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I don't own them – ok I don't own HIM. Most of the rest are mine, unless Marvel owns them, I promise.
This is very definitely AU. I know it's a common theme with me, but this needed some more exploration. I apologize if anyone thinks it's been done to death, but hey, he just lends himself to a certain type of strong, willful, determined woman, what can I say.
I didn't plan on this going any further – really I didn't but – well – Victor Creed can be a demanding muse (who the HELL taught him to use the bullwhip!) He just won't let this one die.
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They made it back to the site and the interrogation room only to find it empty. Jackson was sitting at his desk, his head in his hands, not a good sign.
"Someone want to tell me what's going on?" Dana asked.
"McFarlain's not home, no one knows where he is, and the son's in the wind." Jackson said. "I really was hoping you were wrong on this one, Wallis."
"That's Creed now." She said, handing over a copy of the marriage license.
"Just GREAT!" Jackson grumbled. "I guess you two won't mind spending your wedding night on stakeout – if we're gonna get this guy we need to do it NOW!"
Victor groaned and Dana couldn't help but chuckle.
"I'll make it up to you." She winked at Creed.
"You damned well better bet you will." He grumbled.
"Who knows – maybe he's just gone to his chemo treatment and we can catch him before dinner." She grinned – looking forward to getting out of the office and back to some real police work.
"I swear I'm gonna lock you up somewhere." Victor grumbled.
"You and what army?" She grinned at him.
"I don't know – I think I MIGHT be able to draft the Marines." He snapped back.
They both laughed, and she ducked into her office to grab her backup piece and the ceramic plates for her vest. This guy had already taken one shot at her, she wasn't going to give him a second chance, but if he got one, she was going to be prepared.
"Creed – vest." She snapped as she came out of her office.
"Never wear one."
"You will if you're going with me."
"Dana…"
"Victor!"
"Fine." He grabbed an extra SWAT vest and pulled it on over his shirt. "I hate these things, and it ain't like I need it anyway."
"I don't care – SOP!" Dana grinned at him in the too short vest. They were going to have to special order him one. She didn't know exactly how strong this healing factor of his was – but she didn't want to have to worry about certain parts of his anatomy growing back…she was really starting to enjoy having him to play with.
"Now that's just NOT fair, Dana." He grumbled as they left the trailer and climbed into his truck.
"What?"
"I can fucking smell you." He snapped as he slammed the door. "And you damned well know we can't do anything about it."
"Poor baby – a little anticipation never hurt anyone." She grinned. She REALLY liked having him to play with. For some strange reason, after signing those papers this afternoon, she felt free, free to allow herself to be with him without guilt, or anger, or fear. She knew for a fact that he'd never been married before – as far as she could tell he'd never been in a relationship before, so this was a little heady for her. He wanted her – badly enough to give up his freedom for forty or fifty years, something there was absolutely no history of him doing – ever.
She noticed him glancing over at him as he drove a puzzled look on his face.
"What's on your mind, Dana?"
"I'm just amazed by you – by the changes in you. Nothing I've ever found out about you indicated you were capable of any of this."
"Any of what?"
"Getting married for one, wanting to settle in one place for years on end for another."
"Maybe I'm just ready to grow up – and settle down." He grinned.
"God I hope so." She grinned back. He pulled up and parked on the street a few houses down from McFarlain's house. She had a feeling he was waiting for them to try something and it worried her. Her gut was screaming that something was wrong.
"Dana – I smell something, and I don't like it."
"Glad I'm not the only one."
"You're smelling explosives and a dead body?"
"No – just something really wrong with this situation."
"Let's go." He got out of the truck, and actually pulled his gun. That worried her more than anything. "Stay behind me." He snapped.
"Hey – who's in charge here?" She snapped back.
"Hey who can HEAL here?" He retorted and shoved her behind him. She couldn't argue that point. The front door of the small house was open and he pushed his way carefully inside.
"Body's that way – explosives that way." He pointed left toward the back of the house first, and then right toward the garage.
"Can that nose of yours give me cause of death?" She quipped.
He sniffed the air again. "Natural – no blood, smells sick, probably the janitor." He muttered as he took off to the right to check the garage.
"Well – thanks for that." She pulled the radio and handset she'd carried with her to call for the coroner when he stopped her.
"Radio signals can set off explosives – let me make sure it's not armed first."
"Right; I'll go check the body."
"No – You'll stay with me until we clear the house – THEN you'll go check the body." He said moving slowly into the living room. The kitchen and dining area were clearly visible, but he still hugged the wall as much as possible before motioning them clear. She took the other wall and cleared the single bedroom off the living room and the hallway into the back of the house. There were three more doors down that hallway, and behind one of them was a body. She motioned her section clear and he moved down the hall taking the first door on the right while she hung back. He motioned it clear, and she moved to the door on the left, which was open. The room was clear but showed evidence of being used recently – along with military uniforms hung in the closet.
She motioned it clear, and he reached for the door handle of the third door. Something made her turn back down the hall, so her back was to him as he suddenly turned and covered her with his body. She didn't really hear the blast – just felt it, it and the impact of every bit of debris as it hit his body. She blacked out. She didn't know how long – but she woke to the smell of smoke, and his heavy weight on her body.
