Entry number thirteen:

I felt a dropping sensation in my stomach and a little swimming feeling in my head, and that was it. It happened so quickly, a second at most. One moment I'm listening to Rogue call Quill a dumbass, and then the next moment I'm opening my eyes in Disney World.

Disney World guys.

"Shit. Shit!" I cussed loudly, earning me some nasty looks from parents passing by. I'd known that there was a high probability that I wouldn't end up in the right spot on the first go, but it didn't make the reality of it any easier to stomach. And sure, I was at Disney World, but I wasn't even on a ride, or doing anything fun. I was just standing in front of the castle with a rapidly melting Dole Whip in my hand, and a pair of Minnie Mouse ears that were pinching my head uncomfortably.

"What's wrong?"

I finally noticed Quill standing five feet away with my phone in his hand, poised to take a photo, probably wondering why the hell I'd suddenly started having a random temper tantrum in the Happiest Place on Earth.

"Oh, um..." I looked around and shook my head as I tried to think of a rational excuse. The best I could come up with was, "My Dole Whip is melting."

Quill rolled his eyes, "That's what ice cream does when you take forty five pictures of it in the middle of a swamp." He squinted down at the display on the phone, attempting to shield the glare for a better look, and took a few steps back towards me, "I can't really tell if I got a good one or not, it's too bright to see. Next time you should consider hiring a professional photographer to bring along with you, babe."

He said that babe with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

I blinked at him as I vaguely tried to grasp this memory from the recesses of Alternate Kitty's mind and completely ignored the phone in his hand. "Right." I frowned, reaching up to pull the ears off my head for some sweet head-pinching relief, "Sorry."

I saw the fight drain out of him and he shrugged, taking the phone back to flick through a few of the photos. "Are you at least going to eat it?"

It was a fair point. Alternate Kitty likely would have pitched the thing right away, citing too many extra calories or something. But I was a mere visitor to this body- at least right now- so why the hell not? I tucked my Minnie ears under my armpit and spooned myself a big heaping mouthful of the stuff, which I immediately regretted, "Ugh." I grimaced, forcing myself to swallow with a dramatic shake of my head, "It's effing pineapple."

"Well at least you got a shot for the 'Gram. Right?" He mumbled with a bit of that prickly tone coming back as he continued to scroll through the photos he'd taken.

I grabbed the water bottle from the side pouch of the bag Quill had slung over one arm and tried to wash the taste out of my mouth, "Where are the Teacups?" I looked around as I chugged another long gulp and then frowned thoughtfully, "How long do you think the line is? I don't have very long..."

"I thought we were gunna go on Tower of Terror first."

"That ride isn't in this park, Peter." I informed him, taking a few strides away to deposit my Dole Whip into the nearest trashcan.

"Are you sure? I'm pretty sure I saw it online." He muttered, slowly following me a few paces behind, "Where is the map on this thing? You can search by ride, right? Do I have to-" He suddenly stopped walking and knit his brows at my phone display, "Why is Wisdom texting you? Doesn't he know you're on vacation?"

"Oh, uh," I turned and backtracked to him, casually plucking the phone out of his hands with a tight smile, "You know Wisdom. Workaholic through and through."

"I'm telling you babe, you let that guy ride you way too hard."

That was a very poor choice of words, Quill. Somehow I managed to stifle my immature reaction and said, "Yeah, I know."

"Did you want me to text him back for you? Tell you where he can shove it?"

I winced and shoved the Minnie ears back on, muttering, "Pretty sure he already knows."

I am judging you, Alternate Kitty. I am judging you so hard.

Pete pulled the sunglasses off his head and slipped them back onto his nose before reaching up to help me adjust my ears, "You're too nice to him, you know. You need to stand up for yourself, babe."

The smile on my face was half assed at best, and I shot out a breath, "We should get you some ears too." I suggested in a desperate attempt to change the subject, "Remy came here once and got some monogrammed ears..." I trailed off when I remembered that in this timeline, Remy had not taken an impromptu trip to the Magic Kingdom, and had not stolen himself a pair of Pirate Mickey ears.

And then of course, in that exact moment, I was gone.

