Liberty & Justice for All

by Carrie Harris

  “Good.”

  Sabretooth seemed like he might say more, but Christopher had no desire to hear any of it. He had no reason to be upset. After all, he’d only met the man a few hours earlier, even though it felt like forever. But that time had meant something to him. It had changed him in profound ways that he probably didn’t even understand. Learning that it had meant nothing to Sabretooth… hurt.

  He dragged Eva as far as the force field would allow and got to work healing her. Sabretooth may have pulled his blow, but he’d still managed to do a ton of damage. Any more, and he would have killed her. It took some time for Christopher to bring her back. By the time he was done, the time bubble had popped. He opened his eyes to find Dormammu and Sabretooth talking again. When Eva stirred, he clapped a hand over her mouth, cautioning her to silence. She would be confused, but he couldn’t risk her asking questions and attracting their attention. Not if he wanted to get them out alive.

  After a moment of panic, she relaxed underneath his hand, and he released his grip. They held onto each other and listened, trying to figure out what to do next.

  “Very good,” Dormammu said to Sabretooth. “I will allow this infraction this once, but next time, I shall not be so lenient. If you continue to serve me well, I can reward as well as punish. You fight with your son. I can offer you an offspring who does your bidding. A perfect, pliant child.”

  Graydon, who stood a few steps behind his father, blanched visibly.

  “No thanks,” said Sabretooth. “No cages. Not for me, and not for him.”

  “But that’s what this is,” Graydon said suddenly. “Eva and Christopher were right. Don’t you see? We’ll be wearing collars instead of trapped in cages, but it’s the exact same thing.”

  “Stuff it, Graydon!” Sabretooth commanded, but Graydon kept on going.

  “I want nothing to do with this poseur. He looks like a Halloween pumpkin on steroids. He’s offering us a leash and collar, if not a cage. I’d rather go back to being dead than be someone’s slave again. And as much as I’ve hated you in the past, I refuse to see you leashed. You can’t do this,” he said. He took an involuntary step toward his father, his expression pleading. “Please don’t do this.”

  Sabretooth hesitated.

  “Quiet,” Dormammu snapped at Graydon. “Or I’ll quiet you.”

  Graydon inexplicably smirked. “You’ll only prove me right. Go ahead, and see what that gets you. He’ll rip you to shreds, and I’ll find my way back again somehow. You’ll see. I won’t regret waiting to be resurrected again if it means you get your just deserts.”

  “You were warned,” said Dormammu. “Now you will pay the price.”

  His hologram made a complicated gesture, his hands flaring into bright, fiery light. The Box of Planes brightened too, and Graydon jerked as if struck. Christopher didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t resist. It was like driving past a car wreck and knowing that no one could have survived but being unable to resist the urge to check anyway. He felt the life energy stream out of the Box, twisting around Graydon in a complicated pattern. It moved too quickly for his mind to unravel. When it withdrew, Graydon no longer had a mouth with which to speak. In its place sat smooth, unbroken skin. He groped at it, his eyes widening in increasing panic, and muffled sounds came from his throat but found no means of escape. He scrabbled desperately at his face.

  Eva whimpered, clutching at Christopher. He had to help Graydon, even though he had no idea if his abilities extended to putting a mouth back where it ought to be. He had to try, even if the thought of approaching Dormammu’s hologram made him tremble uncontrollably. But he only made it a single step before Eva latched onto him tighter, refusing to allow him to move another inch. Fear had given her a panicky strength.

  Sabretooth snarled. “Put it back, or so help me, I’ll…”

  “What?” Dormammu remained unfazed. “What could you possibly do to my projection that would bother me?”

  Graydon collapsed on the ground, tears streaming down his face as he continued to feel for the spot where his mouth had been. He didn’t even seem to register their presence any more. He’d withdrawn into some place deep inside himself where he wallowed in despair. Sabretooth watched him for a moment, and once again he crumbled in slow stages. Christopher wanted to punch him in the nose – hard – but it still hurt to watch him accept his defeat. He and Eva might be able to fix this. Sabretooth probably didn’t deserve it after he’d stabbed them in the back, but that didn’t matter.

