Paper Flowers

by oldprydefan

A tale of Soulswords, Diaries, love, friendships, and connections. Kitty Pryde and Peter (Piotr) Rasputin. Ch 18 up. Rachel and Illyana's reactions to everything that's happening, the identity of that person Kitty was hugging in the graveyard.

13. One Tin Soldier Rides Away

Disclaimer: Ok, let's go over this one more time. The X-Men are not mine. They belong to Marvel. But, for the unspeakable things that company has done to our favorite mutants, they don't deserve them. Now, everybody say it with me: They killed Jean! Again! Those bastards! I'm making no money off of this.

Sorry guys. I'm not dead, nor did I drop off the face of the earth. This chapter just gave me a fit. I guess thirteen really is an unlucky number. The good news is, nobody dies this time. Mostly just a lot of dialogue, angst, and tying up of loose ends so we can move on to the really good stuff. Fair warning: This is a long one and finally finishes up with the night and day that never seemed to end.

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Paper Flowers

Chapter 13 – One Tin Soldier Rides Away

Peter sat in the parlor - along with the rest of the team currently in residence - head down, thoughts a wild jumble, as chaos reigned all around him.

It seemed as if it had been going on for hours now, though it was probably less than thirty minutes since they'd all gathered here. But, once it had begun, things had only intensified and he had the distinct feeling that it would all get worse before it got better.

He'd been the last one down - answering Hanks cry of alarm, which had brought the entire household running, braced for a fight - and the confused young man had immediately been besieged with question after question, barely giving him time to breathe.

All he'd really been able to do in answer to their inquiries and demands was hand Logan and Kurt the letters Kitty had left for them and leave them to read the details, such as they were, for themselves. He could only hope she'd left them more information than she'd left for him.

After the letters were read, passed around, and read again, it had taken Hank and Cecelia only minutes to appraise everyone of the situation, the missing Legacy sample and their theory on the most likely - really the only - person who could have taken it. The only person who was currently unaccounted for.

Kitty.

After that, Peter had seen or heard very little of the ensuing mayhem. It all just washed over him, flowing around him as water flows around a stone. Strangely enough, that was exactly what his heart felt like at the moment. A heavy, dull, stone.

It sat there, in the middle of his chest, not allowing him to breathe, barely allowing him to think. And only one thought was in his head, running round and round, as he reeled from the shock of one crisis piled atop another.

There had to be a mistake. Surely Kitty wouldn't have done this.

But, in the very back of his mind, an insidious little voice spoke up, telling him exactly what he didn't want to hear; that Kitty had, indeed, done exactly this.

In that hard, heavy lump that had been his heart, Peter knew it was true.

The large Russian man refused to even think what the information might mean. He refused to acknowledge that things could have gone from bad to infinitely worse in only a matter of hours.

Because, if he pondered it too closely, he knew he would go quietly mad.

Had he not made that disastrous decision about the Legacy serum last night, she would have had no reason to take it with her when she left. Whatever happened to Kitty would be because of him, would be his fault. Of that, there was no doubt.

Now, everyone in the room seemed to be trying to speak at once, talking over and through one another, as they debated a course of action.

Though what they truly thought any of them could actually do at this point was a mystery. In Peter's opinion, the matter was long out of their hands.

Across the room, Kurt and Rogue exchanged a pained look, sharing their own growing worry and unease, about events from the previous night as well as the possible outcome of events this morning. It was a waking nightmare, one long, unending disaster, and no one seemed to have the faintest idea what to do next.

Kurt gave his foster sister a tight smile, meant to be somewhat reassuring, but it fell well short of the mark. Rogue, however, understood perfectly.

There was very little reassurance to be had, by any of them, at the moment. Things just looked too bleak, the questions they all had only seeming to lead to more questions, with no answers in sight.

"Do we know what time she may have left?" Ororo asked of no one in particular, but it was Peter who answered, lifting his head slightly and turning toward his long time friend.

"Very early this morning."

No one had to ask how he knew. It hadn't taken them all very long to figure out that Peter and Kitty had spent the night together, but no one saw any reason to make an issue of it. In truth, most of them had been expecting it to happen long before now.

"Yep, that'd be about right." Logan put in gruffly. "It was just barely after sun up when I saw her take off."

The Wolverine stood against the front wall of the room, scowling at no one and everyone, too agitated to sit, wanting to pace back and forth, like a caged tiger. But he forced himself to remain still, not give in to the instinctive urge to get out the door, go on the hunt, and find his girl.

How he might accomplish that, he hadn't quite figured out. Sure, he had amazing, enhanced senses, but even he couldn't track one motorcycle through New York state. And there just weren't any clues to where Kitty might have gone. She'd covered her tracks very well.

He'd already read both of those notes, his and Kurt's, at least four times, but none of it had told him anything he didn't already know.

And that was damned little.

Knowing she'd as good as said she didn't want to be found didn't make him feel one bit better. It just made him antsy, restless, and ill tempered.

"Petey," Rouge asked gently from beside the distraught Russian, laying one gloved hand on his arm. "are ya sure you don't have any idea where she went? Maybe if ya think about it for a while..." She let her voice trail off, knowing it was a futile question, even as she knew what the big man's answer would be.

Not bothering to look at her, Peter just shook his dark head. "What do you think I have been doing all this time? If I had any idea where she was, I would already be there."

As the young man seemed almost to fold in on himself, Rogue slipped her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. God help them if something happened to Kitty. She didn't think Peter would be able to take it. As it was, he looked about ready to collapse.

"And I still cannot believe you simply let her go like that. What were you thinking, Logan?" Turning to the stocky Canadian, Storm shot him a reproachful look, as if he were a disobedient child, which he promptly shrugged off. "Especially after the events of last night."

She wasn't being insulting and annoying on purpose, Logan reminded himself. Or, at least, he didn't think she was. It just came out that way. That was how she dealt with things she was powerless to change. And the resident Weather Goddess hated being powerless, especially where Kitty was concerned.

Logan was trying very hard to remember that so that he could keep his own temper in check. He wasn't exactly the most patient man in the world at the best of times and, right now, he was standing on the thin edge of control, hanging on by a thread. Storm was trying him this morning, whether she realized it or not. All it would take to set him off was one more little push.

As he watched the elegant African woman, it was all he could do to keep his mouth clamped shut on the words that wanted to spill out.

He'd told her weeks ago that Kitty was having problems, serious ones, but she hadn't wanted to believe it. He'd also told her that Kit and Peter together wasn't necessarily the best combination, but she hadn't listened to that either.

Now, they had this damned mess to deal with. Who knew what was going through Kitty's mind to cause her to do something like this.

Ok, so it wasn't exactly fair to Ororo. So what? He wasn't in a very fair mood.

And then, there was that little, niggling voice that kept whispering in his ear, telling him that he was only looking for someone else to shift his own blame, his own guilt, onto. Because, down deep, he knew that he was the one who hadn't been paying attention, who hadn't done all he could to head this off, even though he'd seen it coming from a mile away.

He'd let Kitty talk him into stepping back, letting her try to handle things on her own. Even when he'd known he shouldn't. Even when he'd known she might be in serious trouble.

Now, she'd be the one to pay for his mistake. And that knowledge was eating him alive.

"Well, I was pretty much thinkin' that she's a grown woman and can do as she damn well pleases, without askin' us fer permission." He replied with as little venom as he could manage, but it still came out sharp and irritated. "And I don't think what happened at that damned club last night had anything to do with this, either." At this, he turned toward Peter, addressing the young man directly. "Or am I wrong in assumin' that you and Kit worked that out between ya after ya got home last night?"

The boy looked like shit, but Logan didn't think the big Russian had anything to do, at least directly, with Kit's leaving. Her scent was all over him and it told Logan, with absolute certainty, just exactly what they'd been up to after they disappeared last night.

The feral Canadian still wasn't quite sure how he felt about that knowledge.

With a sigh, Peter shook his head again, still staring at the carpet. "No, it had nothing to do with what happened before we came back here. We...talked, settled much between us. But, apparently, it was not enough..."

The young man's distress and grief were almost palpable, and Ororo, feeling a sharp pang of guilt, gave him a somewhat apologetic look.

"Forgive me, Little Brother." Ororo spoke up, sending Peter a contrite look. "I did not mean to imply that Kitty's leaving was any of your doing, or in any way your fault." She looked to Logan next, offering him a wan smile. "Or anyone else's really. It seems we are all on edge."

One elegant hand drifted up to massage her temple as the regal, platinum-haired, woman closed her eyes briefly. "I am, quite simply, worried sick about her. If only she would have confided in one of us, told us what has been bothering her so lately, perhaps we could have helped before it came to this."

As chorus of agreement echoed around the room, Betsy Braddock, situated in one far corner, almost as if she were hiding, slumped down even farther in a rather uncomfortable looking arm chair. If it were possible for a person to actually feel lower than dirt, she had just attained that state.

The lavender haired young Brit was uncharacteristically quiet, having barely spoken a word, chewing nervously on her nails and listening to the animated conversation raging around her with a somewhat guilty, pained, expression.

As she was methodically destroying the last of her once-flawless manicure, Neal leaned down from his position beside her and gently moved her hand away from her face, pushing it back down to rest in her lap.

She glanced up to find him staring at her with deep, chocolate brown eyes, brows knit in puzzlement and concern. "Elisabeth, are you all right? You're awfully quiet. Is there something wrong? Well..." he corrected himself. "more wrong than what we already know about?"

Psylocke didn't answer immediately, and Neal continued to watch her, noting how pale she was underneath her normally golden skin tone, how she seemed subdued, yet nervous, almost as if she were sitting on pins and needles.

Something was bothering her. He could sense it. Something more than just the current situation under discussion. But Neal couldn't imagine what it might be. Granted, he knew Kitty and Betsy were fairly close, and Betsy was understandably worried about the young woman, but this was something else. Something that went deeper.

It wasn't like Betsy, even at the worst of times, to be so quiet and withdrawn. Normally, she would have been firmly entrenched in the middle of this discussion, offering her opinions and pushing to get the search on the road. Instead, she was entirely too quiet, too...droopy. And he doubted, very seriously, that anyone had ever before described this woman as droopy.

Yes, something was definitely very wrong. He just couldn't seem to figure out exactly what would have her acting so strangely.

Sighing heavily, Betsy dropped her eyes, refusing to look him in the face, her hands now fidgeting nervously in her lap. "I'm fine. It's just...upsetting, I suppose."

The British ninja once again fell silent, seemingly willing to elaborate further and, though he gave her an odd look, Neal let the matter drop, resolving to talk to her further about it later.

After all, it might have absolutely nothing to do with what they were dealing with now.

As Peter spoke up again, the India native reluctantly returned his attention back to the discussion, and the problem, at hand.

"Do not apologize to me, Ororo." Looking around the room, his gaze pausing briefly on each face, Peter Rasputin took a deep breath and continued, knowing he was about to add fuel to the fire, but unable to keep still any longer. "I am not finished. Though I do not believe the earlier incident played a part in this, I fear that my actions after I arrived back here may be quite another matter all together...."

While everyone else was watching the dark haired young man expectantly, Logan didn't miss the look of concern and trepidation that passed between Cecelia Reyes and Hank McCoy, and it raised the hackles on the back of Wolverine's neck. Instinct told him that he was not going to like what was coming.

"I think ya better explain what ya mean by that, Pete." he growled, turning his attention swiftly back to the younger man as his stomach tied itself in even more knots than it already had.

"Da." Peter replied simply, then began to relate the previous nights incident in the medlab.

Logan stared at his Russian team mate, eyes hard and unreadable as flint, as Peter slowly, painfully, relayed his actions from the night before, how he'd intended to use the Legacy cure on himself and how Kitty had found him and managed to talk him out of it. To his credit, he left nothing out, did not change or embellish even the smallest detail in order to save face.

When he was done, the room went completely still as this new, even more shocking, information was absorbed. Then, everyone erupted at once.

"Bright Lady preserve us. Oh, Peter... Little Brother, what would possess you to even consider such a thing?"

"Peter, Gott in Himmel. I am speechless...."

"Oh, man!"

"Oh, Sweet Jesus, Petey....What...Ah don't..."

Rogue was crying, so upset she was unable to complete a sentence and furiously dashing the tears from her face with one gloved hand as she sat, scowling, slumped down on the long, floral print couch, arms wrapped around herself almost defensively.

On the other side of the room, Kurt was nearly jumping out of his own fur with nervous energy, this new information only further convincing him that they were wasting their time on discussion. He wanted to go out and do something, though he had no idea what it would be. They had very little to go on. But he didn't feel right just sitting here. Not after what they'd just learned.

In the wing back chair near where Rogue sat, Ororo just looked stunned, shell shocked, as if she were caught in a dream she'd just discovered she couldn't wake up from.

Bishop and Sage, as usual, were harder to read, tending to keep their emotions to themselves and observe, rather than react, until they had all the information.

Neal looked slightly uncomfortable and Peter realized the young India native felt out of place. After all, he didn't know either he or Kitty all that well yet.

Bobby Drake was rendered nearly speechless, an event that had rarely, if ever, occurred before as he sat blinking at his Siberian team mate.

