What the cat dragged in.

27 The commitments

Creed watched the frail. She was just sitting there, staring at a spot on the floor in front of her. She wasn't gone, not like she was just before they left Chicago, but seeing her that way still made him fucking jumpy.

It wasn't like he'd never delivered bad news before. Usually he didn't give a shit how the person took it. He'd thought about softening it, but he didn't have the words to do that. He figured she would have suspected something worse if he'd tried. 

Finally, he couldn't stand the silence any longer. "Say something." It came out sharper than he intended.

A little shrug with one shoulder, her eyes were still on the floor. "I don't know what to say. My mother never was terribly stable. Cody's hurt; she thinks I'm dead..." She took a deep breath. "I suppose it was all too much." Her voice was flat, cold.

"Frail-"

"I'm going to take a bath." She was up and gone out of the small room before he had a chance to finish.

He didn't know what the fuck he was going to say anyway. 'The bitch never did shit to protect you when you needed it.' 'I'd say good riddance, but she fucked it up.' 'It ain't worth ruining your day over.' She probably wouldn't think of any of that as comforting, but he wasn't the comforting type. 

He heard the water running. That only added to itch of nervousness. She sat in the tub when he was with her, and when she was upset. Not just the ordinary kind of upset either. The kind that made his teeth hurt just to think about it. The kind that he couldn't do a fucking thing about. 

Creed stared at the narrow hall and wondered what the fuck he was doing there in the first place. He couldn't fix it, he couldn't comfort her. Hell it was probably his goddamn fault to begin with. He glanced at the phone. It would only take one call. He could tell the old man that he was leaving, but she was staying behind. He'd be out the door before she even got out of the bathroom. Give her chance at something normal. That's what everybody wanted, right? Everybody except her.

Creed shook his head. He'd spent so damn much time with Jimmy in the past few weeks; he was starting to think like him. Another idea was starting to take shape, but if he was going to move forward with it, he needed some information. He grabbed his phone and dialed Conlon. 

"Well?" He didn't bother with small talk.

Conlon didn't bother with small talk either. "She's still in the hospital, but she's going to be transferred to a private facility later this afternoon. From what I've been told, she's paranoid and hearing voices."

"Fucking great." He took a deep breath. "What about your other project?"

"All are located. Weird thing though, half of them have had fatal accidents."

Creed's eyebrows twitched in surprise, but he didn't let any of that creep into his voice. "Clumsy fuckers. Suppose they've been replaced already too."

"Frankly I don't think Cavallo could get anybody to sit next to him at the movies at the moment, let alone hire anyone in that particular capacity."

That had Creed's attention. "Why's that?"

"Among other things, he watched you smash his favorite interrogator's head like a ripe melon on live video feed. That was enough to scare him shitless. I don't know if anybody was with him or not, but word got out." There was a little smirk in Conlon's voice. "Nobody with half a brain wants to cross you when you're in a good mood, let alone when you're back from the dead and beyond pissed off."

"Can't fault that logic. He looking for Stan?"

"Most of his goons are in hiding. The ones who aren't couldn't find their own asses with both hands and a map. Besides, Stan's keeping himself in the public eye. All the anti-mutant crap he's stirring and the 'attacks' on his family has the CoH convinced he needs round the clock security. They're halfway decent too, pro could get to him though."