The garage was dark, still and silent. Just how she liked it. Kitty slunk in, closing the door behind her and blocking off the thin sliver of light which cut through the gloom. She quickly made her way along the rows of cars, picking one at random to slip behind. Ensuring that it remained solid, she leaned back on it in relief. She'd been waiting jumpily for this all through a particularly long and tedious English Lit class, which she'd only chosen because Professor Summers had insisted she do at least one class which wasn't art, art history, drama, music or anything else which didn't "require one to use one's brain." She'd gone and told the art and drama teacher what he'd said. Last she'd seen of Professor Summers he'd been screaming madly about 'spiders everywhere' and stomping at an empty patch of floor in the hall, clawing at his face. She grinned at the memory.
Her heart beating in anticipation (a sign that made her uneasy, at just how addicted she'd become), she reached into her bag for the crumpled packet, and pulled out a long, thick cigar. It had originally been Logan's. Kitty had heard his argument every time Xavier tried to get him to quit, that they 'calmed the nerves,' and she'd figured they might be worth a try. Lord only knew her nerves needed calming.
It was the time of year. Autumn, wonderful, wonderful autumn, made her sick with longing. It brought up memories of running through the rusty leaves with her sister, eating huge bowlfuls of her mother's spaghetti after crisp, clear afternoons spent playing vigorous soccer matches against her father, -- he accused her of her of cheating if he ever lost – and spending hours outside with the big brown basset hound her father had made her leave behind when she went to 'mutant school'. Her father was the only person she'd ever informed of the truth behind the academy, the only person she knew would understand.
The worst of it was she knew that she couldn't possibly ever return; that nothing would be the same even if she did go back. Her sister had gone away to university at the start of the year, her father could play nothing except for tame, gentle games like snooker and lawn bowls after his heart attack, certainly nothing like their violent, wild games, and the basset hound, she'd recently been informed, had pined so long and hard for her that he'd given up eating, and had weakened and finally passed away in the summer.
She flicked at the lighter she'd bought off Pyro, who seemed to have a never-ending supply, and brought the stumpy end of the cigar up to the flickering light. The lighter had been the hardest to get hold of. Asking John for anything was a mistake. "Why do you want it? What are you going to do? Fire makes you hot, does it, eh? Sure, you can have it, but you'll have to pay." He raised his eyebrows. "Come on. You know you want to. I'll give you my best lighter, free of charge. Well, almost." It had gone on for hours. It probably would have been easier if she'd just started the fire with steel and flint every time she wanted a smoke.
The cigars hadn't been even slightly difficult to swipe. She hadn't even needed her powers. Logan left them all over the academy; on the kitchen table, benches, on top of the TV, by the pool, on top of the toilet (Kitty made sure not to touch that box) and even once on the jack-in-the-box in the nursery. Professor Summers had almost killed him after the final option. Kitty had simply walked past the TV; made sure no one else was in the room and pocketed the box. Of course, it meant that that night they'd all had to deal with a furious, nicotine-withdrawn Logan crashing about the house bellowing about 'goddamn thieves,' (which happened about once a week – it was a big mansion and he wasn't particularly careful about where he left them) and an even more furious Logan after Scott informed him that perhaps he shouldn't leave them about a house full of children and they wouldn't go missing. This immediately cleared any blame from everyone in Logan's eyes except Scott, who he punched in the face, then exploded from the mansion on Cyclops' motorbike and didn't return until morning, with a new pack.
Kitty had only taken a few calming mouthfuls when she heard footsteps. Instantly on edge, she shoved the hand holding the cigar through the door of the car, and took on a casual expression, moments before Professor Summers appeared a few metres from her. He raised an eyebrow.
"Don't you have some pansy, girly, ahem," he frowned in thought as he carefully recited, "'Legitimate outlet of creative expression' class to get to?"
Kitty ignored his question. "Spiders all gone, now?" she enquired sweetly.
"Seriously. Your teachers have been talking to me. You're really going to have to-" He broke off suddenly, his face filling with horror. "Why is your hand…? What are you…?"