His team mates and friends each expressed their shock and dismay as Peter simply slumped back on the sofa and let their comments and exclamations bounce off of him. There was nothing they could say to him that he hadn't already said to himself over and over again. Nothing could make him feel worse than he already did.

In truth, he was beyond caring about himself. His only concern at the moment was Kitty and what might be happening, or have already happened, to her. His mind would let him think of nothing else.

Indeed, it supplied him with ideas and images far too vivid, far too real, for his taste.

He looked up just in time to see Logan, who hadn't spoken a word since Peter began his tale, push away from the wall where he'd been standing, listening to this whole drama unfold. The short, stocky man's face was hard as stone, his emotions heavily veiled, as he crossed the room.

Though most wouldn't have thought it possible for the relatively short Canadian, the feral mutant made it across the distance in three strides or less. Before anyone could react, Wolverine was in Peter's face, practically snarling, his eyes cold and deadly.

He was only restraining himself from popping his claws through sheer force of will as the rage rolled over him. Right this minute, he wanted nothing more than to poke a few holes in the man before him.

Considering the state of mind Kitty had been in lately, Rasputin might be the last thing on earth Kitty needed – for that matter, she might be the last thing Peter needed, if this mess was anything to go by - but she loved him. Always had. And it would've killed her if something had happened to the big idiot.

The boy should have known that, should have known better.

God, he didn't even want to think about how she must have felt, what must have been going through her mind when she realized what the idiot was about to do. Kit would rather die herself than loose another person in her life.

At the end of his tenuous patience and control, Logan's temper finally snapped.

"Of all th' fuckin' stupid stunts ta pull, Bub, this takes th' flamin' cake. What th' hell were ya thinkin'? Yer not stupid. Or, at least, I didn't think ya were. Ya had ta know what somethin' like that would do ta her. Or didn't ya care?"

The accusations stabbed him straight through the heart, but Peter seemed to take the verbal lashing with calm acceptance, only raising his head at the last question to look Logan in the eye. When dark blue met nearly black, however, even Logan was surprised to see a rage smoldering there that nearly matched his own.

Each man was upset, worried, and feeling frustratingly helpless. Logan had decided to take that frustration out on Peter, but the younger man was almost at the very end of his own tolerance.

In the last few hours, not only had he lost the only woman he'd ever really loved, but he was now dealing with the fact that the loss might be as permanent as death. And the only person he could really blame was himself.

"Of course, I care." Peter replied with quiet menace, fighting a loosing battle to hold himself in check. "Believe me, tovarisch, there is absolutely nothing you can say to me at this point that I have not already said to myself at least a dozen times. If there were any way for me to go back and change this, I would. I would sooner sacrifice my own life than allow anything to happen to Katya."

Logan snorted, putting all the derision and disgust he could into the sound. "Yeah, yeah. Same song, different tune. Ya never learn, do ya? Ya pull this kinda shit, then, after th' damage is done, after ya've screwed Kit over six ways ta Sunday, then yer all sorry and upset."

Eyes blazing, he grabbed the front of Peter's shirt, hauling him forward so they were nose to nose. "I've overlooked a lot with you over the years, Rasputin, ignored a lot o' shit I probably shouldn't 'ave. Fer Kit's sake, fer 'Ro's sake. Hell, fer yer sake, too. But you listen and you listen good, boy. If anything happens ta Kit because o' this, I'm holdin' you personally responsible. And I'll make damned sure ya never get th' chance ta do it again....You understand me?"

The Wolverine spoke with quiet menace, his lips peeled back in a snarl, practically daring Peter to make a move. Right now, he'd welcome the opportunity to kick some ass and let off a little steam. And if the ass in question happened to belong to Peter Rasputin, as far as Logan was concerned, that was all to the better.

The two men stared at one another, rage almost visibly crackling between them, the other occupants of the room seemingly frozen in place as they watched, horrified, at this new scene playing out in front of them

"Has everyone gone insane?" Storm mumbled quietly, unaware she'd spoken aloud. This was madness and she couldn't allow it to continue.

Peter never flinched, never dropped his eyes. Though his face was a glowing, beet red as he seethed inside, fighting the urge to pull back and punch the smaller man with all the considerable strength at his disposal, the large Russian refused to allow this to degenerate into a brawl if he could help it.

None of them were thinking clearly. They were all well beyond upset, and he couldn't possibly fault Logan for caring about Kitty and what happened to her. Any more than he could fault the man - who was, in all the ways that mattered, Kitty's father - for blaming him for the current situation.

On that particular point, the two men were in total agreement.

Carefully, Peter reached up with one hand and gently but firmly pried Logan's fingers off his shirt collar, never dropping his eyes from the other man. He might not want to fight right now, but the Canadian obviously did. In fact, he seemed to be spoiling for a fight. Peter was not going to start an altercation, but he would defend himself if necessary.

Thankfully, before things could escalate any farther, a soft voice drew Logan's attention as Ororo stepped to his side, placing her cool palm on his forearm.

"Logan....please. This solves nothing."

The feral X-Man whirled toward her, and growled a warning, before jerking his arm out of her grasp and turning, this time, on Hank McCoy and Cecelia Reyes, pinning them with the same hostile stare he'd so recently used on Peter Rasputin.

"An' another damn thing I want ta know," he bit out. "....why the hell didn't you two tell us all this last night? If ya had, I coulda tracked 'em down and we might not be in this flamin' mess right now."

When neither doctor answered, he took a step closer to where they both sat, his hands clenching instinctively into fists.

"Every one of ya" Logan's nearly black eyes scanned the room, scorching his friends with the heat of his anger. "know Kit well enough that ya oughta know how she'd react ta somethin' like this. I can't believe it never crossed yer minds this might happen." He spat the words out as he began pacing the room restlessly.

Ororo and Kurt shared a knowing look that said "this isn't going to be over anytime soon", before Ororo just shook her head in resignation and sat back down.

Logan had worked himself up into a near frenzy and she knew there'd be no talking to him just now. She only hoped the situation didn't degenerate any farther than it already had.

The last thing any of them needed, on top of everything else, was a brawl.

Perched on the wide window sill, the large, blue, Beast already looked about as guilty and dejected as a person possibly could, but Logan's rather blunt accusation had his shoulders slumping even further, as if all the air was slowly being let out of him, a little bit at a time.

With a tired sigh, Hank McCoy ran his hand through the thick, blue fur on his head. "At the time, we felt it would be best to try and talk with the two parties involved further, before bringing the rest of the team in on the incident." He turned his broad head, looking to Cecelia for confirmation and she nodded, managing to look both angry and near tears all at the same time. "We had no idea anything like this would happen. Not in a million years."

"After all, Logan," Though he tried, Peter couldn't resist speaking up again, despite the fact that he knew it would probably only make things worse. "it was our business. When, exactly, did Katya's and my personal relationship become team business?"

On the other side of the room, from his place on the love seat, Kurt groaned as Logan turned back toward Peter. The Elf was fervently wishing that his Russian friend would be quiet. If this kept up, Logan was going to completely lose it, and they had enough to deal with at the moment without dealing with Wolverine trying to tear the team, and the house, apart.

Peter and Logan were glaring at one another, clouds of steam practically shooting from Wolverine's ears, while tension, thick as molasses, hung about the room, along with an uncomfortable sensation of dread expectancy. Things were at the point of exploding and it would be very, very ugly.

Before that could happen, in the arm chair a few feet away, Bobby Drake leaned forward, taking his life in his hands and speaking into the tense silence as he looked between Logan, Peter, and Hank.

"Look, it wasn't really Hank and Cecelia's fault,....or Peter's,....or anybody's, really." Iceman stated reasonably. "We're all grown ups, not a bunch of little kids, and we can't baby-sit one another constantly. Just like Logan said, Kitty's a grown woman."

At least he had their attention, he thought wryly, as all heads in the room swiveled in his direction. Now, if he could just manage to keep them from killing him, or each other, he might actually have a chance to diffuse the situation before it became violent.

Bobby looked around the room, his gaze landing on each of his, sometime, team mates in turn, his expression surprisingly grave. Gone was Bobby Drake, prankster and practical joker. In his place was the more practical, serious personality of Robert Drake, businessman.

"And sitting around asking the same questions a dozen times over, or throwing blame back and forth, isn't getting us anywhere." He looked pointedly at Ororo, Logan, and Peter, whose reactions varied from outright hostility to reluctant agreement. "So, let's come up with some kind of plan of action, before we waste any more time. Whose fault it is isn't what's important. Kitty's what's important and all this isn't helping us find her."

Bobby's unexpected insight and intervention seemed to have the desired effect of catching everyone off guard and dispelling some of the tension in the room as attention was redirected to him. After the assembled group was finished gaping at Iceman as if he'd suddenly grown two heads – having the Robert Drake, resident practical joker, be the sole voice of reason in the room was more than a little disconcerting for most of them - Kurt recovered from the shock enough to add his own opinion.

"Ja. Of course, Bobby is correct. Peter and Kitty are both adults, capable of making their own decisions and handling their own relationships and problems. It isn't like all of us have been in a similar frame of mind at one time or another." Around the room, heads bobbed in agreement, more than a few sporting rather wry expressions. "And we need to concentrate on the problem at hand instead of constantly becoming sidetracked."

Being reminded of his own earlier words about Kitty being an adult, who didn't have to ask their permission to live her life, had the desired effect of bringing Logan back to his senses, at least mostly. With a slightly less hostile snort, he stalked back to his previous place in the room, leaning back against the far wall, though his face still sported a deep scowl and his eyes burned with impotent anger, barely held in check.

"So...what do we do now?" Neal spoke into the silence that had descended upon the room as the conversation seemed to stall. They'd covered all the ground they could, it seemed, over and over again, and still knew, basically, no more than they had when they'd begun. "Do we look for her? Let her go?"

He looked around the room at all the faces, most of which were just as confused, just as much at a loss, as he was. It was Kurt who finally answered him.

"Frankly, I believe, considering her recent behavior and state of mind, we have try to find her. As soon as possible. And the more time we waste, sitting here and talking in circles, the less likely that our efforts will be met with success."

His last statement was said with glowing, golden eyes casting pointed looks around the room. The German mutant was becoming increasingly impatient with, what he perceived as, the continued delay in getting out of here and starting the search. He didn't see what good sitting here and talking it all to death was going to do, other than create more problems. He wanted to get out and start looking for Kitty.

"I cannot begin to contemplate what her plans might be for the vial of Legacy cure that she, apparently, took with her. Nor do I particularly want to. But I could not live with myself if something were to happen to her while we did nothing."

The problem there was, they had no idea where to start. In the notes she'd left, Kitty had given them no idea where she was going, other than the address to the parking garage where she'd told Logan he could pick up her bike. In fact, she had as much as told them she had no intention of allowing them to find her.

. "Where would we even start, Kurt?" Rogue asked dejectedly, frustration rolling off her in waves as she looked at her foster brother. "We don't have no idea what her plans are, where she's headed, nothin'." She lifted her hands into the air helplessly, then let them drop back into her lap. "An' Ah know Kit well enough to know that, if she don't wanna be found, we ain't gonna find her. Not with no more to go on than what we got now."

"Which is precisely nothing." Bishop spoke up from his place, standing next to Tessa, who sat on the love seat, next to Kurt. They'd both been listening, up to this point, gathering information and doing what they did best. Analyzing the situation from all angles and trying to decide the best way to approach it. "Other than the fact that Logan saw her turn left out of the front gate this morning, we have no idea where she went or what her plans are. As Rogue just said, if she doesn't want to be found, we'll have a hell of a time tracking her down."

"You can't be serious!" Cecelia had been listening, trying to hold her tongue, but she was finding this whole thing completely unbelievable. She jumped up, gesturing broadly with her arms. "I can't believe we're not already out there looking for her. We've got an admittedly troubled girl walking around with a sample if the Legacy cure! A sample that is, without question, deadly. There's no way I'm sitting here and just letting it go. You know what the outcome will be if she uses it on herself. Or, worse yet, someone else."

"Yes, Dr. Reyes." Peter's head came around, pinning Cecelia Reyes with a look so full of hostility that it made her blanch. "We all are very well aware of what the outcome would be. How could we possibly be otherwise?"

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After dropping her motorcycle at the long term parking garage, where she knew Logan would pick it up eventually, Kitty took a few minutes to give some thought to her next move.

She could take a bus or a train part of the way, or catch a flight to where she needed to go, but she didn't want to do it anywhere close to New York or Westchester. She couldn't take a chance on any of them, especially Peter, following her. It was too dangerous.

Things were getting progressively worse, at an alarming rate.

Ever since she'd left the hospital, and Raven...oh, God, she didn't want to think about Raven...the Soulsword had been calling to her. It refused to leave her alone now, and she knew her time was running out very fast. Whatever she had left to do, it would have to be done soon. Or it would never be done at all.

You have nothing to fear from me. The bond has been forged. Call to me. Take me up.

No! Not yet. You'll have me soon enough, but I won't give in before this is done.

It was in her head again, louder, stronger, than ever. The call was nearly irresistible, now, though Kitty didn't understand why things had suddenly changed so. As if, overnight, the swords claim on her, it's power over her, had increased at least ten-fold. As if she was now even more tightly bound to it.

Kitty had never felt so lost, so totally and completely alone, in her entire life.