"That was dumb – we should have called the bomb squad first." She muttered, but he didn't respond.
"Vic? VICTOR!" She shouted, rolling under him. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing. She tried to reach up to slap him but realized he had her arm pinned under him – and her hand was wet – hot, wet, thick moisture was dripping onto her palm. He was bleeding, and badly. She tried to push on him with her legs, but the debris from the house had him pinned on top of her.
"Quit, that hurts." He moaned.
"Thank GOD! Are you alright?"
His eyes opened slowly and she winced at the pain in them. "One lung out of commission, severed spine, that will take a couple minutes to grow back, broken hip, punctured kidney, need to get that out of there or I'll heal around it…"
"Do you always do a verbal catalog of injuries?" She asked, almost irritated now that he was talking.
"Only when irritating frails are asking me if I'm alright – damn it, Dana, I'll LIVE; are YOU alright?"
"Well – other than the fact that you have my BAD arm pinned under you, which hurts like hell and I THINK a burn on my left leg, I'll survive."
"I can think of worse ways to spend my wedding night – but not much." He grumbled.
"Well at least you are keeping your sense of humor." She coughed in the smoke.
"Don't talk. I can handle the smoke. Rip off some of my shirt if you can, it's good lawn, it'll make a decent breathing filter until we can either get out of here or someone can get to us."
"Victor."
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, DANA! I ain't losin ya to smoke inhalation." He grumbled. She realized that he was only moving from the neck up.
"Victor how bad is that spinal injury?"
"Bad." He said.
"Fuck."
"Not any time soon, baby." He grimaced.
She heard noises from beyond the rubble, voices – and felt cold water dripping through the debris.
"HERE!" He shouted, as she covered her face and mouth with the piece of his shirt she'd ripped off. "Get it wet, it will filter better." He growled at her.
"Victor, help's here, sounds like the fire department, we'll be okay."
"Do what you're told, woman. I ain't losin ya to you bein' stupid." His left arm moved a bit as he tried to reach to cover her face.
"I've got it – you just be still."
"It's healing – now quit gripin at me, I'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about."
"Victor, that list of injuries…."
"I've healed from worse…remind me ta tell you about the time I was beheaded."
"Tell me that was a joke."
"Yes." He chuckled. "They didn't get the spinal cord severed or I MIGHT have died that time."
"I swear I am going to KILL you myself." She muttered.
"Good luck." A large piece of debris was lifted off of them and light filtered down through the smoke and dust.
"Detective Wallis, Marshall Creed are you both alive?"
"THAT'S DETECTIVE CREED!" She shouted.
"Is there a Marshall Creed?"
"Yes, he's my husband you idiot, and he's hurt." She shouted back.
"Dana!" He growled.
"You said you needed to get whatever was in your kidney out, right – that's going to take a doctor."
"Dana!"
"NO arguing…YOU are going to the HOSPITAL!"
"I am NOT spending my wedding night getting poked and prodded at by a bunch of human doctors that are going to want to experiment on me, it ain't happenin."
He was still grumbling as the fire fighters lifted him off of her. She grimaced as they reached down to pull her out as well. She'd been honest with him, sort of. Her leg was bad. It looked like they would both be spending their wedding night in the hospital.
Dan – along with several other volunteer officers were standing outside the perimeter, ready to get in there and find out what happened. She was sitting in the back of the ambulance as they looked at the burn on her leg when he walked up.
"We caught Daniel McFarlain at the airport, he was skipping town. He confessed to setting the bomb here, and helping his father build the bomb for the station. Thomas died in his sleep last night and Daniel promised him he'd finish his work."
"What work?"
"Cleaning up a mess was all Daniel said – that and taking care of the nosiest woman Thomas had ever met."
"What, did he say who his target was?"
"Yeah – You."
"All of THIS to get to me?"
"Yes."
"Oh My God." She groaned.
"Marshall Creed wants to see you. He keeps trying to pull that piece of wood out of his back. I've never seen anyone heal like that."
"Yeah – well I guess you'll have to get used to it, I think he's sticking around." She said as she limped over to the other ambulance, Dan helping her.
"Dana will you tell these idiots it will be much better if I do this myself." Victor grumbled as he tried to reach the spike of wood sticking out of his back.
"Why don't you let me get that, Baby." She said, grabbing the spike and yanking it out. He howled in pain, and she watched as the wound quickly closed.
"You could have WARNED me. SHIT!" He grumbled, pulling her close against his ruined shirt.
"I think they want to take both of us to the hospital."
"Like hell – I told you, I'm not spending my wedding night in the hospital – and neither are you."
"They have Daniel McFarlain in the county jail, there's nothing you can do until morning." Dan said.
The paramedics griped and complained but Victor won in the end. Her burn wasn't that bad, and it was treatable at home. He'd been back in her life less than a week; she'd been shot, blown up, and never felt more alive. She had no idea what the next fifty years were going to be like, but she didn't doubt it would be interesting.