ATTRACTION

BY MADRIPOOR ROSE

Chapter Three

"Yes," Richards agreed with him. "We've got to stop him now, before it's too late. Get him to give up these powers."

The Human Torch, insolently juggling balls of flame, boasted, "we'll knock him down a peg or ten."

And the ever loyal Thing agreed, "What Reed says goes for alla us."

The Avengers voted next.

"I think the captain's right. I can't believe Doom could give up lording it over people. And now that he can do anything...it's too much power for one person. I wouldn't trust myself with it, let alone Doom."

The rest of her team chimed in with their agreement.

Professor Xavier spoke up next. "Perhaps I know better than you the temptation of insidious power---power which can be used for subtle manipulation. I believe that our only choice is to resist Doom now, before he becomes accustomed to these new abilities."

"I think Charles speaks for all of us," Lehnsherr nodded.

"Yes," Mystique voted, her hand on Rogue's shoulder. The girl nodded.

"You said it, baby." Logan growled.

Cyclops smirked. "Well. I say if anybody takes over the universe, it ought to be us. This Doom guy isn't even a mutant."

"Colossus? You haven't spoken yet, and you're the last. How do you vote?"

I'd been giving the matter serious thought. And I did not like the way the others agreed so quickly.

"He claims to be a completely different individual, to have been redeemed by the experience. We do not know his intentions. If we strike, unprovoked, does that not make us the aggressors?" I pointed out.

"It's true," Captain America agreed with me. "I don't know if this is the right thing to do. That's why I want a unanimous vote. We could be condemning an innocent man, here. Destroying a new force for good. But if Doom can't be trusted, the alternative..."

"The alternative is unthinkable. The potential for abuse is too great, and if this is the only time we can act, I vote we fight."

No sooner than I had spoken, there was an explosion, and I knew no more for a long time. Waking to a scene of devastation and horror.

Doom, omniscient, had decided to quell our rebellion at the start.

The villagers, this time, had come to our aid. I watched as Zsaji's people helped stunned superheroes to their feet.

I did not see Zsaji.

"Zsaji. Where is she?" I asked, and Johnny Storm came to me with tears in his eyes, and I knew.

"No." I tried to deny the horrible sick certainty clawing at my heart.

"She saved us, Peter. Saved us all, brought us back. You know how it was almost too much for her with Janet...she's gone, Peter."

He was trying to block me from the sight of our Zsaji, laying where she had fallen. I shoved the boy aside and rushed to gather her limp form in my arms.

She was cold, and still, those luminous eyes glazed, dull and empty. "No," I pleaded. "You give life, can you take? Take mine, Zsaji, please, please..."

Strong hands closed on my shoulders and tried to lift me, gently, to my feet.

"Pete. C'mon, kid. You can't do nothing for her. She's gone. It's all right. She's gone." Logan. I tried to shake him off, but he held firm.

"You ain't the only one grieving here, kid. Her kin had her laid out all nice and proper. Come on, let go, that's it. Give her her dignity..."

I moved mechanically, laying Zsaji back down, straightening her limbs, smoothing her robes.

I knelt at her side, staring blanking into space, remembering her. Every detail of every minute since the first time I saw her.

I was vaguely, distantly aware of confused conversation around me. Fear that Doom would strike us down again at any moment. Some concern over my behavior. Dismissed as grief and shock. Not even my fellow X Men knew about some of my messier assignments before Vazhin sent me to the Good Shepherd Clinic and thinktank. I am young, it was assumed that I had not seen death before, or at least had not lost someone I knew, was close to.

They spoke again, warily, of plans to confront Doom.

I stopped listening.

Zsaji was dead.

Nothing. Nothing mattered. None of it.

I would never again see her eyes light up, or run my hands through that spun silver hair. Never hear her sing out in the musical language her people spoke. Never hear her laugh at my stumbling attempts to repeat a word. Never again know the grace of her healing touch.

Zsaji was dead.

And part of me died with her.

The others went off on their mission. I stayed with the villagers, and carried Zsaji's body back to the village.

I sat quietly during the rituals and burial rites, and I helped dig her grave. And then I sat by her grave and waited.