  Christopher intended to do what was right after all, because his instructors had taught him well. Maybe he still had a lot to learn, but he was an X-Man, and for the first time, he realized that it didn’t matter if he had the flashiest mutant ability or not. He still had what it took. Emma Frost had tried her best to show him that, but he’d had to learn it on his own. He would try. He’d be scared, and maybe he’d fail, but he would give it everything he had. Nothing less would do.

  He gently uncurled Eva’s fingers from his suit. Their eyes met. Hers brimmed with tears, and he knew his did too. They touched foreheads, drawing strength from each other. He would not let Eva fall to Dormammu. He would not let Graydon suffer. His lips firmed, and he watched as Eva’s expression mirrored the growing resolve he felt. They had to do something. They had to make this right. Together.

  For all of their little squabbles and disagreements, they were truly becoming teammates. Whatever happened, he knew that she would always have his back, and he would be there for her in turn. Heck, Sabretooth should be learning from them, not the other way around. Maybe then he’d get his head out of his behind for a change.

  Christopher straightened, stretching out his neck in preparation for the confrontation to come. Beside him, Eva cracked her knuckles. He grinned at her. It was a grin of fear and determination and, strangest of all, of hope.

  “I’ll do what you want,” said Sabretooth, bowing his head. “Just put him back the way he was.”

  “Don’t!” Christopher interrupted. “Remember what Graydon said. He doesn’t want this.”

  Graydon had stopped rocking and crying. He just sat there quietly now, listening. He neither contradicted nor confirmed what Christopher had said. Maybe he couldn’t.

  “Dormammu is a punk,” Eva added. “He’s only telling you what you want to hear. Illyana told me he’ll do just about anything to get out of Limbo. He’s buttering you up to get you to do what he wants, and then he’ll throw you away like a piece of garbage. Go ahead. Ask him if I’m wrong.”

  Sabretooth’s eyes narrowed, and he lifted his head to stare at the hologram with a hint of his old spark. “Well?” he asked.

  “I assure you, I intend to have a lengthy and mutually supportive partnership,” said Dormammu smoothly.

  Sabretooth exhaled. “I believe you.” Then he stood up and turned to Graydon. “But I’m not the one you need to convince. You can’t con a conman. Do you believe him, Graydon?”

  For one tense moment, it seemed like Graydon might not answer at all, like the loss of his mouth might have broken his mind. But then his eyes narrowed. He shook his head in a short and definitive no, and then, just in case his message wasn’t clear, he made a rude gesture.

  Sabretooth tensed. Father and son held each other’s eyes for a long moment. Then Sabretooth’s expression softened, and it was clear that he loved his son. Enough to kill for him, which was easy for a man like Sabretooth. But sacrificing his revenge was a different story.

  Graydon’s chin lifted. Maybe he couldn’t speak, but the meaning was all too clear. They would stand together, no matter what happened. He scrambled to his feet and stood next to his father, providing a unified front. They turned to face Dormammu as one.

  “I guess the deal’s off after all,” said Sabretooth. He turned to Christopher, immediately dismissing the holographic sorcerer. “Can you fix him?”

  “Get us o
ut of this force field, and I’ll try. Illyana should be able to help us with the Box,” Christopher replied.

  “She can give me a ride to Limbo.” Sabretooth smacked a fist into his open palm. “I’d like to have a few words in person with Dormammu. You hear that, punk? I’m coming for you.”

  “I hear you,” said Dormammu. He sounded delighted. “I’ll even make it easier for you to get here. Allow me to take down the force field.”

  Christopher’s ears popped. He felt a sudden static shift in the air, and his heart leaped. Had it really been that easy? Eva reached out, delight evident on her face, and waved her hand around. No force field. She took a few steps and turned to offer him a cautious smile. Nothing. But it couldn’t be that easy. Dormammu had tricked Illyana, and she wasn’t stupid. If he was that eager to take down the force field, he had to have something up his sleeve. Some trick. Something he wanted. He just didn’t know what it was.