The call of the Soulsword was almost as irresistible as her urge to run back to Peter, to throw herself into his arms and never leave. She missed him and she needed him now as never before. But she refused to allow herself to dwell on it. If she allowed herself to feel anything, allowed even the tiniest bit of emotion to seep out of that box she'd shoved it all into, the pain of leaving him, of losing him would destroy her, more surely than the sword ever could.

Trying to shake the thought from her head, Kitty dropped down onto a nearby bench to gather her wits, to try and get her head together.

Had it only been last night that she was with him, that they were together? Right now, the time, the love, they'd shared seemed like an eternity ago. Like a barely remembered dream. Kitty wanted nothing more than to return to him right now, but she knew she couldn't.

She couldn't go home, couldn't go to Peter, ever again. It wasn't even lunch time yet, and her whole world already lay crumbled at her feet. And she had no idea how to pick up the pieces.

They would come looking for her. She already knew that. At least, Logan would. Probably Ororo and Kurt, too. Maybe even Peter, despite what she'd asked him to do. They wouldn't just let her disappear, especially with a sample of the Legacy cure, though it was far too late for them to do anything about that particular little problem. It had already been solved, in a way that she had never expected.

Kitty wondered if they'd heard yet. Had they gotten the call from the prison hospital, telling them that Mystique was gone?

Again, it crossed her mind to wonder how Kurt and Rogue would react to the news, and she hoped that they would understand why Raven had done what she had, that they would know, deep down, the real, honest, caring woman that had hidden inside that hard, aloof, uncaring exterior for so many years.

In her heart, Raven Darkholme had cared much more deeply than she'd ever let be known. Kitty thought it was a terrible waste that the only person who'd ever really known Mystique for who she really was inside was Irene Adler. Especially when she had a son and a foster daughter who would have gladly remained part of her life.

If Raven had only given him the chance, talked to him, Kurt would have forgiven her anything, given a little time. The man couldn't hold a grudge, against anyone, even if he wanted to. He would have accepted her as his family, as his mother, with open arms. It was just the way he was.

And Rogue would have been the same. No matter what Mystique may have done, to her, to her friends, she was still the woman who had raised her, who had been the only mother she had ever known, and the young southern woman would have eventually forgiven her.

But now, neither of them would have that chance. And the worst of it was, when it was all finally said and done, when this whole mess was over, it may all have very well been for nothing.

Kitty wondered, not for the first time in the last couple of hours, if Raven had really done her any favors but keeping her from using the Legacy cure on herself. With the Soulsword's influence growing so swiftly, taxing her already waning willpower to the breaking point, the young mutant ninja couldn't help but speculate that perhaps she'd have been better off sacrificing herself to the Legacy cure than living with what might lie in store for her, once she could no longer resist the sword's call.

Either way, she was fairly certain she was damned just the same.

"Miss? Are you all right?"

The cultured, softly accented voice, coming from directly in front of her, abruptly jerked Kitty out of her reverie. She lifted her face to find a man standing only a foot or so in away, apparently watching her.

With the sun behind him, but shining into her face, it took her eyes a few seconds to adjust so that she could make out his features. For just a moment, he was only a silhouette, surrounded by a corona of light. A tall, broad, figure, clothed in the sun. It should have been an almost angelic illusion, but, for some reason, Kitty found it oddly disturbing.

What she saw, when her pupils adjusted to the light, was a very tall, striking man, with long, dark hair left loose about his shoulders, dark eyes fringed by thick, black lashes, classically handsome features and a sturdy muscular build. He wore a full length, tan, leather duster over a simple, but expensively cut, dark suit, and he stood perfectly, completely, still as he waited for her response, staring down at her in concern.

God, I must really be slipping. I had no idea he was anywhere around. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he just appeared out of thin air.

Mentally chiding herself for allowing someone to catch her off guard like that, though she told herself that the man hadn't been trying to sneak up on her, Kitty put on her most polite, hopefully normal-looking, smile for his benefit.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just daydreaming, I guess."

The man nodded, still watching her closely, as if he might not quite believe her. "You appeared very dejected. I thought perhaps you were having difficulties and were in need of assistance."

It took her a moment, but Kitty finally placed the accent. Spanish, possibly Portuguese. obviously cultured, upper class. His bearing, dress, his whole demeanor, was completely non-threatening. He appeared to be a nice looking, kindly, man. But he was beginning to give Kitty the creeps, for reasons she couldn't begin to name.

Suddenly nervous, she stood, forcing him to take a step back from her to keep them from colliding, and kept the smile plastered on her face, instinct telling her to reveal nothing of her feelings or apprehension to this unknown man.

"Oh, no. Just the normal, everyday problems every girl has." She shrugged negligently, playing the whole thing off. The longer she was close to him, the stronger the urge became to get away as quickly as possible. And Kitty had learned long ago to trust her own instincts. If they were telling her the guy was trouble, then he probably was. "Trouble at home, fight with my boyfriend. You know...just minor stuff."

Kitty put all the guileless innocence into the statement that she could muster, even as her keen eyes watched the man carefully, trying to decide if he was truly a threat, or if she was simply over reacting. He had made no overt move toward her and his face still retained that look of harmless, sincere, concern. Indeed, he gave every appearance of being simply what he claimed. A good Samaritan.

So, why were the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end all of a sudden?

You must get away from him. Now.

It was only her years and years of training that kept the surprise from showing on her face as the voice of the Soulsword leapt into her mind, sounding almost frantic. Despite her own dislike for the mystical object, Kitty couldn't help but agree as she saw the man's black eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, his gaze sharpen slightly. Almost as if he'd heard the sword as well.

But that was impossible.

The strange man watched her for a moment longer, his dark gaze seeming to try and reach inside her, see into her very soul, uncover what was hidden there. Or like a telepath, trying to quietly pry into her mind.

Instinctively, Kitty threw up every mental shield she had, even though she knew full well that she was nearly impossible for a telepath to read, even without them. Something told her that this was no ordinary man. Nor, she didn't believe, was he a mutant. Here was something else entirely.

Then, suddenly, he broke eye contact, bowed formally, and stepped back a few paces from her. "Of course. I hope I did not trouble you too much, my dear. But, it is....unsafe for a young woman such as yourself to linger alone too long...." His voice trailed off and, though his tone, his demeanor, never veered from polite concern, his words chilled her, seeming to hold a quiet, undercurrent of menace.

It was totally unlike Kitty not to hold her ground, stand and fight whatever threat might materialize, but something told her she didn't want to fight this man. Not here. Not yet.

Quickly picking up her two duffle bags from beside the bench, Kitty slung them over her shoulder and began to back away from him, a little at a time. For some reason, she was very reluctant to turn her back on this stranger.

"Oh. Sure. You're right. I'd better get home, now. Wouldn't want the folks to worry."

As the man simply smiled, nodding slightly in acknowledgment, Kitty backed away several more paces, until she was sure she was well out of his reach. Turning reluctantly, she hurriedly made her way farther down the street, fighting the urge to glance behind her to see if he were following. She could feel his eyes boring into her back until she was out of his line of sight and it made her flesh crawl.

Once she was reasonably sure he could no longer see her, she phased into the ground and got as far away from him as she could, as quickly as she knew how to.

Behind her, the tall man stood motionless, his eyes never leaving the slight, retreating figure.

Finally, he had found the girl. Only she was no longer a girl, but a woman grown. Despite her efforts to make him believe otherwise.

And the sword followed with her.

Within her grasp was power beyond imagining. Yet she had not claimed it. She had spurned not only the sword, but the Champion as well. Though, apparently, not before the bond between them had been forged and sealed. That alone proved her a fool.

And, in the end, her fear of the sword would prove her undoing. As it had done with those that came before her. Only one of them had ever been able to truly accept the power, but one was not enough.

This one was the last. Once she was gone, the sword, and all it's attendant power - the scope and extent of which neither she, nor anyone else in well over nine thousand years, had ever grasped – would be his.

Now that he had finally located her, she could not hide. There was nowhere she could travel that he could not find her.

With the others safely disposed of, out of her reach, there would be no one to stop him from taking what was rightfully his. This time, he would succeed. The plans he had laid and set in motion so long ago would finally bear fruit.

He would have the sword. He would have the amulet. Then, the rest would fall in line.

***********************************************************************************************************************

"Logan, couldn't you track her?" Bobby Drake turned to the feral mutant expectantly. "I mean, if anybody's got a chance of finding her, it'd be you."

"I can sure as hell try." With a sigh, Logan shrugged "But, if she don't wanna be found, she won't be."

Lifting his hands in a gesture of complete helplessness, Kurt Wagner gave in to his mounting frustration. "Gott in Himmel. How are we to even begin to look for her? We have absolutely no idea where to start. She could be anywhere."

"Or...she could just be dead." Rogue's voice was a miserable whisper as she again swiped angrily at the tears that continued to flow down her face. Staring around the room at the horrified faces, she snorted derisively. "Oh, come on. Don't ya try to sit there and tell me y'all haven't been thinkin' the same thing. Just nobody wanted ta be the one ta actually say it out loud."

"No!" Ororo turned suddenly, screaming at the younger woman, her face a mask of fear and impotent rage. "I will not believe that! Kitty would not seriously contemplate such a thing!"

Rogue just gaped at her, mouth hanging open. "'Roro, haven't you been listenin' to anything Hank or Cecelia or Peter said?" She pointed in the direction of the X-Men's two resident physicians, her voice steadily rising higher and higher. "As upset as Kit's been...and after everything that's happened lately...do ya seriously think it wouldn'ta crossed her mind?"

Before Ororo could recover enough to reply, Peter spoke up, his voice tired, grief stricken, and resigned. "Ororo, much as I do not want to admit the possibility to myself, Rogue is correct." He paused, taking a deep breath, trying to steady himself, to keep calm, but it did no good. Giving in, he dropped his head into his large hands, unable to continue.

Seeing his distress, Rogue laid one gloved hand on his arm for support and comfort as they exchanged a weary, heartsick look. The southern mutant felt just as guilty as Peter did for not seeing this coming, for not doing something to prevent it. What kind of friend was she if she couldn't tell when one of the people closest to her was in this kind of pain?

Without another word needed, Peter draped his arm around Rogue as she leaned into his embrace, laying her head against his shoulder as his cheek rested against her hair.

It was closer physical contact than she might have normally felt comfortable with, but right now they both needed someone to lean on more than safety.

Silently, Rogue vowed to call Remy at the first opportunity. He might not be able to help, but she knew he'd try. And with his contacts, who knew what he might come up with. Maybe he would have some ideas on this.

"But surely Kitty...she wouldn't..." Storm began to protest, though her tone held much less conviction than it had perviously. Then her voice just trailed off as she slumped in her chair, shaking her head in denial, tears slipping silently down her smooth cheeks, even as she acknowledged the truth of the situation. "No. There is no point in lying to myself. I simply do not want to believe what I already know to be true. Whether we wish to or not, we must accept the possibility that Kitty took the serum with the intent of using it upon herself. We must accept that, no matter what we do now, we may already be too late."

Ororo's quiet assertion hung in the air, much like the sword of Damocles, just waiting to drop down on their heads. They'd all been so wrapped up in their own plans, their own problems, that it had blinded them to one another's hardships.

What had happened, the weather mutant wondered, to the X-Men they used to be, the ones who looked out for one another, that noticed when their friends were hurting and tried to help them through it? What had happened to the X-Men who had been as much a family as a team?

Looking at it all now, it was as if they had all been completely blind to what was going on right in front of them. They should have, every one of them, realized what was coming, but they'd been walking around with blinders on, seeing just their little section of the world. And it wasn't only this time, with Kitty. It had happened before, more often than she wanted to admit.

Only Logan had even come close to grasping the extent of Kitty's problems. He'd tried to tell her, and she'd refused to listen, too caught up in her new, personal crusade to pay more than passing attention to anyone else's problems or needs. Even Kitty's.

Just the thought of Kitty, or Peter, or – Goddess help them all – both of them, using that sample on themselves made her blood run ice cold. And her heart nearly froze in her chest.

And, if Kitty wasn't planning to use it on herself,.....well that thought would be almost as horrifying.

The worst of it was, whatever use it had been intended for, they were probably too late to stop it. More than likely, it already over and done, before the rest of them had even realized anything was wrong.

"What makes any of ya think Kit took that sample ta use on herself?" Logan threw the question out into the middle of the group, watching as understanding, followed by something like stunned horror, flickered across the assembled faces.

Unlike some of the others, he didn't believe Kitty had any intention of injecting herself with the Legacy cure. If she'd wanted to do that, she could just as easily have done it here. And if she was gonna kill herself, he didn't think she would have packed for her trip into the afterlife. No. Kit had taken that sample with a specific target in mind. He just wished he could get his brain to come up with an idea who it might have been.

"I agree." As always, Tessa was perfectly calm, appearing impassive as ever as she spoke for the first time since this impromptu meeting had begun. "It makes absolutely no logical sense for her to take the sample, pack her belongings, and leave if her intention was to simply use it to kill herself and release the antidote. And do you truly believe that, whatever she was planning to do with the sample, it has not already been done?"

"Which brings us back to the original question, I believe." Bishop looked to Logan and Ororo. "What do we do now?"

