Pryde&Wisdom/Wolverine: GEHENNA
Luba Kmetyk
DISCLAIMER: This story is a wholly unauthorized work done purely for my own personal enjoyment, and is not intended to infringe on any of their rights in or profits from these characters. But this story is copyright to me.
Pryde and Wisdom, Excalibur and the X-Men all are trademarks of Marvel Comics. The background characters mentioned (Brigadier Ferguson, his Scotland Yard deputy and his man Dillon) are of course Brigadier Charles Ferguson, Chief Inspector Hannah Bernstein and Sean Dillon from Jack Higgins' series of thriller novels (including "On Dangerous Ground", "Angel of Death", "Drink with the Devil", "The President's Daughter").
WARNING:
There is no explicit sex or violence in this story, but there is some considerable mention of adult material such as alcoholism and murder. So be warned...
BRIEF EXPLANATION:
I started this series soon after Excalibur #92 (Pete vs Pete), and have made no effort to keep this within more recent Marvel continuity. In particular, I am ignoring the whole Onslaught/Dark Xavier mess, and Dark Beast, also. Xavier in this story may be dark, but it's his own fault; I don't accept Onslaught as an excuse for Xavier to act like a jerk. I'm treating Logan as basically normal, I just don't feel up to writing feral Wolverine. I'm also ignoring Betsy and the Crimson Whatever. And I've also ignored a lot of little things Ellis has done with Pryde and Wisdom since then, not because I don't accept them (I revere Ellis as gospel), but because it would involve too much minor revision.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:
I'd like to thank several people who've helped with this, especially Kaylee and Leary.
MISCELLANEOUS:
This is one story in a series of loosely-plotted stories entitled "Idylls of the Cat" that are mostly Pryde and Wisdom, and the others' reaction to Kitty's new relationship. Most of the stories in the series are not action or adventure, they're mainly sex and/or conversations, like this one. Other stories in the series so far include
- The Day After the Night Before (Pryde&Wisdom)
- Vigil (Excalibur)
- Pulling their Fat out of the Fire (Excalibur/Hellblazer)
- Time Goes By (Excalibur)
- Bearing Tidings of Joy (Excalibur/Storm)
- You Can't Go Home Again (Excalibur/X-men)
- Close Encounters of the Lethal Kind (Excalibur/X-men/DV8/Hellblazer)
- Warning: Good Habits May Be Hazardous to Your Love Life (Excalibur)
- What God Has Joined Together (Pryde&Wisdom/X-Files)
- Drugs, Spies and Videotape (Pryde&Wisdom/Puck/Rocky&Bullwinkle)
- All Nice and Gift-Wrapped (Pryde&Wisdom)
- Strawberry Shortcake (Pryde&Wisdom)
- Dark Reflections (Excalibur/Black Air)
- The Shadow of A Starless Night (X-men/Excalibur)
- The Glow of a Starlit Dawn (Pryde&Wisdom)
- Misplaced Pryde (Hellfire Club/X-Men/Hellions/New Mutants/Black Air/Excalibur)
These stories can all be found on my own webpage at http://home.att.net/~lubakmetyk/
If you want to comment, send email to LubaKmetyk@worldnet.att.net
Prologue
The normally graceful brunette almost stumbled off the uneven stoop, the exhaustion of the past several days rolling over her like a tidal wave. Her big brown eyes were red-rimmed, and her head ached. The only sleep she'd gotten as the past few days and nights blurred together into one continuous nightmare had been short restless catnaps at odd hours. Her mouth felt dry and gritty, her stomach grumbled with hunger pangs unsatisfied by a few small snacks snatched during her brief excursions, her throat was raw and sore from constant pleading and arguing with her unresponsive, stubborn-jackass man, and she didn't even want to *think* about how badly she must smell, staying in the same clothes for days without a change.
She still found it hard to believe Pete had kept Culley's bolthole for himself. But his having a key for the shiny new doorlock replacing the one he'd burned out when they'd been searching for his old friend, as well as the undeniable fact that Wisdom had *known* the place would be empty, and available, meant that he'd deliberately chosen to hang on to a private hideout of his own, even as he'd joined Excalibur, even as he'd given up the cheap and messy -- but otherwise quite ordinary -- convenience flat he'd lived in during his Black Air years at Kitty's persuasion, even as they'd essentially begun living together on Muir.
However, she hadn't been a bit surprised to see Pete hadn't made any effort to clean the place up inside, as vividly revealed by the single bare bulb hanging down from the cracked, water-stained ceiling. They'd taken away Culley's scattered papers on their earlier visit, but the mad slogans written across the walls were still there, the dripping blood only blackened with time. The bare, broken-springed mattresses still lay stacked crookedly directly on the litter-strewn floor, only partially covered by what looked like the same tattered blanket. The stale air reeked of vomit and urine and excrement, the miasma worst in the corner with the ancient khazi but inescapable anywhere in the close, confined space.
Kitty was a bit ashamed of the heartfelt sigh of relief she heaved as soon as she'd phased out of the dingy flat, and the speed at which she'd lurched down the rickety stairs, out onto the dark Soho streets, but she couldn't help herself. She didn't want to leave Pete alone, she really didn't -- especially in his current state -- but she had to get out of that horrid room occasionally, even if only for a brief respite, for the sake of her own sanity.
Part 1
*ring* Kitty squirmed around, waiting for someone to pick up. *ring* She'd started losing track of what day it was -- much less the time of day -- locked away with Pete, but she'd found it dark outside, a few hours after midnight according to a clock in one store's window. *ring* That meant it should be late evening in Westchester. *ring* After finding the phones in two nearby callboxes vandalized and useless, she'd phased into a closed greengrocer's to 'borrow' their office phone. *ring* At least she could still remember her calling card number and the mansion's number... *ring* ...no matter how exhausted she was...
"Hello, ya've reached the Xavier Institute for Higher Learnin'. How may Ah direct yer call?"
