REFUGE
BY MADRIPOOR ROSE
Chapter Two
She was silent for a moment, considering the question. "You are under my protection. First things first. We go home and wait and see. If nothing changes, you go to the dasha, the cabin, and we forge papers for everyone."
Piotr sat back and tried not to worry. The future...he was too numb to think that far ahead. Irina had a plan, that was enough. Kitty. She was out there somewhere. Maybe the soldiers had her. Maybe she was alone, hiding, afraid.
He wanted to hit something.
He wanted to go back, but the children needed him. He'd accepted that responsibility when he'd taken Logan's order to help them.
He could hope that she was with Logan and the others, that Yuri would find them.
Traffic was light at this time of night, it made bringing the RV into the city easier. Under other circumstances, Piotr might have laughed at the look on the night doorman's face as the RV pulled up in front of the building and they all got out. Discretion was part of the job description, but this would flap the most unflappable.
His jaw dropped and hung open for a full minute before he swallowed and schooled his expression. "Good morning Miss Vassilov. Mister Rasputin, good to see you again, sir."
"Good morning, Bernard." Piotr adjusted Jones in his arms and carried the unconscious boy into the art deco appointed lobby, Irina at his side, the two of them trailing gray sweatsuited children like ducklings following their mother as they went over to the bank of beaten bronze elevator doors.
Auntie Olga was taking the RV back. There were surprised whispers from some of the kids at the luxury of their surroundings. The Xavier School had accustomed them all to a higher standard of elegant decor, but this evidently wasn't what they were expecting.
"The guest rooms are made up, Piotr. Let's get the sleepy ones back to bed," Irina suggested.
"Yo, Pete. Jones and Theresa are gonna need someone to watch 'em, and I'm pretty wired. Got a room for three?" Tabitha called out.
"Papa's room."
Piotr led her down the hall to the master bedroom. They set their sleeping charges down on the faux mink bedspread. Tabitha took another look around the large room, the heavy, expensive mahogany furniture...everything done one step off tasteful toward tacky.
"So Peter...Irina Vassilov? As in Boris 'The Butcher' Vassilov? Pop wouldn't work a grift anywhere near his patch," Tabitha crossed her arms and frowned at him. "So how you know this girl?"
"I used to work for Boris," Piotr confessed.
"Scared o'you," Tabitha sounded impressed, but still teasing. More seriously, she asked him, "We didn't just jump from the frying pan into the fire, did we?"
"No. Irina is not her father's daughter, and Boris is out of the country on business."
"Cool. I'm worried about Jones being out this long. He never sleeps, I dunno if he can wake up. Without the Doc or the Prof, what are we gonna do?"
Piotr hated having to say this word again. "We wait. He must have been tranqued first, he should recover first. If he doesn't...we'll have to try stimulants. Ice water and smelling salts before drugs."
"Pretty much what I figured," Tabitha sprawled down across the foot of the bed.
On his way out the door, Piotr opened up the entertainment armoire doors and tossed her the remote control.
He went to the guest rooms, reassuring kids, telling them to try and rest if they couldn't sleep, wiping away tears and tucking in blankets.
The sun was rising when Piotr staggered back down the hall, intending to check on Jones and Theresa again. Irina had been passing out pillows and blankets to the children camping out in the living room. She caught Piotr, latched onto his arm and spun him around.
"You need to lie down before you fall down."
"I need to..."
"Your children are all sleeping, and those that aren't have each other. Close your eyes for a couple of hours. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? You'll do yourself no good if you collapse. Come, lie down."
Irina could be frighteningly sensible sometimes. He balked a little as she opened her bedroom door. "Irina, your room?"
"Is the only other room with a king size bed. Unless you'd like to fold yourself in half on a sofa?" she reached up and gave him a little push between the shoulderblades, switching to Russian. "You used to be eager to sleep in my bed, Piotr Nikolievich."
"Because you used to ride me like a Cossack pony," he responded in kind.
He sat on the edge of her bed and put the cellphone on the nightstand. He pulled off his sweatshirt, and tossed it onto the pink velvet wing chair nearby. His shoes followed, and the gun went into the nightstand drawer.
Irina had gone to her dresser, and unfastened her locket. He stopped, and watched her open the egg box and carefully drape the chain over the little display hook.
The easter egg wasn't real, it was a reproduction of the real one at the Met in the Stark Collection.
