Title: Amaranthine
Authors: Skyblue Rae & Laenwyn
Genre: Adult, Angst
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Scott and the others could probably locate her easier than she could run off searching for them. She needed time to think about all this; what to do next. And think about why she was staying in a truck with Victor Creed.
A/Ns: Remember
"Torn" and
"Beyond Redemption"??? Well this is the last installation to the trilogy. We think. Thank you to everyone who has followed the story and thank you also for all the wonderful feedback. These characters have permanently etched themselves into our hearts, so we appreciate you following their tale. When we last left these two, they'd had an encounter that left both of them questioning everything. For anyone who hasn't read the other installations, you may want to look back at them or this fic won't make much sense.
***************
Victor had watched her for a while without waking her. He hadn't been sure what to expect, but he sure as hell hadn't expected this. He knew she still lived in the same room and as he'd been standing there on her balcony, his mind had wandered. There was another time he'd snuck through her window but she wasn't asleep. Far from it. The image of her lying there, wearing practically nothing, with one hand down her underwear - it was still among one of his favorite memories. The way she was so mad at him, how she'd tried to fight back, but he'd known then that deep down she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.
This time, though, was a different matter. Creed hadn't shown up as the lecherous Sabretooth. He'd come to help her.
He took in her unkempt appearance and her loss of weight; it looked like she needed more help than he'd thought. She was too thin and he didn't like it. Her skin, always fair, looked dull and her long hair was pulled back in a pony tail that looked messy and unclean. Truth was, she looked like hell. It made him angry. She was still the same sexy angel underneath it all and more than enough to tempt a moral man, never mind a conscienceless bastard, but she wasn't taking care of herself. It wouldn't do. She needed to sleep and she needed to eat, and if she knew what was best for her - she'd do exactly what he said without giving him any lip.
Suddenly, she stirred. Blinking a few times, she glanced around her immediate surroundings and then stared out the window.
Rogue felt heavy and lethargic, like she was moving through thick mud. She was in a truck with Victor - in her pajamas. She was just so tired. Without realizing it, she drifted back off into sleep.
A couple of hours later, Rogue awoke again, this time much more alert. Rubbing her face, she sat up looking very confused.
"Where? What the hell is going on?! Where are we?" she asked, but it was definitely an accusation.
"In my truck," Creed answered without looking at her.
"Don't be smart. You know what I mean." Rogue stared at his stern profile, the hint of sharp teeth peaking from his lips. He really did look every bit like the mean and vicious bastard he was, she thought.
"There was a raid. On the mansion. You got knocked out, but I brought you with me to keep you safe -"
"Turn around," Rogue interrupted him. Everything came back to her in a flash. "Turn this goddamn truck around!" It was all there in her mind now; her teammates, her friends - the only family she knew - were in danger. "That's my team. We gotta go back and -"
"We ain't going back," he shouted over her frantic voice. "The fightings well over now and true to form, you can bet the X-Men have scattered to survive. They'll regroup in time. Some freaks got a hard-on to kill him some hero mutants and that includes you. You need to lay low. That's what pretty boy Cyclops would tell you and you know it. You're safer hiding with me."
Rogue stared at him, unsure of how to respond. Safe? With Sabretooth? Wasn't that an oxymoron?
"They need me," she said firmly.
Creed still wouldn't look at her. "If they need you, they'll find you. I'm sure."
She opened her mouth to argue, but a cool draft of air distracted her. He was right, but she'd never tell him. Scott would lay low while working out a plan. Logan would run back, fists swinging. Rogue was somewhere in between. Those that could, would've escaped by now. How many got out? If it was like last time, then perhaps the captured were few. Scott and the others could probably locate her easier than she could run off searching for them. She needed time to think about all this; what to do next. And think about why she was staying in a truck with Victor Creed.
The Logan in her head was awfully quiet, pensive almost. He was still there, though. Just like Victor. They were there, but wouldn't let their guard down. What did Victor hope to gain, Rogue thought. He'd saved her - and probably killed more than one soldier in the process - so why was he acting like he couldn't give a shit? Maybe he did, but he still came off so distant, like he was trying to hide behind his restraint. He expected her to just accept things as they were, and not question him at all?
Victor let out a shaky breath. He wasn't going to yell at her. Telling himself Rogue only acted like this because she was in some kind of shock did little to make his anger fade. She was being unreasonable. Why wouldn't she see that he was trying to do what was best for her? Was she upset with him because he didn't want to go back to the mansion to play hero? Even though she cared about the rest of her team, he wasn't going to apologize for not taking her back. He didn't care about them or owe them anything. He didn't owe anyone a damn thing. His angel owed him a little confidence though. Believing in his abilities and trusting him was the only sane thing for her to do, Creed reasoned while trying to calm himself down. Trust.