"Hello -- Sam, is that you?" She fought to keep her voice calm, to sound like her usual self. "It's Kitty."
"Hey, gal, it's been a while. How are ya? An' yer James Bond fella, an' Rahne an' everybody on Muir? Say, can Ah say hello ta Rahne when yer done?"
"Umm... I'm fine, Sam." But, given their current situation, she couldn't bring herself to utter the same polite platitude about her former-spy lover, although she fervently hoped the mutant rocketeer wouldn't pick up on that omission. "And everybody up at Muir's fine, at least they were when we left a while ago. Pete and I are spending some time in London, that's actually where I'm calling from. Listen, you know I'd love to chat, but I'm kinda rushed right now. The reason I called is, I really need to talk to Logan. Is he around?"
"Sure, Ah'll go get him fer ya."
"Thanks, Sam. I appreciate that. And we'll talk some another time, ok?" Guthrie might not realize it, but she was promising herself -- as much as her old friend -- that things would get back to normal eventually, and there'd be time once again for all those little social pleasantries she'd taken so for granted up until now.
She felt like she'd been waiting forever, but it actually was only a moment or two before the silence was finally broken by the welcome sound of Wolverine's familiar growl. "Hey, pun'kin. What's happening? The kid still treating ya right? Sammy said y're callin' from London?"
"Logan, can you do me a favor?"
He could hear the strained note in her voice, a barely-suppressed tremor that the less sensitive Guthrie hadn't noticed, and changed his tone immediately. "Sure, kid, anything. Watcha need?"
"Err... Can you go someplace, and call me back? I mean..."
Her voice trailed away, leaving it to him to fill in the blanks. She didn't want anybody at the mansion listening in on an extension... and that's just what Storm would do, if she knew Kitty was on the phone with what sounded like a problem. "Sure, kid. Just gimme some time, and a number where I can getcha."
She recited a long string of digits, and then repeated them for confirmation. "That don't sound like your cell phone. Hotel room?" But the exchange wasn't right for the St. Martin, where they usually stayed in London.
"I'll tell you later, ok? I don't have my cell phone with me, but I'll wait right here, until you call me back, and I promise, I'll tell you everything, just not now, ok?"
"Ok, Kitty, I'm down at Harry's in his back office, all nice and private." The barkeeper himself would be busy serving out front for hours yet. "What's wrong? Are you ok? Something wrong with the kid? Or is it something he did? I swear, Kit, if that bum's hurt ya..." Wisdom might be a friend, an old acquaintance in the small covert ops world whom the experienced Canadian had come to like and trust, but it was Kitty who held that very special place in his heart.
"Logan, really, it's nothing like that. I mean, yes, there's something wrong with Pete--"
"He hurt?" The gravelly voice sharpened.
"No, he's fine. I mean, he's not fine, but he isn't hurt, it's not that. It's just... Logan, he's hurting, and I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help him. He says he doesn't need my help, but he does... but I don't know how, I don't know what to do..."
Logan heard the rising note of hysteria in her voice, as she relaxed what had obviously been a somewhat tenuous control held too long, and interrupted in a firm tone. "Kitty, c'mon now, darlin', cut that out. Take a deep breath -- 'member all them lessons we had us? Calm down, breathe, center... and tell me what the hell's going down that's got you so freaked."
"I don't know where to start." But her tone was more confused than frantic now, and he knew this talk was helping whatever was wrong.
"Start at the beginning, and go to the end... then stop." He sighed in some relief at her shaky laugh, even if he hadn't gotten the Lewis Carroll quote quite right, and settled himself to listen.
"I guess it started a little over a week ago. We had a radio call come into Muir, that a government chopper was flying over. When it landed, this tall, distinguished-looking guy -- Brigadier Ferguson, he said his name was -- got off, and wanted to talk to Pete. He said he needed Pete to do a mission for the government, just like he used to."
"He show any identification? Any proof he was legit?" Maybe -- no, certainly -- Excalibur had considerably better relations with the British and Continental governments and general populace than the X-Men did in the States, but that acceptance in turn tended to make the European team more trusting than perhaps they should be.
"Oh, Pete knew him, that wasn't a problem. Pete told me later this Ferguson was in charge of a small, special anti-terrorist task-force that reported directly to the PM. They've had a really good rep for many years and no political agenda, they just stayed in place and kept doing their job no matter which party was on top."
"Ok, just checking. And yeah, I think I heard o' this guy and his group, now that ya mention it. Got an ex-IRA enforcer workin' for him -- I guess he believes in the 'set a thief ta catch a thief' approach." Not a mutant, to the best of Logan's limited knowledge, but a skilled and experienced operator, an indivisible tangle of good and bad fitting no simple, easy definition or stereotype, as so many in that field were, as Logan and Wisdom themselves were -- a top IRA enforcer who'd switched to mercenary work when his sacred Cause had been worn thin by too many innocents killed in random bombings, he'd finally been captured doing a charity flight into Bosnia with a load of children's medicine and co- opted by his old adversaries to fight for a worthier cause -- not too different from Wisdom's checkered career... or his own. "So, go on... he said he wanted the kid ta do a mission? Why not send his own guy?"
"Is that the Dillon he mentioned? He said he would normally send one of his own people, except apparently this Dillon is out of it, with a broken leg... You know, I never got a chance to ask Pete if the guy might be related to his friend Trevor..." Logan cleared his throat, and Kitty took the hint. "Anyway, the brigadier -- he said they'd learned about a hidden research facility in Bengamisa, just outside Kisagani in Zaire, that had made considerable progress genetically engineer a robust form of Ebola virus that could spread through the air. Moira got all fussed hearing that -- she said even regular Ebola is horrible stuff, everybody who gets it dies in a few days... There's no cure or even any real treatment for it, she said, not a hint of one. And the only reason it hasn't turned into a total medical catastrophe yet is it's hard to pass around except through blood and fluids -- like AIDS, I guess."