Enameled new apple green and applied with silver swags of laurel leaves suspended from bows set with cabochon garnets and pearls. A spring bouquet of enameled forget-me-nots and snowdrops decorated the center panel.
The egg was fake, but the locket, a silver heart with the enamel bouquet duplicated, was not. It was the only Imperial Present that stayed in the family, the only one Great Great Uncle Grigory hadn't drunk or gambled away, payment for the mutant monk using his powers to heal the dying Romanov heir.
"You still wear my locket?"
"Force of habit," she agreed, carefully clasping the lid of the egg shaped box. "I'll give it back to you when you leave."
"No, it was a gift," he protested quickly.
"It is an heirloom. It should go to Illyana, or to the woman you marry." There was no recrimination in her voice, no bitter undertone meant to remind him that when he gave her the necklace they thought they would be married someday. They'd parted on good terms.
Whether that had been Jean Grey's telepathic influence, or a childhood of violence and loss teaching Irina to let things go, Piotr would never be certain.
She came over as he stretched out on the bed, turning slightly to the diagonal with the unconscious ease of practice. She perched beside him for a moment and told him, "Try to get a little sleep. They'll be all right. Children are stronger than you think. We survived our childhood, eh? Things will be better in the morning."
She left the room. Piotr lay back and looked up into the familiar shadows, breathing in the faint scent of Casma perfume instead of the lingering trace of oil paint and gym socks that permeated the room he shared with Jamie.
No one was watching him now, no one needed him to be strong. So he let himself cry.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Yuri sighed to himself and looked up the tree. The girl in pink pajamas glared back down at him from astride a thick oak branch.
It had taken him a while to run the girl to ground. They were at the back of the estate, far from the house. The soldiers seemed interested only in the house, and not chasing down errant escaped children.
"Come down from there, girl. I'm not with those at your school," he called to her.
"You're Russian. I heard two of them talking, they didn't have accents," she said slowly.
"You know Piotr Rasputin, yes? Siberian boy, almost as tall as that tree. He called a friend for help and I am a friend of that friend."
She eyed him suspiciously. "Piotr's name is in the school records. If you really are a friend of his friend, tell me something that isn't."
Yuri smiled approvingly. "He dotes on his little sister Illyana. He calls her his Snowflake."
The girl jumped off of her branch and floated to the ground in front of him. She put her hands on her hips. "If you turn out to be a bad guy, I'm gonna be real upset," she warned him.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Piotr got three hours of sleep, and then Jones woke up. Tabby came and got him out of a confused dream of moving crates around an enormous geodesic dome.
"It was horrible! I knew the men were in the house, and I couldn't warn anyone or do anything. I couldn't talk or move!" Jones complained. He frowned at the still slumbering redhead on the other side of the bed. "Is that happening to Theresa?"
"No, Terry's just asleep. Your mutation makes your body chemistry different, the drug reacts differently to you," Piotr explained.
"Did everybody get away?"
Piotr closed his eyes. "No."
Tabby told him about the raid, the escape, and who was missing. "...so we're hanging out here at Pete's old girlfriend's place until one of the teachers shows up to tell us what to do."
Irina stuck her head in the door. "Good morning. There's breakfast in the kitchen. Tabitha, if you want, I can sit with Theresa while you eat."
"Nah. She'll scream if she don't see a familiar face when she wakes up, and you don't want this girl screaming. But thanks."
"I'll bring you a tray."
Having this many people to cook for was sending Auntie Olga into a sort of feeding frenzy. The smell of sausage made Piotr's stomach growl as they approached the kitchen. Jamie Madrox was complaining, "This oatmeal looks funny."
"That's because it's kasha," Piotr accepted a seat, a cup of coffee, and a loaded plate. He hadn't eaten like this since the last time he was home, and he was surprised at how hungry he was.
He felt a little guilty about pigging out, with the fate of so many of their friends in question, with Kitty still missing...but with Auntie Olga ladling more kasha into his bowl, serving eggs and sausage and freshly baked bread with honey, and urging everyone to 'eat, eat, you're all growing boys and girls,' he found himself obediently scraping his plate clean and sitting back with an overstuffed belch.
After breakfast, Irina collected sizes and a few of the nervous kids who needed to be kept occupied and went on an expedition to Target for a change of clothes.
"Bah," she waved away Piotr's promise of repayment, "I spend more on shoes. We'll stop at Big and Tall and get you some things as well."