Glancing at Rogue while she was staring out the window, Creed tightened the grip on the steering wheel. The sight of her sitting there, wearing nothing but pj's and his old coat, caused a twinge in his chest. Was she ever going to get it through her head? This was what was best for her.
Rogue snuck glances at Creed in silence. He seemed focused on the road ahead, but she knew better. He was no stranger to her anymore, and yet - there were so many things about him she didn't know. He was so much like Logan; hard to get to know and always hiding behind this cold and tough attitude. There was a time when she believed he was capable of feeling something more than hate and anger. That part of Victor had to still be alive somewhere inside of him, why else would he have come to her?
Rogue sighed. Maybe she was deluding herself. Whatever it was that had made him risk his freedom, if it really was because he cared about her - she didn't know. And even if it was the truth, she couldn't quite let herself believe in it. It wasn't going to change anything anyway. She could literally feel how irritated he was. He probably already regretted stepping foot on Xavier's property and even more trying to rescue her. Creed's face was set and she could see the muscles in his jaw were strained.
As if he'd heard her thoughts, he spoke, "How about you showin' some gratitude?"
She turned her head to glare at him. "Excuse me?"
Victor shifted his hands on the steering wheel. "You heard me. Gratitude. Is that so fuckin' hard to do?"
"Gratitude? Gratitude! You kidnapped me!" she hissed.
He shot her a glance. "I saved your ass."
Rogue huffed in disbelief. One might argue that he had saved her, but one could also argue about his prior knowledge of the raid.
"Tell me; why should I show you gratitude, when you never bothered asking me what *I* wanted. I'm there to help my team. They need me. NO! You just do whatever *you* want with no consideration for anything else. For all I know, you had something to do with that whole attack!"
He laughed, but it sounded edged and deadly.
"You sayin' you'd rather be dead?" Creed's voice filled with bitterness. "Figures you'd think I had something to do with the shit back there. You just keep on thinkin' that, angel. Don't worry your pretty head about any other enemies when you can pin all the blame on ole Sabretooth. You're good at that."
Rogue slugged him in the arm, aware she hadn't done it hard enough to actually hurt him, but she was driven to it. She could absolutely strangle him sometimes. What right did he have to turn this on her like she was in the wrong? She was not being unreasonable, he was. Turning her head to look out the window, Rogue realized she had no idea where he was taking her or where they were. If she got a chance to run where would she go? The word 'trapped' came to mind. She moved to hit him again.
He grabbed her arm, the truck swerving as he shook her. "Answer me dammit. You rather be dead right now?!"
"Oh let go already," she shook him off. "The way you're driving, you'll kill us both anyway."
Creed released a low growl. She'd be dead or captured now if weren't for him and he knew it. He didn't show up because he wanted her approval or for her to be so bowled over with gratitude that she threw herself at his feet. But he certainly didn't think she'd accuse him of being part of the attack. Yeah, he knew about it a few days ago, but he hadn't helped them plan it. He just heard about it through sources and what was he supposed to do anyway? Call up Xavier and tattle tell? Never gonna happen. He should've known she'd turn this on him. All his little angel ever did was cause him problems anyway. If he didn't think she'd get her ass killed, he'd dump her on the side of the road and leave her there for -
"Okay fine!" she shouted, interrupting his internal tirade. "Thanks or whatever for hauling me outta there. You happy now?!"
He was caught off guard by her shouting her gratitude at him, but it was better than nothing.
"Fine," he mumbled.
They fell quiet and drove for miles and miles in silence.
****
Rogue followed right behind him as he walked towards the tiny cabin, but didn't say a word. Nothing she'd said during the ride seemed to matter to him. Nothing had changed; he'd give her the silent treatment if she tried reason with him. He'd done exactly that before he left Xavier's, she thought. But what was there to say anyway? There wasn't a single thing she hadn't already said before. Was there? He didn't bother to listen back then. Did he give a damn now? Rogue didn't know what to make of it, and the Logan in her head wouldn't give her any help either. He was silent now. His way of saying she had to handle this on her own.
Victor opened the door to the cabin, then closed and locked it behind them. He knew they couldn't stay there forever, but it would do for a while. It was as isolated as a place got and they'd be safe. She would be safe. Dropping their bags on the floor, he went about starting a fire in the fireplace.
Rogue stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do. Looking at Victor, she had to wonder why he claimed he'd come to save her. To prove a point? She couldn't tell with him, and didn't dare make any guesses. He'd only ignore her worry or questions, or snarl at her to put an end to the discussion. If she only made him angry, then why the hell had he bothered saving her? She wanted to believe that he was telling the truth about having nothing to do with the raid, but only weeks before he'd found her because he'd been hired to kill her. Of course he hadn't done it, but for years he'd done exactly that to countless people, so she'd be wise to remember it.
