Chapter Thirteen: Old Friends

Kitty woke up the good kind of tired and the right kind of sore, with warm velvet lining her backside and wound down her leg, an equally velvet arm and smooth, three-fingered hand nestled between her naked breasts. There was a matching three-toed foot curled around her own foot and a set of tickly-soft lips pressing her neck, gently breathing.

She was with Kurt. Young Kurt—the 19-year-old trapeze artist she'd rescued from a cage a week before, who may become the man she knew in the future, or may not, perhaps depending on what she'd done, or might do, and if she ever returned home.

Amid all that uncertainly, there were at least a few things Kitty was sure of. She was sure she'd had sex with Kurt on a toilet, and in the shower, and twice in bed before falling asleep sticky, spent, and happy in the current tangle of velvet limbs. She was also very sure she didn't regret anything.

She expelled a contented sigh as she wriggled deeper into Kurt's softness and warmth, because it felt wonderful, and because she wanted him to wake up. At least a little. Not enough to leave the luxurious bed. But enough to kiss her neck and nibble her ear, and maybe move his hand a little to the right, one thick finger circling her nipple, flicking, and squeezing…

Kitty twisted her sticky thighs, stomach delightfully fluttering when her subtle movement made Kurt's tail twitch to life, uncoiling, sliding, and coiling again, higher and firmer on her leg. She released a second sigh, louder this time, increasingly anxious for Kurt to be conscious. It hadn't taken long for her to feel deeply sorry for all the people in the world who weren't lucky enough to be loved by a man with a prehensile tail.

She reached behind her for Kurt's thigh, searching for something certain to grab his attention. She was stopped by an unexpected sound, echoing through the cavernous room. It was the door. Someone was knocking on the door.

The sound finally woke Kurt. She felt his eyes blink open against the nape of her neck as the rest of him stirred around her.

"Was ist…"

"It's the door. Someone's knocking on the door."

"Why?"

"I don't know," she replied, glancing at the clock on the side table. "It's barely seven."

"They must have the wrong room."

Kitty agreed by turning into Kurt's body and rubbing her cheek against his chest, silky smooth with a trail of scratchier hair down the center. Her hand stroked his fur in the small of his back, eliciting a delicious sound that made her own skin twitch and tingle. She'd never had a man respond like that to her touch. It took getting used to, but was very, very worth it.

Kurt drew the feather duvet further up their bodies, making a soft embrace softer. "Are you tired?" His voice was gravelly, which made his accent thicker, which in turn reminded Kitty of several special moments from the night before and earlier that morning, when Kurt had wholly forgotten his ability to speak English.

"A little," she replied, index finger idly tracing the smooth circle around one of his indigo nipples. "You?"

His murmur of pleasure rumbled against her forehead. Elsewhere, another part of him twitched against her skin. "A little."

"Coulda fooled me," she teased, thigh finding a spot between his.

"Sleep is overrated when a beautiful naked woman is curled against my hip, tickling my chest."

Despite herself, Kitty blushed a little. She definitely wasn't used to Kurt saying things like that—in general, but especially to her.

"You're not so bad yourself," she managed to quip.

Kurt's strong fingers were thoughtfully outlining the shape of her thigh. "Tell me."

Kitty inhaled a slow breath, finding courage in the rhythm of Kurt's hand. "In the shower, when you did that thing with your tail, that was…" She trailed off into a sigh and the wonder of the memory; words couldn't hope to capture it, anyway.

Thankfully, Kurt knew what she meant. She could hear the dreamy smile in his voice as he said, "I told you—I'm a performer."

Kitty released a snort of laughter into his shoulder and felt Kurt's reciprocal mirth under her cheek.

After a moment, she drew back again, studying the hard planes of his chest. Kurt closed his eyes to enjoy it, head sinking back into the pillow as Kitty stroked, smoothed, and ruffled his velvety fur, his hands going limp in the small of her back. The Kurt she knew in her own time had a body thick with muscles, leaner than many men in her orbit, yet still comfortably superheroic. But this Kurt's muscles clung almost desperately to his bones, the overall impression graceful, but with a note of vulnerability that made Kitty's heart hitch, especially when she remembered how badly she'd wanted to touch him that first night, when he'd been a tightly coiled mess of shivering, matted fur, gangly limbs clutching his hollow stomach.