The shopping party left, and Piotr retrieved the cellphone and checked it out.
A couple of numbers were labeled by codename. Cyclops...Mister Summers. Storm...Miss Munroe. He tried those and got the out of service area recording. He tried Angel, not recognizing that codename, and found himself speaking to Warren Worthington's private secretary. Unfortunately, Mister Worthington was in London and couldn't be reached at the moment.
Piotr thanked her, and hung up. No help there, but at least he knew how he'd gotten the Worthington scholarship to art school. He wondered what the reclusive billionaire's mutation was.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Yuri was kinda scary, Kitty decided. But not a bad guy. Or at least if he was a bad guy, he was on their side.
He'd brought her out to the service road, where there was a black sedan parked on the side of the road, and told her he was taking her to Piotr and the others.
She wasn't getting any kind of Afterschool Special vibe off getting into the car with him, and anyway she could always phase. "Tell me what happened. You were awake, yes?" he asked as they drove through the quiet streets, headed for New York.
"I couldn't sleep," Kitty agreed. She'd been worried about the news, the anti-mutant hysteria that seemed to be getting worse with every update. Trying to distract herself by thinking about the kiss. "I opened my eyes, and there were two men in our room. They were wearing black, and they had guns and military stuff. So I...I can go through solid objects...I threw myself down through the floor, dropped into the library. There was another man there, so I went out through the wall and ran away."
Yuri grunted, and she paused, ashamed. "When there's a fire drill, and you get out from that wing of the mansion, you're supposed to go wait at the gazebo in the rose garden. I waited there for a while, but nobody else came. So I circled around to the lake and the boathouse 'cause that's the other fire drill place, and noone was there either. I guess you already came and got them already. I was going back toward the house when I saw you the first time, and ran off again."
"You're good at that."
"Running away when my friends are in trouble?" she asked guiltily.
"These secret agencies..." Yuri spoke softly. "They rely on shadow and silence. Someone must survive, stay free, to be witness. You are twelve? Thirteen years?"
Kitty sat up straighter. "I'm fifteen!"
"Still little girl, but brave little girl. I've seen grown men freeze, too afraid to move. You, you run. Do what you are supposed to do in emergency. And then go back to see if you can help your friends. You could curl up in ball, cry, be helpless. You don't. You are very brave."
Kitty didn't feel very brave, but she unconsciously lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. She didn't know Yuri, but he reminded her a little of Mister Summers, in that he had an air of indefinable competence. Mister Summers didn't give praise that wasn't deserved, and something told her Yuri didn't either.
They pulled up to a fancy downtown apartment building. The doorman didn't blink at the sight of Yuri escorting a barefoot teenage girl in pink pajamas, but there was a woman in a red Chanel suit with a Pomeranian on a leash, who both sniffed at them when they got on the elevator.
Sam Guthrie threw open the apartment door. Half the school was in the living room. Kitty found herself surrounded, and hugged, and patted repeatedly.
Jamie, Sam, Amara, Tabitha, Jones, Theresa...
"so scared..."
"...don't know where the teachers are, or the..."
"Did you see..."
"..woke up and screamed..."
"KATYA!" and there was Piotr, coming out of a hall and darting around the furniture.
The kids moved out of his way quickly, and Kitty gasped as Piotr gathered her up in his arms, and swung her around, beaming with joy and relief. "Hi Peter," she giggled a little breathlessly, and then her eyes went wide as his mouth covered hers.
Whoops and catcalls rang out from the other kids, but Kitty barely heard them as she melted into the kiss. Piotr drew back all too soon, but his eyes were shining with love. It sent warm shivers through her to her toes.
"My Ekaterina...I thought I had lost you..." he said, his accent thicker, voice rough with emotion.
She pulled her hand around from the back of his neck, and stroked his cheek. "I'm right here."
He kissed her again, very lightly on the lips, then once on the forehead, and set her on her feet.
Only then did Piotr seem to realize they had an audience, and he blushed bright pink.
XxXxXxXxXxX
It wasn't until he saw Kitty alive and well, standing on the Aubusson rug in her pajamas and bare feet, that it really hit him. Just how afraid he'd been that he would never see her again. It shook him to realize how much he cared for her, how much...
How much he loved her.
He loved her.
Int hat thunderstroke moment of epiphany, he swept her up and kissed her, thoroughly, much to the entertainment of their classmates.