  “You will be able to get in your helicopter as well. I’ll be waiting for you,” said Dormammu. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “You must have a death wish,” Sabretooth said.

  He’d returned to his old self now. He grinned at Dormammu with fierce eagerness, hunching forward as if he couldn’t wait to get on with the battle. His arms twitched with adrenaline already. Christopher hoped with every fiber of his being that Sabretooth was just leading Dormammu on, but he worried this wasn’t the case.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” said Dormammu. “This one has outlived his usefulness.”

  He snapped his fingers, and Graydon Creed began to dissolve. His horrified eyes bore into Sabretooth’s, and he clutched at his father as he fell into bones and dust that rained onto the ground in slow motion.

  “Graydon! My son!” Sabretooth howled, trying desperately to hold him together. He scooped the jumpsuit into his arms, ashes pouring from the sleeves. “No!”

  Graydon was gone.

  The empty jumpsuit sagged, but its layers of stains and grime held it upright, as if someone invisible still stood inside. One of the ripped boots toppled over onto its side, spilling dust and bone fragments onto the ground.

  Sabretooth fell to his knees and howled in grief and loss. He ripped the jumpsuit to shreds, venting his emotions on the fabric and sending dingy pieces to flutter on the ground.

  Christopher reached blindly for Eva, tears blurring his vision. Although it would have been tactless to say so, he hadn’t really liked Graydon much at first. The man had made it his life’s mission to hate mutants, and he’d spent most of the day being rude to Christopher and Eva after they’d gone out of their way to help him. But toward the end there, he’d shown hints of a decent person that Christopher would have liked to know.

  Maybe he’d struggled with some of the same things that Christopher had. His father hadn’t been there for him either, and he’d been angry too. Maybe Christopher needed to learn from what Graydon had become. If he let his anger at his pops consume him, he could become just like the politician. But if he learned from his example, maybe he could make Graydon’s life – and death – mean something. It wouldn’t bring the man back, but it would give him his voice after he’d died without one. Christopher thought Graydon would have liked that. He hugged Eva a little tighter as he thought about it, feeling her tears wet his shirt.

  Dormammu watched their grief, flames welling from his wide and delighted smile. Sabretooth finished destroying the jumpsuit and turned his wild eyes toward the Box. But when he leaped toward it with murder in his eyes, Dormammu simply laughed. Sabretooth’s claws swiped through thin air as the hologram dissolved into motes of light. The Box’s lid closed, and it fell to the ground with a thump, rolling to a stop at Christopher’s feet.

  Sabretooth followed it and seemed about to vent the remainder of his anger on the artifact, but Christopher picked it up first.

  “Give it to me,” Sabretooth snarled. His spittle sprayed Christopher’s cheeks and his eyes glowed gold with barely checked fury.

  “No. You break this thing, and all that magic goes haywire. There’s no telling what it’ll do,” said Christopher.

  “Exactly.” Sabretooth’s eyes lit up with a terrible hope. “It might bring him back again.”

  “You can’t be serious,” said Eva. “Listen to what you’re saying.”

  “Think about what Graydon would want,” counseled Christopher.

  But Sabretooth was beyond rational thought. Driven mad by grief and his own twisted desires, he grabbed the Box and sprinted away at full speed. They gave chase. Christopher had kept pace with him before and felt proud of himself for it, but this time he couldn’t even keep the runaway mutant in sight. Eva, who had a much shorter stride than the both of them, fared even worse. Either Sabretooth had been holding back last time or desperation had kicked him into a higher gear. Within moments, he’d disappeared into the trees.

  Christopher slowed, kicking at the dirt in frustration. Eva jogged up next to him, looking towards the trail where Sabretooth had disappeared. She came to a stop, bent over and gasping for breath.

  “He’s gone… isn’t he?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, bleakness filling his voice. He could barely believe it. After everything they had done, everything they’d sacrificed, he couldn’t believe that Sabretooth had thrown it away like that once again. Had Christopher’s overtures of friendship meant anything to him? It had felt like it at the time, but maybe Sabretooth had been playing him all along.