But what a difference a week made. Now, his fur fairly gleamed in the dusty morning light, and so did his blue-black hair, its thick waves shiny and rebellious, refusing, as usual, to stay put behind his pointed ears.

As she watched his chest rise and fall under her hands, Kitty chewed her lip, wondering how she could have ever mistaken Kurt for a demon. With his full lips lightly pressed and his curls spilling over his forehead, he more closely resembled an angel. But the way his dark eyelashes fluttered, the corner of his mouth subtly twitching as his clever tail promised mischief under the covers made him a decidedly touchable angel, well acquainted with the pleasures of the flesh.

"I owe you," Kitty said, fingernails parting his fur across his ribs. "For the shower."

Kurt's loose lips mumbled, "You don't owe me anything."

Kitty knew he meant it. Because he was Kurt, and because she was sure he'd enjoyed the shower as much as her. She remembered the sounds he'd made, shamelessly moaning between growls of intent, against her lips, throat, breasts, and into the slick, beating heart of her, fangs deep in her need…

"Then consider it a gift," she purred, free hand stroking down his sinewy thigh, so impossibly soft and hard.

Kurt's hands lazily outlined her own curves as she continued to massage his glutes. When she slid her hand between his thighs, his gravelly throat groaned a little, tail slapping the mattress as his hips shifted in her hands, coaxing her fingers closer. Instead, she slid her hand out to slide the rest of herself down his body, kissing through the subtle valley of his pecs and over the hard furrows of his abs to his belly button, and lower…

"Kitty Pryde. Kurt Wagner. We need to talk."

In unison, they froze, Kurt flat on his back with Kitty's face between his legs, both of them praying they'd imagined the very clear male voice in their heads.

Kurt stuttered, "D-did you hear… did someone just…"

"Yeah," Kitty grumbled, rolling off Kurt's body to stumble groggily to her feet.

"But it wasn't… it felt like…"

"Telepathy," she stated, collecting her cozy hotel bathrobe from a pile of discarded items at the foot of the bed.

"Is this… someone you know?" Kurt asked, pushing himself upright.

"Remember that mansion we were at yesterday, with the laser tag security system and mission control hidden behind the bookcase? It's his house."

Suddenly alert, Kurt tossed off the covers and threw his legs over the side of bed. "Professor Xavier is at the door?"

"Think so. We better get up."

"I, uh… may need a minute."

Kitty looked at him, and agreed that was true. If she kept looking, she'd need more than a minute. "Go get changed. I'll deal with him until you get back."

Kurt nodded, and "BAMF'ed" to the other room, just inside the door, giving Kitty a last lovely glimpse of his long, lean body and its all-over indigo sheen. Sensing her gaze, Kurt glanced over his shoulder and winked, before pulling the door closed with his tail.

Kitty shook herself as she reached for a hair elastic, hoping the color in her cheeks would fade by the time she reached the door.

She didn't bother changing out of her robe. She didn't want to keep the professor waiting, and it was pointless to hide from a telepath. It also wouldn't take a telepath to infer most of what had happened in the hotel room. Kitty did her best to kick discarded clothes and towels under and unto chairs on her way to the door, but there wasn't much she could do about the messy bed or the trail of blood on the carpet.

Finally, she took a steadying breath, and opened to door to greet Professor Charles Xavier and another, much larger man, standing behind the professor's wheelchair. The larger man was wearing a trench coat with a white scarf wrapped around his face and a brown fedora pulled low over his forehead, completely obscuring his features.

"Good morning, young lady," the professor began. "I'm very sorry to interrupt, but our business is rather urgent. I am—"

"I know who you are," Kitty stated. "You better come in."

The professor and his companion exchanged a look before the large man proceeded to wheel Xavier into the room. Kitty closed the door and followed them to the sitting area by the picture window, where the drawn brocade curtains were glowing with morning light. The large man, still wearing his hat and scarf, settled rather stiffly into one of the wing chairs next to the professor, while Kitty picked a spot on the couch, reasoning Kurt would likely join her.

