Ashes to Ashes
By Death Bat
It was the proverbial dark and stormy night, emphasis on the dark. The wind rattled the window panes and trees made noises that would keep paranoid people up for hours. However, those in the Xavier mansion had learned to discard their normal paranoid tendencies. That is, if they ever had any. But doing that was no aid in the sleep habits of one individual that night.
Kitty Pryde couldn't sleep. It was starting to become par for the course. She hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep in several days. She'd tried all the usual remedies: warm milk, channel surfing, pacing. No matter what she tried, she could never get to sleep until she peaked her head in Piotr Rasputin's room and made sure he was still there.
It had been only a few days ago, when she found her first love in a secret underground holding cell and, more importantly, alive. It was all Kitty could do to keep from pinching herself every time she saw him, it was so much like the countless dreams she had since he died.
Died. He died. He had died, and she took his ashes to Russia. Or what she thought were his ashes. And people just don't come back from the dead. It's unheard of. Although, Kitty had wryly admitted to herself, she should have abandoned all her pre-conceived truths when she joined the X-men.
Frustrated beyond belief, Kitty kicked off the sheets which had been hopelessly entangled around her legs after fretful hours of tossing and turning. Getting up, she began to pace about her room. She had promised herself the night before that she would not go through this again. It was insanity! An outside party would look at her actions and call the local authorities, thinking they were reporting a stalker or something of the like.
Her pacing brought a small purple dragon out of it's contented slumber. Lockheed stuck it's head out of Kitty's sock drawer and cooed in a tone that mixed both confusion and grumpiness. "Sorry, Lockheed." She mumbled out, tugging at the hem of her nightshirt. Kitty's pacing brought her to the window. Hugging her elbows, she stared out at the storm. It was nights like this that she especially missed Ororo.
Glancing at her desk-top clock roused a groan from the young mutant. The last thing anyone would be wanting to do at 2:30 in the morning was pacing their room during a thunderstorm. And the worst part was, Kitty had a very early danger room session with Wolverine. She always had to be her most alert when with that man. She would never want him to think she was slipping.
Uttering a sigh of almost defeat, Kitty slipped her arms into an awaiting robe, and slid her feet into a pair of slippers. Hugging the fabric close around her lithe frame, she silently phased out of her bedroom door.
The hallway was appropriately dark and eerily silent for the night. She padded delicately on the hardwood floor, making nary a sound. Her Ninja training was almost innate in her actions. The mansion always seemed so much bigger at night. As she passed a student hall, she could hear extremely loud snoring. She smiled to herself, grateful that Lockheed was a quiet sleeper.
And, eventually, she found herself at the place where all her late night wanderings had been leading her: Piotr's door.
A thin plank of wood was all that separated her from once-buried years of emotional wreckage.
To think that she had gone through more in her almost 20 years of life, than most people had endured on a daytime Soap Opera. It left her with a bitterly sarcastic feeling.
Piotr Rasputin. The name alone brought on bouts of confusion. She never knew where she stood on him. Kitty supposed she always loved him, in some part. Even when she was in love with Pete Wisdom, a part of her had remained in love with her one-time beau. Kitty remembered hearing somewhere that you never get over your first love. Well, she was walking proof of that adage.
Of course, she was glad that Piotr was alive. No, glad wasn't the correct term. She was elated. She was relieved. Somehow she felt that living could be easier now. That probably wouldn't be the case. There was bound to be a big emotional explosion down the road. But she couldn't think about that now. Her entire being was focused on the here and now. And the here and now kept feeling like a complete and wonderful dream. Kitty was afraid that she was going to wake up.
Taking a deep breath, Kitty slowly leaned her head through the door. As if it were planned, an enormous crack of thunder, louder than any she could ever remember, sounded. Kitty was so surprised, she fell halfway through the door before she caught herself.
On previous nights, Kitty would stick her head through the door, just enough as necessary, so she could see Peter. Now a good portion of her torso was protruding through the wood, a portion that would not go unnoticed easily. Not hearing anything unusual, Kitty sighed of relief, and began to pull herself back into the hallway. "Katya?"
She stopped. The voice was deep, questioning, confused. It rumbled from the corner of the room, deep in the shadows. Cursing her foolishness under her breath, Kitty looked towards the origin of the word. Out of the shadows she saw him emerge. He was looking at her curiously. It was still a little... unnerving to see him there. Alive. "Hi Peter," she said sweetly, trying to mask the displeasure of her mistake.
He looked at her curiously, a small smile starting to play at the corners of his mouth. He brushed a hand through his hair, and looked around his room, for no particular reason. Then his gaze came back to the girl protruding through his door. "What are you doing?"
She took a deep breath. "I couldn't sleep because of, of the storm. I was taking a walk, and I tripped."
He chuckled. "It's a rarity when you trip Katya. I'm just sorry I wasn't there to catch you." Another loud clap of thunder sounded.
"It's ok. I kindof caught myself." She grimaced inwardly. She hated lying to him. But it wouldn't do for him to know of her nightly activities- watching over him like a certain of Edgar Allen Poe character. "I'll be off then, sorry to disturb you, Peter." Kitty started to phase the rest of the way out of the door, but then she took one good last look at his face. Something was amiss. "Piotr, what's wrong. What are you doing up?"
