Hello, everybody. Just a little update saying this'll be the only chapter for a while, but don't worry I'll be back relatively soon wi' another chapter.

Yes, we own no X-Men, we own no X-Men today.

&&&&&&

Saturday night, 11:00.

Piter was asleep on the gurney bed in the medical bay. Wrappings had been added around his eye and nose, with bandages around several cuts on his arms and torso. There was the steady hum of the ever-activated fluorescent light and the steady breathing of Piter asleep.

Piter breathed in slightly more deeply than usual, and woke up. His eyes opened slightly, a vague slit traversed across the room, then he opened his eyes fully. A simple gesture removed the wrappings around his face. He prodded his nose gently, and winced at the pain, then he winced at the wincing, which caused him to wince some more. Then he composed himself.

He twisted around and leapt off the bed, promptly collapsing onto the floor. Ow, Piter thought, that is very sore. But then again, that's what you get when you have several ribs broken. He lay on the linoleum for several minutes, thinking just how comfortable it was just lying there... Then he remembered why he was up.

He leaned heavily on one arm, wincing at the pulling sensation at the skin around his cuts. His other hand grasped the other gurney opposite from his. He tensed his arms, pulling himself up against the wall tortuously slow, then braced his now-quivering arms against a nearby cabinet and gurney with a slow groan of weariness.

He steadied his breathing, then set his face in a determined line. He slowly put on step out in front of him, began to place his weight on it. It buckled severely, twisting his body from its standing position. He managed to fling his knee and hand out to stop him collapsing on the floor. A stinging sensation in his hand and a small pool of blood from under palm signalled he had opened a cut. He winced, then started to crawl slowly towards the door, his left hand slipping dangerously.

He opened the door from a prone position, then gripped the edges of the doorframe, and began to slowly pull himself upright again. He wedged his feet into the corners of the door, and leaned out slowly, scanning the corridor.

"You know, you really shouldn't be up." Hank's voice called from behind him. Piter jumped in fright, nearly swallowing his tongue. Then his legs remembered they couldn't support his weight, and he fell forward, yet again. However, this time, he was caught before he hit the floor.

"Mr. Lewis, I am astonished. A person of your intelligence should realise that in your condition, the best thing to do is to rest." Hank stated, carrying Piter back towards the gurney.

"I'm sorry..." Piter muttered, wincing at the strain talking put on the flesh around his nose. "I don't know what came over me. I must've been trying to sleep-walk or something..."

"Now, now..." Hank said, dumping him back on the bed. "It's understandable that you are in a slightly confused state over what happened to you. You certainly received quite a bit of head trauma."

"Mr. McCoy..." Piter whispered, his eyes closing slightly at the fluorescent light. "Why are my legs not supporting me?"

"Hey, don't worry kiddo." Hank replied. "It was just a mild bit of painkillers we gave you. Don't worry, you'll get feeling back soon, say an hour or so." Hank reached for a small hypodermic needle. "Now, if you just relax, I'm going to give you something that'll help you sleep."

"You're saying that my leg problem isn't permanent?" Piter muttered, his eyes almost fully closed now. "It'll be better soon?"

Hank rested the needle in the crook of Piter's arm. "Yeah, that's what I said." He reassured.

"Good."

Piter's hand flashed down towards the needle, twisting it upwards. At the same time he flung himself up into a sitting position, imbedding the needle into Hank's arm. Piter slammed down on the plunger, injecting Hank with the chemical. Hank looked at Piter momentarily, an expression of mild confusion on his face. Slowly, like a cut tree, without any bending at the joints, he fell backwards onto the floor.

Piter grimaced at Hank's unconscious form. "Sorry about that, Mr. McCoy," he apologised, "but I can't let you jeopardise my little vendetta now, can I?" He looked down at his legs, and tried to move his feet.

Nothing happened.

He squeezed his right leg, and winced at the lack of feeling. He sat back, and stared at the unresponsive limbs. He tried moving his toes.

Nothing happened.

He breathed through his nose testily, then intertwined his fingers, and glared at the immovable digits. He half-closed his eyes, entering a slight trance of concentration. He willed his deepest muscles within his body, tensed his hips, called upon his nervous system to try it's hardest, and attempted to wiggle his little toe.