For the heroes to return, or for Doom to destroy us all.

I didn't care which.

Zsaji was dead, leaving an emptiness that I couldn't bear.

Mystique came for me, in the end.

The villains had fled back to Earth, thanks to the Molecule Man's newfound mastery of his ability to manipulate matter.

Doom and the Beyonder had both vanished after a battle in which the Beyonder attempted to reclaim his powers.

Reed Richards had found the Beyonder's devices, the one used to transport us here, and had figured out how to get us home.

I followed Mystique obediently back to the others, and was transported.

And we were back on the grounds of the Good Shepherd Clinic, in Raven's Rock Vermont.

After a moment, Logan spoke up. "Well. Who wants a beer?"

Mystique laughed, and we started walking back to the house.

Cyclops hesitated at the path that led to the gate. "I better..."

Xavier looked at him with fatherly concern. "You're quite welcome to stay."

There was a rush of passing air overhead. Lockheed swooped down to perch on my shoulder, and Jeannie did a spin around our group with a joyful shout, "You're home!" Then she noticed Cyclops and Rogue, and hid behind Lehnsherr, shyly.

Cyclops looked at her, longingly, but said, "My brother Alex is with Sinister. I can't leave him there. We're all the family we've got. But...I'll think about your offer." He turned, and walked off quickly.

Logan and Mystique slipped quietly off as we reached the house. Jean flew ahead with the news of our return, and Gabrielle Haller-Lehnsherr ran to greet her husband with a kiss.

Doctor McCoy was asking excited questions, Sage interrupting with a few of her own.

I went on into the house. And Kitty charged down the staircase and leaped into my arms, kissing me with eager passion.

I froze, holding her, and returned the kiss, breaking away as soon as I could. Suddenly feeling heartsick.

Zsaji.

The happy welcoming babble of the girl I held in my arms was drowned out by my own heartbeat roaring in my ears.

Kitty.

I would have to tell her.

I hadn't meant to fall in love with another, so soon after she and I began a relationship.

"We were abducted by an alien. It's a long story," I said, a bit stiffly, and set her back on her feet.

"Well, duh!" she rolled her eyes. "You guys were gone for six months. It was kinda scary. ...you all right?"

"We were taken by an omnipotent entity calling itself the Beyonder...and forced to fight for its amusement..." The others trailed in as I explained to Kitty what had happened to us and where we had been for so long.

I didn't mention Zsaji.

I needed more time to grieve, more time to consider my words so I could let Kitty down easy.

Dinner was uncomfortable. I excused myself, left to report in to a safe house/message drop with a secure phone to report in to Colonel Vazhin, and call home.

Mama and Papa had been concerned...I'd never dropped out of communication for so long. Illyana was full of news. New kittens in the barn, a mare in foal and the foal promised to her...I interrupted to speak to Papa again at that, and he reminded me that Illyana would be old enough to ride once the horse was old enough to break to saddle. Mikhail and I had learned to ride at that age, and it hadn't hurt us to begin early.

I made a promise to myself to be there when Illyana learned to ride.

It hurts sometimes, to know she is my daughter, but thinks Papa is father to us both. It was the best compromise. There are kidnapping threats enough from the fact that she is listed as my sister in my personnel file. She has a good home, and I am free to serve Russia and the world itself with my gifts.

It struck me, like a slap, as I hung up the phone, that I had not thought of Illyana in a long time. There was the war...Zsaji...the fear of being stranded forever. Still...it seemed curious that I could be so forgetful of my golden haired child.

Guilt sent me straight to my sketchpad when I returned to the Clinic. Illyana dearly loved to receive mail, and I made sure I had enough cartoon-illustrated letters to send one a day for the next month.

I was still drawing when Kitty came to my room, and I sent her away with a tired smile and an excuse.

I didn't sleep well that night. Thoughts of Zsaji haunted me, and my room here seemed strange. The alien grown familiar and now the familiar grown alien. The simple lines of the Mission furnishings were oddly square, boxy, now that my eye had become accustomed to sinuous curves and odd proportion.