That stomach swooping feeling hit me again, followed by a bit of dizziness and then poof.

I blinked and suddenly I was inside. The sensation was horribly disorienting. I squeezed my eyes shut and let out a few soothing breaths to make sure I didn't lose that mouthful of Dole Whip I hadn't actually just eaten, before cracking an eye back open to take in my surroundings. I didn't immediately recognize the place, but I knew it was definitely not where I was supposed to be; Running for my life from Sabertooth.

There was a large flat screen TV set up on an antique looking chest, and to my left was an open balcony with gossamer curtains billowing in the warm breeze. I sighed at the faint smell of baked goods wafting in from the street below and pushed myself up from the overly plush couch, moving to step out onto the balcony.

That's when it hit me and I knew exactly where I was.

I was at Remy's place in New Orleans.

"C'mon, I got the nachos ready." He called to me from inside, as if to confirm my horrifying realization. I definitely didn't want to go back inside. I knew the kinds of things we did inside. I'd pay good money to forget the things we did inside.

"Uh... Why don't we go for a walk?" I called over my shoulder, trying to tamp down the panic, "I wanna see the city. It smells so good... is your place above a bakery?" I just needed to stall. Just a little bit.

"I ain't goin' for a damn walk. It's about to start, let's go."

I have no idea what was about to start, but there was no damn way I was going back on that couch.

"We'll just watch it later or something."

I could feel his eyes on me, and when I glanced back over my shoulder, it confirmed that he was definitely staring at me with the cogs in his head turning. He set the plate of nachos down on the side table and sauntered over to the balcony, coming to lean against the banister next to me with his eyes lazily scanning the street below.

"You wanna watch it later." He repeated for clarification, "An' go for a walk."

"...It's New Orleans. We spend too much time inside. Plus, we could actually, you know, talk. Catch up."

His face darkened in an instant and before I could even react, he had a fully charged up card tucked under my chin, a hair away from my flesh, and a dangerous glint in his eye, "You ain't Kitty. Who are you?"

"Gambit." I began slowly, trying not to make any sudden moves, "It's me. I-"

He loomed over me with his eyes narrowed and hissed, "Kitty has been talkin' about watching the next episode of True Blood with me for a full goddamn week." He inched closer and dropped his voice to a terrifying rumble, "And she doesn't come to me for the deep conversations."

"It's me, Remy." I tried again, leaning away and pressing my body against the banister behind me, "I'm just... I don't know, I'm not in the mood right now."

I chewed my lip, wishing I could just tell him the truth and hope he would believe me. The problem with telling him that I'm Kitty from the future lies in the possibility that we don't actually get this fixed. If I don't stick to the script, I could end up in some other random dystopian future, and then I'd be right back at square one, all over again. Maybe in this God forsaken future I'd be married to Remy. Or Lance for crying out loud. Lance.

"You ain't in the mood." Remy repeated skeptically, angling his face towards me a little bit. "Kitty is always in the mood why else would she come over?"

"Okay look." I slowly lifted my hands so he could see I was unarmed, and then slowly phased my hand through his arm, "Mystique can't copy powers. See? Not Mystique. Or anyone else, okay? Can you back off now?"

He did just that, standing upright and knitting his brow as he reabsorbed the charged card, "Sorry. Can't be too careful, y'know?"

"Is it really so hard to imagine that I don't want to have sex with you? Really?!"

He gestured to himself with a scoff, alluding to his misconception that everyone wants to have sex with him, always.

"Look, I just..." I scrubbed my fingertips against my forehead and sighed, deciding to be as honest as I could be, given my current circumstances, "I'm feeling guilty. About... Rogue."

Remy crossed his arms and fixed me with a flat look, "You can't be serious."

"And Piotr."

"Jesus." He rolled his eyes and turned around to move back over to the couch, flopping down and snatching the plate of nachos off the end table.

I reluctantly followed him back to the couch and lowered myself down next to him with ample space between us, pressing my lips together in a frown, "And you know... the car thing."

"Where the hell is this coming from?" He said before stuffing some nachos into his mouth, "It's been a decade. Nobody gives a damn anymore, Kitty."

