WARNING:
THERE WILL BE EXPLICIT SEX, ALCOHOLISM AND LANGUAGE IN THIS STORY. The sex is all consensual, and the depictions of alcoholism and language may be disturbing. If reading scenes like that would offend you, or if you are below the legal age where you live, please don't read this.

If you want to comment, send email to <luba@lubakmetyk.net>

Epilogue I Will They...

Neither of them knew how long they might have stayed there, laying on the hard chilly ground, limbs tangled together, stunned, sated... if approaching voices hadn't galvanized them into motion.

"I thought I saw Kitty go this way..." Ororo's clear tone floated high above the distant noise of the wedding reception breaking up.

"Kit probably wants some time ta herself, 'Ro, let's just leave her be, for now," Logan's low growl rumbled in counterpoint.

Wisdom's Black Air training and Kitty's ninja skills let them roll apart and rise silently. The former spy yanked on trousers hurriedly, not bothering to zip or button them, while Kitty automatically grabbed his jacket -- its black fabric harder to spot in the gloaming than his shirt's white would have been -- and pulled it around her slender form. As they scrabbled around quietly, collecting the rest of their scattered clothing, she reached out to grab her companion's arm and said, in a low voice less likely to carry than the hiss of a whisper, "Pete, we need to talk..."

"Not here," he replied in an equally low tone, glancing around warily. "Yer room...?"

"No, we're so full up with wedding guests that Rahne moved in with me while Paige and Jubilee share her room... I know, we can use Logan's! He won't mind, he's obviously running interference for us..."

The dour Londoner grunted softly in agreement, remembering his brief encounter with the feral Canadian.

Kitty mistook the ambiguous noise for concern. "No, really--"

He interrupted her by reaching over to lay a finger on her lips, nodding at her in agreement when she glanced back at him, then motioning her to take the lead.

Their skulking skills took them inside without encountering anyone, and they dashed into the guest room assigned to the visiting X-Man a few minutes later.

Pete turned from locking the door behind them. "Ok, now wot, Pryde? You wanted to talk?"

"Later." Kitty had dropped the clothing she was carrying, yanked away her companion's similar bundle, grabbed the surprised Wisdom and shoved him down on the bed, yanking off the jacket she wore and phasing his trousers off again, then falling atop him. "First things first..."

He grabbed at her, and tried to pull her off. "Quit that, Pryde -- yer right, we do need t' talk--" His half-hearted protest cut off in a gasp and a moan, as her small skillful hands and hot avid mouth found him, and proved she hadn't forgotten what he'd spent so much time and effort teaching her...

And several times during their frenzied coupling, he felt her lift her mouth from his quaking body for a brief instant, followed by a softly murmured "I did mean it, Pete... I do love you..."

Epilogue II ...Or Won't They?

Kitty was still sound asleep, when he woke up in a little while with an urgent need to relieve himself of a significant quantity of the Scotch he'd chugged down during the wedding and reception. Slipping out of the bed -- and, not without a pang of regret, out of the tight embrace of the slender form curled up so cozily against him (whatever the elegant, jaded White Queen might be in bed, 'cuddly' was *not* it) -- the still-woozy Londoner lurched off to the facilities to take care of first things first.

Afterwards, Pete stood by the bed for a long moment, bloodshot blue eyes staring down silently at the young woman tossing restlessly there, wondering if her body was instinctively groping for his vanished solidity, fighting off the almost irresistable temptation to crawl back in and wrap his arms around her and pretend the past months of separation were just a bad dream, one of those nightmares she'd soothed him after so often in the happy past.

Instead, he forced himself to turn away, and glanced around the unfamiliar quarters, noting the down-at-the-heel pair of tooled leather Western boots lying in one corner, the comfortably broken-in jeans and plaid lumberman's shirt atop the dresser, before spotting his own hastily discarded clothing scattered across the floor together with Kitty's bridesmaid dress, underwear... and one small dress shoe. A dour scowl deepened the lines worn in his thin, stubble-shadowed face, while he wondered instinctively where they'd dropped the other -- and whether anyone would find it. Meanwhile, he started to get dressed, wincing as suddenly-prickly fabric rubbed against the raw welts clawed into his back and buttocks, as well as aggravating all the smaller scratches and bruises he'd gotten rolling around over the ground.