She watched him slowly building a fire and couldn't help but shake her head at the parallel between the fireplace and herself. Wasn't that what he did to her? No matter how much she could hate him at times, he could and did always get to her; always stoked that fire within. It was to easy to see him how she wanted to see him, how he was during those weeks - years ago. A lifetime ago. How he'd been in the shower at the motel and the last time they'd made love. Sex! Sex, she corrected herself. It was only that, nothing more, and she had to remember it.
Abruptly grabbing her by the elbow, Creed lead Rogue over to sit down on the couch. He felt her eyes on him, following his every move as he situated himself. She didn't say anything and she didn't have to. The aggravation was rolling off her, it didn't matter that he'd explained he had nothing to do with the raid. Didn't matter that he'd done right by her. Nope, she was still mistrusting and wary of him and he'd bet his next 5 jobs that she'd bolt as soon as she got the chance. Clenching his jaw to keep from cursing out loud, he knelt in front of her. Why wouldn't she listen to him? He knew how to handle this if she'd just swallow her stupid pride and maybe, just maybe give him an iota of trust.
Creed avoided Rogue's gaze. It was enough to know, to feel, how little she trusted him. He wasn't going to apologize for whatever she thought him guilty of. And he sure as hell didn't expect her to do any apologizing - or thank him for what he was about to do.
"Take it off, Rogue," he said, his voice sounding completely flat and unaffected. He made a gesture towards her and his worn coat that swallowed her whole.
She frowned and made no move to do what he'd asked.
Sighing impatiently, he slid the trench coat from Rogue's shoulders. He refused to think about why she'd kept it, and why she'd hidden it underneath her pillow of all places.
"What are you doing?" she said and tried sliding away from him.
Creed planted his hands on either side of her, but kept his eyes at shoulder level. He knew, if he looked into her face, he'd say something he might regret.
"I need to make sure you're not injured," he said finally.
Brushing his fingers across the area on Rogue's shoulder where she'd been hit by several tranquilizing darts, he felt nothing but smooth skin. He leaned closer, and noticed there wasn't a trace of the darts' tiny wounds. He told her to turn around so he could check her back. Rogue rolled up her tank top without saying another word.
Creed hesitated before reaching out to touch her. The skin on her back was flawless, he didn't have to touch it to know it. Still, he watched his fingers brush her back, not just where she'd been hit, where he'd touched her before, once. It seemed right to stroke her skin and it felt just the same as always; soft and smooth. A slight shiver ran through her body. Maybe he was making excuses so he could touch her. If he was - it didn't matter. If she couldn't stand having his hands on her, she was strong enough to push him away.
"Looks alright," was all he said.
Rogue had turned and placed her hands on his arms before he managed to get to his feet. She opened and closed her mouth, as if she wanted to say something. He looked deep into those dark brown eyes of hers, wishing she'd just say something. He was a lot of things, but a fool wasn't one of them. He'd been a fool once, never again, but he knew all this was eating at her too. It had to be. Because if it wasn't, then he really was the biggest fool of all.
What did she want with him? He searched her face for something, anything, that might give him a clue. Nothing. He wanted to rage against the whole thing. At them - whatever they were to each other. She'd accused him several times before of being a cold hearted bastard, and she was right. Why wouldn't she understand that it was the only way, his way, to survive in the world they lived in?
"Nothing you say is real - it's all some damn game with you! You toyed with me like it was all big fun! You can't possibly know what MY hurt is like when you've never loved anything in your whole god forsaken life!"
Creed swallowed a laugh. It tasted every bit as bitter as some of the other things she'd thrown at him back then, but what was the point of bringing that up? It wasn't going to change a damn thing anyway. There was no way to reshape history, and for a man like him - there was no future. Couldn't be. Something caught his eye. A single pearl was resting in the hollow of her neck. He traced the thin silver necklace with his fingers, frowning. Had she just put it on? No. No, he'd seen her wear it before. She'd probably worn it all these years, but it was funny how the eye could be blind to what it did not want to see. He didn't want to notice it now, just as he'd ignored back then.
It had been late one night, and there she was, on his doorstep. She'd been dressed in nothing but a black silk kimono, and that necklace. She hadn't come to him because that's where she wanted to be, because she wanted him. He'd never been her first choice, no matter what he'd made her feel. She hadn't bought that necklace for herself and the only gift he'd ever given her was lingerie. There was only one person that would give her a gift like that. Was she still thinking of him?
Suddenly his hands were in her hair and the desire to kiss her, but somehow punish her too, was so strong that his chest felt tight. Rogue closed her eyes and leaned into him. Creed forced himself to look away but it was too late. He sensed the need in her too, like something wild and touchable, but it couldn't be real. Truth was, he didn't trust her much more than she trusted him. Right? Why would she want this; him, now? This wasn't only about lust anymore. He'd never have snuck into the Mansion to rescue her, if all he wanted was some whore. That was what he was to her.
