Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with the x-men, who in fact belong to Marvel Entertainment, Stan Lee, and 20th Century Fox. This fiction is not meant as an infringment on that ownership (so now that I've done it right, could I get some applause? (bows, accidentally ducking thrown grilled cheese sandwich))
Summery: Yet another fiction meant to confuse and befuddle. Isn't that the greatest word? Befuddle. Say it with me. Befuddle. Enjoy.
It's Not What You Think; Installment Two
Kitty and Bobby hung their heads over the small grave as Rogue finished throwing the last shovel full of dirt. The rest of the x-men stood circled around the fresh mound, ringed about with stones, heads bowed.
As they each made their paid their last respects and left, all threw the two culprits dirty looks filled with anguish. A valued member of the team had been lost, due to their carelessness and shinanigans.
They stood silently, side by side, long after the last x-man had left. Two tears slipped down Kitty's face and dropped into the brown earth. Frozen tears remained unshed in Bobby's eyes, and he sniffed. It began to rain as Storm inside the mansion mourned for a lost friend, her comrade through many a dark night.
Kitty and Bobby sat in the pouring rain at the graveside. They would each reach out and pat the mound between them from time to time, as one pats a sleeping baby for personal comfort. Thawed by his emotions, Bobby too was now openly crying, the rain mixing with his tears and turning into ice from the touch of his cold skin. The frozen crystals dropped into his lap, small gems in the rivulets of water running over the damp ground.
They both remembered back to their actions of that afternoon. If only one could change the past...
Kitty sat at the counter, her long brown hair swept back in a severe ponytail, her small feet tapping against the cupboards, and her lunch cooking inside a grilled cheese sandwhich maker. Bobby emerged from the pantry and laid out his own sandwich ingrediants; mustard, pickles, bread, and cheese lay spread haphazardly over the countertop.
Piotr, searching for Kitty, popped his head in th kitchen door. Sneaking up to the object of his affection, he slipped an arm around her waist and gently kissed the base of her neck. Kitty leaned backwards and smiled up at her boyfriend. As their eyes met, Bobby, in a particularly micheivious mood, created an icicle from each of the Russian's ears.
Piotr glared at Iceman as Kitty broke off the offending earrings. Turning around and sliding out of Piotr's embrace, she threw them directly at Bobby's head, knowing with her aim they would likely instead hit the opposite wall.
Instead, the two fatal chunks of ice slipped from her fingers as she wound up for the throw and sped backwards over her shoulder. Turning, Kitty gasped and ran towards the far counter.
The sandwich maker lay in a puddle of melting ice, shorted from the water released as the icicles hit the hot exterior. With a final fizzle, the valiant and much-loved machine died in the arms of Kitty. Piotr, staring on, could only yell for help in a strangled voice as Bobby realized what had happened. Paling, the two machine murders stood, Kitty still clutching the beloved grilled cheese chef, as their jury arrived.
The verdict could only be guilty.
I know, I'm bad, please don't kill me for it! (ducks another thrown grill-cheese sandwich, courtesy of friend Remy) R&R please.