"Yeah, I saw a guy come down with it in Africa, once. Moira's right, it's some *really* bad shit." Sent in to rescue a young doctor being held hostage, a missionary who was the only son of an important Quebecois government minister, the small strike force had no idea how one of their members had gotten infected. But a week or two later, a formerly strong, stoic man been puking up his insides in endless torrents of black blood as the virus ate away at all his vital organs, and begging and pleading anyone near him to kill him and put him out of his misery -- and, for once without a single wisecrack, Wade Wilson had broken into the isolation ward late one night and done precisely that.
"Ok, so this Brigadier Ferguson said this group was trying to develop this stuff, and a local guy who was one of their human guinea pigs escaped and got back to his village, where he told his story to one of the volunteer doctors before dying, and the doctor reported it to his people at WHO, who passed it along." She chuckled mirthlessly. "You know, I thought Alistaire had gotten his new agency up and going awful quickly, but it turns out that's the World Health Organization, not our old friends the Weird Happenings Organization."
Her less-than-infinitely-patient captive audience forced himself to ignore her rambling -- but not cut it off -- realizing she needed to gradually work herself around to discussing whatever she'd called about. "So why's it a Brit problem, anyway? Seems like this Ferguson would just call up the Christians in Action and dump it in their laps." Not that the CIA boys wouldn't manage to screw it up somehow, but that was a different problem.
Kitty couldn't read minds, of course, but she'd known Logan and his quite biased opinions for a long time. "Because of exactly what you're thinking -- he didn't trust anyone else to be sure to do the job right. Besides, the group behind this apparently blames Great Britain for all of Africa's current problems -- they claim the British Empire destroyed all the indigenous cultures and introduced corruption and all the other evils of modern civilization, so the betting was running high they'd likely love to dump some of their bug on London to pay back the evil colonials."
"Yeah, right, darlin'... like Africa never had any problems before the great white bwanas showed up," Logan snorted.
"I'm just answering your question, Logan. I didn't say I agreed."
"Yeah, sorry, pun'kin." Making a mental note to himself that Kitty hadn't relaxed enough yet to regain her usual impish sense of humor, he shifted his weight and recrossed his legs as he prompted gently, "Ok, so it's a Brit problem on accountta this Ferguson character wants to win brownie points for his own people, and 'cause this buncha crazies were gonna target the limeys as well as the yanks like usual. So, lemme guess -- he wanted Pete ta take out the joint, right?"
"Yeah, exactly. He said they could send in an SAS team for a full assault, but that would create all kinds of diplomatic and PR problems. There really wasn't any concrete evidence to take to the international community, and the brigadier said that the local authorities couldn't be trusted not to help them get away and finish up their research somewhere else, that they'd probably been paid off plenty to warn them of danger and otherwise just ignore them. He said his deputy had checked all the various agencies' records, and Mr. Pitman in MI5 and Mr. Doyle in MI6 and Mr. Jardine had all confirmed that Pete had the best 'wreck-and-roll' record of any agent they had, so they wanted him to go in and destroy the research complex and everyone in it. Kurt went totally ballistic when he heard that--"
"What was the elf doing there? Sounds like this weren't none o' his business." Not to mention being something the always determinedly idealistic Nightcrawler would not handle well at all, even if he had been making noises recently about the team needing to be more proactive.
"Kurt got all snippy when the brigadier wanted to talk to Pete privately; he said anything to do with a member of the team was team business. I guess the brigadier figured there wasn't much chance Kurt or the others would spill the beans to the press or anything, because he didn't argue the point too long."
"So the elf got an earful of things he'd rather not know, huh? And got upset by getting his nose rubbed in the real world?" Logan had fond memories of endless hours of ethical debates with Wagner when the two of them had first joined the X-Men in which they'd argued about whether one could ever be justified in killing, neither ever converting the other to his own point of view. But the Black Air agent was uncomfortable enough with some of his own past deeds that he'd take Nightcrawler's strictures against any such actions personally rather than hypothetically.
"Oh, Logan, it was just awful. Kurt got all sanctimonious about Excalibur not being under government orders and how X-Men never kill, Douglock started sprouting statistics of estimated bystander fatalities based upon the extent of incidental property damage during various past missions, then Brian started lecturing Kurt on the need to maintain good relations with our local government and populace -- unlike the X-Men, he made a real big point of that to Kurt -- and Peter started pontificating about duty to the state and duly appointed authority, and Pete told them all to bugger off, and nobody was asking their opinion or for the team to get involved anyway. And Kurt told him, if he went, he wouldn't be welcome back."
"And Moira didn't have nothing ta say about that?" Logan would have bet the acerbic Scotswoman would have rather pointedly reminded Wagner Excalibur were only her guests on Muir -- and he could remember at least *one* occasion when Moira had been quite willing to shoot to kill.
"Moira wasn't there by then, she'd mumbled something about viral surface proteins and tailored antibodies and left while the rest of us were still talking... and I really don't know if she did get some idea for her research during the brigadier's visit or if it was just a good excuse for her to get away from the rest of us for a bit. It was Rahne who reminded Kurt that he didn't have any right to throw people off her mother's property, that the Kinross holdings didn't belong to the team just because the X-Men had killed Moira's son. *Then* Peter stormed off in a sulk, Rahne went running after him apologizing, Douglock went after her asking why, Meggan got so upset by all the fighting that she ran out crying, Brian followed her, and Amanda started reading Kurt the riot act for being a first-class jerk."
Part 2
"So the elf backed himself inta a corner and ya need my help ta calm him down, so the kid can come back? Izzat why you're with Pete in London now, 'cause the kid's mad at Wagner?" Lord knew Wisdom was one of the most stubborn men Logan knew -- and Logan had some pretty high standards for hardheadedness. And, although Kurt could usually be reasoned with, this didn't sound like one of those occasions.
