BEGIN STANDARD DISCLAIMER Every single one of these characters belongs to Marvel Comics, and though I'd LOVE to be making money off of them, I'm not. END STANDARD DISCLAIMER ***Thank you to Luba and Suzie, both of whom are angels on earth. Without them, this story would not have a title or any correct spelling! :-)*** If for some strange reason someone would like to archive this, please drop me a line and tell me. Thanks. How Quickly They Forget: Chapter 1 By Anthony Ryan "Selective Memory" Beep... Beep... Beep... The artificial chimes of the digital alarm clock rang in Kitty Pryde's ears. She gently placed her dainty left index finger on the 'off' button. Refreshed from her sleep, Kitty rose out of her bed and slipped her feet into her favorite pair of slippers. The warm cotton encased her feet as she walked towards the window. With a small amount of effort Kitty lifted the bottom window pane upward and let the bright sun caress her awakening form. The soft curtains, propelled by the morning Muir Island winds, began to flow around her body, and Kitty let her thoughts wander. A smile of pure joy danced across her face as she recalled one thought in particular. "OH, WOW!" she thought. "It's our one month anniversary! I can't believe it! Thirty whole days!" She neatly straightened her disorderly sheets over the mattress and placed the comforter over it. Kitty adjusted the two pillows on her bed, and then made her way to the closet, where every article of clothing she owned lay neatly hung, arranged by color. She reached for a familiar red sweater that accompanied her on every one of her morning walks. As she slipped the worn garment over her head and felt the sweater nestle her neck, her eye caught a glimpse of a small purple creature, still adjusting to the morning light. "COOOooooOOOO..." Kitty gracefully danced across the room and delicately picked up Lockheed, holding him close to her face as she spoke. "Oh, Dragon, isn't it wonderful? I knew Pete and I would work out! The others had their doubts, but it felt so right for me, and of course, it is..." She stopped in mid-sentence and abruptly dropped the purple dragon, who, not yet fully awake, erratically flapped his leathery wings in an attempt to stay aloft. Kitty dashed over to the western wall of her bedroom, upon which was mounted an inspirational calendar filled with pictures of nature and famous quotes. She hurriedly picked up the red marker that lay in the pen holder on her dresser and drew a perfectly symmetrical heart around the date, inside of which she wrote "Two Months!" Kitty felt her cheeks glow a soft shade of crimson as she realized how childishly she was handling her first adult relationship, but then disregarded her self-analysis, realizing that no one but Lockheed was witness to her hopelessly sentimental behavior. At the thought of her purple companion, she turned and continued to chatter endlessly about Pete, her mind working far faster than her mouth could. Lockheed's mind however, was elsewhere. "Bugger!" he thought, as his mind jolted to a start. "I'll bet that pillock don't even know what day it is! If he hurts my poor Kit..." ----------------------------------------- Beep... Beep... Beep... The artificial chimes of the digital alarm clock rang like a loaded gun in Pete Wisdom's ears. "Uhhhhhh..." Beep... Beep... Beep... Pete Wisdom, slowly, with great difficulty, raised his right hand and shot a single hot knife from his index finger. It quickly sliced through the plastic machine with a small explosion. "Urrrghhh... Oh God... Not another one..." He let his right leg fall out of the bed while his fingers massaged the temples of his head, his own touch causing him to slightly wince in pain. "Times like this," he thought, "I wish Prohibition was in world wide effect..." He mused about what would happen if he chose to drive a hotknife through his head. "What a hell of a time that Scots harridan would have cleanin' that mess up!" he thought, managing a small smile, despite his ragged condition. With a silent curse to himself for joining a team among whose standard rules was to rise at six 'o clock in the morning, Pete groped about the nightstand that was positioned beside his bed. His hand moved from one extreme of the stand to another before his fingers wrapped around a familiar glass bottle. "Ah, whiskey. Me life-blood!" He placed the bottle to his lips and took a swig, forcing himself to refrain from emptying it, on the grounds that this would leave none for next morning. He tossed the crumpled sheets aside and slowly rose out of bed, grunting in dizziness as nausea gripped his body. Fortunately, this was not the first time (by far!) that Pete Wisdom had suffered from a hangover. Although each time the effects were different, Wisdom had learned to deal with every aspect of those kind of mornings. He walked over to the foot of his bed and picked up an old shirt that had been tossed on the floor, intermingling with every other article of clothing Wisdom owned. The shirt slid over his head and rested comfortably on his shoulders. Pete began to stumble away from the direction of the window. He detested light in the mornings and fresh air was not an appealing thought to him right now (as if it ever was). Squinting, his eyes fell upon his calendar. It was the kind of calendar that allowed you to tear off a sheet each time a day had passed. As he groggily walked across the room he tripped over a pair of slacks that lay in a jumble on the floor, again cursing himself, this time for joining a team that did not own its own maid service. Wisdom reached the small desk calendar to read the "inappropriate joke of the day". The calendar had been a gift from Jardine. He had told Wisdom that the calendar included "the kind of jokes only a sick puppy like you would enjoy." Jardine was right. It ensured that Pete began each