Nothing happened.

"This could be slightly problematic..." Piter muttered to himself. He shifted his body to a more comfortable position, then stared at his feet levelly. Seconds passed, then minutes. Sweat beaded on his forehead, first of concentration, then of anger, then of humiliation. Ten minutes passed, eleven... twelve...

"Oh for FUCK'S sake!" He yelled suddenly, and folded his arms. He jutted his jaw out instinctively, and looked away from himself. His nostrils flared briefly in irritation. At this rate he'd never get-

There was a brief sensation of movement.

Piter slowly turned his head, and stared back at the lucid limbs. He stared at them with a calculating look. He very slowly, as if afraid that doing what he would did before would cause his legs to fall off, twitched slowly.

His small toe moved, just a fraction.

He leaned his head to one side, and smiled. "Well, first things first..." He stared at the remainder of his feet. "Let's get started..."

&&&&&&

One hour later...

Piter walked slowly up the road, carrying the package he kept in the cupboard. He looked up from the tarmac, and saw the playing ground in front of him. He paused, then slowly removed the paper surrounding the package. He dropped the packaging carelessly, and held up what was inside the package in front of him.

It was a light, four-foot long quarterstaff. He spun it around in an absent-minded manner then alternated his grip on it before spinning around and thrusting it out in front of him in a stabbing fashion. He stopped, then stood up, holding it casually by his side.

"Yer weapon o' choice, eh Piter?" A voice called out from the street.

Piter sighed. "Dean, shouldn't you be in bed?"

Dean walked out from the shadows angrily, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Don't you patronise me, you get!" he whispered furiously. "What are you doing out here? Ah'd a' thought that you wuid be in th' infirmary!"

"Dean, look, just-" Piter started, but was cut off by Dean.

"So, y'know, Ah went tae th' infirmary, thinking it wuid be a nice gesture to visit you. However, when Ah got there, lo and behold, there seemed to be a lack of you in th' infirmary. Now, at tha' my suspicions grew slightly. These suspicions were furthered by the presence of Mr. McCoy's unconscious form on th' floor."

Dean put one finger to the side of his mouth in a parody of thoughtfulness. "Now, whit did Ah think when Ah saw all this? Y'know, Ah hid suspected when you staggered in from th' trip that you did not run into any anti- mutant demonstrators. Th' X-Men may hive believed you, but Ah didnae. You could beat up anybody in a wan-on-wan fight, except fer wan person."

"Dean," Piter protested, holding his hand up in an attempt to calm him, "I'm sorry, but I had no ch-"

"You saw McIllvanney, and you didnae even think tae tell me!" Dean yelled in anger. "Whit, did you no' think that it wuid be rather important to tell me that a psychopath who wanted revenge on me wis in town?" Dean glared at Piter. "Well?"

"Dean, please." Piter pleaded. "I didn't want anyone to know about it. You have enough troubles to begin with. We came here to forget about our past. I thought that if I dealt with this on my own..."

Dean glared at him. "You know damn well you couldnae do this on yer own. McIllvanney's a trained killer. Getting' intae a fight wi' him wuid be suicide. An' then he wuid come after me next."

"He said he wouldn-"

"Oh, don't be so naïve!" Dean snapped. "He wuid kill me, not for revenge, but because he likes killing people." He walked forward and pointed a finger into Piter's chest. "The reason you didnae tell anywan about it wasn't so they widnae know. You just didnae tell anywan 'cause you thought in your damn arrogance that you cuid stop him yersel'!"

Piter glared at Dean. "I have to stop him myself."

"No!" Dean hissed. "You don't need tae!" He pointed back to the institute. "We went there so we cuid get some protection, so we cuid leave the Order. The people there, although slightly naïve, are good people. They'd help us, if only you telt them about McIllvanney!"

Piter shook his head. "McIllvanney's from the military. Only Logan could really have a chance against him. All the others wouldn't stand a chance."

"So what makes y'think y'would stand a chance, eh?"

Piter breathed out through his nose testily. "Remember he taught me how to figh-"

"He also taught me hoo tae fight." Dean retorted. "So, why did y'no' tell me about him?"

"Because it's not your fault that he's after us!" Piter snapped back. "I got us into this mess. I'm going to be the one who gets us out of it."