"No, not exactly. That was just the start..."
"Ok, pun'kin, sorry I interrupted." He got up and, holding the phone to his ear as he cautiously sketched the phone cord to its limit, walked over to Harry's private liquor stash and brought a bottle back to the desk for what was obviously going to be a long session. "Go on, Kit, I'm still listening. So the kid left with the brigadier..."
"So *we* left with the brigadier. You didn't think I'd let him go off without me, did you? No matter what Fuzzy said..."
Hearing the hint of badly-hidden trepidation behind her defiant announcement, Logan figured that Wagner must have made some blistering comments on her decision to accompany the former agent. The huge sigh of relief she heaved when all she got was a quiet "That's my gal" just confirmed his hunch. He and Kurt were her oldest friends after all, and, after Pete, their opinions mattered most to her. So his approval meant a lot, just as Kurt's disapproval must have hurt, a lot. (Her other oldest friend was Ororo, but they didn't need to bother getting Storm's reaction -- her disapproval could be taken as a law of nature.) "So the two o' ya went with the brigadier, and...?"
"His chopper flew us down to London. We spent a couple of days there, mostly in briefings -- satellite photos of the research complex, lectures on biological research equipment and facilities, proper use of protective gear and precautions to take against accidental infection, probable weak points and possible vulnerabilities, the geography of the surrounding countryside and the city itself, possible routes in and out, personnel assigned to the nearby embassy and their assignments, other inhabitants who might be useful in case of assorted complications..." Kitty stopped to take a much-needed breath, then went on, pensively, "You know, Logan, I never realized just how much preparation goes into official-type missions. Now I finally understand why Pete is always badmouthing us as nothing but a bunch of sloppy amateurs."
"Nobody objected to you dealing yourself in?"
"Yeah. Pete did," Kitty replied sourly. "He kept telling me he was going alone, he didn't need help, and I should go back to Muir."
That didn't surprise Logan at all, that Wisdom hadn't wanted Kitty exposed to his previous lifestyle. Telling her about it secondhand was one thing, but having her see it 'live' -- up-front and in person -- was a totally different matter. However, Pete must have realized, just as Logan had as soon as he'd heard the former Black Air agent and Kitty had gotten together, that it was inevitable she'd end up going along on his pseudo-official jobs eventually; the only question really had been when and where.
But he was still wondering why they'd let a nineteen-year-old girl -- officially only an 'amateur' -- participate in such a covert mission. It wasn't as if this Ferguson knew Kitty's abilities or training or experience, after all, like the late Brigadier Stuart had, or that Yard man Excalibur usually worked with. "I meant, this brigadier and his bunch didn't object ta you muscling in?"
"Well, of course they did." Her tone was scathing, at his asking the totally obvious. "The brigadier kept ordering me to get lost -- to go back to Muir, to just go *away*... somewhere, *anywhere*... He even tried to have the guards on duty outside his office haul me away." She snorted inelegantly at the memory. "Of course, they found out it's pretty hard to throw out somebody that you can't lay a hand on."
"And the kid *let* them try to pull that crap?!" If that were the case, no wonder Kitty was so upset.
"Of course not! As soon as the brigadier tried to kick me out Pete did a complete flip-flop and read them the riot act about how I was the best partner and backup he could ever have, much better than anybody the brigadier could provide. He even offered the brigadier a demonstration, if he didn't mind all his troops ending up in hospital. But just then the brigadier's deputy came back in and whispered something to him and he just quit objecting. Since she was a Scotland Yard Chief Detective Inspector herself, I figured she must have talked to Dai or something."
"So there was no problem about you tagging along? Except for th' Elf, o' course..." Logan took another drink directly from the tequila bottle, then rubbed his temples absently; he was going to get a headache trying to follow Kitty's story if she didn't get to the point soon.
"Oh, as soon as the brigadier said I could go, that stupid git of mine did *another* flip-flop and tried telling me to stay behind again. But I kept reminding him he'd promised *never* to run off and leave me behind again, like he did when he and his weird friend went off to raid the temple of doom that time..."
"Well, that went pretty well without ya, darlin' -- at least based on the shitload of goodies they brought back." There was a dead silence on the other end of the line, and Logan could almost feel Kitty's scowl. So her sense of humor was still on a leave of absence -- hopefully only temporarily. "Ok, so ya went along with him..."
"Yeah, we flew down there, switched to a helicopter in Kinshasa -- I wish I'd had a chance to examine it, and figure out how they got it so super-quiet -- then I phased us down a whole lot closer than planned -- since the chopper didn't have to find any open spot to land -- and Pete and I took ourselves a little nature hike through heat and humidity you wouldn't believe, then Pete took out a few guards and I phased us inside and Pete took out some more guards and threw some sleepy-gas cannisters into the air duct intake -- one thing that place had, naturally, was an absolutely state-of-the-art air filtration and exchange system -- then we slunk along distributing some other goodies we'd backpacked in in various appropriate places, Pete took out a few researchers who'd been working in air-tight containment suits and hadn't been knocked out by the sleepy-gas, and then he blew the generators and I kept us phased while we just walked out while the whole place went up in flames..."
Her voice trailed away, and the ensuing silence stretched out while Logan tried to sort through and absorb the import of her sudden, jumbled rush of words. Then he prodded gently, "So, ya bothered by what ya did? What ya helped Pete ta do?"
"Yes, of course, I was -- I am. I don't feel bad about any of the researchers and staff, not one damn bit, not considering what they were up to. But the patients, that they were using as human guinea pigs..." He could hear her voice break for just a moment, then strengthen again. "I mean, yeah, Moira agreed with the brigadier even the regular Ebola virus was untreatable and uncureable and a horrible death, and I know that they'd have had no chance anyway and it was too dangerous to risk the virus spreading, but I kept hoping we'd find some way around it, some way to get them out."