morning (aside from the cursing, alcohol, and struggle to rise) with a chuckle. He tore off the previous day's page, crumpled it, and let it fall to the floor, as he had done with every other page of the month. What Wisdom saw next nearly made him vomit. "BLOODY HELL!" he cried out, rather loudly. "The pub's closed today!" rang his thoughts. "Annie said she had to make repairs from the last time Pryde and I visited. Swell! Bloody swell! The perfect beginning to the perfect day!" Pete slowly turned around with a sorrowful expression plastered across his face. "Someone up there must _really_ hate me," he anguished, looking upwards with a scowl. Sinking back into bed with a grunt of despair and a curse to the heavens, Pete began to wallow in a depressing, self-piteous rut. ----------------------------------------- "Must he curse so loudly?" Brian Braddock turned on his side towards Meggan and clutched his white pillow to his awakening body. Long strands of blonde hair dangled in front of his chiseled face. Meggan reached for his face with her right hand and gently took one of the strands in her hand. She slowly twisted it around her index finger as she spoke. "Kitty says it's part of his charm. She says he's a rebel. His dreadfully smelly cigarettes I don't like, but his language I don't really mind." "Well I do!" mumbled Brian. "Everything about the obnoxious twerp annoys me," he added as he lifted his hand to Meggan's. As their fingers lightly touched Meggan released Brian's hair. She slid her fingers into the crevices between his and their hands clasped as they held each other tightly. Brian took in Meggan's natural scent of delicate rose petals before continuing hesitantly, slightly distracted by her breathtaking beauty. "He's an obnoxious... disgusting... drunken..." "Brian, you're being unfair again," Meggan playfully warned him, recalling many of their late night discussions about his temper. Meggan's rebuttal shook Brian from his fantasies, and he whole-heartedly continued to illustrate his intense dislike of Wisdom. "I just can't puzzle how a young woman as intelligent as Kitty could be so incredibly foolish when it comes to love." "I think it's sweet!" declared Meggan, as she rose from Brian's arms and, like a gentle spring brook, flowed towards the window on the western wall of the room. "Kitty doesn't often allow herself time to enjoy living, and Pete gives her the chance to do just that," Meggan continued, as her soft hands unlatched the window and allowed the sun's magnificent rays to pour into the room. Brian stared longingly at Meggan's heavenly body as the wind seemed to softly play with her flowing hair and the sun wrapped its beautiful golden tendrils around her form. "And besides," Meggan spoke as she walked from the window to a vase of flowers that lay on a chestnut dresser beside the bed. "He really is a sweet man," she paused to inhale the scent of the flowers, long strands of her golden hair delicately hanging from her head as she did, "..if you just treat him with some resp--" "Oh no. Not you too!" interrupted Brian. "I'm going to have to consult Moira. I'm afraid there may be a new disease affecting the mutant populace. It's called Wisdomitis." "Brian Braddock, you are impossible!" Meggan said with a smile as she made her way to the adjoining bathroom and proceeded to the shower. Brian waited for the sound of the shower nozzle spraying before he mumbled, "Wisdomitis." ----------------------------------------- Moira tightened the pink sash that was fixed about her robe and placed her feet in a comfortable old pair of slippers. With a monstrous yawn, she opened her bedroom door and began to slowly stumble down the hall and towards the kitchen, listening to her slippers scuff against the wooden floor. As she passed a window, she stopped to gaze out at the ruggedly beautiful coastline of her beloved Muir, which was highlighted brilliantly by the sunrise. She managed to catch a reflection of herself in the glass. "Och, I'm a mess," she thought, running her hands down her hair to smooth out the untidy spots. Moira resumed her trek towards the kitchen, stretching her arms as she walked. As she rounded the corridor, she suddenly found herself face to face with a purple dragon. "Oh muh goodness!" Moira exclaimed as she jumped slightly, startled by the unusual creature. Despite the fact that Moira had known Lockheed for over four years, she still found herself a bit uneasy around the dragon. It probably had something to do with the fact that, as a child, her parents would tell her stories of dragons to scare her into good behavior. "Uhm... uh... hello wee creature," she cautiously said. "Calm down, lass," she thought. "In all the years you've known him, he hasn'ae bitten a thing; he'll nae start with ye." "And besides," she said aloud, as if to bolster her courage, "if ye hate Wisdom as much as I do, ye and I should be gettin' along just fine." Moira held her hand out to the dragon, who bent his head down low and twisted his jaws into a semblance of a smile, resulting in a somewhat comical appearance. His outward friendliness only served to relax Moira more and she slowly reached upward, giving him a soft pat on the head. Her efforts were met with a delicate purr from Lockheed. Moira's arms were cautiously outstretched in an effort to hold the dragon when a sharp wail echoed down the halls. "Bloody friggen...!! Cold!" "Peter Wisdom!" Moira shouted back. At the sound of Wisdom's cries, Lockheed began to madly hiss and furiously flap his wings. He followed the sound of Wisdom's voice, his tail wildly thrashing as he left Moira's sight. Moira sighed, giving herself a mental note to insult Wisdom the next time she had the ill fortune to encounter him. The remainder of her trip to the kitchen was uninterrupted, giving her time to reflect. "I dinnae ken how Kitty can possibly believe she's in love wi' such a vile man. He smokes, he drinks, and he has one of the most disgustin' senses of humor that I've ever encountered. 