Under the hoots and catcalls, he heard Sam tease, "It's about time Petey Pureheart got some puh--Tabby! Ow!"
He set Kitty down, blushing. He'd just french kissed her in front of...well...almost everybody. Piotr breathed a sigh of relief as the ensuing Sam versus Tabby scuffle drew some of the attention away from them.
"Hayseed, I can't believe you were gonna say that! I never claimed to have no class, but man, oh man..."
"What? It was a joke! A pun, sorta. I can't believe you put a popper bomb down my shirt. I may be invulnerable, but damn, they sting!"
Piotr met Yuri's eyes. He knew it was a dangerous thing to say, but he had to say it. "I owe you one."
"You owe Irina. She pays the bills," Yuri reminded him. "I'm heading out again."
Piotr turned back to Kitty. "You've been up all night, you must be tired, hungry..."
"I could eat," Kitty grinned at him.
He knew he was giving her a dopey smile in return.
Katya. He'd been fighting his feelings for so long. Because of the age difference. Because she deserved better. But now it was out in the open. Life was too uncertain, the raid on the school made him realize that. Whatever there was between them, whatever there could be, he wanted to explore it.
But not now. He sent her off to the kitchen for Auntie Olga to fuss over, and went back to trying to keep morale up.
First of all, he'd better separate Sam and Tabby before something got broken.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Piotr led her through the palatial apartment to a kitchen that rivaled the one at school, and introduced her to a plump and motherly woman he called Auntie Olga.
"You were out there all night? Poor girl, and you are thin as two sticks as it is. Sit, sit and eat..."
Kitty found herself loaded up with hot cereal, bread and honey, and bananas and orange slices.
"It's very good, ma'am, thanks," Kitty said between bites. "So you're Piotr's aunt? I didn't know he had any family in the states other than his uncle."
The older woman laughed, sitting down at the table with a cup of tea. "Oh, no, I am not Piotr's aunt. I work for the Vassilovs, Miss Irina and Young Piotr grew up calling me Auntie Olga, and now I am Auntie to everyone."
"Oh," Kitty hesitated, and then lowered her spoonful of kasha back to the bowl, stirring it up a little. Miss Irina? Who grew up with Peter. Who Peter had never mentioned.
Suddenly she wasn't very hungry.
"So Piotr and Irina grew up together?" she asked, hopefully feigning disinterest.
"Da. Piotr came to live with his uncle, Dmitri Novykh, when he was ten. Dmitri, he works for Mister Vassilov. Piotr was always a big strong boy, even at ten. He helped unload trucks for his uncle. Mister Vassilov was impressed, and Irina did not have many friends here, so he invited Piotr to come over to play with her," Auntie Olga smiled fondly. "They were together constantly until Piotr went upstate to go to your school."
Kitty felt sick. Piotr had grown up with this girl. And he had never mentioned her once in the two years they'd known each other.
Girlfriend. Definitely.
But she was pretty sure Piotr wouldn't have kissed her like that if he still liked Irina. Piotr had kissed her in front of everybody, and she almost bit his tongue, she was so shocked when he slid his tongue into her mouth during the kiss. That wasn't a friends reunited kiss. That wasn't a worried about you kiss. That...that was a kiss. A grownups kiss.
She needed to talk to Piotr. Alone. After breakfast. More cheered, she dug back into her bowl of kasha.
XxXxXxXxXxX
The shopping trip was surprisingly fun. The kids, doing something so normal, began to relax a little. They bought clothes, underwear. Simple outfits of teeshirts and jeans. It took a good sized chunk out of her allowance, but as she'd told Piotr, she'd blown more on shoes. They picked up toothbrushes for everybody, while they were at it, as well as a few other little comforts and necessities.
Luckily, the classic '67 Cadillac convertible she drove had lots of trunk space. They had plenty of room for their purchased without burying any of the passengers under shopping bags.
They got back to the building and went upstairs.
Fresh chaos erupted as they handed out the clothes and things, and then a bathroom schedule suddenly had to be worked out. She could hear whispers. Yuri had returned with a girl named Kitty and left again. Piotr had kissed Kitty when he saw that she was safe. They were trying to keep their voices down, but in Irina's life hearing something you weren't supposed to hear was a survival skill. One of the many lessons her father paid for was a deaf teacher who'd taught her to read lips.
