a reason, girl! An' they ain't
gonna do nobody any kinda good if they ain't on!"
"OK, OK. I'll go turn them on," Birdy says in an annoyed tone. She
heads back to the house, my sopping jacket in hand.
"No point now," I mutter to her retreating back. I follow after her,
cutting short my 'quality time' in the woods. By the time I get inside,
Birdy's coming downstairs from the baby's room with the kid bundled up in her
arms.
"See? Just fine," she informs me. I give a small snarl as I walk past
her on my way to the kitchen. It's not like I give a damn two ways about
that kid but it just wouldn't do for some punk to break into MY house and
start trouble.
****
This family man schtick is easier'n I thought. Ain't nothin' changed fer me.
I'm still takin' contracts an' pullin' some pricey jobs. Birdy takes care
o' her kid plus whatever she does fer me in th' way o' her powers an' all.
Maybe I got a little more down time 'tween jobs, but that ain't nothin'. My
own doin', that. Since Birdy can't come along fer hits anymore I find myself
stickin' around the house. It's not like I give a big whoop-dee-do a whole
lot about the baby or nothin', but Birdy keeps my head t'gether so I gotta
watch her back... fer my own intrests, ya see.
After about two months, Birdy was back ta sleepin' in my bed every once in a
good while. But like clockwork that kid would start up cryin' every few
hours needin' somethin'. Birdy'd hafta walk the entire length of the house
ta get to her since I decided the kid's room would be as far from mine as
possible. Some nights, after Birdy'd gone ta sleep in her own room, I'd find
myself checkin' in on the kid. Ya know, just to make sure she was still
breathing an' all. Birdy was talkin' about that one day.. how some babies
just stop breathin' an' that's the end of 'em. An' it ain't like I care or
nothin', 'cause I don't, but Birdy'd be a cryin' mess if the kid just up'n
died so I peek in on'er every once in a while. Make sure she's all right.
Fer Birdy's benefit, not mine. Just so we're clear on that.
****
Another job keeps me away from Seattle for a few days but it was worth the
paycheck an' the time spent in that hellhole called New York to make me
appreciate the quiet o' where I put my feet up. Baby an' all. I told Birdy
not to come get me from the airport, that I'd take a cab. Didn't want her to
spoil the su'prise. Now.. call me a sentimental fool an' I'll rip yer face
off but, I had to do it. I saw the pile of 'em in the store window an' I
just had to get one fer my little Emma Victoria. 'Sides, she needs one ta
watch over her when her daddy ain't around an' I'm sure the tail'll be good
fer chewin' on when 'er teeth come in.
"Birdy, darlin', where ya at? I got somethin' fer the kid," I keep my voice
at a normal level, just in case the baby's nappin', as I head up the stairs
to where Birdy's scent's comin' from. I pinpoint her location to the baby's
room at the end of th' hall an' as I get closer the distinct taste o' salt's
in the air. "Birdy? Hey, Birdy, lookit what I got fer Emma, " I say as I
walk into the nursery. "It's'a lion. I figure she oughta have a big, ol'
cat 'round her all th' time, huh? Birdy?" Oh, hell. She's cryin'. An' I'm
gettin' that feelin' that somethin' bad's goin' down. Dear God in Heaven,
I'll gut you myself if you took that little girl from Birdy. I walk up
beside Birdy, who's standin' next to the crib. "Hey. What's goin' on?" I
quick check of the crib tells me Emma's not there. So what could be wrong?
And why ain't I pickin' up any traces of her?
"She's gone," she says quietly.
"Gone? Gone where, darlin'?" I ask her in the same quiet voice. Raisin' my
voice any louder could shatter the room so I play it cool an' calm fer right
now.
"Just gone," she says calmly with a shrug. "She's not here. I'm sorry."
She sits down in the rocker next to the crib, takin' the stuffed toy outta my
hands. She smiles, despite the tears still runnin' down her face, "It's
cute." She hugs the animal tight, restin' her head on its head.
"Birdy, c'mon. What're you talkin' about, 'she's gone?' Someone take 'er?
Didja check the surveillance cameras?" I go down on one knee in front of
her, tryin' ta get her ta answer me. She's shakin' her head 'no.' "Well,
then let's go downstairs an' check the tapes an' we can see what happened,
see who took 'er an'.. I dunno.. take it from there, all right?"
"But she wasn't taken." I barely hear the whisper, muffled by the fur of the
stuffed lion she's buried her face into. If she wasn't taken then what
could'a.. "I gave her away."
"What?" Am I hearin' her right? "You.. gave her.. away?" A stiff nod.
"You. Gave her away?" I stand up and back away from Birdy. I can feel myself
losin' it. Losin' control. I might'a been adverse to havin' a kid, an' a
daughter at that, but over the past few months I been real protective of 'er.
So believin' what Birdy's sayin' is just a little more than I can handle.
"You gave my little girl away? My little girl! You gave her away?!"
And now I don't care what gets shattered.
Birdy stands up, reachin' out to me, to try an' calm me down, apologizin',
but all I'm seein' is red an' I backhand her, sendin' her to th' floor. I
grab 'er by her arms an' yank her back up, yellin' right in her face, "You
fuckin' gave her away?!"