"Y'know, fer being such a smart kid, Piter, y'can be amazingly idiotic at th' same time." Dean tapped his foot on the ground in an irritated manner. "Bosshog once said tha' the best way tae defeat something was tae outnumber it. If you wuid stop being such an egotistical wan-man army, y' could've gotten some help with this."

Piter gritted his teeth. "It's too late for that now."

"Naw, it isnae!" Dean hissed angrily. "We hive friends back there who wuid help us nae matter what!"

Piter snorted. "I'm not so sure about that..."

Dean stopped, and then smiled humourlessly. "Oh, Ah see it all now..."

"Dean, please let me pass."

"You arnae worried about mah safety, or the X-Men's safety, are you..." Dean said slowly. "You're scared about them findin' out whit you did, aren't you?"

"It's not as simple as that." Piter said with forced calmness. "Now, let me go-"

"No." Dean squared his shoulders. "You're going tae have tae admit what happened back there tae somewan, even if it's tae yersel'. If you keep on trying tae hide it, your gwan tae regret it."

"What are you, Frasier Crane?" Piter retorted. "If I wanted you to be my psycholog-"

"Don't be like this, Piter, please." Dean whispered. He put a hand on Piter's shoulder. "Don't joke aroun' like tha'. No' now. They're going tae find out some way or another. You cannae ignore whit y've done in the past. Doing this is just another way of trying tae forget whit happened. Please, just turn around, and head back to the institute wi' me, okay?"

Piter looked down at his feet, shifting his jaw from side-to-side.

"Please?"

Piter sighed. "You're right, Dean." He looked back at him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Piter. Just come back."

Piter shook his head. "I'm not sorry for that. I'm sorry for this..."

The quarterstaff cracked against Dean's forehead with a sudden speed. Dean blinked slowly, then fell on the tarmac, face-down. Piter lowered his weapon, then continued walking towards the playing ground.

&&&&&&

Piter entered the grounds silently, and held his weapon in front of him like a cosh. His eyes scanned the ground silently as he slowly side- stepped around the field.

"You can come out from there, Piter." McIllvanney's voice stated from the other side of the grounds. "I'm not going to hide from you."

"Then why don't you show yourself?" Piter yelled out into the darkness.

"By all means." McIllvanney walked out onto the grass, dressed in his usual fashion. His machete was strapped to his waist in a sloppy fashion, and his hair was loose around his shoulders. He stared at Piter with a raised eye, then smiled slightly. "Are you going to come out yourself?"

Piter walked out slowly, his quarterstaff held out to his side. He stopped ten paces away from McIllvanney, and crouched down slightly.

"So, do you want to finish what you started?"

"McIllvanney..." Piter whispered. "I want you to know... About your sister... I had no choice."

McIllvanney rolled his eyes. "Right now, I couldn't really give a shit." He drew his machete out slowly, and pointed it towards him lazily. "You and I have some unfinished business which I intend to finish this fine morning." He held the machete over his head. "Is the Lewis ready to die?" He asked in a quiet voice.

Piter adjusted his grip. "May the best man win..." He whispered.

For a few moments the two men stood there, eyeing each other's stance. Crickets chirped in the background. Dew started to form. A breath of air blew over them.

All was still.

Both shifted their right legs at the same time, launching themselves at each other silently.

&&&&&&

Dean picked himself off of the ground. He rubbed his head slowly, then looked around sharply for Piter.

There was no sign of him.

He twisted around on the spot, trying to see where he could've gone. He walked along the road, scanning the path ahead. A clash of metal sounded out. Then another.

Dean twisted around at the sound. It was coming from... from...

Another clash.

The playing ground!

Dean started to run towards the sound, then stopped. He looked back at the institute, far in the distance. He looked from one to the other, trying to decide where do go to first. Then a slight thought occurred to him. He turned slowly towards the nearest road sign.

The Brotherhood Boarding House...

Dean looked at from the sign to the playing grounds. Another clash, this time mingled with a yell sounded. He started to run in the direction the sign pointed at...

&&&&&&

Please R&R.

Sorry about the delay, and I'm afraid the next chapter'll take some time to do, so I won't be seeing you all soon.