He froze when Kitty suddenly rolled over in the bed, still seeking his missing warmth, pulling the sheets into a tangled knot down around her hips. In the gray light, he could see the achingly familiar form of his erstwhile girlfriend covered with the same kind of minor scratches and bruises he himself had, but, in addition, he could see darker stains of bruising on her milky pale arms and breasts. Wisdom flinched guiltily as he realized he'd done that to her... although that was nothing compared to what walking away from her for a second time was going to do to *him*.

All his vague, buried, unacknowledged dreams and hopes of a fairy-tale happily-ever-after ending came boiling up to the surface... and popped out of existance, like the bubbles escaping Frost's favorite champagne. His love for Kitty hadn't faded over the months; she was still everything he wanted, everything his life could -- *should* -- have been. But he'd screwed up his life, and no matter how hard he tried she was far more than he deserved... and she deserved better than him. (Actually, his mind insisted on adding, so did Emma -- but, at least, he could assure himself the White Queen knew exactly what she was getting.)

Regretting how he'd let things get so out of hand, Pete turned to leave, but the jab of a diamond-sharp thought stopped him in his tracks. _If you leave now, you will never fully resolve things. And you will not be welcome back to me unless and until you do. So stay, and talk -- voluntarily, or under my control. That's the only choice you get._

Kitty woke up much more slowly than her usual wont, fighting to stay under, to hang onto the *wonderful* dream she'd been having, of everything being just the way it should be -- she was back on Muir, lying in bed snuggled up against Pete's warm, wiry form next to her, his arms wrapped around her holding her close -- trying with all her willpower to refuse to let that wonderful dream morph into a nightmare where she was alone again. Then she suddenly jerked awake and upright with a low, despairing cry, wide brown eyes staring down at the empty expanse of bed beside her.

"Wot's wrong?" Her hands grabbed the top sheet and pulled it up instinctively to cover her naked body at the same time her head jerked around, then she relaxed again when she spotted the thin Englishman straightening up where he sat slouched in a nearby chair, wearing his usual black-and-white monotone, battered hipflask in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other.

"Um... nothing?" She offered hesitantly, smiling at him shyly. Kitty had concentrated for so long on finding her ex-lover she'd never actually stopped to figure out why she was so increasingly determined to do so, and hadn't much thought about what would actually happen when she did. Now she had, and first seeing him partnering the White Queen, then listening to Logan's comments -- and *especially* the angry confrontation and equally explosive reunion they'd just shared -- had opened her eyes to what she *really* wanted... but something seemed to be wrong with the script. He wasn't lying next to her, holding her; he wasn't returning her smile; instead, he just stared at her fixedly, causing a faint blush to stain her pale skin.

Pete must have noticed, because he got up and grabbed something off the dresser and tossed it at her. "Here."

She glanced down, to see one of Logan's plaid flannel shirts lying next to her... then frowned. Something *was* wrong here. Normally they'd be sharing his clothes -- he'd have the trousers, she'd wear his shirt -- as they had just a short time ago. But Wisdom was fully dressed already -- not only the achingly familiar black trousers and wrinkled white shirt, but tie and belt, socks and shoes. And he wasn't offering to share.

Kitty didn't know exactly what point he was trying to make, but two could play at that game. The young brunette didn't pick up and put on the shirt; instead, she dropped the sheet she'd been clutching, sitting up ramrod straight in the rumpled bed, naked down to her hips, small, pert breasts out-thrust, staring across at her companion a bit defiantly. She might not have a body to match some of the other X-Women's zaftig figures, but he'd taught her to appreciate what she *did* have... and he'd seemed to appreciate her slender charms too, at least once upon a time. She'd tried going back to being an innocent young teenager, back with the X-Men... and she'd found it didn't work, that role didn't *fit* her any more -- the X-Men had changed, the world had changed... and so had she. The man standing in front of her now had made her a woman, and she'd found herself missing that more and more. She wasn't going to deny that part of herself again.