"Now," Logan began, pushing off from the wall and leveling his gaze at Kurt. "we get out asses in gear, quit yappin', and start lookin'. You up for a little travelin', Elf?"

As Kurt opened his mouth to reply, at the same time moving to stand up, a soft, hesitant voice rang out from the corner of the room.

"Wait."

As one, all eyes turned toward Elisabeth Braddock as she sat, head down, tears streaming down her cheeks, long hanging around her face in a violet curtain. Neal was hunched down beside her, trying to comfort her and looking completely out of his depth.

"You still don't know everything. None of you do."

"Elisabeth, please," Peter was the first one to speak as he turned toward the British X-Woman. "If you know something that may help us, help Kitty, we need to know. I do not mind admitting that I am sick with fear at what may be happening to her...what may have already happened..."

Dropping her head into her slender, elegant hands, Psylocke sniffled miserably. "I feel like a bloody idiot."

Logan turned to her then, his smile wry and thin, but at least it was a smile. "Well, join th' crowd, Darlin'. Seems like it's a general theme this mornin'. Don't let that stop ya." Taking a good, long look at the former telepath, however, his eyes narrowed, expression immediately sobering. "Now, what's up, Betts?"

Now that she had everyone's full attention, Betsy Braddock took a deep breath, opened her mouth...and was promptly interrupted by the rapid fire ringing of the front doorbell.

"Of all th' flamin', idiotic times..." Logan growled from between clenched teeth, turning toward the noise.

The assembled mutants automatically turned as well, shooting irritated glances in the direction of the loud, chiming music and debating on whether to answer it, or ignore it and hope whatever ill-timed visitor had arrived would depart just as quickly.

Before any of them could rise, Bobby stood from his chair, rolling his eyes, shaking his head in disgust, and calling out a sarcastic, "I'll get it. It's probably Magneto coming by for tea," as well as a few other muttered imprecations under his breath - mutterings that no one else in the room caught, and Logan wasn't about to repeat - as he headed for the front entryway.

Whoever was out there was still leaning on the doorbell with all their might, and it was a bit distracting, to say the least, as the electronic notes of the Für Elise continued to ring through the complex almost non-stop.

When it finally ceased, everyone in the room breathed a collective sigh of relief and automatically turned back to Betsy expectantly.

"Please continue, Elisabeth." Kurt encouraged. "You had something you wished to tell us?"

"Oh, God. I don't even know where to begin." she moaned, coming very near another bout of tears. She couldn't believe she'd let Kitty talk her into keeping this a secret. It had been against her better judgment, but the younger woman had been adamant, almost panicked, and she hadn't been able to refuse her request.

But it had been a huge mistake.

If she'd told someone to begin with, maybe all this wouldn't be happening now. Maybe Kitty wouldn't be missing. Maybe they wouldn't all be sitting here sniping at one another. Maybe that damned Legacy cure wouldn't be walking around out in the world. Or, worse, have already done it's damage.

"Just start at the beginning, Betsy." Neal replied softly, taking her hand. "Whatever it is, I doubt it can possibly be worse than what we've already heard. And, who knows, maybe it'll be something that'll really help in all this."

Raising her violet eyes, Betsy gave him a look of infinite sadness and defeat. "Oh, Neal, luv. You have no idea what you're saying. You haven't been doing this long enough to know that things can always, and usually do, get worse..."

Almost as if he'd been cued, Bobby Drake re-appeared in the doorway, pale, shaken, and not a little nervous, as he stammered hesitantly.

"Uh...guys....we've got a visitor..."

With an exasperated sigh, Storm turned in her seat, shooting him a quelling glare. Irritated, upset, and tired as she was, she missed the uncharacteristically subdued look of him. "Oh, for Heaven's sake, Robert! Can it not wait? Surely this is more important...."

"I don't think so, Ororo." The elemental mutant shook his head, stepping back out of the doorway. "You guys really need to hear this."

As all eyes locked on the hall doorway, a cloaked figure stepped into the room, stopping just inside the threshold, face and body concealed by the large, enveloping garment he or she wore. Covered from head to toe as the person was, it was impossible to discern even gender.

While everyone else watched curiously, if a little suspiciously, Kurt Wagner went very still, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he tried to discern why this unexpected arrival, the way they moved, seemed so familiar to him.

Not far away, Wolverine, who'd come to immediate alert as soon as the mysterious visitor had enter the room, managed to catch their guests scent. If anyone had been paying attention to him, they would have been surprised, to say the least, to see him relax back against the wall, crossing his arms casually over his chest, apparently perfectly at east with the presence of their mystery guest.

When the visitor reached up, however, pushing back the broad, black hood that covered her face, revealing classically lovely features, big, clear, blue eyes, and a long fall of wavy, strawberry blonde hair, there was more than one person in the room who recognized her immediately. Though it was doubtful anyone was more surprised to see her than Nightcrawler.

"Amanda?!" Kurt's golden eyes went wide as he stared at the woman who was both his foster sister and long time love. "Not that I'm not thrilled to see you, Liebschen, but....What are you doing here?"

Amanda Sefton, aka Daytripper - or, more recently, Magik, keeper of the Soulsword - spared a brief, somewhat tight, smile for her former lover. Glad as she was to see Kurt, regardless of any problems remaining between them, the business that brought her here was not pleasant and there really wasn't any time to waste on small talk.

"Hello, Kurt." Briefly, her eyes roamed the room as she nodded to the assembled team of mutants. "Everyone. I'm sure you're all wondering what I'm doing here, so let me get straight to the point. We have a problem. I need to see Kitty. As soon as possible."

"Then we all got th' same problem, 'Manda." Logan spoke up, catching the sorceress's gaze across the room. "Seems Kits disappeared."

All the strength seemed to drain out of Amanda's body as she brought a hand up to rake through her long, reddish gold, locks. "Oh, God. That's what I was afraid of. Do you have any idea where she is? We've got to find her. And we've got to do it now."

From her left, Peter stood, coming to stand beside her, laying his large hand on her arm. "Amanda, what is it? What has happened?" There was a cold, hard ball of dread certainty lodged in his throat. He hadn't thought he could be any more frightened for Kitty, but he'd just been proven wrong.

If Amanda was here, seeking Kitty, due to some sort of problem, there was only one thing it could be. The big Russian prayed to God that he was wrong. There were, indeed, some things that could befall Kitty that were far worse than the Legacy cure.

Amanda turned to him then, her face pale, electric blue eyes clouded with worry, and Peter knew the answer, knew what had been bothering Kitty all these months. He instantly knew why she'd left, why she hadn't wanted anyone to know about it, and why she hadn't been willing to make him any promises.

One cannot make promises on a future that may not exist for them.

The sorceress and reluctant Queen of Limbo laid her slim, cool hand over his, and nodded, confirming the question she saw in his eyes, her own brimming with tears. "I'm sorry, Peter. I don't know what happened. I don't know how it happened. It shouldn't have been possible."

The big man simply closed his eyes, nodding, as he dropped his hand from her arm. Slowly, her returned to his seat on the couch, refusing to speak again, despite Ororo's and Rogue's gentle, persistent, inquiries.

Around the room, several of the newer X-Men watched the incomprehensible scene, looking lost and confused, wondering if they'd missed part of the conversation somehow. For others, however, those that had been around for a while, their faces slowly transformed, staring toward Amanda in shock or disbelief, as understanding dawned. Many of them had been to Limbo, or had been acquainted with Illyana Rasputin, as well as the Soulsword. And they knew what this visit meant.

"Would someone mind telling the new guy what the hell is going on?" Neal demanded, completely confused by the exchange he'd just witnessed. It seemed the longer he stayed, the weirder this place, and this group, became. Obviously, several of the X-Men knew this woman, but he had no idea who she was, or what her connection might be to Kitty. Or Kurt. Or Peter, for that matter. And why did some of the team suddenly look like they'd been hit over the head with a bat?

Amanda turned to him then, and he was surprised at the keen, quick, intelligence shining in those bright blue eyes, as well as the unmistakable feeling of power rolling off the woman in waves. Who the hell was this person?

"Excuse me." Taking a few steps closer, she stopped in front of Neal Shaara, looking him over. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Amanda Sefton."

She held out her hand to him and he took it automatically. "Neal. Neal Shaara."

"Well, Neal, since you ask so nicely, I'll tell you what's going on. And it may very well involve hell, if we don't get it sorted out. And very quickly." With that somewhat menacing comment, she turned, addressing the room. "Last night, completely out of the blue, the Soulsword disappeared from Limbo. I've been trying to call it back, but it won't respond. Then, I tried to find Kitty by scrying for her. It didn't work. I can't locate her at all. Which can only mean she has the sword and it's shielding her..."

"Which is what I was just trying to tell everyone." Betsy interjected softly, miserably. "Kitty told me a while back, while we were both in the medlab after that incident in the Danger Room, that the sword had been coming to her, calling her, for quite some time now. That it wanted her to reclaim it." She looked up at the people gathered around her, her face a picture of misery and guilt. "She said it would take her eventually, whether she wanted it to or not. Maybe....maybe it finally did."

"If that's true," Peter spoke up grimly into the silent, stunned room. "then anything else we do will be pointless. Katya is already lost to us."

Without further preamble, the tall Russian stood and left the room.

***********************************************************************************************************************

Sitting on her bed, in the room which had been her bedroom for the last five years, the lovely young woman stared at the bookcase against the far wall, torn by indecision.

She knew it was there. Waiting. Just as it had been waiting since the day they'd come here, to this place, over seven years ago. Waiting for this day, this time. Waiting to return.

And, now, the time had come. Or, very nearly, anyway. Soon, they would leave this place which had become her home.

Something had happened, last night or early this morning, that had set things in motion, though she didn't know if the event had been for good or ill. But, regardless, the last act would soon play out.

Funny. She'd thought she'd be more excited, more anxious, to return to the place where she truly belonged. To the people she had known, the family she'd left behind. But now, she found it wasn't quite that simple.

What would she tell them? How would she possibly explain the circumstances that had lead to her coming here, while someone else took her place there? Would they even believe her?

After all, they would have no reason to. She'd seen to that, had arranged things in such a way that they really wouldn't be questioned. It had been necessary at the time and it had been the best option open to her.

Now, however, it was going to present some considerable problems.

Things would have changed there, just as they had here, just as they had for her. Everyone would be older, their lives would be different. The world would be different, for better or for worse. She prayed it was for the better.

Her thoughts turned to her friends, to one friend in particular, and she wondered how that young woman might have changed. They were the same age, both in their early twenties, now. Had she married? Started a family perhaps? If so, she wondered with whom and if she was happy.

She wondered how much recent and coming events might be disrupting the life she had now. Her heart twisted as she thought of what her friend might be going through and she wished, for the millionth upon millionth time, that she could have at least been allowed to get her a message, to tell her the truth she had learned of the situation, of how wrong they'd all been about everything.

As she'd learned over her time here, during her studies of the book and the knowledge it contained, nothing had been as they'd believed it to be. It had all been a carefully constructed web of lies to keep them all apart, to make them distrust the very things that they needed to accept.

But she hadn't been able to tell her that. The book had made it very plain that her friend would have to figure it all out for herself, the hard way, just as she had. She wouldn't accept the knowledge any other way. And, if she didn't accept her destiny, if they all didn't accept their destiny, then it was over before it had even begun.

There was a battle coming, the last in a war that had lasted millennia. A war that they couldn't afford to lose.

The young woman realized she was afraid. Afraid of going back, of facing the legacy she'd left behind. Afraid that they might turn her away after all this time, that they might not be able to accept her. Afraid of facing the Destiny that awaited them all. Afraid of succeeding, but even more afraid that they would fail. Afraid as she hadn't been since she was six years old.

But she couldn't indulge that fear. Not now. The time for fear was long past. It was time to accept what fate had in store for her and hope that the others could do the same. They were the Warriors, the last of the line. Failure was not an option for them.

Standing, she walked toward the bookcase and stood, staring down at it, the late morning sun streaming through the window catching the pale highlights in her wavy blonde hair, causing them to glint like slim threads of silver woven through the gold.

Midnight blue eyes, rimmed by impossibly long, black lashes, automatically came to rest on the volume she sought and she knelt down, reaching out one slim, delicate hand to snag it from the shelf.

Taking it to the small desk in the corner, she sat, as she had so many times before and opened the tome to the first page.

The words and images were not new to her. She'd read them over many times in the years since she'd come here, but it wouldn't hurt to refresh her knowledge. She would need every advantage she could gain in preparation for what was to come.

She gazed down at the images and the words on the opening page, familiar to her as her own name.

A bird of fire. A glowing silver sword. A book, bound in leather, it's title written in Latin.

The very book that she now held in her hands.

And beneath the images was written, in a language that she'd never seen before, but could read none-the-less:

There is Power. There is Justice. There is Knowledge. And the Keeper holds the Key.

To the one who is worthy to open and read of the book of the knowledge of the ages,

Remember, therefore, from whence thou art fallen,

For, behold, I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it.

***********************************************************************************************************************

Folding the last of his clothes, Peter placed them into the second of two suitcases sitting on his bed, laying them as flat as possible and leaving just enough room for the last thing he would take with him.