"Didja try?" If that idiot Wisdom had let Kitty get anywhere *near* such highly infectious patients... Logan's hand tightened convulsively and the tequila bottle shattered, raining its remaining contents all over Harry's desk and the piles of paper on it, joined there by blood dripping from his cut hand before his healing factor sealed the gashes, all ignored by the scowling Canadian holding his breath waiting for her answer.
"We went over the whole place, after the gas did its work. There were only a few prisoners there then... They looked *horrible*, Logan, absolutely ghastly." Before he could interrupt and demand an answer, she went on, "Pete and me, we'd argued earlier on the way in and we agreed, we'd check the medical status records in the central files before trying a rescue... and the brigadier wanted us to bring back all their computer files anyway. But, after I'd hacked into the records, both the current readings and their histories, especially the viral counts, Pete wouldn't let me go anywhere near the prisoners. He wouldn't even let me try, he said it was too dangerous, and too late anyway -- most of them were so far gone the sleeping gas had put them to sleep permanently, it hadn't taken much in their weakened state..."
Even hearing that, Logan wasn't quite ready to relax yet, although he forced his tone to stay level, even casual. "Maybe ya oughta get Moira ta check ya both out anyways... Rahne was right, ya know -- no matter what the elf thinks, Muir is still MacTaggert turf and Kurt ain't got no right ta order ya ta stay away. No matter how careful you were, I'd sure feel a damn sight better hearing her say ya didn't pick up that bug."
He was so distracted trying to figure out how many days ago all this had happened and remember the virus' incubation period, he almost missed Kitty's offhand "Oh, the brigadier's people did bloodtests on us -- and on the flight crew -- when we landed, before they let us off the plane. And they said we were clean."
Fighting off a new chill wondering what might have happened if the test result had been different, Logan returned to her earlier comment. "So, how'dja feel, when ya couldn't take any o' the prisoners out? Ya said it didn't bother ya none ta take out the bad guys, but what about the guinea pigs?"
"I told you already, I was upset about it... but I'm ok about it now, really. I hated that we had to do that, but -- even after days of thinking about it -- I don't know what we could have done different." But his sensitive ear detected a lack of conviction, the faintest little tremor, the least hint of hesitation.
"Ya talk ta Pete about how you're feeling? He not understand?" He should, Logan thought. Wisdom had never enjoyed the killing, not even of his principal targets and certainly not of their support troops and staff or any innocent bystanders caught up in the crossfire, and he should understand how hard it would be for Kitty to accept the necessity of euphemistically-named collateral damage her first time out.
"No, we haven't talked about it since, there hasn't really been a chance... and maybe there won't ever be." Logan frowned at that. "But it's ok, I'm ok, Logan, really. I mean, it's not easy to accept but I still can't think of anything different we could have done."
"But ya didn't talk on the way back, or since?" That seemed odd, Logan thought to himself. Kitty had always been a bit of a chatterbox -- as witness this current conversation -- and he'd noticed she had Pete acting more open than the older man had ever seen the Englishman before.
"No, we didn't talk on the way back... but that wasn't a problem, really. We didn't talk at all coming back; we just held each other. We held hands hiking back to our pickup, then I sat in his lap the whole flight back, first in the helicopter -- even though the pilot fussed it wasn't proper safety procedure -- then on the plane ride back. We just held each other, and that was enough, to know he was as bothered as I was, because it meant it was ok to be upset, that he didn't just brush off what we'd done as nothing, that he understood how I felt because he felt the same. It was when we got back that the shit hit the fan."
Logan settled his rump more comfortably in the rickety old office chair, the lingering smell of spilled liquor making him wish absently for more of Harry's good tequila. Now it sounded like they were finally going to get down to it.
"So we got back to London -- and got tested and there was no sign of the virus inside us or on us -- and Pete tells the crew to take me on up to Muir and then he tells me he's staying in town and he'll call me. Call me! Have you ever heard anything so damn ridiculous?! Like I'd go back to Muir without him!"
"But you obviously got him ta change his mind," Logan chuckled, "since the both o' you're in London..."
"Well, no, not exactly..." Kitty's sudden change of tone had him straightening up, ears perking. "It was kinda like the brigadier trying to throw me out -- except for a few of our friendly neighborhood evil supervillains, nobody can make me go where I don't want to go, or keep me from going where I want. The crew couldn't keep me aboard -- and at least *they* were smart enough not to try -- and Pete couldn't stop me going with him... well, following him, really, running after him..."
"Yeah? And?" Logan had to consciously force himself to relax his fingers clenched around the phone receiver.
"And we ended up in Soho. He kept Culley's bolthole..." He could hear the hurt in her voice clearly. "You know, his Black Air friend who got bit by the Uncreated back when we were first getting together. He showed me his friend's hideout then... And he kept it, Logan. The whole time we were getting together, Pete kept himself a nice, secret, little hideout where he could go get away from us... from *me*...."
He decided to give in to his craving for a drink and got up to fetch himself another bottle, careful to keep the phone to his ear. "Don't sound like he tried very hard ta hide it from ya, darlin', if he headed straight there knowing you were tagging along."
"But if I hadn't 'tagged along,' if I'd listened to him and gone on to Muir, I wouldn't have had any idea where he was," Kitty snapped back sharply.
Sitting back down to a protesting creak from the chair, setting the new bottle on the nearest clear section of Harry's cluttered desk, Logan discarded the point as just another sidebar not worth a silly argument. "Ok, so the two o' ya ended up at this guy's hidey-hole... then what?"
"Actually, Pete stopped at the local off-license and picked up a carton of Scotch first. Then, when we got to Culley's place, he just locked the door, grabbed one of the bottles, flopped down on the bed and started drinking. And that's all he's done since -- that, and smoke. He hasn't gone out once, he hasn't eaten, he just keeps drinking himself into a stupor, passing out, waking up and being sick, and hitting the bottle again. I brought food in, all his favorites, but he just ignores it. I even tried shoving some food in his mouth a couple of times, when he was just barely conscious, but Pete just spit it out and knocked the rest away... or else he grabbed it from me and threw it at the wall."
