Dismal Angel 2010 - Episode 8

Chapter 4:  Nightmare

          Kitty Pryde was dreaming – if it could be called a dream.  It was almost like a nightmare – and she was no stranger to those after all the things she'd seen and done in her life.  Everything was so real, so vivid in the dream, she wasn't sure where reality ended and the dream began, and yet, she was fully aware she was in a dream.

          There was no walls, no floor, no ceiling, and nothing for miles and miles ahead, just an eternal blackness with strange reddish tinted mists swirling softly across the air – it reminded her of painting as a child, dipping a paintbrush into clean water, and watching the remainder of paint rinse from the brush, the colour of the water swirling, making veins and branches until she stirred the paintbrush in the water to see the colour cloud the water.

          She asked herself where she was, but she seemed to have no voice, so she thought it, and there was no reply to her own thoughts, and loneliness seemed to echo in her brain.  She was floating towards something, a shape, floating in mid air, a red leather book.

          Kitty recognised the book at once, although it looked old, musty and slightly tatty, it was Remy's journal from seven years before.  Only if Kitty hadn't known better she could have sworn it were a hundred years old.

When she was finally close enough, she reached out to touch it, the book was sticky and she pulled her fingers back and stared down at them.

They were stained red, sticky, congealed.  She raised her fingers to her face and sniffed, the smell was acrid, so unbelievably foul she almost wretched.  It was unmistakably the smell of stale blood.

She gasped, jerking back from the book, the book rattled in the air as if her movement had caused a vibration upon the mist it was settled upon, and the cover of the book swung open, the pages were stained with blood, and in the very centre of the page was a pool of it, that seemed to indicate a hole within the pages that almost seemed to be realistically bleeding before her very eyes.  She turned the page, as she did some of the blood spilled from the book, running along the joining of the pages and dripping off into endlessness. 

Unsure of the situation, she began to flick through the pages, pages that almost seemed to be written in blood, words in French mixed with vague English, the handwriting careless, almost as if a panicked hand had scrawled them.  The more pages she turned, the less entries there were, short entries, barely a word or two.  Finally, she reached end of the book, the entries had stopped, and the wound in the centre of the book – upon the very last page – was still bleeding profusely, although now, a glint of silver was showing through the deep red, she couldn't bring herself to touch it, but she knew what it was.  A bullet.

Kitty woke up with a gasp, she could have sworn even awake she could still detect the sour smell of blood, she looked down to her hands, tears brimming her large blue eyes.  Her hands were clean, and bare, and she brought them to her face and breathed in, making sure the smell was not there.  Only the faint smell of perfumed hand ointment remained where the smell of blood had been so vivid in the dream. 

She pulled herself up, she thought she was going to be sick, but she held the nausea back, and tried to think straight, she put her hand to her head, focusing on the points of the dream.

It's just a nightmare, she told herself sternly, she wiped her eyes.

The dream made her feel unclean, the blood on her hands still there in her mind even if she couldn't see it anymore.  She rushed to her bathroom, turned on the shower, yanked her clothes off and climbed under the water, imagining the water rinsing off the blood that wasn't there.

I'm going crazy, she thought dully, she turned the water heat up a few notches until it was near scalding point, submersed in steam and hot water, she began to feel better, despite her suspicions about her own sanity.

She got out, pulled her bathrobe around herself and walked over to the sink, wiped the steam off the mirror with the palm of her hand, and looked at her slightly distorted reflection, her short brown hair plastered to her head, her eyelashes spiky, her face pink.

"Kitty!"

Kitty turned towards the open threshold between the bathroom and her room, she could see her bedroom door opening, Jean Grey was stepping in, looking around, but not seeing her.

Kitty grabbed a small towel from the rack and began to dry her hair, she stepped into her bedroom, "I'm here," she said to Jean.

Jean smiled, "I was wonder…could I maybe use a spray of your perfume?  Scott accidentally knocked mines over and I haven't had a chance to replace it yet."

Kitty nodded and gestured over to her dresser, "Help yourself."

"You look tired," Jean commented concernedly glancing over her shoulder at Kitty as she wandered over to the dresser.

"Haven't slept much lately…and I just had a nap and woke up – had the oddest dream," Kitty sighed.