Eventually I got up, got another sketchpad, and started to draw again. Scenes of the battleworld. Zasji. The city. Zsaji laughing. Doom's base. The waterfall.

The sun was rising when I finally exhausted myself enough to sleep.

The next morning was fairly quiet. It seemed none of us had slept well.

There were, of course, innumerable meetings with various government agencies scheduled for later in the day. So many superheroes could not simply vanish off the face of the earth without disrupting the smooth flow of bureaucracy.

There were also tedious loyalty tests, to ensure none of us had revealed strategic information to an offworlder.

I sometimes envy the solitary costumed adventurer like the Hulk or Spider-man, who no doubt answers to no master save his own conscience.

Once SWORD was satisfied, we were free to return to the Clinic.

I went for a walk on the grounds, and found Kitty waiting for me in the shade garden where we had first spent time together. Jean was nearby, with Rogue and Mystique, playing with the Barbie dolls Kitty had given to her.

Showing off, a bit, how she could telekinetically manipulate them so the dolls moved jerkily, seemingly by themselves, like old stop-motion animation.

It was good fine-control practice for her telekinesis...and the little girl who had slept her life away wasn't quite ready to give up playing with dolls.

"Hey Peter. Can we talk?" Kitty looked up at me nervously, and patted the bench where she'd once posed for me.

I sat beside her, and couldn't meet her eyes.

"You've been quiet, since you got back. More than quiet. You're avoiding me. I know you had to fight for your lives out there, and well...if something happened...something you need to talk about..."

"It isn't what you think," I said softly, and let Kitty digest that.

"I was gone for a long time. And I met someone."

She took a sharp breath, and said, "oh."

"I don't want to hurt you, Kitty...but I loved her...and she died..." my voice broke.

"That isn't right!" Jean called out, her dolls falling discarded around her. "You love Kitty."

Mystique started to pick up Barbies. "Girls, I think these two need some privacy...let's go inside."

"No!" Jean stood up, her jaw set and lip pouting out a bit stubbornly. "I know it isn't nice to listen what people think without asking...but changing what they think is worse...and Zsaji was playing puppet-dolls with people, and I'M TELLING!" she stamped her foot, and the aura of the phoenix burst into ghostly flame around her.

Something white-hot seared through me, and I knew, and swallowed against the bile rising in my throat.

Kitty.

Zsaji had...

Bozhe moi.

What have I done?

Kitty was staring at me, hurt puzzlement fading to shock and the glimmer of understanding.

"Peter?" Mystique said, questioningly.

Kitty took a step toward me.

I turned, and fled. Got my Lexus out of the garage, and just drove, for hours.

It was late when I finally came home. Professor Xavier and Doctor McCoy were waiting up for me.

Xavier eyed the unopened bottle of vodka I was carrying with distaste, but said nothing about it. Simply, "Peter. I believe a full physical and psychic examination is advisable."

I followed them down to the labs, where my humiliation was made complete as lingering traces both chemical and empathic were isolated and identified.

I had mistaken addiction for attraction.

When it was done I retreated to my room, and took a long hot shower.

I still didn't feel clean. But there was still the vodka, and that would help.

When I left the bathroom, Kitty was waiting, on my bed.

She was wearing pink pajamas, and her knees were drawn up under her. I stopped, disconcerted.

"Oh. I...didn't think you would come to me tonight."

She bit her lip. "I wasn't sure you wanted me to. Then the delivery trucks started coming. The hell was that?"

I smiled, a little wryly, and came to stretch out on the bed beside her. "I... Natasha. When she was angry with me, Natasha required jewelry, flowers, and chocolate in exchange for her forgiveness. Then I remembered you are more of a tomboy geek...that you like gadgetry and science fiction." I took a breath. "I had a gold card...and I think a nervous breakdown..." I shrugged helplessly, and had to admit I wasn't entirely sure what I had bought in my panic.

She moved, laying down beside me and carefully settling herself in my arms, like she wasn't sure she would still fit.

"Hm. Well, I'm keeping the orchids, and the truffles. And the holoplaystation. Everything else is going back. But I don't...Peter, I don't want you to buy me presents when I'm mad at you, and I'm not. I'm not mad at you. God, I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault."

Shame twisted my stomach. "I should have known. I forgot you too easily, and thought she...I shouldn't have..."

"Peter. You were raped." She took a sharp breath, almost as if trying to draw the words back in, but it was too late. She'd said it out loud.

I sat up, turning to look at her, denial already written on my face. "It's not..." Calling what had happened to me---that---felt like it would dishonor anyone who had survived a brutal attack, abuse. It had been insidiously pleasant for me. Too pleasant.

God help me, I still longed for her touch.

Henry said it would probably be a few weeks before the last of the euphoric neurochemicals passed out of my system.

Kitty looked like she was trying not to cry, but she took a shuddering breath, and went on. "It...we don't know, we'll never know, what Zsaji's intention was. Maybe it was deliberate, and malicious. Maybe it was a side effect of using her power on an alien, and she didn't understand what was happening either. Maybe it was just...some kind of cultural misunderstanding. We'll never know."

She looked deeply into my eyes.

"All we know is that she did something to you that took away your ability to choose."

I let out a breath.

Kitty fidgeted. "If I was at school...went to a frat party and someone drugged my drink. I don't see this as different. You didn't cheat on me, Peter. It wasn't your fault."

There were tears in my own eyes now.

"It frightens me," I said quietly. "How completely and easily I succumbed. I loved her, Kitty. I believed that I was falling in love with her, and let her take your place in my heart. I didn't question it. If I can't trust my own mind...what do I have?"

"You have me," and she leaned in and kissed me.

We sat there, in the middle of my bed, just holding each other for a long time.

I kissed her forehead and sighed. "You're a wonderful woman, and I don't deserve to have you in my life."

"Rule number one: no more self-pity," she said firmly. "Remember what I said about not your fault? You're a great guy, and I don't deserve you either. We'll get through this, Peter. It's just going to take some time."

I kissed her again, and she cuddled against my chest as we lay back.

"We don't have to, or anything, but I want to stay tonight. I was so worried about you guys while you were gone," she added. "I'm so glad you're all right. It wasn't exactly a picnic around here, with Prof Haller trying not to fall apart, and Jeannie, and Nick Fury? Totally spazzed. It was a sight to see..."

I wasn't all right. But as I held Kitty, and listened to her talk, I knew I would be.

The End

Author's Note:

Okay. Secret Wars, by Jim Shooter, was obviously the inspiration for this. It was one of the major storyarcs I heard about as I got into the X Men fandom, mainly because of my fondness for the Kitty/Piotr ship. I learned by fannish osmosis that this was the story arc where Peter breaks up with Kitty over an alien girl, because he's either a jerk, or was under mind control (Watsonian) or by editorial decision (Doylist).

As I only read comics in Trade Paperback, I happened first upon the Essential X Men book which entirely skips the plot. It leaps from the Beyonder's device in Central Park, to Peter and Kitty having their talk on the bluff, to Wolverine taking Peter out to get him drunk and beat him up, aiming him at Juggernaut when the opportunity presents itself. And almost immediately, Peter begins to regret his actions, and wonder if Kitty will ever forgive him.

Imagine my disgust and horror when I finally picked up the Secret Wars trade, and discovered, that it wasn't the Piotr-Fan rationalization, or the Outside Observer revelation (something the reader sees that the characters aren't aware of) that I assumed I would find. Wolverine and Nightcrawler (who I really thought better of) have an actual discussion over the fact that Peter is acting irrationally, and is apparently somehow being influenced by Zasji. That repellent little hairball Logan also makes a comment that Peter should know better.

Let me spell this out. Logan knew a nineteen year old boy was acting abnormally, and did nothing to help him, blamed him for the results, and decided to punish him.

Logan isn't my favorite X Men, by any means, but this was the first time I utterly despised him. I've found a more honorable man in that character, written by other authors, and I prefer to see that characterization.

It's something that's never been dealt with in canon, and something I doubt ever will be. I needed to find some way to reconcile the events as written and as I perceive them...and I so I rewrote it into this alternate universe, and this fic.

Whew. Back to the happy Kiotr fluff.