"He didn't hit ya or nothing like that, did he, pun'kin?" Logan jumped up and stood balanced on the balls of his feet, poised to run out and fly over to London immediately. "You do know better than ta try 'n' cover up any shit like that, right?" Not that Wisdom had ever shown any tendencies in that direction. He had always seemed right at home around strong, confident (and bossy) women like Neena or Emma or Raven, or that bitch-boss of his -- it was *men* in authority Pete couldn't tolerate, especially sanctimonious bastards he felt didn't deserve their power. But those other women knew his habits, and knew when to lay off. Pete's relation with Kitty was different than with any of those others, and Logan was suddenly afraid the drunken Englishman might get to resenting her well-meant efforts at compassionate interference.
"What?!" Hearing the unbelieving shock in her voice, he relaxed, and sat down again. Obviously such a possibility had never even crossed her mind -- which augered well for Wisdom's self-control... and for his continued existence. "Of course not! Most of the time -- well, most of the time he's awake, and at least semi-conscious -- Pete just ignores me... except when I get completely in his face and he can't and then he just tells me to go away and leave him alone. And once or twice he told me to make myself useful, and go get him more booze or more cigarettes. But he just keeps on drinking, he won't eat anything, no matter what I buy and bring back, he won't clean up or let me clean him up, he won't let me touch him, he passes out and then when he wakes up screaming from nightmares he pushes me away when I try to hold him, and I don't know what to do, I'm running out of ideas, and I'm so afraid--"
Part 3
Kitty had stopped her litany for a long moment, sounding more than a bit stunned herself as all the past days' stress and tension -- and fear -- came tumbling out once she had a sympathetic ear. He heard her take a few deep breaths, trying to regain control, and then she went on, somewhat more calmly albeit still noticeably shaky, "I don't understand what's wrong with him, why he's drinking so much, why he's insisting on living like a pig -- I mean, more than his usual, a *lot* more than his usual -- why he keeps pushing me away!" Her voice rose to a plaintive wail at the end again.
Logan couldn't really blame Kitty for not understanding what was so obvious to him, even second-hand. "Because he hates what he had ta do, and he's punishing himself, darlin'. Because he feels he's shit so he figures he don't deserve no better than ta live like shit."
"For what?! He didn't do anything wrong! Well, ok, yeah, he did... *we* did, but not really..." Her initial outrage was rapidly modulating into awkward but determined defensiveness, for herself and for her lover. "I mean, we just did what had to be done, or a lot more people might have died..."
"'The end justifies the means', Kitty? Or the time-honored, old- fashioned 'just following orders' excuse?" Logan hated pushing her like this, but she needed to face up to what they'd done, what *she'd* done, and the sooner the better.
"I expected that kind of crap from Kurt, Logan, but I thought if anyone would understand it'd be you!" The outrage had definitely won out over the defensiveness, but underlain with a faint little note of desperate appeal for his understanding... and approval.
"'Course I understand, darlin', a whole better 'n you do... But doing what needed doing don't make what the both o' ya done right, or anything ta be proud of. And Pete knows that. He knows he killed people there, people who didn't deserve ta die... knows it a whole lot better 'n you do, pun'kin, knows in his gut what you only know in your head so far."
"You mean, he's drinking because he feels guilty about agreeing to this mission? I know he feels horrible about some of the things he did, back before we met, while he was in Black Air, we've talked about it..." probably late at night, Logan nodded silently, after particularly bad nightmares, "...but I've never seen him this far out of it. I thought he was dealing with his past, putting it behind him and making up for things now..."
"Look, Kit -- somebody signs up for this sorta work, killing bad guys is just part of the job description, no biggie. But sometimes you gotta go through low-level grunts ta get ta the major bad guys, sometimes the bosses send you after somebody it turns out ain't a bad guy... or completely innocent people are just in the wrong place at the wrong time and you can't let them go because then the bad guy gets away or worse -- like your case you're telling me about. And ya finish the job -- you gotta -- but you can't accept it, not completely, not if you're any damn good as a human being. So some bad mojo sticks around in your mind and gut... then it happens again, you get some more crap added to your load, it just grows and grows over the years, and ya keep trying to deal with it, but it gets harder and harder..." He was trying to put into words something he'd never really tried to explain before -- not to Kitty, not to anyone -- and he found himself almost sweating with the effort.
"So you're saying Pete's drinking himself into a stupor because this mission reminded him of everything bad he's done in the past, everything that he thought he'd put behind him, and now it's all piled up on him again and he can't handle it any more? But he was the one who agreed, who decided this job needed doing and that he'd do it..."
"I'm saying he's dealing with what he had ta do on *this* mission, and I'm trying ta explain ta ya why it'd hit him worse 'n it hit you, even if this was one of the more defensible cases. It was hard on you 'cause it was your first time in that particular nasty situation, Kit, choosing from two bad options that ain't got no good, right answer, but it was hard on him because it *wasn't* his first time in that position. Pete's dealin' with things the only way he knows how. He knows from lots of practice if he gets blind drunk enough he'll manage ta forget what he had ta do, at least for a while. And he knows if he stays blind drunk long enough that his subconscious'll work through things some, in nightmares and stuff, and then he'll be able to get up and go on again, for a while at least. It's not the best way, maybe, but it's *his* way. And feeling piss-puking sick from his bender, well, that's just another part o' the price."
Putting his booted feet on the edge of Harry's cluttered desk, Logan leaned far back in the creaky old office chair, taking another long swig off the tequila and waiting patiently through the long moment of silence while Kitty tried to digest what he'd just said. Then, "So, what do I do? What *can* I do, to help him, and get through to him?"