Going to the small desk that had been in his room since he'd first come to the X-Men, he opened the bottom left-hand drawer and took out a long, padded, manilla envelope. Taking it with him, he returned to his bed, sat down, and opened the large hatbox of pictures that Kitty had left.

Carefully, he removed the pictures and placed them, one by one, into the envelope, taking a moment to examine each in turn. Most he recognized easily, pictures of Doug Ramsey, his sister Illyana – as both child and teenager - Moira, Scott, Lockheed, Joseph, Pete Wisdom, and the list went on and on. A few, however, were unknown to him, but he put them all into the envelope with equal care.

So very many. Why had he never truly realized how very many people Kitty had lost in her life? Perhaps, if he had, he would have put more consideration into his admittedly ill-considered idea to spread the Legacy cure by injecting himself. Perhaps he would have spared her at least that pain.

His only consolation, at the moment, was that they had managed to reconcile at the last, that they had managed to steal those few, precious hours together, before this final parting. And he had no doubt, with the information that Amanda had brought to them, that it was final. If the Soulsword had come to her again, Kitty would not stay and risk endangering those closest to her. Just as Illyana had struggled to do, she would struggle to protect them, even at the cost of her own soul.

In that way, as well as many others, the two had been much alike. It was probably why they had become such close friends. Both Katya and Illyana were warriors at heart, willing to fight until the very end, willing to die a thousand times over to protect those they loved, even those they didn't know.

How ironic that they should both succumb to the same fate in the end.

Yes, the Legacy virus was what had actually killed his sister, but Limbo, Belasco, and the Soulsword were what had destroyed her. Had it not been for the Soulsword, Illyana would never have become the Darkchylde, would never have had to sacrifice herself to stop the Inferno. And, perhaps, would never have contracted the Legacy virus. Had it not been for the Soulsword, he and Kitty might, even now, be planning a life together, a future.

Instead, he was left with nothing but memories, old photographs, and the ashes of his hopes and dreams.

A soft knock at his door interrupted his reflections, and he turned to find Amanda and Betsy standing there in the hallway, just outside his room.

"May we come in, Peter?" Amanda asked, with a somewhat hesitant smile. She had failed this young man, and Kitty as well, in the worst way she could imagine, though she was still at a loss to explain exactly what had gone wrong. She didn't have any right to expect that he would want to talk to her at all, but here were some questions she needed answers to and she was hoping he might still be willing to help her.

After all, they had been friends for many years. The beautiful sorceress was hoping that might yet count for something.

"If you wish." he replied with a nod as he continued to remove pictures from the box beside him and transfer them to the envelope.

Stepping inside, Betsy Braddock stopped short, taking in the empty closet, the packed suitcases and looked at her team mate in stunned surprise. "Peter, are you leaving?"

"Da, Elisabeth. It is time for me to go, move on with my life." He said it as if it were the most reasonable, most obvious, thing in the world, but the two women turned to one another in shock. When had this happened?

Moving to the bed, Amanda shoved one the suitcases aside so that she could sit down next to the big Russian. Turning to him, she reached out, taking the picture he was holding and laying it aside so that she could take his hand in hers.

"Mind telling me what brought this on, Peter? If you're going to look for Kitty..."

But Peter didn't give her a chance to finish. "Nyet. She asked me not to follow her, and I will respect her wishes. Besides, I am sure Logan, Kurt, and Ororo will look hard enough for all of us. There are other things I must do."

Though he was talking to her, at least, his face remained impassive and Amanda knew he was closing himself off, shutting everything out so that he didn't have to think about the current situation. She'd seen him do it before and found it very frustrating. It was very difficult to deal with him, to get through to him, when he was this way. It was almost like talking to an animated, stone statue.

She remembered Kitty once saying that, when Peter was threatened emotionally by something he wouldn't, or couldn't, deal with, that he retreated behind a wall of cold, Russian stoicism, just as he would retreat behind his armored skin when threatened physically.

"She was right." Amanda mumbled to herself. "You are still really, really Russian."

He turned back to her then, his head tilted as he gave her a startled look. "What did you say?"

Patting his arm, Amanda gave him a humorless smile. "I was just remembering something Kitty told me once. About you. She said you were very Russian when you wanted to be. That you could throw up a wall around yourself and your emotions that was as solid as your organic metal armor. I think she was right."

Both women saw the bright flicker of pain flash in his eyes, just before he closed them and dropped his head, speaking so softly that even Amanda, sitting right next to him, barely heard what he said.

"Da. She said much the same to me. I believe it was only last night, though it seems like a lifetime ago."

"Oh, Peter. I'm sorry." One delicate hand went to her mouth as she realized she'd probably said the very worst thing she possibly could have. She hadn't meant to hurt him anymore than he already was. ""But...oh, God. I don't know what to say. She's my friend, too. I've known her since she was nothing but a skinny, bright eyed little kid, who talked a mile a minute and thought being an X-Man was the only thing in life worth doing." Her breath caught, hitched, and the normally composed Amanda Sefton burst into tears. "I love her, too, Peter and I feel as if I've failed her as miserably as humanly possible. And there's nothing I can do, no way I can make it right."

"No, Amanda," Betsy came to her, laying a hand on Amanda's shoulder as her own eyes again filled with tears, looking more and more miserable by the minute. "This is all my fault. I should never have promised Kitty I wouldn't say anything about the Soulsword. If I'd only spoken up...."

Peter cut her off then, putting one arm around Amanda and holding his hand out to the former telepath. "Elisabeth, come here." She took it and he pulled her to sit on his other side, wrapping his arm around her as well as he looked from one woman to the other.

If he'd ever thought he was the only one concerned for Kitty and upset by present circumstances, this current situation would have laid those thoughts to rest. But, Peter had never imagined that he was the only person in the world who cared for her, who worried about her. Just as Amanda and Betsy were upset by all this, so were Ororo, Rogue, Logan, Kurt, and even Bobby.

How could it possibly be otherwise? Kitty was a such an easy person to love.

"Elisabeth, this is not your fault. Nor is it yours, Amanda. For reasons we may never know, the Soulsword is as bonded to Kitty was it was to Illyana. That it would eventually return to her was inevitable."

"But, that's just the thing." Amanda broke in, her voice muffled against his chest, frustration ringing in her clear voice. "Why is it bonded to Kitty? And why should it be inevitable that it would come back to her?" Tilting her head up, the former stewardess wiped at her damp cheek, her face a mask of confusion. "Peter, this shouldn't have happened. What I did to break the swords bond with Kitty, and bond it to myself, should have been permanent. She should have had absolutely no tie to it at all. I never understood why she did in the first place. If the sword should have gone to anyone, it should have been you, Illyana's brother, her closest living relative."

"The puzzle of the Soulsword is one I ceased trying to solve long ago." Peter responded with quiet resignation. "All I really know of it is that it has taken from me the two things I loved most in the world."

"I know this is very hard for you," Amanda began hesitantly, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. She was reluctant to force him to keep talking about something that so obviously hurt him very deeply, but there were some things he needed to know, for his own sake. Just as there were things she needed him to tell her. "It's not particularly easy for us either. But there's something else you need to know, something Kitty told Betsy while they were in the medlab. That's why we came up here."

At this, the big man shifted his attention, focusing on his lavender haired team mate as she again chewed nervously on the already ragged nail of her index finger.

Seeing her distress, his face softened even more and he pulled her against his side in a one-armed hug. Betsy had ever been a good friend to him and if she felt it was important, then it probably was. "Come, little one. Talk to me. Tell me what it is I need to know."

After a moments hesitation, Betsy sighed, plucking at invisible lint on her cream colored slacks as she tried to ascertain the best way to tell him what, she knew, would only hurt him more. How, she asked herself, had things gotten in such a huge mess so quickly?

Peter didn't push her, simply sat, waiting patiently, until she looked up at him. Gone was the normal laughter and good humor that could nearly always be found dancing in those exotic violet eyes. In it's place, was grief, pain, and guilt nearly as fathomless as his own.

Such is the legacy of the Soulsword on all that it touches.

The thought came, unbidden, into his head, but it was true. Never had that mystical sword brought anything but hurt, death, and destruction to all that it came into contact with.

"When Kitty told me about the Soulsword, she also told me that the sword didn't just want her. Peter, she said it wants you as well." Betsy stated quietly.

His brows knit together in puzzlement, Peter looked at her uncomprehendingly. "I do not understand. Why would the sword have any interest in me? It certainly never has before. At least that I am aware of."

"Who knows." Amanda answered, leaning against his side, her hands folded in her lap. "It's just one more mystery that goes with that damned sword. Nothing about it makes any sense. And the more I learn about it, the less sense it makes."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, turning his attention toward the sorceress as she shrugged, giving him an exasperated half-smile. Looking back and forth between one woman and the other as he was, he was beginning to feel like he was watching a tennis match.

"Like I said before, there's no reason for the sword to have even been bonded to Kitty in the first place. It would have made more sense for it to come to you. But it didn't. Only, now, if what Kitty told Betsy is true, it may very well be trying to reach you through Kitty. But why now, after all this time has passed? What's happened recently that would change things? And why didn't I have any warning that this was coming? None of it makes any sense."

Peter nodded absently, seemingly lost in thought for a few moments before turning back to Amanda curiously. "Amanda, there is also something I have wondered about for some time. The sword corrupted Illyana, as well as Kitty the few times it came to her, yet you seem to wield it with no harmful effects." He nodded toward her. "Or it appears so, anyway. You seem as you always have."

"You're right. It hasn't caused me any undue problems." She smiled wryly then, her full, rose colored lips curving on one side. "At least until now. And, again, I have no explanation, other than my mother telling me, years ago, that it would be my destiny to wield the sword."

"Destiny." Peter replied bitterly. "Always it comes back to Destiny. It seems I have heard or thought of nothing else in my entire existence lately, other than Destiny."

"I'm sorry, Peter, but you've lost me." Elisabeth put in. "I know we've been talking a lot about the Diaries and such...."

A shake of Peter's head stopped her as he turned back to face her. "Nyet. Not just the diaries, but Destiny herself. Irene Adler. Have you read the diary that Ororo has? Do you know how she came to have it?"

"Well, I haven't really sat down and read it." Betsy replied with a shrug, having no idea where this conversation was drifting off to, or what Destiny's diaries might possibly have to do with the Soulsword. "Sage has it, doing all kinds of research on it most of the time, but I know that Kitty was the one who originally found it."

"Da." Peter nodded. "But not so much found it as was drawn to it. It was hidden inside a picture frame in one of Mystique's houses, with instructions that only Katya would have been able to interpret, and concealed in such a way that only she would have been able to remove it. And that is only the beginning. At every turn, Kitty somehow seems tied either to the woman herself or the diaries. Frankly, I find it disturbing, to say the least."

"Strange." Amanda's brows knit together as she considered what Peter had said. Like pieces of a puzzle, her mind was trying to fit it all together, make a complete picture, but there just wasn't enough information. "Almost in the same way that the sword is drawn to her." A thought suddenly struck her and her eyes jumped back up to Peter's face. "Wasn't there something, some connection, at one point, with Illyana and the Diaries. Or was it Illyana and Destiny?"

Betsy only looked confused, but Peter nodded. "Da. There was. It happened while we were in Australia, the world believing us dead. Rhane told me about it later." Exhaling heavily, Peter thought back, trying to put it all in order in his mind. He only had second hand information to go on, but he believed what Rhane had told him was accurate.

"I am not completely clear on all the details, but at some point, Illyana encountered Irene Adler, who predicted the Inferno and also told her that she must 'leave earth and learn' or humanity would suffer a terrible fate. The prophecy seemed to come true. It was shortly after that when she tried to destroy Limbo with the Soulsword, stabbing it into the ground." Here he shrugged helplessly. "From what Rhane told me, instead of destroying Limbo, it transformed at least part of it into a paradise. A short time later, Illyana was found by Professor Xavier and the Shi'ar, drifting in space, her Darkchylde persona purged. She would have remained so, had she not been forced to reclaim the sword..."

"Wait...wait." Betsy held up one slim hand, tears forgotten as she tried to make sense of the jumbled story Peter had just told them. Though she hadn't been with the X-Men as long as he had, or Kitty, she'd been around long enough to live through some pretty senseless situations, but this didn't make sense at all, even to someone used to such things. "Peter, how on earth could a weapon tainted by evil and corruption turn anywhere into a paradise. It makes absolutely no bloody sense. If anything, the opposite should have happened. The sword should have turned Limbo into a true Hell."

"Actually," Amanda spoke up thoughtfully, one slender finger tapping against her chin as wheels turned in her mind. "it makes perfect sense, if you consider that the sword itself may not actually be evil..."

Peter flinched back at her words, almost as if he'd been slapped, and he stopped just short of glaring at Amanda. "How could it be other than evil? Look what it did to Illyana, and what it is trying to do to Kitty now, what it has done to her in the past. Surely you are not suggesting that the fault lies within Kitty and Illyana for the evil done in the name of that sword?"

"Oh, no." Amanda hurried to reassure him. She hadn't meant to say it exactly in that way and she certainly hadn't meant to imply that Kitty or Illyana were at fault for what had happened to them, or what they had done under the swords influence. "That's not at all what I meant. But, there has to be a reason why neither of them could wield it, while it hasn't really affected me in one way or the other. Or, at least, I don't think it has..."