Piotr shrugged and turned around. He was dressed in a pair of boxers, and a large oversized t-shirt. Kitty bit her lip contemplatively, then slowly made her way completely into Piotr's room. She made her way slowly behind him, her hands clutched close to her chest. She didn't know if she should intrude on his privacy. Lord knows he hadn't had much of it stuck in Ord's lab. But, she knew she had to help him in whatever way possible. If she didn't, well, he might just end up killing himself again. Kitty knew she had to intrude. She was just about to ask again, when he opened his mouth.
"It's weird, you know?" He turned around to face her. "I've been gone for so long. It seems amiss." Biting her tongue, Kitty kept silent. Piotr had something to get off of his chest, and she felt that if she interrupted, he wouldn't be able to start again. Piotr, in the meantime, had taken a seat on his bed. He rested his muscular arms on his knees, leaning forward slightly. "It feels like the movie "Forever Young." I've returned from nothingness, to find that everything is different. I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to... accept everything and catch up. I never was the fastest learner. And now I'm five years behind." He exhaled heavily.
Kitty warily sat down beside him and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Peter, don't worry. It doesn't matter if you ever catch up. You could be stuck in the seventies, and it wouldn't matter. You're back. That's the only important thing: You've come back to us."
"When I close my eyes I can still feel them..." Piotr paused, "Experimenting." He shuddered suddenly, having recalled to mind the torture-filled years he spent locked in the confines of the laboratory. For a while, he had convinced himself that he had gone to hell. It sure fit descriptions he had heard of the underworld. Kitty looked at him, her eyes worried. She squeezed his shoulder, not knowing whether he wanted to continue or not. "It's ok, Piotr."
Then, something unexpected started to happen. Piotr started to laugh. It was a quiet and short laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. Kitty, taken aback, looked at him oddly. Usually it was only the crazy people who laughed at torture. Had the years of imprisonment made Piotr go looney?
He took in a deep breath. "I find it ironic, is all. Do you remember it was this side of ten years that I was comforting you after you awoke from nightmares?"
"Yes I do. It seems that things have come full circle. They usually do."
Sitting there, Kitty tried to soak in every moment of it. She had missed him so much. More than she ever deemed possible. She had missed the sound of his voice, the scent of his aftershave. She missed his artistic way of looking at things, his kind demeanor. She missed the way he looked at her. Their chemistry. She had just missed him. For too long. And finally, he was back.
They sat in silence for minutes, but they seemed like hours. Too much had passed between them for any silence to be comfortable. The circumstances were too bizarre.
Kitty shifted, stretching. "Well, I think it's time I got back to my room. I don't want Lockheed to have eaten my socks." She made ready to get up and go.
"No, Katya." Piotr looked at her, a strange look in his eyes. "Please stay with me. I don't think I want to be alone."
"Piotr..." Her heartbeat began to race. "I don't think..."
Suddenly his eyes went wide. "Nyet! That's not what I meant. I just... I've been alone for so long. Well, aside from Ord and his minions. I'd just like some company tonight. At least for a little while."
Kitty smiled. "Of course, big guy." She sat on top of his desk, and looked around. "Aha! I see you've brought out your old sketchbooks!" She began to flip through the one on top of the stack. She turned to a page and stopped. It was a simple sketch, drawn after she had first joined the X-men. All of them were sitting around, smiling, and watching Kurt perform his Errol Flynn routine. A hard knot was forming in the back of her throat. She put the sketchbook down, and pushed the knot away. "Do you think things will be like that again?" She whispered.
Piotr slowly got up from his bed and walked over to the desk, standing beside her. "I hope so."
She looked up at him, then flew, embracing him tightly. She could feel tears forming in her eyes. The first tears she had shed in a long time. "I missed you, Piotr."
He encircled her protectively with his arms, burying his head in her shoulder. "I missed you too, Katya. More than you would ever know." The words were barely audible, but Kitty heard them clear as day. This would be the part where she would wake up. Except this time, it wasn't a dream. It was pure and magical reality.
A minute or two passed, as the two embraced, until they broke away. Kitty wiped her eyes. "Peter, don't ever leave again, ok? If you do, I'll kill you." Her voice was a mixture of seriousness and a joking tone.
"I wouldn't dare risk your wrath." Piotr almost chuckled, the anxieties of earlier being calmed by her presence and reassurances.
It would be a long time before Piotr felt completely at ease back in the world of the living, but to be sure, Kitty would be there, helping him through all of it.
(A/N: Did I rush it too much at the end? I was just so worried I would lose my muse. And then it would start looking like crap.
I've always wanted to write those long, ten page stories that Jeremy Harper and Lia Fail write. But, goddamnit... I have ADD! I don't have the attention span for that. You two are just the masters. I am like "Hop On Pop" to your "Gone with the Wind." Honestly. My writing is garbage in comparison. But I love your stories.
Anyways. I dunno... I'm just anxious for Astonishing to come out. So I thought I'd write a bit before I go out to college. I think I'll work on a bachelor party story next. That should be a bucket of laughs.
I like this story, I guess. I didn't put as much thought into it as I would have liked. Ah well. Whatcha gonna do?
Oh. And the story Title comes from a David Bowie song I'm listening to right now. I guess it's good that when it came to naming the story, I wasn't listening to "Ziggy Stardust." because that wouldn't make sense.)