For a long moment, no one said anything. It was Xavier who broke the silence. "My companion's name is—"

"Dr. Henry McCoy."

As he spoke, Hank, proceeded to remove his hat and unwind his scarf, revealing a shaggy blue-furred face Kitty hadn't seen for some time. Seven years in the future, a secondary mutation had given Hank a more leonine appearance, with a catlike snout and whiskers. But this was the version of Hank that Kitty had first met at 13-and-a-half years old, late at night in the kitchen of the X-Mansion. She'd been searching for a late-night snack, and Hank had dropped by to share a friendly beer with Logan and Kurt. Kitty had tried to tiptoe past, but Logan had called her in, inviting her to shake Hank's huge, clawed hand. Kitty had managed herself with more dignity than the first time she'd met Kurt, but still remembered the way Kurt had looked on, his own hand curled tightly around his beer, tail slowly tightening around his own ankle.

"Nice to meet you," Kitty replied. "Can I get you some coffee?"

Hank and the professor exchanged another look, clearly surprised by her nonchalant response to Hank's beastly appearance.

Xavier turned his gaze to the door between the rooms, and said, "Perhaps Mr. Wagner would like to join us. I've promised he has nothing to fear. But I'm not sure if he believes me."

"You can come in, Kurt," Kitty called. "We're just chatting."

Kurt opened the door cautiously then proceeded into the room, barefoot in jeans and a clean dark t-shirt. His arm was still bandaged, but messily, a casualty of their not-especially-restful night. He shot Kitty a quick smile, and offered Xavier a small nod. Then, he saw Hank.

The younger blue mutant staggered to a comically clumsy stop, golden eyes wide and blinking.

Kitty wasn't sure whether to laugh or roll her eyes as she gestured broadly to each of the room's furry occupants. "Henry McCoy, meet Kurt Wagner. Kurt, meet Hank. The guy who's not blue is Professor Charles Xavier. Professor, meet Kurt."

"Pleased to meet you," Kurt managed, collecting himself to join Kitty on the couch. "And please pardon my reaction. I've just… never seen someone…"

Hank arched a heavy blue eyebrow. "Like you?"

Kurt regarded him skeptically. "Let's not get hasty."

"Life is full of secondary mutations," Hank observed, frowning.

Kurt's face fell. "What do you—"

"That's not a factor for Kurt," Kitty insisted, laying a reassuring hand on Kurt's knee. "He's always had his physical mutations."

Hank crossed one thick leg over the other, and returned, "You're an expert on his physiology, I take it?"

Kitty withdrew her hand, and said, loudly, "How about that coffee? Kurt, why don't you…?"

"Of course," Kurt replied quickly, springing to his feet like the couch was on fire. "I'll, um… be right back."

While Kurt busied himself with the coffee maker, Kitty turned to Xavier. "How did you find us?"

Xavier replied, "Numerous security devices captured you breaking into my home. Young Mr. Wagner was easy to identify, though we were surprised to find him here, rather than in Bavaria. You, Ms. Pryde, were harder to identify. Our database matched you to a Katherine Anne Pryde. She lives in Deerfield, Illinois. She is also twelve years old. While you, obviously, are not."

"She's me," said Kitty. "Or at least—she will be. I think."

"Alternate dimension, or time travel?" Hank wondered. Between his scientific background and his adventures with the X-Men and the Avengers, Hank was hardly a stranger to such things.

Kitty replied, "I think it's time travel, but I'm not sure if it's a different timeline, or the same one, or—"

"Or if you'll ever be able to tell," Hank inferred, "since you may be irrevocably changing the future, just by being here."

"Yeah," Kitty intoned. "It's not the best." She sought out Kurt, who was arranging four coffee mugs on a bronze tray across the room. He caught her eyes, golden gaze swirling with a look she'd seen before; he was worried. Kitty knew the feeling. She'd never stopped being afraid. She'd simply made a decision not to let her fear control her.