"I'm sorry, Amanda." Betsy leaned out slightly, looking across Peter at the woman on his other side. "I've got to agree with Peter on this one. I don't see how that thing can be anything but evil, especially after being drug along for the ride in one of those dreams it was sending Kitty."

"Dreams?" Both Amanda and Peter gaped at her, speaking at the same time. "What dreams?"

Leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, Betsy rested her head in her hands, closing her eyes against the unholy horror she'd been trying to forget for weeks. Just one session had nearly driven her mad. How on earth did Kitty stand it, how did she hold out against that kind of mental and emotional torture, night after night?

"I tried to forget them. God, how I wanted to forget. But maybe if I tell you, it might help in some way." Taking a deep, calming breath, Betsy held it, then exhaled slowly, repeating the process several times as she forced herself to relax and relay the details calmly. It was much more difficult than it sounded. Even the idea of remembering made her sick to her stomach.

But, remember she didi. Slowly, painfully, forcing the words out, Betsy told them about the dreams, what Kitty believed were visions, of the fate of the first set of X-Men to visit Limbo. She did her very best to relate the details as accurately as possible. How Wolverine was killed, how Kurt was turned into a monster, a thing as evil as Belasco himself. How Kitty was, unintentionally, left behind by that teams Storm and Colossus, left at the hands of Belasco and his demons, imprisoned, tortured, raped, as the Demon Lord tried, unsuccessfully, to corrupt her to his will.

And how she was finally rescued, only to watch the man she loved die while defending her, leaving her broken and alone. By the time she was finished, the British ninja was wrung out, drained, left weak and shaking, by the power of that remembered horror. Her audience was in little better shape.

Peter and Amanda sat, stunned, horrified, and sickened by what they'd heard. Even the thought of such things being done to Kitty, even if it were technically not his Kitty, pierced Peter to his very soul and made him physically ill. For the first time in his life, since the day they had all been pulled into Limbo, Peter was actually thankful they had all escaped the experience as undamaged as they had.

For the first time, he realized how very much worse it could have been and he spared a thought for that earlier Illyana, who had been saved only at the expense of the lives of those closest to her. Who had, most likely, been sent back to a world where she was alone, where she had to live with the knowledge that nearly everyone she knew and loved was lost so that she could return home.

"And Katya believed these dreams were real? That they actually happened?"

"Yes." Betsy nodded. "And I have to agree with her. The images didn't have the quality of dreams or nightmares. They were memories. Very vivid, very horrible, and very, very real."

Amanda, who had been listening to Betsy with quiet horror, nodded slowly. "It definitely fits in with what little we already know of that first team and explains a lot of things we weren't sure about before. I remember Kurt having nightmares about that place for weeks after you all got back. Coming face to face with what amounted to himself, only twisted in the worst possible way, really threw him for a loop."

"Da." The young man confirmed, remembering that first visit to Limbo and the sight of his own remains, hanging on a corridor wall, his own nightmares that had followed that experience. "I remember it all very well. In fact, it is etched so deeply on my memory, I doubt I will ever forget. But we never truly knew what happened to those first X-Men, other than most of them died."

"Well, I do." Betsy stated flatly, shuddering at the memories. "And, believe me, you're better off not having those images in your head in glorious, full color and surround sound."

"I don't understand." Amanda rubbed her eyes tiredly. The more she heard, the less she understood. Instead of clearing anything up, this new information just brought more questions. "Not that that's anything new right now." she added dryly. "But what does the fate of the first group of X-Men in Limbo have to do with the Soulsword? It belonged to our Illyana, not theirs."

"I'm not so sure about that." Betsy said slowly, remembering more and more details of the dream as she cracked the door she'd closed it all off behind wider and wider. "Belasco, the horrible things he did to Cat - that team's Kitty - were part of a ritual....a spell." She told Amanda as it all came flooding back. "A spell he used to call the Soulsword. And not only that." She turned directly to Peter then, ignoring Amanda's gaping surprise at that statement, laying a hand on his arm. "I don't know how much you really know about your sister's time in Limbo, the seven years she spent there before she was brought back here...."

"Very little." Peter admitted. "It was not something she was ever comfortable talking about. In truth, I believe she confided much more to Kitty concerning that time than she did me."

"There's a reason for that. The other Kitty...Cat...practically raised Illyana, protected her, taught her to fight, tried to return her home. Peter, she sacrificed everything she was to try and save your sister. Belasco caught them, though, before they could get free, destroyed Cat's humanity, took Illyana as his apprentice. But it was what Cat had taught her that finally enabled Illyana to break from him. If it weren't for her, you sister would have never been able to come back home."

"Wait. Hang on a minute." Amanda, having finally regained her wits, jumped in. "Go back a minute. Are you telling me that Belasco used Cat to call the Soulsword? Before our team of X-Men, our Illyana, ever went into Limbo?"

"Yes." Betsy confirmed, not really seeing the point her friend was trying to make. "So?"

"So....that means," Amanda replied thoughtfully, "that the Soulsword didn't originate with Illyana, that she only called it up somehow. It may not even have originated with the first Kitty that went into Limbo, but it definitely points, yet again, to some kind of on-going connection between Kitty and the Soulsword. My God," she breathed, looking from Peter to Betsy and back again. "this changes everything."

***********************************************************************************************************************

At a small college campus on the opposite side of the country, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon as a young woman stirred in bed, slowly waking from a dream of flying through the stars on wings of fire.

Blinking to clear the sleep from her bright green eyes, she sat up slowly, letting the thin sheet and blanket pool at her waist.

Quietly, she waited, listening for a sound she knew would not come from without, but from within. She had heard it only a moment ago. A familiar song, the clear, sweet call with which she was intimately familiar.

When it had left, she hadn't known why, hadn't known if it would ever return. It had left her feeling empty and alone, with no explanation for it's departure. But now, it was returning, calling to her, telling her it was on it's way. And she could feel it, drawing closer, soaring through the cosmos on powerful wings of flame, with a song in it's heart.

She didn't know yet what the song meant, but she knew something important was coming, something that would change her life forever.

Throwing back the covers, she swung her slender, bare legs over the edge of the bed and padded silently to the one small, easterly facing window in her room.

One graceful hand pulled back the lacy, green curtains hanging there as the other absently swept a stray lock of long, flame red hair from her face.

Peering out, she watched the rising sun as it crested just above the horizon, silently wondering to herself why everything of importance seemed to happen either in the middle of the night or so early in the morning that the birds were barely awake. Another couple of hours of sleep would have been nice. But her grousing was good natured as she watched expectantly, waiting for what she knew would come, for the event she'd been awakened at this ungodly hour to witness.

As soon as the orange ball of flame that was the early morning sun cleared the hills in the distance, it transformed, only for a split second, into a massive bird of flame that spread it's wings wide enough to nearly engulf the world. Raising it's magnificent, fiery head, it turned, seeming to look directly at her, and the young woman smiled.

Reaching out with her thoughts, she tried to contact it, to let it know she was there. But she should have known it would already be aware of her.

The image soon began to fade, the sun once more becoming nothing more than a burning orb of gas and light in the sky. But, before it dissipated completely, the cosmic entity known as the Phoenix sent out a thought to the young woman awaiting it's arrival.

Images popped into her mind. The huge bird of fire, power signature of the Phoenix. A glowing, silver sword. A book bound in leather, it's title written in Latin.

There is Power. There is Justice. There is Knowledge. And the Keeper holds the Key.

To the one who is worthy to be clothed in the Power of the sun, the moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown of stars,

Remember, therefore, from whence thou art fallen,

For, behold, I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it.

***********************************************************************************************************************

"I am sorry, Amanda," Peter sighed in frustration - a feeling he was becoming quite well acquainted with - as he raked a hand through his already disheveled, dark, mop of hair. "How does this change anything? We do not know for certain that this information is anything more than a nightmare. It might all mean nothing."

"No." the sorceress asserted with a terse shake of her head, long, strawberry blond hair fanning out around her at the motion. "I don't think so. It explains too much that we didn't have an explanation for before. Specifically, at least part of Kitty's connection to the Soulsword." Standing up, the former stewardess began pacing back and forth, her brows knit together in deep thought, as she pondered what they'd just learned. "What if the sword weren't actually part of Illyana, as we always thought? What if she only managed to call it up, through her connection to Kitty, because Kitty wouldn't, or couldn't, at the time?"

"I'm with Peter." Betsy put in, giving Amanda a tired look and leaning back against Peter's arm. "You've lost me, again. Though I know what I saw, what Kitty and I saw, was far more than a nightmare, I don't see how it really changes anything. Are you saying that the sword may actually belong to Kitty? If that's true, then why would it be a danger to her, as it so clearly is? And why did it present the same kind of danger to Illyana? But not to you? I'm afraid I just don't understand any of this."

"I know, I know." Amanda sighed, stopping to stand in front of the British X-woman. "There's too much of the puzzle we still don't have the pieces to. Is there anything else, Betsy? From the dreams, from what Kitty told you? Anything, no matter how small or insignificant it might be, that you remember?"

Betsy was quiet as she thought through all that she'd seen, all that Kitty had told her, trying to pick through and find anything she might have missed. Then, she looked back to Amanda and nodded thoughtfully.

"I remember, vaguely, something the Soulsword said, at the end of the dream....something about power, and a key, and knowledge......" her voice trailed as she shook her head in annoyance. "No that's not it. Damn. I'm sorry, Amanda. I really can't remember much more. I was coming out of it by then. All I can really remember are vague images and words. Something about a...bird, maybe. Or maybe it was a book. I just don't know. I know the Soulsword said something about.....I think it went 'That which is unwilling cannot truly be corrupted.' Or words to that effect."

Amanda had gone very still, staring at Betsy in frank disbelief. "Betsy, are you telling me that you actually heard the Soulsword speak to Kitty?"

"Sure." the other woman replied with a shrug. "It spoke to her in the dream. Kitty didn't seemed surprised by it. Bloody thing's apparently very talkative, from what she said. Why? What did you think I meant when I said it called to her?"

"Frankly, I thought it was a figure of speech, something used to describe an impulse, a compulsion. I've never heard it actually speak, as if it were...aware. As far as I've known, it's an inanimate object. Mystical, but inanimate." She turned to Peter then, who looked as much at a loss as she was. "Did Illyana ever say anything about the sword talking to her? Calling her?"

"No. Never." He looked back at Amanda, puzzled. "What does it mean?"

"I don't know, Peter. But it's one more piece of the puzzle...."

"Oh," Betsy spoke up again suddenly and both Peter and Amanda turned to her expectantly. "There was one more thing. Kitty said that the Bloodstone Amulet was also manifesting, along with the Soulsword. Said she'd wake up from those bloody horrible dreams to find she was holding it."

"The what?" Amanda asked, but she noticed that Peter seemed to know what the other woman was talking about.

"The Bloodstone Amulet." Peter answered her quietly, sadly. "I had almost forgotten about it. It was an ancient amulet that Belasco gave to Illyana. Inside was a pentagram with a place for five stones, one at each point. He made three of the stones by corrupting Illyana's soul, but she broke from him before he could complete the set. Though she never said what would happen if all five stones were laid, I got the impression that it would be something horrible."

"So what else is new?" Amanda mumbled. "My question is, how is it tied to the Soulsword? Or is it tied to it at all?"

"I do not know." Peter replied flatly, standing and beginning to gather up the rest of Kitty's pictures. He had heard more than enough about the Soulsword, the Bloodstone Amulet, Kitty's horrible nightmares, and everything else that went with it. All this new information had done was convince him further just how hopeless the situation truly was. "Just as I do not know how any of this, however interesting, can change the fact that Kitty is missing and we will probably never see her again." Wearily, he turned back to the two women, that wall crashing back down around him as abruptly as it had lifted a short while ago. "Now, if you do not mind, I have a flight I have to make in only a couple of hours."

Blinking at the abrupt dismissal, Betsy stood, turning to him to lay a hand gently on his arm. "Peter, won't you reconsider? I know this has been a horrible day, preceded by a horrible night, but things will get better. I know they will. Just as I know that we'll find Kitty. Won't you please stay? At least until tomorrow? Things may look very different then..."

When he spoke, he did so without turning, his voice quiet but firm. "No. Kitty asked this of me and I will do as she wanted. It may very well be the last thing I am ever able to offer her." The big man's voice cracked then, and he gripped the bedpost so hard that he nearly cracked the wood. "Now, please. Leave me in peace."

After a moment, Betsy let her hand drop back to her side and to Amanda helplessly. The sorceress only nodded sadly, reluctantly. She knew Peter well enough to know that, if his mind were made up, they wouldn't be able to change it. Not now. Not when he was so upset. Perhaps a change would be good for him.

As the two women left, Peter finished transferring the last of the pictures to the padded envelope, placed it into his suitcase and closed the lid. Picking up his two bags, he strode from the room, from the Westchester mansion, from Charles Xavier and the X-Men.

He didn't once look back.

***********************************************************************************************************************

Peter's departure had been yet another unexpected blow to the residents of Graymalkin Ln. There had been shock, pleading, tears, and even a few harsh words, but, in the end, there was no dissuading the Russian X-Man. He had calmly, almost emotionlessly, taken his bags to the waiting taxi, climbed in and drove away, not even telling them where he was going. All he would say was that he would contact them once he was settled. Once he'd had some time to think.