He straightened back up, and replied in a brisk, business-like tone, "Depends. Ya still wanna stay with him?"
"Logan!" Despite the seriousness of their conversation, a fleeting grin lightened his craggy visage at the obvious anger back in her tone. "Of course I do!" Nope, his gal wasn't a quitter. But the grin vanished almost immediately, to be replaced with his previous worried scowl.
"Even after all this? After knowing... after *seeing* what he's capable of? 'Cause he ain't gonna stop, darlin'. If he gets convinced a mission needs doing, he's gonna go. And then this'll likely happen again." He was pushing again, but he felt he had to.
"Pete just did what he had to do, what he was asked to do, to stop something worse happening. He didn't do anything that I didn't do, that I didn't help him do, and that I wouldn't do again."
"Then, if ya really wanna stay with him, and help him, and you got the guts for it, all ya do is -- you stay with him. Ya do just what you told me you been doing... You stay with him, you bring him booze or fags -- or food, if he ever asks -- you hold his head while he throws up, you clean him up... and you make sure he knows you're ok with what he did. Not that what he did is ok, but what you just told me -- that you know he just did what he had to do. 'Cause you're his conscience now, pun'kin, whether ya want the job or not. The kid damn near worships the ground ya walk on, anybody can see that." And her love for him, and the self- respect she'd restored to him, were probably the only things keeping the Englishman from a gradual, inevitable slide into full-blown alcoholism -- but Logan didn't want to lay that additional burden onto her, and make her feel even more responsible for the younger man's well-being. "And he knows he's made some piss-poor decisions in the past, so he's a lot more likely ta trust your judgement than his own."
"That's all? Just stay with him and tell him it's ok?"
"That's the first part. You stay with him 'til he works through this all in his own weird, sick way, 'til he's ready to come out and face the world again. Then, whether you stay in town or head back to Muir, you make him help *you* work through what the two of you did." Because Wisdom would cope, in his own way -- he'd had a lot of practice already, after all. It was Kitty that Logan was more worried about, in the long run.
"I told you I was ok about it by now. Ok, maybe I wasn't when it all went down, but I'm fine now, really. I'm just worried about Pete."
"Bullshit. You don't get over something like that that quickly, 'specially not the first time. All you done so far is bury it away. Yeah, it ain't that much, once, but you just look at what it's done ta Pete over ten years or so. And he's actually dealing with things, in his own crazy way. You don't work through this now, you bury it away, and sooner or later you're gonna end up with your head as screwed up as Petey's. *He* ain't ever worked through killing Proteus, he ain't ever dealt with losing his sister and his parents and his brother, he ain't ever faced upta betraying Mags and the Acolytes up on Avalon, and look at how well he's doing these days. Remember what he did ta Pete? And I know you're all just waiting for all that anger and hurt bottled up inside ta blow again some day."
"Why is it *every* damn thing always turns into a thing about Peter and his problems?!" Kitty demanded irrascibly. "I didn't call to talk about Peter, I want to know what to do to help *Pete*!"
"Sorry, darlin', I didn't mean it that way, just calm down now..." Logan soothed, kicking himself mentally for reopening an old sore point. "I already toldja, first you stay with Pete until he works through this for himself... that's if ya got the guts ta take all the crap he's gonna put hisself -- and you -- through. Then you make him help you work your own way through what the both o' you did. And you try 'n' find a better way. Listen, if you won't do that for yourself, or for me -- 'cause I worry about ya, pun'kin, and I ain't gonna apologize for that, neither -- then you think on this. Helping you figure out a good way ta handle what went down just might teach Pete a thing or two about coping better."
"Logan?" Tentative now, uncharacteristically hesitant. "You've done the same kind of stuff Pete's into. What do you do? How do you cope?"
Logan sighed. He should have expected that question. He'd tried hard to keep the other X-Men -- *especially* the innocent, eager young thirteen-year-old girl who'd so quickly become a full partner in the team -- away from that part of his life -- even though he'd immediately seen that Kitty was a natural for it. And he'd succeeded, to a large extent. But now she'd not only dabbled her toes in the murky water, she'd jumped in bodily with both feet and a mighty splash, in her usual headstrong way. And he and Pete both had to look out for her now, and teach her how to survive in their twilight world.
"My way wouldn't work for ya, pun'kin, or for that loony limey o' yours." Just as Wisdom's approach wouldn't work for him, Logan thought, almost regretfully. No matter how much he drank, his healing factor interpreted anything beyond a slight buzz as sickness and counteracted the effects of any more alcohol with rapid and ruthless efficiency. "I can't picture the Brit running with the wolves, howling at the moon."
He grinned at Kitty's sputtered laughter at that mental image, pleased that her sense of humor seemed to be recovering. As was her curiosity -- and her stubborn determination had never vanished. "What about others? Like Cable, or Domino?"
Logan snorted at that. "Nate? He handles things worse 'n the kid does. Doesn't get drunk -- oh, no, no loss of control for ol' Cable. He goes off and does his meditating upside-down trick, claims that lets him get things squared away in his mind. All it really does is shove everything down deep, outta sight, outta mind -- until something sets him off and he blows like a volcano. Seen it happen a few times..."
There was silence for a long moment, until Kitty asked again, "And Domino?" with just the tiniest hint of jealousy in her voice over the former mercenary's longtime friendship with both Wisdom and Logan.
"Neena?" Logan hesitated for a moment, torn. "Look, if I tell ya, pun'kin, ya gotta promise me you won't tell no one else, not even your Brit, ok? If she wanted him ta know, she woulda told him herself."
Kitty was intrigued now, but thought about it for a long moment, not wanting to start lying to her boyfriend. "How about this? I won't bring it up myself but -- if he ever straight-out asks -- I'll tell him that I know, but I promised not to tell?"