Kurt returned with the tray, using a single hand to slide it gracefully onto the coffee table before handing everyone mugs and taking one for himself, after which he just-as-gracefully pivoted to step over the table and drop weightlessly back into the couch next to Kitty, without spilling a drop. Kitty noticed both Hank and Xavier eying his casual dexterity, no doubt wondering whether it matched the notes they had on file.

"May we ask," Xavier began, "what you were searching for at the school?"

"You," Kitty replied, raising her too-hot coffee to her lips. "I was looking for you."

"The school has been closed for some time," Xavier said. "If you're interested in enrolling—"

"Been there, done that," said Kitty. "I was actually hoping you might be able to help me get home."

"For time travel, you'd be better off trying the Avengers," Hank observed. His coffee was dwarfed by his enormous hand, clawed fingers ignoring the handle to curl completely around the mug.

"I know," Kitty agreed. "But they don't know me. You do. Or at least—you will. I also knew you'd believe me."

"Why's that?" Hank inquired.

Kitty met Xavier's cool blue eyes, and said, "Because you can read my mind."

Xavier passed his coffee to Hank, and wheeled himself closer to the couch. Kitty was used to the intensity of the professor's gaze, but it could still unsettle her, especially in this time and place, when he was so much like the man who'd recruited her awkward 13-year-old self. There were times when Xavier seemed to be in two or more places at once—his body present, his mind elsewhere.

Looking both at her and through her, the professor placed two thin fingers against his temple, and asked, "May I?"

Kitty felt Kurt's hand brush hers. Without taking her eyes from Xavier, she accepted the gentle squeeze of his familiar fingers. "For both our sakes," Kitty told Xavier, "I can't be an open book. But I can show you the accident that brought me here."

Xavier nodded slowly, eyelids flickering, then closing.

Kitty felt the professor's mind brushing hers, making brief, undecipherable contact with memories and emotions that weren't her own, before suddenly, she was there—back in the lab a week ago, teleporting with Kurt onto the catwalk to confront Hank about the portal.

She was inside her body and outside it, time moving both too-fast and too-slow as she watched herself, and was herself, reliving the fateful series of events that had left her stranded in the past. It was a strange sensation, but one she'd felt before. She did her best to relax, and trust the professor to guide her.

Inside the memory, Kitty was struck by how tall Kurt seemed, though she couldn't decide if he was actually taller, or if it was just the way he carried himself, his shoulders so square, his chin always up. But he was less confident when he cupped her cheek, thumb ghosting the edge of her lips. Kitty looked at herself looking at him, his eyebrows deeply puckered between his bottomless golden eyes, and wondered why she hadn't remembered that—the way Kurt had touched her so tenderly, blue lips half-parted, as though he'd wanted to say something important, but couldn't quite find the words.

Whatever it was, he hadn't gotten a chance to say it. Because an instant later, Kitty was on her own approaching the portal, then jumping, and reaching, as far as she could, for Kurt's outstretched hand, fingers slipping in brutal, inevitable slow motion until she was falling, and Kurt was calling her name—screaming it even, angrily, and desperately. Kitty hadn't remembered that, either—how desperate Kurt had sounded as he'd lost her, and she'd lost him, for now, and maybe forever.

As Xavier broke the link, Kitty covered her face, eyes scrunched tight against a hot rush of tears. The sensation was brief, dissipating quickly once she was free of the memory. But like a bad dream, it lingered. If she'd only jumped farther, held on tighter…

"Katzchen."

Kitty inhaled a shuddering breath, and realized—she was holding on. Because Kurt was there, his one-of-a-kind fingers curled firmly around hers. She met his familiar golden gaze, and smiled through the mist in her eyes. He wasn't her Kurt. Yet he was, and must be. No one else could call her that, like that, and make her feel found instead of lost.

With customary measured calm, Xavier said, "It seems Ms. Pryde's journey was facilitated by a Cosmic Cube. And that you were present at the scene, Henry."

Kitty's eyes flashed to the professor. For a moment, she'd entirely forgotten his presence.

Hank scoffed, "Please don't tell me my future self's stupid enough to mess with around with Cosmic Cubes."