Feeling like shell shocked survivors of a war that had dropped onto their heads from out of nowhere, the remaining mutants had slowly filed back inside to decide on their next step. And, all the while, each one of them was privately wondering what new horror this day, which had barely begun, might hold.

As decisions were made on who would do what in the search for Kitty, people began to drift off, on their way to make phone calls, canvass local bus stops and airport terminals, or check in with the local hospitals and police stations.

Just in case, they all kept telling themselves. Plan for the worst, but hope for the best.

Only several of them believed the motto should be more like, "Plan for the worst and hope for something short of complete and total annihilation", especially where the X-Men were concerned. Most of it was just busy work, and they all knew it.

It was all the things people do when a loved one is missing and they don't have the first clue where to start looking.

How the heck could they track a girl who's as good as a ghost, who can phase herself into the very earth and ride it like an amusement park merry go round, traveling at hundreds of miles per hour as the planet rotated? For all they knew, Kitty could be in California by now and they would have no way to pick up her movements.

The information that Amanda and Betsy had given them concerning the part the Soulsword was playing in this already convoluted situation had only made it less likely that they would be able to find Shadowcat. And some of them had to wonder, with this new information and what they already knew of the Soulsword and Limbo, if they even wanted to.

With the Soulsword involved, what they found, if they found her at all, might not be anything resembling the Kitty that they all knew, that they all loved. What they might very well find was a demon wearing their friends face.

As the room emptied, Logan and Kurt stayed behind, discussing their plan of action as they prepared to go out into the wide world and try to pick up her trail, if such a thing were possible. The only real starting place they had was the address of the short term parking garage Kitty had left as the place Logan could pick up her little Sportster.

It wasn't much, but at least it was something.

They were both so preoccupied with the task at hand, that neither of them noticed Rogue, coming to the door, face pale and drawn, eyes tear stained. Finally, she cleared her throat, stepping slowly into the room as the two men looked up at her questioningly.

"Did ya need somethin' else, Rogue?" Logan asked absently, his mind flipping through a million possibilities of where Kitty could have gone and how she could have gotten there.

He was so preoccupied, that he never noticed how upset the young woman was, even more so than when she'd left the room earlier, after watching yet another friend disappear.

"Actually, Ah need to talk to ya. Both of ya. I just got a phone call...." Her voice broke then and she looked away, closing her eyes against a fresh bout of tears. She'd thought things had been about as bad as they could get when she'd left this room earlier, but the call she'd just taken had proven her very wrong. Things were about to get so much worse.

Kurt looked up at her then, and immediately snapped to attention. It only took one look at the young woman's face to realized that this was, indeed, something very serious. "What is it, Liebe? Are you all right?"

With a sob, Rogue dropped down into a nearby chair, hanging her head and staring at her hands as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"No, Ah'm not. Not at all." Her shoulders started to shake then and she covered her face with her gloved hands as she wept. Logan and Kurt exchanged a look, then both men were on their feet and standing beside the obviously upset young woman.

"Bitte....Liebe, what is it?" Fear was clawing at Kurt like a living thing as one single thought, one horrible, sickening suspicion, swirled round and round in his mind. It was so unthinkable that he could barely give voice to it, but he had no choice. He had to know. "Is..is it Kitty? Has something....has she been found?"

Both men held their breath until Rogue managed to slowly shake her head. "No. Not Kitty." She looked up at them then, face tear streaked, eyes red and puffy from crying. "Th' prison hospital called. It's Raven......Oh, God....Logan...Kurt...she's dead."

"What?!" Logan's mouth fell open in frank astonishment. Of all the things he'd been afraid she'd tell them, this hadn't even made his short list. How the hell was he supposed to deal with something like this, right out of the blue, on top of everything else that had happened this morning?

On the other side of Rogue, Kurt sat, though dropped might have been a more accurate description, onto the arm of his foster sister's chair, his mind suddenly blank, having no idea how he should feel about this news. Mystique. Raven Darkholme. His mother. The woman who had tried to kill him more times than he could count. The woman who had given birth to him. Dead.

"What th' hell happened?" Logan demanded, his voice gruff. "Was she tryin' ta escape.....?"

"No." With a shake of her head Rogue cut him off, slumping forward miserably. "Nothin' like that. It's worse. Lot's worse." Before either man could question her further, she stopped them with a look, gazing from one to the other, as she gave them the answers they sought. After she did, they both wished she hadn't. "They found her durin' mornin' rounds, just lyin' there, like she was sleepin'. Nobody could figure it out....'til they found the syringe." Both men had a split second to realize what was coming next before she actually put their worst fears into words. "Guys, Ah think Kit mighta used the Legacy cure on Mystique."

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The airport had been crowded and noisy, overflowing with people, the constant blare of the PA system, and the seemingly never ending screech of the metal detectors, but Peter Rasputin had welcomed the distraction. It helped take his mind off of the events of the last day or so, and of the journey ahead of him. One he was afraid would be very lonely.

He'd checked his bags, presented his ticket, and waited in one of the hard, uncomfortable, chairs for his plane to begin boarding, passing the time by taking his sketch pad and pencil out of his carry-on and drawing, more doodling really, random people and objects in the noisy, cluttered terminal. But nothing seemed to come out right. Everything was too dark, too sad and hopeless looking. So, he tore the sketches from his pad, crumpled them up, and threw them into the nearest trash receptacle.

Now, he sat in the rather narrow commercial airline seat – Boshe moi, how long had it been since he'd taken a commercial flight anywhere? - gazing distractedly out the window, watching the clouds drift by as he crossed the Atlantic ocean. All he had left to do was wait.

It was much easier said than done, he was quickly discovering.

Turning from the small window, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter Kitty had left him, opening it up and reading it yet again, as if there might be something there he'd missed the last half dozen times or so he'd gone over it. By this point, he could have practically recited it from memory.

Of course, nothing had changed. The words were still the same, sweet, sad, sincere, words that touched his heart at the same time that they shattered it into pieces. Until this morning, he hadn't been aware that he was still capable of hurting this much.

Letting her go, stopping himself from immediately taking off after her, trying to track her down, however impossible that might be, had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Every instinct he had screamed at him that he was making a huge mistake, that he couldn't just let her walk away. That, if he let her go now, they might never have another chance.

Compared to that, leaving the mansion, and the X-Men, had been nothing.

He knew now knew what had been bothering her, the thing that had made her run, leaving him and everyone else, all the people she considered her family, behind and it was far worse than he could have imagined.

Peter remembered vividly the early morning in the Danger Room, when she'd turned on him, struck out, the way her eyes, for that one split second, had glowed a bright, fiery red. And the sparring match with Betsy, the horrible outcome of that event.

Her eyes had been glowing that day as well, even brighter than they were before. And, somehow, even then he hadn't been able to accept Hank's theory involving some kind of tie in with the Crimson Dawn. It simply hadn't feel right.

But, looking back now, he understood why it had all felt so familiar to him, like a memory that is almost within reach, but still just beyond grasping. Peter had seen that particular phenomenon before, and he found it hard to believe, now, that he hadn't easily recognized it for what it was. He had seen the same hellish, red gleam in his sister's eyes as the Darkchylde side of her slowly but surely consumed her.

Then, he admitted to that he hadn't really wanted to puzzle it out. He hadn't wanted to let himself understand what Kitty was fighting. Because he had no way to help her. He had lost his sister to this evil. Now, he would loose Kitty as well. Had probably already lost her.

In his heart, Peter almost hoped that the Soulsword would send her for him. What would it matter now, whether his soul was his own or whether it belonged to Limbo and the sword? His heart was already gone, broken, dust.

Kitty had been his heart, his soul. For all practical purposes, he was already damned. At least, if she came for him, they could be together. And that was far more than he could hope for in the hell he was living now.

For now, he'd make this journey and wait, use this time as best he could in hopes that a resolution to this situation would present itself, one way or another, if given sufficient time and thought.

Kitty had asked him to do this one thing for her, the only request she'd ever really made of him in all the years they'd known one another, and Peter was determined to honor that request. It was no hardship, really. In fact, it might just do him good. His time as an X-Man had, indeed, passed it seemed. It was time to move on to something else.

So, he would do the very best he could, even though he knew, deep down, that nothing would ever be quite as good as it could have been, as it should have been. Not without her there to share it.

Without Kitty, nothing in his life would ever truly be right again.

And, if one night she appeared to him, came for him, then he would take her hand and go gladly, wherever she wanted to take him.

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Logan, Kurt, Amanda, and Rogue stood in the waiting room, surrounded by the clatter of carts being pushed down the hospital corridors and the smell of alcohol, underlaid with the acrid scent of human disease.

Rogue, still not quite able to hold back her seemingly endless flood of tears, was holding fast to Kurt's hand on his left, while Amanda held to his right. The three were clasped together so tightly that their fingers would ache the next day, but none of them seemed to notice.

For a long while, the four of them stood there, not knowing what to say. Things were both better, and worse, than what they had originally feared and none of them seemed to have the energy to suggest where to go from here. It was barely noon and they were all exhausted, feeling as if weeks had gone by since they'd crawled out of bed that morning. And wondering how much longer the day might get before they crawled back into those beds tonight.

"Well," Logan finally growled into the prevailing silence. "at least we know Kit didn't do it."

"Ja. But there is also no doubt that it was her initial intention when she came here, only she apparently could not bring herself to take a life in cold blood. Even now."

"'Cept for her own." Rogue put in shakily. "Do y'all know how close she came? If Raven hadn't stopped her..."

With that, the young, southern woman broke down again and Kurt, shifting his grip from her hand to her elbow, guided her to a nearby chair, sitting her down as Amanda took a chair beside her, drawing her into an embrace. The sorceress wasn't doing much better herself and there were fresh tears streaming down her own cheeks as she tried to comfort the other woman.

"But she did stop her, Rogue. In the end, Mystique came through. She let that cold, hard shell slip and became a human being again. And she tried to atone for the things she's done, the wrongs she's committed. You shouldn't ever forget that. Because of her, thousands who were dying will soon be well and healthy again."

"Ah still can't believe she did it herself. Ah woulda never thought.....God, Amanda, Ah thought th' part of her that used ta care about other people was long dead. I wanted ta hate her for what she's done. Ah almost did, but Ah can't. Not now. Not after this."

"An' ya shouldn't." Logan told her from a few feet away. "Raven never meant ta end up like she was, here at th' last. But she let them flamin' diaries drive her crazy. Irene tried ta warn her, but she wouldn't listen. She thought she could save th' world, and all th' mutants, if she just followed those books. But that ain't how they work. Truth be told, I ain't sure anybody can know how they work. Includin' Irene."

The feral mutants pronouncement hung in the air, almost seeming to echo softly off the walls as silence descended again, the only sound Rogue's quiet sniffling and Amanda's soft murmuring as Kurt and Logan stared at the floor, neither one sure where to go from here.

"You ok, Elf?" Logan asked, his gruffness hiding real concern for his long-time friend. Regardless of the fact that Raven had been a heartless bitch were Kurt was concerned, she was his mother and the feral mutant knew what a soft heart his swashbuckling, blue friend had in that hairy chest of his.

Kurt had never really come to terms with Mystique being his mother, though it had been through no fault of his own. Raven wasn't exactly the most forthcoming person on the face of the earth and it was almost as if she'd taken special pains to be as obtuse as possible where her son was concerned. Like she wanted to keep him as far away from her, emotionally and physically, as possible.

And maybe she had. She may not have been much of the maternal type, but Logan had an idea that abandoning Kurt as a baby had been a lot harder on the shape shifter than she had ever let on. Raven may have been hard, but she was still human, still had feelings, no matter how deep she might have tried to bury them.

"Ja." Kurt replied listlessly, running one three fingered hand over his short crop of dark hair, in a gesture that was as much exhaustion as frustration. "In all honesty, Mein Freund, I do not know how to feel anymore. About this," he spread his hands, palms up, indicating the hospital as well as the situation in general. "or anything else that has happened today. It has all come so fast, hit us so hard...."

His accented voice trailed off tiredly as he shook his head, shoulders slumped, golden eyes glowing, but with none of their usual warmth or humor. "Last night, I was simply concerned about the personal relationship of two close friends. This morning, before I even got out of bed, one of those friends was already gone. Then, we are hit with Hank and Cecelia's news about the Legacy cure, then Amanda and Betsy's news about Kitty and the Soulsword. Now, Peter is gone as well - to Gott alone knows where - and we have this whole mess. How did it come to this so quickly?"

"Way o' life, pal. Shit usually comes in great big piles." Logan replied flatly and Kurt's head came up, the blue furred mutant regarding him in a way that told Wolverine he didn't know whether to be amused or disgusted.

"Logan, have I ever told you what a poetic way you have with words?" Apparently, he was settling for amused as a half-smile curved one side of his mouth, revealing just a flash of sharp, white fangs.

Logan snorted, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Just a natural gift, I guess, pal."

"So....where do we go from here? What now?" Kurt Wagner asked, as he watched Amanda continue to try and calm Rogue. His heart went out to his foster sister. Though he regretted that he would now never have the opportunity to settle things with his biological mother, she had been little more than his enemy for a great many years. Mystique had made it abundantly clear to him that she wanted no familial relationship with him at all. But Rogue was another story.