She had the satisfaction of seeing those vivid blue eyes blaze up, then drop away, while his body shifted uncomfortably as he turned away from her. He kept his back to her while he lit his cigarette and took a deep drag, followed by a long gulp out of his hipflask. Her never-large store of patience quickly disappearing, "Let's just cut to the chase, Wisdom, ok?" Kitty snapped peevishly. "So, are we back together again now, or not? And give me a drink too -- I already *know* you're a rude, obnoxious old git and I want you anyway, you don't have to stay on your worst behavior on *my* account..."

He had to hunt around for a minute or two, before he came out of the tiny attached bathroom with a small tumbler, then poured some of his rapidly dwindling Scotch into it, and went back to add a splash of water. Walking slowly over to the bed, he handed her the glass wordlessly, then stood there and stared down at her moodily. "So you can dump me again, soon 's you head back t' the bleedin' spandex zoo?" He shook his head slowly, one hand reaching up to brush unruly black hair back off his forehead. "I don't think so, Pryde... I don't think I'd survive that a second time..."

Kitty winced at that, remembering the vivid mental image of him lying in his own filth in a dark alley Emma Frost had sent her earlier. She didn't know if he knew the White Queen had shared that with her, and she certainly didn't want him to think she wanted them to get back together only because she pitied him or was afraid for him, so -- although her knuckles whitened where she clutched the glass he'd just handed her in worriedly tensed fingers -- she forced herself to shake her head in turn, and reply steadily to only the first part of his demurral, "Hasn't Emma -- or Motormouth Jubilee -- kept you up with all the current X-gossip? I left the X-Men quite a while ago..." '...even if some of them haven't figured that out yet,' she didn't think worth adding. "I've been over here for months now, helping Moira with her research." Somehow, she didn't think adding 'and fending off more of Alistaire's proposals' would be a really good idea, either.

"Ain't you heard?" he asked sourly. "I ain't *allowed* t' talk t' any o' th' bloody little sprats -- Irish thinks I'm a 'bad influence'." Wisdom waved away Kitty's sputtered protests, hiding how her automatic defense warmed him. "But, yeah, Cassidy *did* mention that, a couple o' times. Sorry I fergot. An' sorry I ain't got no soddin' bubbly handy, but congratulations anyway -- better late than never, right?" His usual sarcasm couldn't completely hide the undertone of honest admiration, and Kitty's face bloomed into a happy smile reminiscent of their Excalibur days. Then he went on, "From wot I hear the Legacy fix is a big flamin' success, so you can head on out now."

Her expressive features twisted into a fierce scowl of her own. "Damn it, Pete, you sound just like the Professor! And, no -- for *your* information -- and no matter what anybody thinks! -- I already decided I'm not going back! I'm going to stay over here... here on Muir with Moira, or maybe I'll move down to London. Or maybe I'll end up in Oxford or Cambridge, I haven't decided yet for sure..." His cool, skeptical stare raised her ire even higher. "I *was* planning to move to London to keep looking for you, you stupid wanker -- I was worried about you! But now I know you're just fine I don't have to bloody bother, do I? But don't worry, I've got *lots* of other things to keep me busy over here. Alistaire offered me a job, so did Dai. Romany -- yes, *your* sister, *she* seems to still like me! -- and Dai both offered me a place to stay... or I can always move in with Brian and Meggan. And Alistaire *and* Romany both offered to help me get into university here--"

Wisdom shook his head, trying to absorb the temporary overload of information, then -- just as she'd hoped -- picked up on one particular comment of hers, interrupting her rant with, "You were lookin' fer me? Why?"

Anger and irritation both dissipated at the memories. "I *told* you, I was worried about you... No, I started looking for you even before that, I wanted... I didn't know what I wanted, not then, I just knew I needed to find you... So... Are we going to try again... or give it up as a bad case? I did mean it, you know... both before, and just now. I love you, Pete... I did before we broke up, and I do now. I was scared stupid back then, but I'm not scared anymore now..."