Both Kitty and Xavier chose to ignore that comment. "It also seems," Xavier continued, "that an older Mr. Wagner was involved."

"Wait," Hank chimed in. "So in the future, these kids know each other?"

"Quite well, apparently," Xavier confirmed.

Hank's yellow eyes narrowed. "How well?"

"It's not like that," Kitty protested, shooting Hank a hot look. "Not that it's any of your business, anyway."

"Ooookay…" Hank whistled. "I'm not interested in the melodrama. But I am interested in the fact you've chosen to spend your time in the past with someone you know in the future. When it comes to timeline preservation—that's about the worst thing you can do."

"It's not her fault," said Kurt, his voice flat, but clear. "It's mine."

"Oh?" Hank wondered. "Swept her off her feet, did you?"

Kitty's hot look became an icy scowl. She'd forgotten how acerbic Hank could be, back when he was best friends with Simon Williams.

"She saved me."

Everyone looked at Kurt, who was looking at his hand holding Kitty's.

"I joined a circus in Florida," he explained. "I expected to perform on the trapeze. But when I arrived, the owner drugged me, and put me in the freak show. Kitty found me in a cage. And got me out of it."

Hank's beastly face softened. "I'm sorry."

"If it weren't for Kitty," Kurt continued, "I would likely still be there."

Xavier asked, "Are there other mutants being held at the circus?"

With a hint of a smile, Kitty replied, "Not anymore."

Hank's eyes flashed from Kurt, to Kitty, and back, before landing on the carpet near Kitty's feet. "Is that… blood?"

Kitty released Kurt's hand, leaned back in her seat, and folded her arms across her chest. "Is that a problem?"

"I suppose not," Hank conceded, shaking his shaggy head to clear it. "But as much as I sympathize with your actions—saving Mr. Wagner from the circus might be."

"I know," Kitty agreed, dropping her eyes to the carpet and realizing there really was a lot of blood. "At this point, it might be better if I stayed. The timelines could split, preserving them both."

"Is that what you want?"

Kitty left Xavier's question hanging as she continued contemplating the carpet. She had no idea how to answer; she'd spoken without thinking, a simple statement of quantum fact.

Kurt picked up the slack. "If there's a way for Kitty to get back to her time… she has to go." Kitty's head popped up, but Kurt avoided her gaze, his own gaze focused on Xavier.

Xavier turned to Hank and said, "What do you know about Cosmic Cubes, Henry?"

Hank took a long swallow of coffee, and said, "I know they're powerful. And dangerous. And very hard to destroy. I highly doubt the one that brought you here is gone for good."

"Perhaps it's hiding," Xavier mused.

"Is that… a joke?" Kitty wondered, still studying Kurt's cheek.

"I'm not sure," the professor replied. "But perhaps you'd humor me in an experiment."

Reluctantly, Kitty returned her attention to Xavier. "What kind of experiment?"

"I'd like to go back to the scene of the accident."

Kitty bit the edge of her lip. She already didn't like the sound of this experiment. "But we already—"

"This time will be different," Xavier assured her. "Because we're going to focus on the Cube. I want you to picture it, as clearly as possible, with as much focus as possible. My powers will help you remember."

Kitty considered it. There was a gap in her memory when she thought about the Cube. One moment, it had been buzzing in her hand, the next it was simply… gone.

"Okay," she agreed. "I'll try."

Shortly thereafter, she felt the familiar touch of telepathy, and they were back in Hank's lab the week before. Kitty used her training to focus, both her ninja training with Logan and her mental training with the professor. She managed not to become distracted by Kurt's hand slipping out of hers, or his desperate scream, cutting through the deafening buzz and drone of the portal. Instead, all her focus was on the Cube. She felt its strange weight and stranger energy pulsing in her hand, through her fingers and up her arm, into her chest. As she focused, she felt the energy move again, pulsing back into her shoulders, before coursing down her right arm, into her hand.

She gasped as her eyes flew open. She was back, staring at the messy king-size bed over Hank's right shoulder. And she was holding the Cosmic Cube.