Rogue's grip on him tightened when he wouldn't look at her.
"Talk to me," she demanded.
Creed met her gaze again. "Why don't you talk to me, angel?"
After a while, Rogue dropped her hands to rest in her lap, but said nothing. Where she'd touched him, it felt as if she'd imprinted her hands on his skin. He stood, but wouldn't look at her.
"We should eat something, then you can clean up," he said, turning his back on her.
Creed unpacked some food and they ate in silence. Even though they didn't look at each other, the tension between them was just as palpable. Rogue didn't have to say anything, Creed could smell it, even taste it. All her misgivings were still there too, but something else was lingering. Always that something else lingering that he simply would not accept as truth.
"You should go wash up," he finally said over the last bites of his meal. He was pleased that she'd at least finished everything on her plate, but she still had a ways to go before she put on the weight she'd lost.
"So now you get to tell me what to do?" Rogue asked defensively.
"You sayin' you don't need a fuckin' shower?" he raised his voice.
Her attitude was getting old and it felt like they were right back to where they'd been when he found her in that alley. If that's how she wanted it, fine! But she better not expect him to be the calm one if she was going to try pulling super bitch on him. He was going to make sure she got cleaned up, rested, and fed - whether she fucking liked it or not!
"No," her hand slammed down on the table, "I realize I need a shower, probably needed one about 48 hours ago. What I'm saying is, you don't get to tell me what to do!"
"You always were such a child, Rogue."
"Fuck you," she hissed and stormed from the table.
Grabbing her bag on the way in, she slammed the bathroom door behind her. Things really don't change, she thought as she stood in the tiny room. Only a few weeks ago they'd done exactly this same dance. Him pushing her buttons, her pushing back, and then her running from it all. Except this time she didn't want to cry. This time she wanted to hit something.
Dropping his old coat to the floor, she settled for kicking it instead. Why couldn't he just be honest with her? Why couldn't he tell her why he'd come to get her? His story about looking out for her was not enough. Did all this mean he cared? Who was she kidding, thinking a man like Victor Creed was capable of 'caring'? But she'd seen hints of it before. Like shadows chased away by the morning sun, she'd been given glimpses of it, but if she didn't pay attention, she'd miss it.
She wasn't delusional enough to think he'd forgiven her. But what had she done that needed forgiveness?! She'd never lied to him, not years ago and not now. The guilt was not hers to feel, he was the one that was the hired killer ... so why did she still feel that raw ache inside?
Turning the water over as hot as she could stand it, Rogue slid into to the narrow shower. She did seem to act so arrogantly childish around him, but he goaded her to it. He had this way of getting to her. It seemed so easy for him to do it too. He'd probably force his way in again, like he did several weeks ago, just to push her buttons some more. But this time Creed left her alone with streaming water and her bitter regret.
******
She stepped out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam. He watched as she tossed her bag onto a nearby chair. Of course the long coat was gone, replaced by a long night shirt and she padded over to the kitchen in her bare feet. He almost made a comment about her being stupid not to wear socks but he told himself that first he didn't care and second, it wasn't like she could get sick that easily. Instead he just glared at her stubbornly stoic face and wondered if she'd folded up his coat and tucked it back into her bag.
Not that it mattered.
Rogue opened cabinets until she found what she was looking for. She wanted a glass of water and then she was going to sleep and then hopefully she'd wake up and this would all just be some bizarre dream. As she turned the faucet on, the entire sink shook with the force of the banging pipes. Moving quickly to stop the racket, she didn't hear Creed until he was right behind her.
"What the hell're you trying to do?" he grumbled.
"I just wanted a glass of water," she sighed. She was far past annoyed and tired of this walking on eggshells around him. Did he expect her to just sit silently in a corner and not move with out expressed consent?
"Well you can't drink outta the damn sink, girl. It's well water and the pipes are probably rusty as hell."
"Lovely," she said snidely.
"You're in the fuckin' forest Rogue. What'd you expect?" he responded with equal attitude.
"Dammit!" She was so tired of this. "Can I please just have a glass of water?" she asked, but the fury had left her voice. Instead there was exhaustion.
He grabbed the glass from her hand before she tossed it in the sink.
"Here," he thrust a bottled water from the fridge at her.
Rogue took it and tried to remain steady as she unscrewed the cap. "Thank you," she muttered.
Creed saw her hands shaking as she took a drink. Unsure of why he was still standing in the kitchen with her when he ought to just walk away and leave her alone, he pressed her again.
"Is that actual gratitude, angel?" The venom was back in his voice before he could stop it.
It took everything she had not to throw the water at him. "Go to hell," she said before turning to walk away from him. She even made it a few steps before Creed grabbed her arm and his lips devoured hers.