So Piotr had found a new lover. Irina wondered how she should be feeling about that. Possessive jealousy was not in her heart. They'd parted well, and a while ago. It was not surprising that he had moved on. The fact that she had not had more to do with her limited choice of companions than with pining for the loss of him.
But she wanted to meet this Kitty, and see if she approved of the match.
The girl was probably still in the kitchen. Irina glanced over to Piotr, who was sternly informing a six year old boy with light blue hair that he definitely had to shower and brush his teeth. She slipped out of the living room and went to see.
There was a girl sitting at the table with Auntie Olga. She had long chestnut brown hair and a slender, dancer's build. Petite and delicate, the kind of girl that always made Irina feel like a big blonde ox. Pretty as well.
"Kitty?" she asked, just for confirmation.
"Uh-huh. Irina?"
"I am Irina. I'm glad Yuri found you, your friends have been very worried."
"Yeah. Thanks for taking us in."
There was a moment of awkward silence.
XxXxXxXxXxX
"We are arranging for showers and clean clothes. Or if you'd like to get some sleep..." Irina offered.
"No. I'm way too wound up to sleep now. I'll probably crash early tonight. A shower and some clothes sounds great though." Kitty's smile was a little strained.
Irina was the same age as Piotr, blonde, busty, and beautiful. A total Barbie doll come to life. Her worst nightmare.
"We brought some extra toothbrushes and underthings. And I can loan you some clothes."
"Blouse is gonna be loose," Kitty muttered under her breath, glancing down at her fairly flat by comparison chest as she got up.
Kitty picked up a couple of packages from the stacks on the coffee table, picking out her sizes, while Irina called out, "Is anyone using my bathroom right now?"
"Nope," Tabitha called back, "just the guest suites."
Piotr, who had been tying shoelaces for the blue haired boy, looked up with a hunted expression.
"Good. Kitty's going to get cleaned up, and we're going to have a little chat." Irina smiled like a wolf.
Kitty frowned at that, until she saw the look of utter panic on Piotr's face. She looked at Irina, who turned and winked where Piotr couldn't see.
Kitty began to smile, and it was as sweetly threatening as Irina's. "Yes. I think Irina and I should get to know each other better. After all. We have. So much. In common."
They made it all the way down to Irina's bedroom before looking at each other and giggling.
"Ah, we should not torture the poor boy so," Irina sighed, smiling at her.
"We were evil," Kitty agreed solemnly.
"And I come by it too naturally," Irina shook her head. "I hope we can be friends, Kitty."
"You're Piotr's ex-girlfriend." Kitty needed to say it out loud.
"And you're his new girlfriend. I am not jealous, Kitty, and I assure you, you have no reason to be. Piotr and I said goodbye a long time ago."
Kitty eyed her warily, not certain if she could believe her. Kitty knew that she wouldn't give up so easily.
Her innate honesty led Kitty to confess, "I'm not exactly his girlfriend. Yet. I like him like that, and I think he likes me back, but I'm fifteen and that's kinda freaking him out."
"It would," Irina agreed thoughtfully. "Piotr can be surprisingly proper. Give him time."
"Yeah. I'm afraid I'm gonna have to give him three years," Kitty sighed.
Irina laughed. "Well, let's get your outfit picked out so you can clean up. I think I have a few things in the back that will fit."
Kitty's eyes widened as Irina showed her the walk-in closet. "Oh wow. It looks like Vogue blew up."
"Anything on that rack should fit, might be a little loose. Try on anything you like."
XxXxXxXxXxX
Piotr tried not to stare down the hallway as Kitty and Irina walked away together, and he swallowed nervously. He hadn't gotten a chance to talk to Kitty about the kiss, he hadn't told her that he was in love with her yet. And he'd never told her about Irina.
Irina was part of the past he'd been trying to put behind him.
He hadn't mentioned Kitty to Irina either, except as one of the school children unaccounted for after the raid. To be fair to himself, he hadn't realized just what she'd meant to him until he saw her again safe and sound.
Kitty and Irina had obviously been talking. To each other.
Piotr knew he was in trouble.
He sent Tobias off for his shower, and Irina came out, and motioned for him to join her on the terrace. There was a fine view of the park, and the old cast iron bench he remembered, facing the flowerboxes. There were only a few fading blooms.
"So. Kitty seems nice." Irina's smile was less unnerving now, warmer. "How long have you been dating her?"
"We aren't...Kitty...she..." Piotr blew out a breath and started over. "She's so young. I've fallen in love with her, Irina, but I tried not to."