"I dare say you've located the Cube." Hank was staring at the alien artefact with naked wonder, his wide blue jaw hanging open.

Kurt was staring too, but with considerably more trepidation. "But… where did it come from?"

"From Ms. Pryde," Xavier replied. "I believe she's had the Cube since the accident. It was simply a matter of locating it."

Kitty turned the Cube one way, then the other. It was transparent, but not. Heavy, but light. For a moment, she thought she could see her reflection in its sparkly glow. But the next moment, it seemed like a hundred different Kittys, or maybe a thousand, from a thousand different worlds.

Kurt's voice wrenched her part of the way out of her trance. "What happens now? Do you need to… re-build the machine that brought Kitty here?"

"I'm not certain that's necessary," Xavier replied, his voice still unnervingly calm. "What do you think, Henry?"

Hank blinked himself out of his own trance and gulped down the last of his coffee. "Cubes aren't magic—they're science. But for all we know about them, they might as well be the former. The experiences we've had suggest they can do virtually anything. Rearrange matter, rewrite history… And they can almost certainly facilitate time travel."

"Someone once told me they're like genies," said Kitty, part of her still lost in the Cube's hypnotizing glow. "That they grant wishes. Except no one's quite sure how many they'll grant."

"With the requisite reiteration that the Cubes are not magic," said Hank, "that's effectively true."

Next to Kitty, Kurt was becoming increasingly agitated. Kitty could feel his tail slapping the couch near her feet. "Regardless of whether it's science or magic… you're saying Kitty could… wish herself home?"

"Implausible as it seems," Hank replied, "I believe it's possible."

"Possible?" Kurt echoed. "This isn't The Wizard of Oz. This is real life. What if you're wrong? What if she gets lost somewhere else? What if it harms her? What if—"

Xavier's even tone stopped Kurt's protest. "In your opinion, Henry—what are the risks?"

"To the timeline? Many. To Ms. Pryde? I'm not sure. In theory, it could work. Keeping in mind the biggest brains on the planet know as much about these things as cavemen knew about cell phones."

Kurt sat up straighter, and turned his attention to Hank. "What are our other options?"

Something about the way he said it snapped Kitty the rest of the way out of her trance. He sounded so much like her Kurt, the one who'd lead Excalibur for years before acknowledging he was the leader.

Hank slouched back into his own chair. "Reed Richards, maybe… or Dr. Doom…" He trailed off, shrugging his prodigious shoulders. "The list of people with actual or theoretical access to time travel isn't particularly long. Maybe if I took the Cube to my lab, I could—"

"No," said Kitty. While she didn't doubt Hank's abilities, she wasn't overly excited about involving him in another Cosmic Cube-related experiment. "I think I can do it."

Kurt shifted closer, and asked, gently, "How can you be sure?"

Kitty finally met his golden eyes, and said, "I just… know. It's hard to explain, but… I can hear it. And I think—it can hear me."

To his credit, Kurt didn't look at her like she was crazy. "What if you're wrong? What if—"

"I didn't say I would do it."

Her words gave him pause, but didn't seem to reassure him. If anything, his blue lips became flatter, the crease between his dark eyebrows further deepening.

"Not to be indelicate," Hank chimed in. "But for the sake of yourself, and everyone you know… If you can go back, you should. As quickly as possible."

Kitty addressed her words to Hank, while looking at Kurt. "I need to think about it."

"At the risk of adding further complications," said Xavier, "Mr. Wagner has his own time-sensitive obligations."

Kurt regarded the man who hadn't yet saved his life. "What do you mean?"

Xavier replied, "I understand you've been trying to contact your family."

"Do you know why I can't reach them?"

The professor shook his head. "No. But we haven't been able to reach our contact, either."

"Your contact…?" Kurt echoed. "Do you mean you've been spying on me?"

For the first time since opening the door, Xavier finally seemed uncomfortable. He wheeled himself back to Hank's side before replying, "We've been monitoring you. For your own safety."

"Yet you didn't know I went to Florida."

"No," Xavier admitted.

"You should get better spies," Kurt remarked, with an edge that made Kitty proud. Her own Kurt almost never stood up to Xavier, even when he deserved it.