  Maybe he’d just been naïve.

  “We should go back to school,” he said, turning his back on the whole sordid mess and looking down at Eva’s worried face. “I’m sure Cyclops and the rest of the instructors are worried sick. Let’s go home.”

  Chapter 29

  Christopher stalked down the park trail with a mulish expression on his face that didn’t seem like him at all. Eva knew that Sabretooth’s betrayal had hurt him deeply. She didn’t blame Christopher for getting attached, although she felt like they should have seen it coming. After all, Sabretooth had a reputation for a reason. If even half of the stories were true, he and Wolverine were like brothers, and they’d stabbed each other – literally – more times than Eva could count. One more betrayal wouldn’t even register on his radar, although it would wound someone like Christopher to the core.

  She hoped it didn’t change him. She’d come to the school full of hope and eagerness, and she had to admit that it had been hard to see her childhood heroes alternately jaded and faded. Maybe if she could just do the right thing, say the right thing, she could inspire them to be the people they used to be. Because she was beginning to realize that mutant powers had very little to do with what being a member of the X-Men was all about. Sabretooth remained one of the most powerful mutants she’d ever seen. Even M-Day seemed not to have diminished his potent abilities. But he wouldn’t last in their school for a day. He wouldn’t stab himself to prove a point to his students. He’d never think in such a self-sacrificing – if completely insane – kind of way.

  Christopher was right about one thing. She’d be glad to go back to the school. Her homesickness had reached new levels. At this point, she even longed for Emma Frost’s class, stabbing and all. Not that she wanted to put the training wheels back on; she felt like she’d proven that she could hold her own without a doubt. But she longed for the security that came with having a team to back her up, and she was eager to show off what she’d learned. Focusing on that took some of the sting out of what had ultimately turned out to be a mission failure. She still wanted to punch Sabretooth and cry simultaneously, but at least she could hold her head high on the way home.

  But if that was true, she didn’t understand why she kept looking off in the direction that Sabretooth had fled with the Box of Planes, even as she followed Christopher toward the X-Copter and their way home. She had no reason to worry about Sabretooth. He could take care of himself, and
based on what Christopher had told her, Sabretooth had nearly killed her. Worrying about him was ridiculous.

  Maybe she was just worried about the Box. It would be reckless to leave such a powerful artifact in his hands. He could do a lot of damage with it, and although she knew that Cyclops would do something about it, she felt a certain responsibility. She and Christopher had the ability to tackle this problem, so why were they running?

  She stopped. Maybe she wanted to turn tail and go home, but she and Christopher had helped Sabretooth escape with the Box in the first place. Without them, a lot of things might have been different. They had an obligation to see this through, whether they liked it or not.

  Christopher continued on a few more steps before he realized that she’d come to a stop. He turned, looking at her quizzically.

  “Got something in your shoe?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “We’ve got to go back for him,” she said.

  “Nuh uh. No way.”

  “Why?” she asked, not unkindly. “Because he stabbed us in the back? Hurt our feelings? Tried to knock my block off? I got news for you, Christopher: we’re X-Men now. You might as well get used to it, because from what I understand, this kind of drama comes with the job.”

  “Maybe that explains why Emma’s slightly unhinged,” he said, with a sudden and surprising hint of humor.

  She considered it. “Well, that and a lifetime of looking into people’s heads.” She shuddered. “I’m so glad I’m not a psychic. It’s a wonder they’re not all a little mad, don’t you think?”

  He snorted, but his expression quickly sobered. “Look, I see what you’re trying to do, and I appreciate it. But I’m not sure it’s a good idea. The more I think about it, the more I think he was playing us the whole time. All those jokes and camaraderie… what if it was just an act?”

  “So what if it was? Does that change our responsibility? We know he has a dangerous artifact in his possession. If we leave now, he may disappear with it for good before they can get back here again to track him down. We need to get that Box back, and our messy feelings about Sabretooth – whatever they may be – aren’t relevant.”