"She's not a child, Piotr. She's fifteen."
"She's innocent. The worst things that's ever happened to her were discovering that she was a mutant, and now this attack," Piotr spat out bitterly. "Do you remember the worst things we'd seen by the time we were fifteen?"
Irina looked away. She'd never been sheltered from reality, from the fact that her family fortune was founded on misery. Piotr had broken bones with his bare hands. There was blood on her own.
"Is there no room in your artist's palette for shades of gray, Piotr? You are a good man. There's no cruelty in you. When you worked for my father, you did what was necessary, and no more, and took no joy of it. Even Papa could see it, and that's why he gave you to me. He knew I'd not see your like again, and it was good for me to have someone I could lower my guard with, and be just a girl for a little while longer, and not a mafiya princess. Do not name yourself unworthy of love, Piotr. Not to me. Who holds real monsters leashed by my word."
Piotr looked at her, still troubled, but a wry smile turned the corner of his mouth up. "Perhaps I am being a tad melodramatic."
"A common failing among Russians. It explains so much of our history. The girl adores you, Piotr, and you don't need to put her on a pedestal to even the difference in height." Irina tilted her head slightly and smiled. "It all works well enough lying down."
"She's fifteen, Irinushka."
"And next year she shall be sixteen, and the next year seventeen, and the next..."
"Three years," he sighed.
Irina shrugged, and gave him a devilish smile. "You don't have to be that good. There are other ways to...enjoy a girl's company, as you well know. You were patient enough with me while I got over my nervousness, and we had fun, da?"
Piotr ducked his head and blushed.
That was when the doors opened, and Sam stepped out. "Uh. Pete? You better see this. Mister Logan and Bobby, Rogue and John are on GNN. Pyro blew up some cops."
Inside, the large screen TV was tuned to the Global News Network. They were showing a helicopter shot of an upper middle class neighborhood in chaos. Police cars were burning in the spacious front yard of a three story white colonial, news crews and neighbors milled around in the street. The crawl at the bottom of the screen read: Mutant Terror In Quincy Mass...No known connection to the assassination attempt...One of the suspected mutants is Robert Drake, age 17, eldest son of William and Madeline Drake...
Piotr flinched, unable to imagine what Bobby must be going through. The scene shifted to Bobby's most recent class picture, then a family photo with his parents and kid brother.
"...unconfirmed reports of an unidentified aircraft landing in the street, in which Robert Drake and three unnamed accomplices fled..." the reporter's voiceover was droning on and on.
"Miss Munroe and Doctor Grey," a couple of the kids cried out, almost in unison. "They had the Blackbird."
Tabby hushed them.
The descriptions of the unnamed accomplices confirmed it. The man with the metal blades in his hands. The girl with white streaked brown hair. The boy who threw fireballs. Logan, Rogue, and John had been with Bobby Drake, and had gone to his parents. And then something happened to set Pyro off, and Doctor Grey and Miss Munroe came to get them.
"It is good news, yes? To know that three of your teachers and three other students are safe and free?" Irina asked.
"We still don't know about the Professor and Mister Summers. And six students are still missing." Piotr was worried.
"But if Doctor Grey is free, she can probably find Mister Summers. And they'll figure it out," Kitty called out.
Piotr turned, and froze. His mouth fell open, but he couldn't think of anything to say, so he closed it again.
Kitty was wearing a simple deep blue outfit, with a wrap top and skirt that came down in handkerchief points. Her hair was twisted up in a neat chignon and held with cloisonne combs. It was too subtle an effect for Piotr to notice, but Kitty didn't usually bother with makeup, so the borrowed smudge of smoky eyeshadow and Clinque Black Honey lipstick combined with the clothes and the hair to make her look elegant, sophisticated, and about twenty-five years old.
"Irina lent me a few things since I got here after she went to Target," she explained.
"Whoa. Smokin' hot, Kit." Tabitha encouraged her.
Amara Aquilia squealed with jealous delight. "Oh gods, is that a Eulalie Original? Betsy Braddock wore it in green in her first French Vogue shoot three years ago!"
Irina, Tabby, and Amara began talking fashion. Sam shook his head disgustedly at GNN, as the talking heads kept repeating the same information in different ways meant to disguise the fact that they didn't really have a clue what had happened at the Drake house. He changed the channels, flicking through programs.