"Be that as it may," said the professor, "Henry and I were planning a trip to Germany to investigate. My private jet could be ready as soon as tomorrow morning."

It could be ready sooner, Kitty was sure of it. Xavier was giving her time—giving them time. To make up their minds. Or say goodbye.

The pregnant pause that followed was broken by Kurt asking, "If Kitty is able to use the Cube to return home… what will happen to me?"

Hanks's gaze flickered as he repositioned himself in the chair that would have been roomy for anyone else, but was a tight squeeze for him. "It's your future self you should be worried about."

"Then—what will happen to him?"

"Hard to say," Hank replied. "Best case scenario: what happens in Westchester and Florida, stays in Westchester and Florida. You put meeting Kitty behind you, and move on with your life, hoping most things happen the same way they did the first time. Worst case scenario: you're not able to do that, and all bets are off. Your future self could be completely different. There's even a possibility that…"

Hank's words dissolved into a heavy silence, his thick lips forming a hard line.

"What?" Kurt prompted.

Kitty stepped in to say, "There's a possibility you might not exist." In the wake of her own words, Kitty was seized with a desperate desire to touch the beloved man sitting next to her, but wasn't sure how—not in front of Xavier and Hank.

For a while, no one spoke. Kitty studied her abandoned coffee and her bare feet next to Kurt's. His two long toes were flexing in the carpet. She knew how he felt. She would have given anything to stand, run, phase, or teleport—anything to be free and together, with enough time to think. Kitty had always been able to think her way through any problem worth solving. But it was hard to do anything with Xavier and Hank looking on, and the Cube still buzzing in her hand.

"You could make me forget."

Kitty's breath caught in her throat as her eyes shot to Kurt's cheek. Surely, she'd misheard him.

But Kurt looked directly at Xavier, and added, "Your powers can do that—can't they?"

After a brief pause, Xavier replied with a simple, "Yes."

Kitty's free hand reached almost frantically for any part of Kurt, settling for denim-clad his knee. "Kurt—no. You can't."

Kurt covered her hand with his. "It may be our best chance to see each other again."

Kitty shook her head decisively. "There must be another way."

"What if there isn't?"

Kitty didn't know what to say. Kurt's eyes were so big, and the Cube was suddenly louder, or maybe heavier… it was so hard to tell.

"Come, Henry. We'd best make the arrangements."

Hank made a face like the older man had grown a second head—or maybe a third. "We're… leaving?"

"We'll be back," Xavier assured him, already angling his chair toward the door. "Tomorrow morning, at 8 am, to take Mr. Wagner to the airport."

Kitty managed to tear her gaze away from Kurt just in time to watch Hank stagger dazedly to his feet in Xavier's wake.

Before turning all the way toward the door, Xavier addressed them over his shoulder. "It was lovely to meet you, Ms. Pryde. And you, Mr. Wagner. I hope our next meeting will be under better circumstances." A moment later he added, "And Mr. Wagner? For now, you may keep the device you stole. Please use it judiciously. And don't let it fall into the wrong hands."

Kurt saw their visitors off, but Kitty remained seated, once again contemplating the Cube. For the second time that morning, it took Kurt's voice to break her out of her trance.

"What are you going to do?"

With an effort, Kitty placed the Cube on the gold tray, stood, and stepped away. Xavier and Hank were gone. It was just her and Kurt, alone in the biggest, nicest hotel room she'd ever stayed in, with blood on the carpet, decidedly unclean sheets on the bed, and a pint-sized piece of impossible alien technology sitting between two abandoned mugs of black coffee.

When she looked at Kurt, he was standing in front of the window, where the brocade curtains were still tightly drawn. Light fuzzed behind his shoulders and danced faintly on his forehead and the crest of one indigo cheek.