I almost believed him too, if not for the fact that his immediate instinct when faced with actual emotional conflict was to shovel food in his face as a distraction.

"Yeah." I replied carefully, fixing my eyes on the TV. "Maybe we could just sit and eat nachos for a few minutes first. You know, until I... get out of my head."

Until my consciousness gets the hell out of this body. Then you two can go back to fornicating your brains out. Which would be his preferred means of emotional distraction, I'm sure.

"You've been messing around with that poor man's James Bond again, haven't you?" Remy asked with a little derisive scoff as he cued up True Blood on the TV, "You always get weird and introspective when you mess around with him."

"Wha- That's- I don't even-"

"It's true." He dismissed my argument with another wave of his hand, stuffing another mouthful of nachos into his trap, "I don't know if you've got some left over guilt from the time you f*ed around with him behind Pete's back or what-"

"Hey!" I smacked him in the arm, causing him to fumble the plate of nachos and drop a few on his lap.

"Shit, Kitty!"

"Don't bring Wisdom into this." I snapped. Seriously, I've had enough of the guy. "I'm just saying I feel guilty because Rogue obviously still loves you."

Remy hummed with a convincing level of disinterest as he picked the nacho crumbs off his lap, "An' what gave you that impression, Minette? Was it when she went off an' married some other prick?"

"I know it-"

"This is why we don't talk." Remy frowned, dropping the plate of nachos back onto the side table with a clank.

"Remy..." I sighed, deciding that it was probably for the best if I just kept my mouth shut and left the status quo alone, "You're right, I'm sorry. It's probably just the... residual guilt, or whatever."

"You ruined nachos and True Blood, Kitty." He grumbled, dusting the invisible nacho crumbs off his pants.

"I didn't ruin the nachos, you can still eat the nachos, stop being a baby." I gestured dramatically towards the TV, "Just put the show on. I know you love to make fun of Sookie, it'll cheer you up."

He pouted silently for a moment as he considered my offer before relenting with a little shrug, "Her accent is appalling." He glanced at me through the corner of his eye, "I was right wasn't I? You messed around with Wisdom and it made you all pathetic and remorseful."

"This is why we don't talk." I grumbled under my breath.

Remy was halfway through suggesting something we could do other than talking, when I was mercifully pulled out of the moment in another blink of an eye.

I was dropped into the middle of what I initially assumed was a party. The disorientation was a little more manageable this time and it only took me all of five seconds to realize that this was the Upside-Down version of Jean and Scott's wedding. The music was a little bit too loud, and the decorations were just not quite right, and it was clear that Alternate Kitty hadn't had much input in the planning, because there's no way that any version of me would have been okay with the giant balloon arches they'd assembled over the cake display. Seriously, what the hell, Jean? Did you get your wedding planner at Party City?

Rachel might not have gotten me to the right moment this time, but I took comfort in knowing that we were at least getting closer. Jean and Scott's wedding was just a few months after the accident, and I was finally feeling fairly confident that we might actually be able to fix this shit. In the mean time, I just had to blend in, keep a low profile, and not screw anything else up.

Of course, that was the exact moment that my eyes found Piotr across the crowded room, hovering over Illyana like the mother hen he is, likely berating her for sneaking drinks or for something inappropriate she inevitably said.

In that moment I was struck with a crazy idea; What if I just stood up, walked over there, and hauled him out of this place, before the terrible future I'd inadvertently written for us even had the chance to even happen? One where I wouldn't screw up both of our lives by wandering out onto the patio and happening across Wisdom, who was all-too willing to participate in helping me torpedo my relationship. At the very least, maybe he wouldn't completely hate this version of me in the future.

I stood up before my brain could catch up with the rest of me and remind me of what an awful idea this was. Butterfly effect, Kitty. I can't mess around with the timeline again. I slammed myself back into my seat and frowned down at my hands on the table in front of me. Keep an effing low profile. Don't screw anything else up. You have one job here, Kitty.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" I hissed slamming my hands down on the table a few times, grateful that the too-loud music mostly covered the sounds of my frustrated rage, before a groan floated up to me from the other side of the table.