"That'll do." He could understand her dilemma -- once you started keeping secrets, for whatever good reason, it set a bad precedent, and tended to snowball. He also appreciated her honesty, as always, and had to applaud her caution. "She does stuff for kids. She's got some pet charities she gives a large hunk of her merc pay to, but mostly she goes out and hunts bastards involved with kiddy porn -- producers, dealers, pimps, and such, 'specially the ones holed away in places the law can't touch 'em. She tries ta help the kids get back inta normal life, too, but mostly she just goes after the makers and users."
"Good for her." Hearing the quiet congratulation in Kitty's voice, Logan knew she'd understood that Cable's enigmatic partner was working out more than just simple post-mission blues.
"But I don't wantcha just copying nobody else's way -- good or bad. You need ta work out what's best for you, soon 's ya can." Otherwise, there was too much chance she'd eventually end up sucked into Wisdom's self-destructive habits, trying to make sure her lover wasn't alone. "And you don't tell Pete you wanna help fix him or his ways, you tell him you want -- you need -- his help for *you*. That'll make him more open to new possibilities, if it's for your sake rather than his own." And he'd have a little talk with that stubborn, stupid jackass himself one day soon, Logan vowed silently.
"Yeah. Ok, Logan, I gotta admit you're right. About Pete, about Peter... and about me. I called you to ask for advice, after all, so the least I can do is take the advice I'm given."
"And if you need any help talking the elf around when you're both ready ta head back home, call me up and I'll come over and explain the facts o' life ta him, ok?" In fact, he might just 'happen' to fly over to Scotland for a visit in the next day or two. Kurt would back down, of course, but it'd take some serious stroking to be sure no bad blood lingered to spoil the kids' homecoming.
"Ok, I'll remember that. And, Logan?"
"What, pun'kin?"
"Thanks."
Epilogue
Kitty phased back in through the bolted door as quietly as she could manage, wryly noting what a truly *impressive* area warning system an old, creaky floor could be. As she'd half-feared, half-hoped, Wisdom was still lying sprawled on the ratty old mattresses, although the newly empty whiskey bottle lying by his dangling hand and the relatively fresh vomit stains on and around him showed he'd come to at least partially during her absence.
She had to struggle with herself to suppress the pangs of guilt at the thought of what Pete might have thought at waking up and finding her gone, not knowing why or where. Kitty had to believe that, no matter how many times he'd told her to just go away and leave him alone, he really did need... want... hope for her to stay. But she'd needed the break, desperately, and the long talk to Logan had helped her regain her rapidly eroding perspective, something else she'd sorely needed.
After checking on the unconscious Englishman, she phased back out into the hallway and grabbed the bags she'd left there, bringing them in with her. Setting them down by the door, she went through the tiny flat quickly, gathering up the most obvious trash and stacking it all off in a far corner by an overflowing, completely inadequate dust bin. Holding a double-armful of empty bottles and crumbled Marlboro wrappers, she almost started crying, suddenly reminded of the first time she'd ever cleaned up Pete's habitual mess, their first day together back on Muir. But she choked the incipient sobs back firmly, telling herself that any relationship needed work, and compromise, and sacrifice, and that she wouldn't trade what she had with Pete -- good *and* bad -- for anything or anyone else.
With a renewed sense of purpose, she returned to the dark-haired figure lying on the makeshift bed. First she phased off his trousers, grateful for once for her unflashy but often mundanely useful mutant power, then the shirt and tie came off. She debated for a long moment before carrying them over to her rubbish stack. Pete would doubtless claim they were salvageable, but it was his own stupid fault he wasn't in any shape to argue the point with her. On second thought, she picked up the soiled shirt again, and used it to wipe up the fresh vomit. There wasn't actually that much -- it had been so long since Wisdom had eaten he didn't have anything except the liquor in his stomach to upchuck.
On her way back, Kitty had decided she might not be able to do much about the condition of the room, but she could definitely do something about the condition of her man. Now, bending over his limp form again, she phased off his soiled vest and pants, adding the pathetic little bundle to the growing heap of trash, a bit ashamed to be happy he hadn't been wearing any of her favorite colored boxers. The bags by the door contained packages of fresh underwear and a new white shirt she'd just bought, phasing into a small shop and leaving money by the till. Pete could wear those when he was ready to get up, and she'd worry about new trousers for him then.
She'd brought some towels also. Soaking one at the stained, rusty wallsink, she started washing her companion off thoroughly while he was still passed out and in no shape to object. If Logan thought Pete was living in shit because he was feeling like shit, then maybe cleaning him up would make him feel better. It was worth a try, at least -- if nothing else, it gave her the comforting illusion of something active and positive she could do.
Once he was as clean as Kitty could get him, she fetched a new bedsheet out of her clandestine shopping and covered the bare, filthy mattress he was sprawled on, manhandling Pete's flaccid body until he lay atop it. Except for the difficulty of maneuvering his completely uncooperative deadweight, it wasn't that hard. Never a big bulky man, now his wiry form was thinner than ever, and her sleekly-muscled frame considerably stronger than her slender figure suggested.
Taking off her own clothes, she rolled them up in one of the now- empty shopping bags, then lay down next to her lover's unconscious form, pressing herself tightly against his back. She slid one arm around his waist to hold him close, slipping her other arm under his head to act as a pillow -- wincing at the thought of the pins-and-needles sure to result. Nuzzling her face into his neck, kissing the sharp ridge of his shoulder blade, Kitty let herself doze off until jerked awake by his thrashing and shouting in yet another nightmare -- or hallucination.
Just as she had so many times in the past few days, she wrapped her arms and legs around his flailing body, crooning soft, wordless reassurance. But this time he didn't jerk away, this time -- either because she'd been right about cleaning him up, or because he could somehow sense her newly-gained understanding, for the first time since he'd gone on his drinking binge Pete turned into her embrace, finally seeking and accepting her comfort. And as she cradled her sob-wracked lover against her, Kitty finally let herself believe everything would be all right again.
The End