Suddenly, he seemed very young—so much so, Kitty could imagine him even younger, living without her through all the teenage years she'd shared with his older self, growing up at his side. He was also entirely, heartbreakingly beautiful, his bottomless golden eyes wet with feeling, his tousled blue-black hair tangled in his pointed ears. Of course, he'd always been beautiful. And Kitty would have always known that, if she'd let herself see it. Now, she was sure she'd never be able to unsee it. As long as he lived and she did, the liquid grace of his lean muscles, or the sun glinting in his silk-velvet fur, or the sensual sway of his seldom-still tail would always make her heart skip a beat, and long for the beat of his—against her, around her, inside her.

Slowly, Kitty crossed the room, coming to a stop in his orbit. Then she reached for his cheek, stroking over his proud cheekbone and up, anointing the pointed tip of his ear before slipping through his soft hair to his neck. Kurt leaned into her touch, so that when she urged his face down to hers, he was already falling.

The kiss was long and slow, unlike any of the fervid or sloppy embraces they'd shared the night before. When they parted, Kurt dropped his forehead against hers, hands folded in the small of her back.

"We have a whole day," said Kitty. "Let's not waste it."

"So you are going to leave?"

Kitty closed her eyes, fingers tangling in his hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm not sure."

"Dr. McCoy said—"

"I know what he said," she cut-in. "And I'm saying—I'm not sure."

Regretting her testiness as soon as she said it, Kitty took a steadying breath, and opened her eyes, pondering her bathrobe brushing against Kurt's jeans. She could just make out the tip of his tail, twitching between his ankles. She counted ten twitches, then asked, "What are you going to do?"

"I have to see to my family."

"And after that?"

"That depends, in part, on what you choose to do." Kurt lifted his forehead from hers, and stepped back to meet her gaze. "You can't stay, Kitty. Not on my behalf. You have a family, too."

"You think I don't know that?" For a second time, the emotion in her voice surprised her. Why was she angry? She didn't want to be angry. She swallowed, and said, "You're part of my family. And if I go back…"

"We'll see each other again," he assured her. "One way, or another."

"But not like this." She was looking at 19-year-old Kurt, but seeing 26-year-old Kurt, gathering her into his arms, but as a friend—only, and always, as a friend. She imagined herself trying to tell him about her adventure, and him laughing it off, saying she didn't need to tell him, because in the end, it didn't really matter—all that mattered was the fact she was home, meaning things could go back to normal.

Kurt said, "We don't know that."

"You're right—it could be worse. I could go back, and find you're not even there…" She rolled her shoulders to shake off that thoroughly unwelcome thought, and said, bravely, "Let's just try and enjoy the day—okay?"

"If that's what you want," Kurt replied, his voice eerily toneless.

"We can go to the city," she urged, forcing into her own voice a lightness she certainly didn't feel. "I'll show you the sites."

"Sounds fun." But Kurt obviously wasn't convinced. He was still holding her hips, but his hands felt faraway, and his attention was wandering toward the next room.

"Unless you don't—"

He released her as he said, "I need a shower."

"Do you… want company?"

"Maybe later," he offered, already moving toward the door dividing the rooms. "I just need a moment alone."

Kitty nodded dumbly at his retreating form. His choice of words wasn't lost on her. There might not be a later. And depending on the choices they made—either or both or them might be alone for considerably more than a moment.

Once she heard the shower start in the other room, Kitty padded to the edge of the bed and all but collapsed onto the mattress, suddenly very tired. She lay there for a moment amid the mess of blankets that had been tangled around their tangled bodies. The bed smelled like sex, vanilla, and brimstone. In other words, it smelled like her and Kurt.

Kitty forced herself upright and reached for the hotel phone. They still had at least a day, and she was going to be true to her word; regardless of what happened tomorrow or any of the days or weeks after that, she was determined to make the next 24 hours something neither of them could ever forget.

"Hello, front desk? I wonder if you could do me a favor… We're travelling light, and my friend and I need something to wear…"

Notes: Two updates in two weeks? What's gotten into me! Wonder what Kitty's got planned; a lot can happen in 24 hours, especially when new clothes are involved...

Please don't worry about any of the magic-y science; it is obviously magic-y, but hopefully has a certain kind of internal logic. (Or not—important part is, it works for the story!)

This thing keeps getting longer, but there is a conclusion in the works, I promise. Not in the next chapter, though—there's at least a few more to come :)