"I didn't want her to get hurt! Please, just listen!" She's sobbin' an' got
blood from her newly split lip running down the side of her mouth but I ain't
in mood ta listen to reasons an' I drop her back on th' floor.
"I ain't listenin' to a goddamn thing you gotta say, you little bitch. But
you better fuckin' listen ta me! You better have every single fucking thing
in this house that's pink, blue, yellow or any other baby color outta my
fuckin' house when I get back. I don't wanna see a bottle, a diaper or a
fucking stuffed animal or so help me God I'm gonna fuck you up you'd wish you
were dead." I yank the stuffed lion from Birdy's hands and throw it across
the room. "You fuckin' get that?!" A shallow nod's all I need an' it sends
me outta the room an' out of that house. Away from what she's done an' the
fadin' scent of Emma.
****
"I thought I told you to get rid of everything?" She's doin' something
in the kitchen an' got her back to me.
"I did." I can tell from her tone of voice she wasn't too happy with the
little project I gave her. Oh, well. After everything we've done in the
time we been together, you'd think she'd'a learned that Sabretooth is the
last fucking thing on the planet to fuck with.
"Then what's this?" I hold up the rattle and give it a shake. She spins
around, looking at the rattle, then at me. Her breaths start coming in short
pants an' I can tell she's gettin' a little bit scared.
"I-I thought I got everything. Sorry, Boss. I'll get rid of it right
away." She reaches for it but I pull it out of reach and crush the plastic
toy in my hand, droppin' the pieces to the floor.
"Birdy did a bad, bad thing," I give 'er a smile that ain't nothing but
hate. Pure white and sharp. I step closer to her and with my free hand I
grab her wrist. I yank her forwards, leaning down so I'm right in her face.
"You shouldn't'a done what you did, darlin'. Now I'm gonna fix it so you
don't ever pull a stunt like that again." I use her arm to throw her against
the wall and before she can react, my other hand grabs her by the throat and
pushes her up the wall so we're eye to eye.
"Gotta admit, I didn't think you could ever hurt me, Birdy. I'd outright
kill ya if you were anyone else, but them psi-powers o' yers are still good
for me. That stinkin', schemin' head's all yer good for now. So you won't
mind if I disable other areas." Her eyes widen as I bring my other hand up
for her to see me extend four o' my claws. This'll put her outta commission
for a while in the 'servicing department' but there's other thing's she got a
talent for. She realizes what I'm about to do an' starts sobbin' an' beggin'
me not to, to stop. She oughta know that beggin' only gets me goin' more.
"Please, Mister Creed. I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't want her to get
hurt. It was the only way! Please? Please listen." But I ain't gonna
listen. She took my little kitten away an' now she's gonna pay. Both her
hands are on my one that's wrapped around her throat, tryin' to pry it loose
when my claws sink into her abdomen. She stops her struggle as I pull my
claws out an' drop her to the floor. Immediately, her hands move to cover
the small wounds of her lower abdomen. She doesn't scream and she doesn't
cry but she's lookin' for all the world like she wants to. I stare down at
her for a minute longer before turnin' an' walkin' out. I had to do it. She
took my kitten away.
****
Birdy managed to get herself to the hospital on 'er own. Much as I'd hate to
lose her telepathic powers her betrayal struck me deep an' hard and I
wouldn't've given a hell if she'd died right there on the kitchen floor. But
maybe somethin' just as deep made me hold back when I brought my claws ta
bear down on 'er. I been hangin' out back in the woods, not wantin' the
walls of what could'a been a real home closed up around me. It's been a good
week or so since Birdy left an', in all honesty, I thought that was the last
I was gonna see of 'er but I'll be damned if that ain't her BMW I hear
pullin' inta the garage. I shake the rain from my hair as I stand an' make
my way to the house. She's already made it halfway up the stairs by the time
I reach the main hallway.
"Birdy." My voice echoes in the quiet an' she stops an' turns to look down
at me. Her eyes tell me things she won't ever say. Mostly that she's tired
an' hurtin'. Hurtin' more from her own actions than mine, I'll bet.
"Thing's are gonna change 'round here. Back to the way things used ta be. I
run the show an' you do what I tell ya with no backtalk. You keep yer mouth
shut an' do whatcher told, an' we won't have no more drama 'round here. That
understood?"
"Yes, Mister Creed." She bows her head a little when she finally answers.
She's so quiet I almost hafta turn up m'own hearin' just to hear her.
"An' we got a job tomorrow. Some punk named Matsuo's got somethin' goin' on
w/ a couple 'o psi-talents by the name 'o Fenris. Be ready early."
"Yes, Mister Creed." I watch her disappear from my view as she walks to her
room. A soft click an' her bedroom door closes. I sit down on the steps
thinkin' about the last week an' what's happened between us. Took a long
time to get to this point. A lot o' yellin' an' hittin' an' fightin's gone
on since I took 'er as my own an' I was hopin' that maybe she was the key ta
my sanity. She was the closest thing I'd ever known to 'normal' an' now
we're back to square one. She kept the screams an' the nightmares away an' I
thought she was tryin' to give me somethin' good to replace 'em. But she
just took the horror an' replaced it with hurt an' betrayal. She's had her
one chance, though, an' if she tries to stab me in the back again I'll play
out my threats. It's fer the best, anyways. I wouldn't'a made a very good
daddy.
end