Kitty squeezed her eyes shut, slowly turning her head until her face reached through the door and she could see the interior of the car, and opened them. Oh yeah. It was Scott's car: his pride and wonder, which he fussed over day and night and screamed at anyone for touching, shooting down birds which had the nerve to crap on it. And, she noted as she withdrew her face, coughing uncontrollably, it was full of smoke. It was alarming really; how much smoke one of Logan's cigars produced within thirty seconds or so.
Scott was running around it, searching his pockets desperately for the keys. It was as though it was on fire, the panic he showed. It was almost amusing, really: cool, calm Scott leaping around his car like a madman. Not that she would ever consider showing her amusement. God knew what Professor Summers would do to her then. Instead, she took the coward's way out, trying to slink calmly by towards the door of the garage.
"Oh, no you don't!" Scott reached out to stop her. His hand flew straight through her, but she stopped anyway, shifting guiltily with her hands behind her back. Professor Summers was still searching for his keys. Kitty stepped forward helpfully, reached through the door and unlocked it from the inside. Scott eyed her briefly, grunting something that might have been along the lines of 'thanks,' and swung the door open. Coughing violently, he turned to her, his face screwed up against the waves of smoke.
"Get in."
He reached across to unlock the passenger door, which Kitty meekly walked through. Maybe she should have opened it. She'd kind of made him look stupid, and that couldn't help.
"Where are we going?"
"For a drive. Wind the windows down. Right down." He was staring straight ahead, his teeth grit. Kitty slipped through the seats, doing as she was told. The smoke was incredibly thick. Was she really inhaling this much? It couldn't be good for her, what with her powers basically only as useful as the speed she could run at.
Professor Summers smoothly steered the car out onto the road, gradually picking up speed until the wind flying in through the open windows whipped Kitty's hair madly about and made her eyes water. Scott, his hair neat and short and his sunglasses in place, wasn't the slightest bit bothered. They sped along for a long time, the roar of the wind impossible to speak over. After about twenty minutes according to the clock on the dashboard, Scott pulled over to the springy grass on the side of the road. He sniffed the air.
"Seem clear to you?"
"Yeah, I guess."
He seemed quite cheerful, certainly less pissed off. It was probably the being with his car. Kitty could hardly blame him. It was the first time she'd ever been in what the students had dubbed the 'Cyclops Mobile.' In fact, it was probably the first time any student had been in the CM. She handled beautifully, and was so smooth it was as though she wasn't moving.
Kitty, on the other hand, was far from happy. Her hair was one big, painful mess and her eyes were almost glued shut with tears from the wind. Besides that, they were a heck of a way from the academy, and would probably have to drive just as fast on the way back to get there before dark.
Scott got out and walked around, opening all the doors and examining every inch of his car. Finally, appearing satisfied, he slid back into the driver's seat.
"Right," he grinned, "All clear."
Kitty plastered a bitter smile on her face back at him, sinking back into the seat with her arms folded. She looked out the window. Beside the road, miles and miles of empty, flat paddocks and fields stretched away from them.
Scott eased the car back onto the road, and started for home.
"So," he spoke into the silence slowly, "Why did you steal Logan's cigars?"
"You're not going to get all head-shrinker on me, are you?" Kitty rolled her eyes.
"It's a little serious when one of our students starts smoking, let alone starts smoking huge lung-blackeners like Logan's."
"They were all I could find. The mansion isn't exactly filled with a selection of different tar-based leisure items."
Scott snorted beside her, but kept his eyes on the road.
"I dunno," she finally shifted uncomfortably, "They just… make me feel better."
"Better?"
"Better than the huge ball of moving homesickness I usually am."
"You don't want to be here?"
"No. Well, yes, but I want to be there as well."
Scott didn't say anything.
"They're just worlds apart, you know? I loved everything about home: the weather, my friends, my family… and I love everything here: the weather, my friends and, well, the family of a sort that you've cobbled together at the mansion. I know that if I was back there I would miss the mansion just as much… but I'm… not." She finished lamely. She didn't even know why she was telling Scott all this, but she needed to tell someone and he seemed more interested in her than anyone else around here.
"Yeah. I know how you feel."
