Title: The Best Little Girl In The World
Rating: PG-13 at the most
Summary: AU/C. Various members' thoughts over the death of Kitty Pryde.
This one's told from Evan's POV.
Disclaimer: Charcters aren't mine. They belong to Marvel Comics, the WB and whoever else has shares in them.
Feedback: Much appreciated :o)

According to some people the quickest way to stop grieving is to share your pain with another, to let it all come out. Yeah well, been there, done that and from what i've heard deja vu ain't the best feeling in the world. Which is why i keep it all bottled up, it's why i never told anyone. Never *will* tell anyone.
In fact i only come to see her the one time when i was sure no one else would be here, it was safest that way y'know? Meant no one'dl be able to question my actions or psyche 101 me. When they sent me to the school shrink just after the accident i told him the same thing i told Jean and the Prof, stay the hell outta my head. I mean if i ain't got my thoughts then i got nothing right? Especially since *she's* gone now.

I guess you could say that after the accident i reverted to type, i decided to play the hand i was dealt. Only took me a couple of weeks to get into one of the leading gangs in NYC, of course my powers helped quite a bit. I'm the typical African-American, New York bad-ass that spends half his time downtown. Known by my rep as Spyke, one hard-as-nails bastard that ya don't wanna mess with. Aunty-O asked me last week if i did drugs, she didn't have to me a telepath to know the answer. Pulled me into a hug and whispered she's sorry, i told her she doesn't have to be, it ain't her fault. Besides, i kinda look the part now and if even if i wasn't messed-up with this shit then most people would probably think i was anyway. I'm about six foot something, wear scruffy looking clothes with a long black, leather jacket draped over me and the swagger alone tells you not to mess with me. Yep, regular little bad-boy is what i am.

Only i'm not. Cause see if you dig down far enough -assuming your willing to look- you'll find the bane of my existence, the solution to my problem, my real addiction. It's not cocaine or cheap cigs, it's her, it's *always* her. Little Kitty Pryde. I knew i'd never come close to touching her, i think we all knew that. Me, Lance and Kurt. She was too...too...precious, other-worldly in the way she herself didn't realise. The way none of us realised until she left us. Left me. She's always leaving me. When i got the call though i knew i had to come, how could i not? One last chance to try and bring her back after all, she's been hovering between life and death for so long. Pity she had to pick the latter huh?

So i'm sitting here -beside her bed as Aunty-O and the others wait patiently out in hall- reminiscing on the past few months. Trying to remember where exactly it all went wrong and i've come to the conclusion that there isn't a specific point. It was a gradual thing, my first mistake being the unthinkable and falling in love with her. There, i said it. And i reckon i'll have to say it a couple more times too for this shrink the Prof's set me up with. I could've got over this though if only...I chuckle to myself. If only, how many times have i thought that over the past few months? If only she hadn't waited for me and Kurt to finish soccer practice. If only we hadn't been playing around while walking home. If only i hadn't kicked that god damn ball out on to the road causing her to go and get it. God, i can remember it all so clear. We fell into a sort of trance as she ran out on to the road to grab the soccer ball. I couldn't move, i couldn't shout. I could only watch helplessly as the car collided with her fragile body and she was tossed-up into the air, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Next thing i knew Kurt's cradling her head in his lap in the middle of the road, blood trickling down her head and screaming at me -and i mean screaming- to call an ambulance while he whispers reassuring words of German to her still, lifeless body.

I squeeze my eyes shut and lean forward in my chair whispering in her ear, "It was my fault, i'm so sorry". I whisper this so quietly that i'm not even sure she can hear. Assuming of course that people in coma's can hear anything at all. I needed this though. To admit it was my fault, to say i'm sorry and to say goodbye.
To say goodbye to Katherine, Kitty, ShadowKat, Kit. Whatever name they put on her gravestone, whatever name she's remembered by, to me she'll always be the best little girl in the world. Cause that's exactly what she was. Even if i'll never have the chance to let her know.