Present Day

England

He was behind his desk when she entered, wearing a grimace, smoking.

"You can't smoke in here."

He made no move to stamp out the burning cigarette.

"It's a fire hazard," Kitty said. "And you know I can't stand the smell-"

"You're stalling."

She opened her mouth to argue but he interrupted, "What did Frost say."

Kitty eased the door shut behind her, Pete's gaze followed the motion, lips tipping to smirk, "That bad?"

"Victor's been released."

"No shit."

Pete waited, smoke drifting over his shoulder, as emotions blipped across Kitty's face. The spectrum of confusion to disappointment.

"He's working for Stryker."

He stared at her, finally relinquishing his cigarette, shoving the tip into a fat stack of papers near his elbow. It hissed as the paper absorbed the flame, extinguishing them neatly.

"Victor wouldn't do this."

"This again," Pete grumbled.

"He wouldn't!"

"He already did," he snapped.

"I think I would know," Kitty replied, hands shifting to her hips.

"I've told you before, but I'll tell you again," he said. "You could drive a man to drink."

Kitty couldn't stifle her retort, "Lucky for you, you already do."

He shot a glare in her direction, demanding, "You expect me to believe Creed has been brainwashed into helping a man he's worked for in the past five years?"

Kitty took a step back, affronted, "He gave up that life."

He stared at her, dark eyes slitted, trying to gauge her honesty.

"Why would I lie," she demanded.

"I can think of a hundred reasons."

"I'm telling the truth," she replied, shoulders squaring.

He shoved both hands through his hair, "If this is some kind of sick revenge for springing the transfer to Crossmore on you-"

"This isn't about you, or me," Kitty snapped.

"Bullshit."

Kitty stilled, brow lifting, a storm gathering in her eyes, "Excuse me?"

"Bullshit," Pete repeated, enunciating each letter with vehemence.

"There is no us, Agent Wisdom" Kitty replied cooly.

He stood up, his chair a casualty on its side behind him, "I bet I can prove you wrong."

"You're delusional."

"And you're still pissed I didn't bare my fucking soul to you about Stuart's plans for Sinister."

Kitty was quiet, expression unreadable.

"Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're wrong-"

"Tell me I'm wrong," Pete repeated, "And mean it."

Chin lifting, the familiar hurt his I'm here to do a job speech had incited leaving her chest tight, she replied simply, "This is about work."

Some of the fire lessened in his dark eyes, his shoulders slipped a fraction, "Pryde, I-"

"Isn't that what you told me?" She demanded. "You're here to do a job?"

He was silent, the desk between them widening to a chasm before his very eyes.

"The best thing that we can do is get back to the states-"

"Like hell," Pete cut her off, some of his earlier fury returning at her suggestion. "We can't leave."

"MI13 isn't a target," Kitty shook her head. "The Institute, the X-men-"

"Isn't a target?" Pete demanded.

"Stryker has his sights set on one thing, and one thing only."

"And what about the rest of the world?"

Kitty's expression cooled, "I'm not worried about anything but Stryker, and Sinister."

When she turned to go, Pete snagged her wrist, forcing her attention upward, "I'm not leaving until we know how much damage Creed's caused."

Kitty lifted her chin, "Fine, stay. I'm going home."

"We're in this together," Pete argued.

"No, we're not," Kitty snapped. "Not if you don't see how important it is to get back to the Institute."

"If this is about rushing back for Victor-"

She jerked backwards, caught between her desire to prove Victor's innocence and her duty to protect mutants and humans alike from Sinister. If Pete, and Emma, were right, and Victor had truly turned, her decision not to prioritize his rescue would become a devastating error on her part. She swallowed, forcing the emotion rising in her throat down.

He was quiet a moment, watching her internal struggle play out in her wide eyes, before replying, "That's the difference between you two."

"Who?"

"You and Frost," Pete was staring down at her, shaking his head. "At the end of the day she'll do what needs to be done."

Kitty phased out of his grip, his hand dropping back down to his side.

"And what about you?"

"What about me," Kitty demanded.

"What are you willing to do to keep Sinister behind bars."

Kitty's expression shifted, distrust coloring her tone, "What are you asking."

"You know what I'm asking."

She stepped backwards, but Pete matched her step, keeping them within an inch of each other. She could feel his body heat along her front, feel his smoky breath on her face.

"You'll forfeit Creed to save the world, Pryde?"

She was silent.

"I didn't think so."

"I'm allowed to protect what's mine," she rallied, angry with him for calling her weak willed.

"How's he protecting you?" Pete demanded. "Aligning with Stryker, stealing from MI13-"

"I can fight for what I want without losing sight of what needs to be done," Kitty interrupted, vehement.

"We'll see."

"Fuck you."

He reached up, brushing a stray curl back behind her ear, "You could."

The breath caught in her throat, his knuckle tracked a slow line down her jaw.

"Christ knows I want you."

She was frozen, feet rooted to the floor, a nuclear detonation couldn't have motivated her into motion.

"Would he forgive you."

She looked up, brow knit, honesty hanging on every syllable, "I don't know."

"Are you willing to chance it."

"I don't know."

"I am."

His opposite hand lifted so he was cupping her face, drawing her into his kiss. Her body stiffened, and then melted to his, fingers pressing up his shirtfront and shoulders to tangle in his too long dark hair. He guided her backwards, wedging her hips between the wall and his body, his tongue making an exploratory pass between her lips.

"Tell me no," he commanded quietly, lifting his head, lips hovering just above hers.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, head tipped back to rest against the wall of his cramped office, "Pete."