'Hopalong Campbell indeed'," she said with a huff, recalling one of Wisdom's earlier crude remarks, as she entered the kitchen. She approached a white counter and ran her hand along it, searching for the slightest speck of dirt and smiling with satisfaction when she found none. "Rahney's such a sweet wee bairn to be cleanin' up; and she does a good job o' this kitchen Och, but ah'd hate ta' be her when she realizes just how quickly ten people and a small dragon can make a mess o' things," she thought with a chuckle. Moira let another yawn escape her lips before walking over to a drawer, shuffling through a collection of pots and pans and pulling out a carefully hidden instant coffee mix. She poured the mix into the coffee maker before walking over to the spice cupboard and pulling out a collection of spices and peppers. "That drink tastes absolutely horrid wi' out some of muh own special ingredients," she thought as she slowly shook the spices out of their containers and into the mix. Moira turned the coffee maker on and walked towards the kitchen table. She sat down and began to impatiently wait for the fruits of her labor. ------------------------------------------ After searching half of the Muir complex for Wisdom and finding nothing but Pete's hated enemy Moira, Lockheed was becoming increasingly worried. "Where the devil is that drunken slob? If he runs into my Kit before I do..." A putrid, stale scent extended its tendrils into the purple dragon's nostrils. His jaws twisted into a look of disgust but his mind was pondering a question. "Now where do I recognize this disgustin' smell from? I shoulda' known... cigarettes!" Lockheed quickly flapped his leathery wings, following the unsavory trail. ********************** The last drop finally squeezed its way into the pot. Moira picked up the pot and poured herself a cup of coffee, merrily humming a Scottish bagpipe tune the whole time. Suddenly, it occurred to her that she had forgot to return her 'special ingredients' to their proper places. "Oh dear," she chided herself for her carelessness. "I cannae very well have Wisdom discoverin' muh coffee's origin!" Moira scooped up the spices in one large handful and walked towards the cabinet, returning all of the ingredients from whence they came. She was beginning to walk towards the coffee mix when a loud slam of the kitchen door stopped her in her tracks. Pete Wisdom entered the kitchen with an air of irritated anger surrounding him. His black hair was wet with small drops of water that were beginning to plummet towards his wrinkled, button-up white shirt, which matched his equally rumpled black pants and tie. His lower face was (as usual) unshaven and a half-finished cigarette hung from his mouth. At the sight of Wisdom, Moira made a mad dash for the coffee mix and stood directly in front of it, in an effort to hide it from Wisdom's view. He glared at her oddly, wondering why her behavior was so queer. Moira recognized Pete's leer and decided to assume a more natural behavior pattern. "Er... um...," she began hesitantly. "Don't slam the door... ye... disrespectful pratt!" Moira breathed a silent sigh of relief as Wisdom's look of confusion over her behavior returned to the usual scowl that was always aimed towards her. "You're looking awfully haggard today," Pete shot back as he walked over to the large kitchen window. His eyes wandered over the landscape as he searched for Kitty. Unsuccessful in his attempts, he reluctantly conceded that he would have to walk outside to find her. "I should push that horrible sassenech out the window," Moira thought as she watched Pete gaze outward. "Tisn't as if anyone'd miss the man!" Through the window reflection, Pete managed to get a glimpse of Moira's flustered face. What managed to catch his attention, however, was what Moira had been trying to hide when he burst through the door. "Lord alive! Coffee mix!" Pete exclaimed as he spun on his heels towards Moira's direction. "MacTaggert, you ol' shrew, you finally got rid of that poison of yours and joined the twentieth century!" A fiery shade of red washed over Moira's face as her eyes grew incredibly wide. "Old shrew?!" she hissed, stunned by Wisdom's audacity. "Well, don't just stand there looking stupid!" Pete said as his mouth twisted into the closest thing to a smile he could manage. "Pour me a cup!" Moira, who had by then recovered from the shock of Wisdom's words, realized the opportunity that lay before her. With an evil gleam in her eye, she reached for a mug and poured Wisdom a cup of coffee. She walked towards Pete with her mug in one hand and his in the other and set his down on the round, wooden table. "I do hope ye like it," she said, uncharacteristically polite. "I tried muh very best." Wisdom sat down and put his feet on an adjacent chair while Moira walked towards the window and pretended to gaze onto the coastline. In reality, she was intently watching Pete's reflection, waiting for the moment he would taste the drink. "Finally, a decent cup o' coffee," Pete muttered as he slowly raised the mug upwards. Moira held her breath in anticipation. Wisdom put the mug to what his lips considered the savior of his morning... and his lips rejected it. Pete's head angled upwards as he sputtered out the vile mixture onto the table and floor. A look of intense disgust replaced the smile he had worn only seconds ago, and drops of coffee slowly dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt. Wisdom stood up with the intention of hurling an insult at Moira, but any words he formed would only have been swallowed by Moira's bellowing laughter. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before angrily storming out the kitchen door. