The Warrior with No Name
By The Odd Little Turtle Named Froggie
(Character studies on Wolverine and Magik this chapter. Woo-hoo. I finally got to write a little action! And it actually ties in with the story line. does happy dance
If Marvel made them, that's who owns them.
I appreciate the advice and comments from everyone who has been kind enough to read and review. Input is always welcome.
M rating from now on. Language and … ah, stuff…)
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Journal Entry: April 4th
I am beginning to think there is a force that is out to get me. I have not found a way to prove it as of yet, but I know in my gut that there is something that wants me to be miserable. There has seldom been a time that I have been so embarrassed. Lunch was a complete disaster, and Kitty ended up running away. I am still not sure if it was me or Logan from whom she was running. Perhaps they are not as close as I first assumed.
I will call her when I summon the gumption to do so.
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Logan's frown was impressive. It tugged the corners of his lips down to his square chin, turned his gray eyes into bits of stone, drew his bushy black brows tightly together and made his nostrils flare. The cause of said frown: His A-student was flunking Ass-Kicking 101.
Holding in a growl, he tried the maneuver again, this time at a slower pace, and he still got through a poorly constructed block. Said A-student turned F-student promptly fell back on her little ass.
"Yer not even tryin', Half Pint." Though he spoke softly to the teenager with blonde, blue and purple hair, his voice carried a unique force. He intimidated many a man with that voice. Her blue eyes only spit cobalt fire at him.
"I am not half a pint!" she declared angrily, jumping up, her fists balled at her side. Logan noted that she didn't deny she wasn't trying.
"Then prove it!" He barreled after her with a flying kick. Eyes wide, his student used her mutant powers and teleported away at the last instant, narrowly avoiding him. Her powers generated golden, glowing teleportation disks. The smell of cherry blossoms hit his hypersensitive olfactory glands. The scent reminded him of Japan. As much as he enjoyed being around his Half Pint, it irritated him to no end that
her disk's scent reminded him so much of his ex-fiancee, Mariko. He shook off the longing with a growl as a disk opened at safe distance several yards away, and she jumped out of it.
She stomped her foot. "I wasn't ready!" she yelled, hands fisted on her hips.
"No shit," he mumbled. He needed a beer. Out loud he ordered, "Stop wastin' my time, Illyana."
Illyana Rasputin huffed, blew a stray lock of flaxen hair out of her eyes and marched over to her martial arts instructor. He was being so difficult today. Why couldn't they just meditate or something? She took up another fighting stance that made Logan glare daggers at her.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he finally demanded. "Yer wide open!"
The young mutant's eyes were damp. He sniffed the air, catching her spicy scent and the grape shampoo she always used. It wasn't her time of the month. Damn teenage angst, he thought eying the young Russian, worse than her damn brother.
Heaving a sigh, he allowed his features to soften. A little. "Talk to me, Half Pint."
Illyana hesitated, distrust in her eyes. Her posture told him that she thought he might attack at any minute. Good. At least she was learning something. He forced himself to relax and sat in the grass, gray eyes closed, lotus position. It was a sunny day at Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning. Plenty of light left. Why not let her brood for a few minutes before pummeling her?
She flopped down beside him, grabbing her ankles and trying to mimic him. He sensed her struggling with the pose and suppressed a grin.
"It's Piotr." Illyana spoke so softly, that had it not been for Logan's sensitive hearing, he wouldn't have heard her.
He opened an eye, peered at her, nearly laughed at her attempt at lotus, but focused on her statement. They hadn't really talked about her brother in a while. She'd been tight-lipped about him the full two years she'd been at Xavier's. Sure, Peter would pick her up in Salem Center every other weekend or so, but she'd never really talked about him unless she were angry at something he said or did. She hadn't taken that tone about Peter since the big Russian nearly got Illyana taken away from him by Child Services. The dumbass. If Chuck hadn't intervened telepathically…
"What about him, Half Pint?"
She sighed, finally foregoing the meditation position as she couldn't seem to get her foot to do what she wanted it to. "I'm worried about him." She leaned back on her elbows, flicking grass.
So his Half Pint was worried about her older brother. Maybe he should too. She'd been right about him before. It was more than likely the case now. So Logan'd listen. He was good at that. He'd take everything into consideration and give his Half Pint his advice. Then he'd kick her ass for wasting time
and make sure she didn't have too many bruises in case she decided to visit her brother over the weekend.
"He's lonely."
Fuck. Logan suddenly did not feel like having this conversation. Peter was a grown man. Sure he'd picked a bitch of woman to marry and father a child with, but it was his choice not to find anyone to fill the void. In fact, Peter usually only got around women when he got tired of using his hand.
These thoughts aside, Logan remained stoic as he sat calmly next to the brooding fifteen year old. "Everybody gets lonely, Yana," he told her.
"Yeah, but he gets weird when he's lonely," she said, leaning back and lacing her hands behind her head. "He goes home with women."
So she knew. The idiot probably told her. He was always too honest for his own good. And Logan did not want to have to explain the birds and the bees to his Half Pint. No way in Hell.
"And he's back drinking again,"
Logan let loose a stream of colorful obscenities, falling out of the meditative position. Illyana arched a delicate brow. He caught his breath and glared at the Russian girl. "Are you sure?"
"I found a half bottle of vodka in the freezer." She gave a nearly imperceptible shrug. "He said it was for cooking. Is there a recipe with vodka in it? I can't think of any that use vodka as a staple. I'm worried. Godspoden Xavier helped one time, but he's not here now, and I don't think Ms. Frost gives a shit."
"Watch yer language, Illyana," Logan groused.
She laughed mirthlessly. "And miss out on using what you just said? No chance in hell."
He made to say something more, but an explosion rocked the area. He swore and hurried back toward the mansion. He yelled for her to stay put.
"Like hell!" she shouted and ran after him.
#
Piotr was blowing his soda-filled nose when his cell phone rang. He caught it up immediately, eager to get away from the three laughing people at his table. "Da?"
"Hiya, Petey." He was surprised to hear Logan's gruff voice on the other end.
Piotr stepped away from the others. "Logan, what-"
"'Fore you ask, Yana's fine," the older mutant growled. "Four day weekend."
"An attack?"
"Somethin' like that. I'm sure Yana'll tell ya all about it." He sounded bored.
Curious as to what had happened, Piotr suggested, "I'll come and get her."
"Nah, Petey," said the other, but static interrupted him. Piotr paced, trying to get good reception. When Logan's voice came back, he was asking, "Ya there, Pete?"
"You broke up, but I can hear you now, Tovarisch."
"I was sayin' I was just callin' to make sure ya cleaned up 'fore we got there. I'm thirty minutes out."
Piotr looked over at Kitty, Mrs. Brogan and David. They were deep in conversation. "But I am not even home."
"Where are ya?"
"Bruckner Boulevard," Piotr told him. Kitty looked up from chatting with the Mrs. Brogan at that moment, their eyes meeting. He relaxed into a smile and was pleased when she returned it. His belly did a curious flip. "I am at lunch with friends."
"That little outdoor diner?"
"Da."
"I'll drop her off there."
The line went dead and Piotr headed back to his seat, flipping the phone closed and tucking it back into his pocket.
"What's wrong, Peter?" Mrs. Brogan asked. She looked concerned. Piotr realized he was frowning. He was not yet ready to face his sister so soon after their fight over his freezer contents. If he allowed himself to go further with that thought, he had also been looking forward to spending more time getting to know Kitty.
He sighed and mustered a smile for his elderly friend and land lady. "My sister will be here shortly. The school is having an unscheduled four day weekend." He looked down at his soda-soaked chicken salad. So much for his lunch. Idly he wondered if the day could get any worse.
"She can drive?" David asked. The waitress appeared and began to collect their plates.
Piotr smiled sheepishly as he gave his saturated dish to her. She gave the plate a disgusted look, but smiled at him anyway. After she left, he answered David's question. "Nyet. Logan is with her."
Kitty made a choking sound. "She goes to the gifted school upstate?"
"Da." He was almost hesitant to tell her. What if she was a Purist? He held his breath, watched her reaction. She blanched, her eyes darting around, almost as if she were looking over her shoulder.
"Logan's dropping your sister off here?"
It wasn't the question he was expecting. Wasn't Logan her friend? "Da."
Kitty clutched her napkin to her chest. "Logan will be here?"
"Da."
"I have to go."
"Da—what?"
Kitty stood abruptly, snagging her purse. "Long story." She dug into the contents and retrieved a twenty. Putting it on the table near her plate, she eyed him. "This should be enough. Call me if I owe you." She looked at both David and Mrs. Brogan, shouldering her purse. "It was nice meeting you, David. I'm so glad you're recovering nicely, Evie."
She stepped away hurriedly, sliding her chair under the table.
"Kitty?" Piotr rose from his chair, started to follow her.
"Call me later, Peter," she gave him a bright smile, hailed a cab. "I'll tell you all about it. I just can't face him right now. Don't tell him I was here, huh?"
"But—"
"Call me." She got into the cab, closed the door before he could reach her. Peter watched as the cabby navigated into traffic and away from him.
David clapped a hand on his back. "You gonna call her?"
"Da."
#
Piotr glowered at his little sister. She stood there in his living room, glaring cobalt daggers back at him, her flaxen brows drawn together. Her arms across her chest, dressed in black and deep purple and a leather collar with spikes. Spikes! Even her delicate wrists were wrapped in leather bands with spikes. Her coal-colored lips pouted. Piotr knew that if she had not been in the awful makeup, she would have withered his defenses, but he stood resolute and stared her down. She was wearing far too much black makeup for his liking and her blonde tresses had streaks of blue and lavender. Blue and lavender! Logan was supposed to be watching her and correcting her! Not watching her dress like a vampire. He wasn't even going to think about the black nail polish or possible piercings. No, no, no! He didn't want to know if his precious baby sister had pierced anything under her clothing.
Though the idea of Kitty with a navel ring was mildly appealing. He nearly lost his ire when that stray thought skittered across his brain. Where the hell did that come from?
"You will apologize to Mrs. Brogan and her son tomorrow," he told Illyana quietly, menacingly. He put as much venom into his voice as he could, his mouth set into a frown. Illyana only looked back at him with contempt. "You were very rude today, Illyana Nikolievna."
"I don't care," she said in a nasty tone.
"Illyana Nikolievna!"
His baby sister's eyes flashed. She wagged a black-nailed finger at him. "Don't raise your voice to me, Piotr Nikoleivitch!"
"I am your older brother," he barked out. "You will do as I say."
She made a short unladylike sound. "You are my older brother. That is all. You are not Papa. Stop trying to be." With that she burst into tears and fled to her room opposite the bathroom, slamming the door with such force that it knocked several of Piotr's paintings off the hallway wall.
Piotr wanted to punch something. He groaned and bit out a slew of Russian foul phrases. From his position he heard Illyana's languished cries. Each sob broke his heart, but he had no idea what to do. For the moment, he chose not to do anything.
His blue gaze locked onto Mikhail lounging in the middle of the living room. She looked back at him, flicked her tail, and looked away. She hadn't jumped up to greet him yet and he found himself feeling slighted. He could use some comfort. He strolled over and looked down at her.
"What no 'hello?'" he asked the small black animal. Mikhail looked up at him and flicked her tail again. Then she got up silently and gracefully walked away, her tail in the air, its tip twitching. He watched her pad her way across the living room and hop up onto her padded shelf-bed attached to the window. She curled up and looked at him and then looked away again.
Piotr narrowed his eyes at the miniscule creature. If she wanted to be that way, fine.
"Every woman in the world has PMS today," he groused aloud and went to the kitchen to make his sister some lunch.
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(This story has taken on a mind of its own. Still trying to figure out how to get Piotr and Kitty to talk about Anya and get Piotr into Kitty's apartment—there's something important there. Input encouraged. Ask me questions, it gets me thinking!
Mikhail's scene is based on interactions between my cat and me a few days ago. Darn cat.)