"Ooh. Stargate SG-1. And it's Fallen," Kitty sighed as the villages found an amnesiac Daniel Jackson.
Piotr glanced at the screen and muttered distractedly, "I never liked that episode."
"You and Irina were out on the terrace? Want to show me the view?" Kitty offered.
Piotr nodded, and led her outside, carefully closing the doors behind them for privacy.
Kitty looked in at all the faces looking back and groaned. "At least our live action teen angst soap opera is helping to keep some of the kids distracted from worrying."
"Better than reruns of 90210," Piotr agreed ruefully. "I am sorry Katya. I did not mean for...for all this to be happening all at once."
"I talked with Irina, while we picked out this outfit. She's really nice. And she explained a few things."
"Irina and I cared for each other, but it ended when I left." Piotr told her, warily.
"That's what she said. That it was more like you were really good friends, friends who fooled around and stuff. 'Cause her dad and your uncle were trying to fix you up. That Irina was gonna have all these golddigger guys around her since they got rich, but her dad knew you, your family, and knew you were such a sweetheart you'd be a good first boyfriend for her, for practice. It's weird, but it kinda makes sense."
"It was complicated," Piotr agreed.
"So that kiss..."
"This kiss?" Piotr caught her chin and tilted her face up to meet his stoop.
Time stopped, for a little while.
"That kiss," Kitty licked her lips, a little breathlessly. "Guess it means what I think it means."
"I love you, Katya. I was...blind to it, for a while. Until I saw you weren't with us in the tunnels. Until Yuri brought you to us safe and whole. I love you."
Kitty looked up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears. One tumbled over the brink, rolling down her cheek, then another fell. "Oh Peter! I love you. I've loved you from the first moment I saw you."
Piotr cupped her face gently in his hands, and wiped the tears away, then he lightly kissed her again on the lips.
"So when we go back to school, we're dating? I'm your girlfriend now, officially?"
"Da. Even if we don't go back to the school."
Kitty's jaw set. "It's gonna be okay, Peter. It just wouldn't be fair if it isn't. Not now. We're gonna go back to school, and everything's going to be all right again. We're gonna go out to the movies, and out to eat and hang out at the mall. And go to the school dances. When you start at the Art Institute, you'll come home weekends and we'll go for walks by the lake and you can show me your sketchbook."
Piotr's mouth quirked at this determinedly normal litany. They'd already been doing all of those things, but now it seemed terribly romantic, seen through the eyes of love. "And that differs from our lives now in what way?"
Kitty beamed at him happily. "Oh, there's gonna be a whole lot of kissing and necking and making out in there too."
"Some kissing and necking," Piotr gently corrected her. "I mean to take things slow, Katya. Makes me feel a little less like a dirty old man robbing the cradle."
"You're not that much older than me, you know."
"Three years is enough, on this side of eighteen. We have time, Katya."
"I hope we have time." Kitty looked out over the park, and the cityscape beyond. New York went about its business, oblivious to the coin of fate rolling along on the edge. Heads triumph, tails disaster. Just waiting to see which way it fell. "What were you going to say before? If we can't go back to school?"
Piotr gave her a lopsided smile. "How do you feel about farming?"
That made her laugh a little. "I'm the kind of girl you'd bring home to meet your parents, huh?"
"You're the kind of girl I see my future with. Whatever that future might be."
"Can we go in and announce we're going steady?"
"If you like."
The announcement was met with calls of congratulations, a snorted mutter of 'duh, about time' from Tabitha, and indifference. Sam had settled on the Stargate rerun, and most of the kids were watching it. Piotr went to take his shower.
When he came out, Jamie told him that Irina wanted all the older kids in her father's office.
Sam, Tabby, Amara, Kitty and now Piotr made themselves comfortable on the leather sofas facing the large desk. Irina moved an antique globe and perched on a corner of the desk.
"We need a plan," she stated bluntly. "Yuri's called in. Most of the soldiers have departed, leaving only a few to guard your school. My father has contacts in various arms of the government," she paused, and Piotr mentally listed the FBI, DEA, ATF, SHIELD agents, and senators on the Vassilov payroll. "and I've got them discreetly looking into the raid, if they can do so without compromising themselves. See if we can get a warning on what comes next. I think we should wait a week, and if the political situation is still uncertain, we'll smuggle you into Canada. My father has a cabin up north. I can have papers forged for you, and you can stay there as long as you like. That's the next step as I can see it."