She stared up at him, huge brown eyes glittering with unshed tears as she went on speaking in a low, gentle tone, "Look, it's *got* to be better the second time around, doesn't it? We've both already done the absolute worst things we could to each other. I lied to you -- not directly, maybe, but by omission if nothing else. I didn't tell you about Rigby as soon as I got back, I couldn't admit to being human, to having done something stupid, I couldn't admit that to you, because you thought I was so perfect..." Kitty could see him shaking his head, but she held up a hand in the universal 'halt' gesture and steamrolled ahead, her voice gaining strength again with each word, "...and you walked out on me, even though you *knew* how much I hurt about everybody I ever cared about leaving me, after losing my parents, and then the X-Men and Doug and Illyana and Ray... Ok, yes, I'll admit I drove you to walk away -- I guess subconsciously I figured you'd leave me sooner or later anyway, when you figured out I *wasn't* perfect, so why not get it over with sooner rather than later--"

She finally had to pause for a much needed breath, and Pete seized the chance to break in. "I don't think yer perfect, Kit -- yer stubborn, and insecure, you got a mean streak a mile wide just an inch or two below the surface -- whether anybody else admits it or not -- an' a royal-sized temper t' match. But yer also gorgeous, th' smartest genius-type person I ever met, the best damn fighter, an' the best soddin' partner around. Yer so much better than wot I deserve that you might as well be perfect. An' I wasn't surprised you'd tried it on with that Fallon wanker -- hell, I'm the one wot taught you t' connect adrenalin rush an' shaggin, an' I understand how perfect Golden Boy 'd be a lot more appealin' than an old wreck like me--"

"Stop it!" she shouted. "Just shut the hell up, you bloody idiot! You know that wasn't it! It wasn't anything to do with Rigby, it wasn't anything to do with you, it was *me*..." She took a few deep breaths to force herself to calm down again, then went on more calmly, "Look, I'll make you a deal, Wisdom -- you don't hold me getting hung up on Fallon against me... and I won't hold you screwing *Emma* against you, ok?!" Then, after a few long, awkward, silent moments waiting for a reply that didn't come, "Why did you go off with her, Pete?" she finally asked, in a small voice.

Thin, hunched shoulders shrugged dismissively. "Didn't. I got drunk one night in London an' passed out, just like usual every night fer weeks before that, except *this* time I woke up the next day across the bleedin' pond in Yankland, in Em's bed..."

Kitty had to struggle to keep from getting mad all over again, spotting the fleeting amusement as his lips quirked upward slightly, briefly, thinking it was from smug satisfaction over his overall relation with the White Queen, rather than any particular memory. The silence dragged on, until her always wobbly patience broke down again. "Ok, so why'd you stay with her?" She *really* wanted to ask him why he hadn't come looking for her as she'd been searching for him, but the normally steely-brave Shadowcat couldn't bring herself to that -- she was too afraid of the answer she might get.

Once again he shrugged dismissively. "Why not? She made it crystal clear she'd just have her goons drag me back if I left. An' there was usually somethin' or other wot needed doin'..."

"Like helping her take over the world?" Kitty couldn't hold back the sarcasm, even though she knew it wouldn't help their discussion any.

"I got out o' that business, remember? You were there, when I 'resigned'." She flushed at his riposte, and at the reminder of their mission to -- and total destruction of -- Black Air's Dream Nails base, but her gibe must have stung, because the normally snide, cynical, former agent started mumbling -- always a sign he was fighting against admitting to doing something good for someone. "Like this old Chinese git wot Em knew, had two tongs threatenin' him fer protection money. I managed t' convince 'em both the old sod an' his restaurant already had all the 'protection' needed..."

Kitty smiled fondly, recognizing in that the same man she'd started falling for when Jardine had told her how he'd taken several bullets for Jardine's own daughter Amanda, and how he'd stole a helicopter to get his friend Doyle to the hospital -- a man who sincerely wanted to help, but who hid doing good for anyone under the habitual cynical sarcasm of his hard, worldweary, bitter demeanour. Of course, it didn't hurt that he was incredibly sexy, and his devious mind challenged her, and he smelled wonderful, and he'd taught her things she'd never imagined... actually, she'd started falling for him even before, when she'd still thought he was a rude, obnoxious, cynical, conscienceless government spy with a dark past and a hidden agenda -- and worse -- but she'd fought against her nascent feelings and not let down her defenses until she knew he was a good man, however much he tried to hide it.

She'd fallen for him then, and those feelings hadn't disappeared despite their time apart. "I'm still waiting for an answer, Pete -- I love you, I want to be back with you, I want us to try again... what about you?"