"I know how that can be," Jean raised a lime green bottle of perfume into the air, stepped under the falling mist of scent, and twirled a little, "it'd be nice to be able to dream about nice normal things like getting married and having babies," she admitted, "instead we dream about things like monsters, demons, and dying."

Kitty nodded, she sat down on her bed, still drying her hair.

"I've read through a lot of the psychiatry books in the library…some people theory we have certain dreams for a reason," Jean stated, she surveyed herself in the mirror, fixed her hair, adjusted her necklace.  "How do I look?"

"Fantastic," Kitty nodded, "You and Scott going out for Valentines day?"

"Yeah," Jean grinned, "I think he's going to pop the question tonight.  He's been very…apprehensive all day, and…well, I didn't want to read his thoughts…but a girl can only hope," she smiled.

Kitty smiled a little, "It'd be great if he did."

"Aren't you going out tonight?" Jean asked.

Kitty sighed again, "Unfortunately, its likely I'm going to spend tonight trying to make Remy remember what a Cajun Sneak Thief he was while everyone else is falling in love, being kissed and getting laid – or in your case, even proposed to," she stood up.

"I wouldn't feel too bad, Kitty, Valentines day is just another day…"

"Yeah, I know, I've heard the 'Hallmark Holiday' lecture from Monet today already," Kitty smirked.  "But it's hard to not feel bad on Valentines day when you haven't had a boyfriend in SO long and you're beginning to forget what being kissed actually feels like…"

"Why didn't you take a leaf out of Rogue's book?"

"Which is?" Kitty raised an eyebrow, realising she had barely spoken to Rogue today at all.

"Go out with a team-mate just as friends – something to take your mind off feeling so alone," Jean explained.

"Who's she going out with?" Kitty asked, and she crossed her fingers pleading in her thoughts for Jean to say anyone else's name other than Piotr.

"Bobby," Jean stated, "Well, I better go, its nearly seven.   Cheer up, Kitty…" Jean said, "bye," she said, smiling, and then left, closing the door behind herself.

Kitty sighed and sat in front of the dresser, she hadn't even felt bad about Valentines day up until Piotr had set foot into the mansion.  Every time he set foot in the place, Kitty felt her heart suddenly become more alive than it ever had, and wondered if this was possibly the feeling Rogue had always spoke about having when Remy was in her life.

Stop thinking about it, Kitty thought at herself angrily.  She tried to think of something that would take her mind off of her own loneliness, and the dream popped back into her mind.

What if Jean was right?  What if she'd had the dream for a reason, what if her dreams were trying to tell her something?

Kitty looked at herself, the journal, the blood, the bullet?  What did it all mean?  Maybe asking Hank what he thought might help.  She decided, Hank, being Hank, was more than likely spending Valentines day down in his lab with his own true love – his research.

Kitty pulled on some comfortable baggy pants and a grey hooded shirt, she pulled her hair back from her face with a hairband, and she stepped out into the hall barefoot intent on making her way down to the lab.

Seeing Remy LeBeau, standing in the hall gazing out of the window about twelve feet away, suddenly made her forget what she'd been doing.

"Remy?" Kitty asked softly.

Remy turned, he looked at Kitty, "oh…hi…" he said, his expression was sombre, "I was actually looking for you…" he said.

"Then…why are you standing at the window...?" Kitty asked, "and anyway, you shouldn't be out of bed," she walked over, happening to glance out of the window as she did.  Outside, Rogue and Bobby were walking towards Bobby's car, parked out front.

Remy was watching again, his expression concentrated, as if he were trying to remember something but was having a hard time doing so.  His attention was on Rogue, watching as she tossed her long brown and white hair over her shoulder, the sway of her walk, the flex of her thigh as it slipped through the slit at the back of her long black skirt.

"You…like her, don't you?" Kitty asked, folding her arms.

Remy kept watching, "I…I don't know, to be honest…there's something about her, something so…familiar…and yet…I can't figure out why."

Kitty stared out of the window with him, watched her two team-mates get into the car and drive off. 

How much longer can I go on pretending that there isn't more to tell Remy?  Kitty thought at herself, she glanced back to Remy, his expression was now sullen, disappointed now that Rogue was gone.  "So…you really don't remember Rogue?" Kitty asked, touching upon the subject.

"Seems to me like I should…she's beautiful…" Remy confessed, "women like that aren't easy to forget, are they?"

"Usually not," Kitty said, "Listen…there's…something I think I need to tell you…"