Sam shook his head. "I can't believe this is really happening. That we're really talking about being on the run for the rest of our lives just because we were born mutants."
"Life ain't fair, Hayseed." Tabby commented grimly. "You just figuring that out NOW?"
"It's a good next step," Piotr agreed. "But if it comes to that, we need to know we can fend for ourselves. We can all have new papers made that lie about our ages, so that we can work. But what about the younger children?"
"Yeah, we don't split up. One big unhappy family now." Tabby looked thoughtful. "Between part time jobs at Wonderburger and me and Piotr's...more marketable skills...we oughtta be able to make ends meet."
Irina nodded. "It is always better to plan for the worst and hope for the best. So we are settled on this as a worst case scenario?"
The kids looked at each other, and each lost a little more of their innocence as they nodded in agreement.
XxXxXxXxXxX
They ordered pizza despite Auntie Olga's nutritional objections. Irina reminded her that pizza was comfort food for American youth, and she dug through the DVD library for movies appropriate for all ages. She stayed away from action movies, on the grounds that they weren't escapist enough.
They settled in for the night, and the younger children didn't notice the older ones slipping away now and then to check GNN on the television in Irina's father's bedroom. They were still reporting the same information on the incident at the Drake house, and speculation on the mutant attack on McKenna. At nine, they were going to have a geneticist, Doctor Henry McCoy, on Crosstalk to discuss the Mutant Question.
Piotr watched for a few minutes, disgusted, and decided The Secret Garden was a better idea. He went back to the living room, and the seat on the sofa Kitty was saving for him. He tried to stop thinking for a while and just watched the movie. Kitty snuggled up beside him, and they kissed a little during the slow parts.
Night fell, and they all settled back into the new sleeping arrangements, in their own freshly laundered pajamas. Irina put Kitty in the room she'd been using, and moved to a couch in her father's office. It was a rough night. It didn't matter how hard everyone was trying to pretend that everything was going to be all right. The older kids slept fitfully, and some of the younger ones had screaming nightmares.
Thankfully not Siryn.
Eventually the needs of growing bodies won out, over restless minds, and sleep came to them late. They slept in, 'til mid-morning. The early birds started getting up around ten, to another elaborate breakfast prepared by Auntie Olga.
Several of the children wanted to call home, so Irina arranged for the delivery and disposal of an untraceable phone for that purpose. Piotr had showered and shaved early, dressing in the black jeans and garnet red shirt Irina had bought him. Many of the children were still in their sleepwear.
Irina had the New York Times and the Daily Bugle and was working her way through the newspapers after handing off the comics pages to Jamie, Siryn, Jones and Tobias.
"Is my uncle in town?" Piotr asked, lingering over coffee.
"Nyet. He went with my father. Something about a deal with one of the Vladivostok families, smuggling their diamonds in the vodka we import legally through one of the fronts." Irina answered absently, turning a page.
"That sounds profitable," Piotr frowned, and reached up to rub his forehead as a headache seemed to clamp across his brow. He gasped as the pain intensified, until it felt like his head was split open and someone was trying to remove his brain from his skull with a dull grapefruit knife. The pain consumed his universe, he was aware of nothing else...and then as suddenly as it had come, it stopped.
He was lying on the kitchen floor, looking at a shattered cup on the tiled floor. Brightly patterned china shards in a puddle of coffee. Irina kneeling beside him, patting his cheeks lightly and begging, "Piotr! Please Petrusha, please wake up..."
"shto?" he whispered, swallowing against a dry mouth. "What? What happened?"
"You...you had a seizure." Irina said carefully, and paused. In the silence, Piotr could hear crying and confusion. He had to get up.
In a minute.
When he was sure his head wouldn't fall off.
Irina licked her lips. "All of you. Had seizures. All the mutants."
Piotr closed his eyes and swore. "Telepathic attack," he explained, and levered himself up, straight-armed. Irina helped him stand, and righted the chair he'd knocked over when he went down.
He made his way to the chaos in the living room.
"...Cerebro, was that Cerebro?"
"The Professor looking for us? Maybe it's over, maybe we can go home..."
"...killer hangover..."
Kitty had gone to get dressed. Piotr glanced at the hall, then at the scattered children.
Tabitha looked up from rocking Siryn in her arms, and read the indecision in his eyes. "Go on Pete. Go to her, we got this one."
Piotr glanced around again, and went.
XxXxXxXxXxX
To Be Continued