"Do you think you could shit somewhere else? Some of us are trying to sleep here."

The sound of Rogue's tired and slightly slurred speech drew me out of my fit, and I furrowed my brow, crouching down in my seat to look across at her beneath the table. "Rogue?"

Her response was nothing more than a grunt, not even bothering to crack open an eye for me.

"What... are you doing?"

She heaved a dramatic sigh, hoisting herself up to sit up and gave me a bleary eyed glare across the table, "I told you. 'M sleepin'."

"Why?"

"'Cuz I drank too much, I feel like I'm gunna hurl, and weddings are shit."

I knit my brow and reminded myself that this Rogue is going through a pretty serious breakup. I'd need to be sensitive and watch what I say to avoid setting her off.

"Weddings are shit." She fixed me with a glower and I shrugged, "I know, they're probably a little more shitty to you right now, but even people in relationships can struggle with weddings."

In my defence, I was thinking of my Rogue and Remy's experience at Jean and Scott's wedding, when he drunkenly proposed and she drunkenly accepted, and it was all caught on tape, where they were forced to live with the ramifications.

Rogue however, did not see it that way.

She snorted, rolled her eyes, and propped her elbow up on the table to drag her hand over her face. "People in relationships. Is that what you are? Some kinda... Relationship Guru?" She let out a very disdainful laugh accompanied by a little burp/hiccup, and shook her head, "You're the last person I'd listen to for any sort of relationship advice, Katty. Kither- Ketherine."

I leaned back in my chair and blinked at her, slightly taken aback by her response. Although my "memories" of Alternate Kitty's world are a bit hazy, I don't remember this version of Rogue being mad at me at this point in the timeline. Not like this.

"I don't know what you-"

"At least Remy had the balls to just leave. Instead of... whatever the f* it is you're tryin' to do to Pete. Poor f*er doesn't even realize you're tryin' to ghost him by movin' across the f*ing country, because you're too much of a coward to just dump his sorry ass." Her glassy eyes flicked over me in a slow once over, "You never thought he'd actually agree to go with you. But he did. An' now you're f-" -Hiccup- "F*ed."

I gaped at her, feeling my face flush at how brazenly she called me out. Called Alternate Kitty out, but still somehow me. I snapped my mouth shut with a click and squared my jaw, "I'm not trying to give you any sort of advice Rogue. I'm just trying to commiserate with you."

"Yeah well, keep your commiserations." She slurred, snatching up her mostly empty glass and chasing down the straw with her mouth, "I don't need your commisery."

That's not a word, Rogue.

She sucked on the straw, getting nothing but air and melted ice, before slamming the glass back down and rubbing her eyes, "I just don't f*ing care, okay?"

"Okay." I replied, glancing around the room to make sure that Rogue's drunkenly raised voice wasn't attracting any undue attention.

"Like... this guy, over here. Look at him with his f*in' monkey suit, lookin' like, whatever." She jabbed a finger towards Jean's father and choked on a snort, "Like we're all supposed to pretend that Jean's not eleven months pregnant, and that Scott's not bein' forced to marry her. An'- oh look! Pregnant Girl is going to throw her bouquet, like anyone gives a shit."

I turned to see Jean, apparently getting ready for the bouquet toss despite the fact that no one had announced it, only for my blood to run cold at the sound of Rogue suddenly boo-ing, very loudly, at the bride, from across the room. My head snapped back around to stare wide-eyed at Rogue as she cupped her hands around her mouth to amplify the sounds of her displeasure.

This is not keeping a low profile.

I jumped up out of my seat and snatched Rogue up mid-boo, "Why don't we get you... something. Away from here. We'll get some fresh air or something."

"Boo to you too." She muttered with a little giggle as she stumbled along with me, struggling to keep up with my quick pace on her drunk legs.

I was leading her towards the balcony when I remembered who would be waiting for me on the balcony, and stopped dead in my tracks.

"Coffee." I said with a determined nod, turning her around suddenly to aim for the bar, "Let's see if we can find you some coffee."