Raven had raised her as her own daughter, had loved Rogue, worried about her, been a real mother to her, or as close as it was possible for the mercenary turned terrorist to come to that role. Whatever had happened between them recently, Kurt knew Rogue very well and he knew that this would be a hard loss for her to bear. Animosity of late aside, Raven was the only mother Rogue could remember, essentially the only one she'd ever known.

"I'm goin' ta find Kit." Logan stated simply, in answer to his question, as if it would be the easiest thing in the world, when they both knew it would be anything but. "What you and 'Manda do is up ta you. I'd be glad fer ya ta come along, but I understand if ya ain't up to it right now. 'Roro's takin' her group an' headin' fer Spain, taking the long way around. Gonna keep her eyes and ears open as they travel, check in with a few contacts that might be able ta help. Rogue's goin' ta New Orleans to find Remy, once things 're settled here"

"And you?" Kurt asked, studying the Canadian closely. In all the years they'd known one another, it was still difficult, if not impossible, for him to read the other man, but it didn't stop him from trying. Occasionally, he got lucky. "Where are you going?"

"Genosha." Logan replied, saying it just the same as he would say 'I'm going to the corner store for some milk.' Kurt, however, nearly choked on his own tongue.

"Logan, are you insane?" he sputtered. "Do you realize what will be happening there in a few days, with the Legacy virus no longer killing most of the mutant population?"

"Yep. It'll be one hella'va mess. Magneto'll have a instant mutant army, his fer th' askin'. An' there ain't no tellin' what he might do with it." He flashed his teeth, the grin predatory, almost anticipatory. "But I think we can all guess what it'll be with Mags."

"Then, why on earth would you go there? What makes you believe Kitty would go there?" And idea struck him. An incredible idea, but an idea none-the-less. "Surely you don't believe she will go there to join up with Magneto? Or do you believe she will try to kill him?"

"Nah." Logan dismissed both ideas with a shake of his head. "Nothin' like that. She'll go there 'cause that's where her old man is. If she is loosin' the fight with th' Soulsword, she'll try an' get him out first, before she gives in to it. 'Cause she'll know what's comin', just like we do."

"How do you know all this?" Kurt asked incredulously. "I have never heard Katzchen say one word about her father being in Genosha."

"Because," Amanda broke in, coming to stand with the two men as they saw Rogue head for the ladies room. "Kitty told Peter and he mentioned it to Betsy and me just before he left. It was the only information he could give us on where she might be headed, if she was still alive."

"Gott...I still cannot believe we are in this situation, with Kitty of all people. She has always seemed one of the most stable among us. Nor can I believe Peter simply picked up and left with barely a word. I would have thought he would be heading the search for her."

Amanda turned to him, slipping her hand easily into his, a habit borne of long familiarity and intimacy, as if they'd not been apart for months and months. "She asked him not to, Kurt. Where ever he went, it was because it was what Kitty wanted and he felt it was more important to do what she'd asked than to ignore her wishes and look for her. This is tearing him apart. Remember, he knows, first hand, what the Soulsword did to Illyana, what it will do to Kitty as well, if it gets the chance. And I think he's already started to accept that she's lost. Permanently."

"Well, I ain't gonna accept it. Not 'til I see it with my own eyes." Logan stated, his tone saying that he would not change his mind on this point, come hell or high water.

"Very well." Kurt relented with a sigh. He looked to Amanda and she nodded, needing no words from him to know the question he was asking. "We will go with you. But, wouldn't it be a good idea to have the rest of the team along as well? Why send Rogue to Louisiana and Storm and her team to Spain if we already know where Kitty is likely to be? I would think, in the situation we're going into, we would want all the backup we could get."

But Logan was shaking his head, vetoing the idea before Kurt had even finished. "Nope. What I gotta do, I ain't takin' th' entire spandex squad. They'd just be in the way and I want them outta our hair while we do this. We go in quiet. We keep a low profile. And we find our girl."

"And then what, Logan?" Amanda asked, her face grave. Though there were still a great many mysteries surrounding the Soulsword, one thing was absolutely clear and they all needed to understand it. In Kitty's hands, it was a powerful, possibly extremely evil, weapon and, when and if they found her, it might very well be too late to save her. "What if the person we find isn't Kitty anymore? What then?"

As Kurt and Amanda watched, Logan's face lost all expression, a emotionless mask falling in it's place, his nearly black eyes going hard and flat as obsidian. Here was The Wolverine, Weapon X, the merciless, pitiless, mercenary. When he spoke, his voice was just as hard, just as flat, just as dead, as his eyes.

"If that's th' case, then I'll deal with it when th' time comes. I made Kit a promise a while back an' I'll keep it. No matter what it takes. Even if it kills me."

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Kitty closed her eyes tightly as the massive cargo plane took to the air, soaring high above JFK International Airport. Leaning her head back against one of the tarp covered lumps she was hidden between, she waited for the nausea to abate.

Normally, flying didn't bother her at all. She'd been shuttling back and forth across the country, heck across the galaxy, well before she'd been old enough to drive a car. The sky was like a second home to her, and she usually enjoyed her time in the air, whether she was flying the plane herself or was simply a passenger for the trip.

But today had been anything but a usual, normal day.

She'd never been completely on her own before. Even with everything she'd done in her life, there had always been at least a couple of X-Men with her. Funny, she'd hadn't thought of that until now, when she was more alone than she'd ever been.

Gone less than a day and already she missed her friends, her family. Missed the comfort of someone always being close by, of voices in the hall from early morning until late at night. Even if it was irritating at times.

Why not go ahead and admit it,Pryde. You miss Peter.

And, of course, she did. She missed knowing that he was just a few hallways away, that he was within earshot. Even if she couldn't see him, she'd always known that he was there. She missed him so badly that simply thinking about him put her on the verge of bursting into tears. The more she tried not to think about him, the harder it was not to.

As the huge plane leveled out, it's engines settling into a heavy, dull drone as it carried her off toward a place she'd hoped never to set foot in again, Kitty wondered where he was tonight. Was he still in Westchester, or maybe on a plane, too, going where she'd asked him to?

She sincerely hoped it was the latter. Peter deserved a life, something other than the constant fighting, and loosing, and dying that was life with the X-Men. At heart, he wasn't a warrior. He never had been. Not really. Peter was far too talented to waste the rest of his life fighting the badly dressed villain of the week, with their Saturday morning cartoon names, and raging Napoleon complexes. He was born to paint, to create art, to create beauty. Not to destroy.

Kitty supposed that was one reason she'd always gravitated toward him. He was the calm to her hurricane, the peace to her war, the serenity to her turbulence. She was the warrior, the one who lived for the battle, for the clash of swords and clang of shields. Always had been, always would be. It was in her blood, just like it was in Logan's and Ororo's and Kurt's, in Illyana's and Rachel's and so many others.

But Peter was the heart, the soul, the conscience, with a pure, noble spirit. Charles Xavier should have never turned him into a soldier, made him fight. The man had enough warriors. He hadn't needed Peter. There was no reason for him to have had to fight. And everyone knew that to fight for the sake of fighting, to make war for no other reason than war itself, was the worst kind of horror a human could perpetrate.

Where she was headed, that would soon be made evident she feared. She wondered exactly what she might do if caught up in that conflict, but she didn't really know. She was confused, feeling off balance.

There needed to be balance in all things. Peter had been hers.

No justice without mercy. No knowledge without wisdom. No power without conscience.

Her thoughts still in a tangled jumble, but her body worn and weary from the events of the day, Kitty slowly drifted off to sleep, nestled among the assorted cargo stowed on the massive transport plane.

As she floated along, in those moments just before her conscious mind shut down and her subconscious took over, the Soulsword came, hovering there, surrounded by it's glowing, white light. It spoke to her in words and images that had been repeated more than once that day, to others in different places, different times, but connected by a common thread.

And, slowly but surely, that thread was contracting, drawing them together for a common purpose.

She saw the huge bird of fire. The glowing, silver Soulsword. The book bound in leather, it's title written in Latin.

There is Power. There is Justice. There is Knowledge. And the Keeper holds the Key.

To the one who is worthy to carry the bright and shining Sword of Justice, the Keeper who holds the Key to all, the Champion, the Soul of Balance, follows with thee,

Remember, therefore, from whence thou art fallen,

For, behold, I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it.

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Well, hope that you guys are still awake and that didn't bore you too much. If I haven't put you into a coma yet, please review if you read. Writers live for reviews. It's like air and food.

To all my reviewers who are so graciously sticking with me through what is quickly turning into a major saga: You all are truly the best. And, believe me, you are the only reason I didn't take a stick of dynamite, shove it into this computer, and blow it, and this fic, to the four corners of oblivion last week.

Araya-Michiru: No, when it came down to it, I couldn't see Kitty killing her either. Thus, Mystique still gets to die. Only in a nice way. And, yes, I too wish Colossus had more lines in the X-2 flick. Maybe with X-3? We can only hope. As for what Peter's up to in this fic? Well, he's outta the mansion, but we'll have to wait til next chapter to see where he lands. But at least now you know that those neat bubbles signaled the arrival of everybody's favorite sorceress, acrobat, and reluctant superhero, Amanda Sefton.

Evanescence kicks ass: I'm glad you liked the way the Legacy cure was taken care of. It had me sort of confuzzled when I realized it wasn't going to work the way I had it planned out, but Kitty just wouldn't cooperate with me. And I think she was right. Sorry, didn't quite make it to Genosha this time. Next chapter, though. Definitely. And I'm definitely expecting things to be pretty hairy there. We'll also get to see where Peter ends up, too. And we're hopefully going to start seeing some of the Soulsword/Limbo thing become a little clearer.

Lia Fail: Yes, Mystique definitely deserved to die. The only person I think needs to die more is Sabertooth, but I couldn't figure out how to get him in this story so I could kill him off, too. Like you, I refuse to believe the whole insane "Draco Arc" storyline myself, or anything else Marvel so conveniently retcons for their own personal convenience. Every time they need to explain a really stupid idea, we end up with scores of clones, evil doubles, and really, really off the wall story lines. I don't care what they say. That winged blue demon guy is not Kurt's dad. Mystique always maintained that his father was a German baron or count or something. I think even she would have mention that he was a demon from another dimension to somebody. And hope you enjoyed the return of our favorite former stewardess turned Queen of Limbo. She'll be around for the duration.

Kirayoshi: Hmmmm. Seems everybody wanted to read that letter Kitty left for Peter. Maybe we'll get a peek at it later. Glad you liked the pacing. I felt it was appropriate for what the chapter needed to convey. Sometimes, methodically focusing on the task before us is a coping mechanism, as I think it was for Kitty. And, of course the X-Men aren't going to just let her wander off un-looked for, but Peter has a stop or two to make on the way. I have faith in Logan, Kurt, and Amanda, though. You know Wolverine can track that girl down if anybody can. And I'm glad you like my take on Kitty's personality. I agree that a lot of times she's portrayed as either too hard and cold, or an insecure, mushy emotional wreck. As far as I'm concerned, she's a little of all of that, depending on the situation, but she's also still a strong, brave, loving person with her own irreverent sense of humor and, sometimes, misguided protective instinct toward her friends and loved ones. In other words, she's human, just like everybody else.

T.A. Pixiestix: I stand guilty as charged on the cliffhanger accusation. How else am I going to keep everybody coming back for more?, she asks with her most innocent expression. I agree that the way chapter 12 worked out gave Mystique a more rounded character. (I still hate her, though.) After all, she raised Rogue and actually cared about her, which has to mean she isn't all bad. And, doing it the way I originally planned would have made Kitty seem too hard and cold. As for Magneto, I don't know of a website that might list all his associates, unless uncannyxmen.net does. They do list each character's affiliation with different groups, so that might help. I know he had all those freakin' Acolytes for a while, which included, Fabian Cortez, Amelia Voght, Spoor (now there's a real head case for you.), Uniscione, Exodus, and tons of others whose names I can't remember right now. He even had Lorna Dane convinced she was actually his daughter and had her working for him for a while in Genosha. Oh, and there was Lee Forrester, who he had an affair with after she and Scott Summers split up. And you might even include the New Mutants, because he was their headmaster in Charles Xavier's absence for a while. He was also associated with Emma Frost and the Hellfire Club for a little while, too. Mostly, though, until the Acolyte thing, he worked alone. I got the feeling he felt like he was better than most of the other villains.

*B(): Sorry for the crying, but I'm glad it was good crying. Be warned, there will probably be more crying before we're done. Hope it's in a good way, too.

CaptJesus: Like the aforementioned crying, I hope stunned was a good thing. I'll assume the congratulations part meant it was. :) Glad you enjoyed the chapter.

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Coming Soon: (Sooner than chapter 13 I hope.) We're going to Genosha, and a couple of other places, as our plot thickens and we get a little more info on some of our mysterious figures that keep popping up out of the woodwork. We'll probably get stuck in the Sentinel Massacre, too.

Yes, I shamelessly stole the title of this chapter from X-Men #110. After doing "The Cure, Redoux" it just seemed appropriate and somewhat ironic.