"No you don't."
"Ok. Maybe not. But close. When Xavier asked me to help him with the Academy I accepted straight away. I thought it was no question. But when I got there I realised that maybe there was. I come from a tiny village where it never gets cold. Just scorching heat, all day, every day. The tar on the road melted in the summer, nothing ever grew and the lake was always writhing with people. During the winter at the Academy, when the halls are like ice and everyone just turns their radiators up and sits in their rooms wrapped in blankets, I pined for my old home. I was going to go back. I packed my bags and everything."
He stopped. Surely that wasn't the end of the story.
"And what? You realised the gift you had in the Academy one morning and decided to stay and have never regretted it?"
"Nope. I met Jean."
"And you decided to stay and never regretted it?" Was this story supposed to help her? Make her realise she had common ground with Scott and make her want to stay?
"Nope. Regretted it every day. My choice was Jean, or home. Jean won out, but, and I'm sorry to say this, it was close. But then, you know what I realised? It wasn't just about the town. It was about what it represented. Life before the Academy. Life when I was free to smoke and swear-" he ignored Kitty as she burst into laughter at the thought of Scott smoking and swearing "- and had some basic privacy. Life when I could pretend to be normal."
"Isn't 'normal' a little hard to act when lasers shoot out of your eyes?" Kitty, still grinning at the image of 'Bad Scott,' asked.
"I told everyone I had an eye condition."
"Which you kind of do."
"Yeah." He took his eyes from the road for a moment to give her a brief glance, "But my point is, it's not cut and dry for anyone. Talk to half the academy and I'm sure you'll find dozens of kids who cry themselves to sleep at night. Homesickness… it's about making a choice. Does the good outweigh the bad?"
Kitty thought about it for a while. It was impossible. She loved both lives, both Kittys. Putting off the decision, she turned back to Scott.
"What did you miss the most?"
Her question seemed to have taken him off guard. "Um… I don't know. Wait. Yeah, I had a dog. Huge grey thing that followed me everywhere and hated everyone except me. Obviously completely unacceptable for life in a mansion with dozens of kids. Missed him like hell."
Kitty smiled. "Thank god. I thought I was a monster for missing my dog more than my parents."
"What kind was he? You know, as long as you kept him away from that cat-girl who sleeps in the attic, I might be able to swing Xavier into letting him stay here with you, long as he behaved himself." Scott seemed to think he was near to a break-through with her. It hurt her to fill him in.
"He died. A few months after I left." Her tone was blank. She didn't want to let out all that she felt every time she told anyone. They didn't understand. Sympathetic, "awws" and then "You wanna go to the mall?" completely unaware of how much she was hurting.
"Jesus. I'm sorry," Scott spoke softly, sounding like he really was sorry.
"For what? Wasn't you made me leave him behind."
"For your loss. People don't understand how much losing a pet hurts. Dogs are great. Understanding, not judging… I'll bet he was the only one who knew you could move through walls?"
Kitty nodded, biting her lip. Much as she fought it, a tear broke free of her eye and ran down her cheek.
"And not being there when it happened made it all the worse. Like you could have done something had you been there? Like it mightn't have happened?" Scott reached over to open the dashboard, and revealed a box of pink, scented tissues. He grimaced. "They're Jean's," he explained, sounding somewhat embarrassed.
Kitty blew her nose loudly. "What-what happened to your dog? The grey one?"
Scott was silent for a moment. "He died too. A few months after I'd met Jean. Attacked some kid. Kid's father shot him in the head." His voice was hollow, empty. "I could have stopped it, if I'd been there. I was the only one who could control him. He was wild when I wasn't around. My mother used to have to keep him locked up 24/7. What's worse was that I didn't tell anyone. Not even Jean. I knew they wouldn't understand, none of them."
He reached under his sunglasses, and roughly wiped at his eye. It glistened when he replaced it on the steering wheel. Looking up at him with tears in her own eyes, Kitty reached over, and covered his hand, resting on the gear stick, with her own. He glanced down at her and smiled tenderly. She grinned back.
It's about making a choice, he'd said.Well, he'd just made hers a lot easier.