His hand found the front of her pants, fingers stroking through the thin cotton of her leggings, "Say it."

Her eyes flashed open, fingers hooking his wrist, "I can't."

"Jesus," he slumped, forearm to the wall behind her, head bowed. She stayed perfectly still, pinned by his lower half, her pulse ticking in her ears, caught somewhere between agony and relief. She studied him, this close she could see the fine line bracketing his mouth, deepened, she was sure, not from smiling but smirking. His beard had begun to grow in along his jawline, black and night to match his hair. He was raggedly handsome, her body responded to his closeness, the smell of smoke clinging to his clothes. She hated herself, weighing, in some quiet corner of her mind, if she hated Victor's betrayal more.

"You're killing me," he finally grumbled, a muscle jumping in his jaw as he tried to get his emotions under control.

"I can't stay here."

His eyes flickered open, looking down at their joined lowers halves, smirking, deepening the lines on either side of his mouth, "That's a matter of opinion."

"In London," she corrected, pulling her gaze from his lips. "I need to get back to the Institute."

"We."

"I don't know if that's a good idea-"

His held her gaze, replying, "You said it yourself, we're all allowed to fight for what we want."

"I meant-"

He straightened, gaze no less severe, "You weren't talking about work then, and I'm not talking about it now. Pack up, we're leaving tonight."

She turned away, frustrated with him, and herself.

They were on the first flight out of Heathrow, sitting in uncomfortable silence for the duration of their flight home. His promise burned in her brain, adjacent, splicing, confusing, her promises to Victor. She spent the full seven and a half hour flight turning over Victor's infiltration of MI13 again and again, trying to see a way out of it. Coming up empty, and frustrated.

The Institute was dark when they made it to the doorstep, sporting dark circles and short tempers.

When Kitty lifted her key to the front door Pete caught her wrist, "Before we go in."

She phased away, willing her cheeks from pink to pale.

"What now."

"What happened in London-"

She shook her head, "It's forgotten."

"No," he said firmly. "That's exactly what I wanted to say."

Kitty raised her eyes to his, waiting.

"It's not forgotten," Pete said, dragging a hand through his hair. "Not by a long shot, not for me anyways."

"Pete, I-"

"And I meant what I said."

She released a heavy breath, "We need to focus everything we've got on Stryker and Shaw."

He nodded in agreement, "And the only way we're going to be able to do that is if you trust me."

"This again."

"Yes," he said. "This again."

"I trust you, Pete."

"I came here as an agent of MI13," Pete said quietly. "And I knew what my objective was."

Kitty crossed both arms to her chest, "Was?"

"I spoke to Stuart while you were packing up."

"And?"

"He's agreed to hold any talk of Sinister's transport until after we've eliminated Stryker and Shaw."

"Because of Victor?"

"Because I asked him to," Pete replied, jaw tightening at the sound of Victor's name.

"Thank you."

"Now that we've established a mutual goal," Pete stuck out his hand. "Partners?"

She hesitated, their kiss hanging between them.

"Partners," she finally repeated, fingers slipping into his. He squeezed her hand once and then dropped it, expression relaxing at the sound of her agreement.

"I'm going to want a hell of a lot more of you than that," Pete said quietly, dark eyes burning into hers. "If Creed is truly out of the picture."

She swallowed hard, turning away to fit her key into the lock, easing the door open, revealing Logan, patiently waiting up for them.

"Logan."

"Glad you're home safe," he said gruffly, accepting Kitty's hug, giving Pete a thorough inspection over her head.

"I'll be right down," Pete said, shifting past them on his way to his borrowed room, giving them the space Logan was looking for. Kitty released Logan, collecting her suitcase from the ground around a thick yawn.

"Where is everyone?" She asked, foot to the first step. "Downstairs, or in Professor's-"

"You smell like him."

She froze, pulse ticking in her ears, at Logan's snarled accusation.

"You heard me," Logan advanced when she didn't reply, stopping just over her left shoulder, glaring down at her. "You're covered in his scent."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kitty replied quietly, expression crystallizing into something less civil. Logan's brow lifted at her quiet retort, color singed her cheeks.

He waited, watching emotions blip across her face.

"I'm not surprised," she replied, finally meeting his gaze, composure returned. "We just spent the last seven hours traveling together."

Logan watched her closely, weighing her lie against his temper. Finally, "Have it your way, half-pint."

Surprise flashed through her blue eyes, she climbed the next step and the next, moving away from him, "It's nothing."

"We'll see."

She turned, disappearing down the hallway without comment. Logan watched her, releasing a heavy breath. She deposited her suitcase on the floor of her room, shooting her bed a singular, longing stare before turning back the way she'd come. Pete had made himself comfortable around the conference room table when she arrived.

"Welcome back."

Kitty took the empty chair to Emma's right, "It was a quick trip."

"Is MI13 in any danger?" Rogue asked.

"Not that we can tell," Pete replied carefully. "But Stuart is up to his fucking balls in calls from parliament, and threats. Creed is going to have a lot to answer for when this is done."

"We still don't know why Victor teamed up with Stryker," Emma interrupted, eyes slating to Kitty's tight lipped expression. "It could be blackmail, or brainwashing. We need to focus on getting those files back, not Victor's participation. At least not yet."

"We still move tomorrow?" Kitty said, turning to each of her teammates.

"Once you've got gotten some shut eye," Logan nodded. "We'll move."

They dispersed, Pete and Kitty falling into their respective beds, fully clothed, half asleep as their heads hit the pillow.