And then of course, as if on cue, I blinked and was gone. I was no longer in the bustling, noisy, too-loud wedding reception, with Rogue. I was alone, in line at a coffee shop. It took me a moment to gather my bearings again before I dramatically dropped my head back and groaned up at the ceiling in frustration. Also, maybe a little bit of relief, because there's really no way in hell I wanted to re-live this realities version of that evening.

At any rate, I knew we had one more shot to hit our target, and I knew it would be far easier to focus on the target in a quiet coffee shop. We could totally still do this.

I tore open the unfamiliar Louis Vuitton bag in search of a cell phone to try and get a better fix on when exactly I was in Evil Kitty's timeline, only to somehow lose my grip on the handles, dropping the stupid thing on the floor and causing an endless cascade of crap to spew out.

I might be exaggerating a bit, but that's what it felt like. I quickly shovelled everything back into Mary Poppins bottomless bag, snatching the phone off the floor with a little victory profanity, which might have been louder than intended. I winced and glanced back apologetically at the line behind me as I stood up off the floor, and the instant my eyes landed on Piotr my heart stopped.

I snapped my head back forward and squeezed my eyes shut with a sharp breath. I didn't need the stupid phone anymore, I knew exactly when I was, because Piotr had told me about this just days before. He hadn't been looking at me when I spied him, but there's no chance in hell he hadn't seen me, especially not after my graceful display. The line shifted forward slightly and I shuffled forward with it trying to keep myself calm and collected, which was no small feat. I couldn't let myself get distracted by fleeting thoughts or random words. I needed to focus.

Sabertooth. Katy Perry. Don't hit Remy with the car.

The line shifted again and I found myself at the front facing an impatient looking young barista.

"Oh, hi." I blinked and then smiled, still trying to recite the mantra in the back of my mind while simultaneously attempting to behave like a normal human being. I glanced up at the menu board, realizing I was one of the annoying people who don't know what they want when they get to the front of the line and quickly rattled off the first thing to catch my eye, "Can I get a tall... Iced Caffe Mocha?"

The barista looked down to her register to punch in my order and tiredly asked if that was everything. I was about to say yes, until I remembered I was supposed to buy Piotr's drink.

"Venti Caffee Americano, please." I said, digging through my big stupid Miss Frizzle purse for my big stupid ostentatious wallet, "And would it be possible to give that one to tall, dark and brooding at my six?" I inclined my head to direct her eyes towards Piotr, who easily stood a full head taller than everyone else in the line. She looked back at me and I stuffed a $50 into the tip jar with a pleading smile. These poor people don't get paid enough for the shit they get put through every day, plus Evil Kitty can clearly afford it. Starbucks girl cracked a little smirk at me and I gave her the name for both drinks, requesting that she just hand Piotr's over when he came up to order.

"Did you want me to add a phone number on here too?" she asked, her marker squeaking out the letters of his name on the side of the cup.

"No." I replied simply, choosing to leave it at that. A few moments later my name was called out, and I shot Starbucks girl one last nod of thanks before swiftly making a beeline for the exit through the busy place.

It wasn't until I was outside, in the drizzling rain that the whole scenario finally hit me. Piotr was going to hate me even more after this, he'd told me so himself. I kept walking with my head down, ignoring the prickle of tears behind my eyes as I soldiered ahead, determined to get as far away from the shop as I could. If this didn't work... If my next stop wasn't the right stop, there was a real possibility that this timeline would be my reality. Professor Xavier said we could try again tomorrow, but I could see the doubt in his eyes. Sure we could keep trying, but to what end? How many tries before we are forced to admit defeat? And what if tomorrow was too late? What if Alternate Evil Kitty finally won out? I finally trailed to a stop a few blocks away, once I was sure I'd put enough space between us, finding a vacant bench to plop down on, ignoring the damp seat instantly soaking through my pants. I tipped my chin up to frown at the grey, ominous looking clouds and angrily swiped a stray tear away, squeezing my eyes shut with a sniffle.

I sat there for half a minute, just letting the rain pelt my face as I recited the mantra in my head.

Sabertooth, Katy Perry, Remy, car.

And then I suddenly had a splitting headache and recognized the unmistakable sound of ET blasting through the atmosphere.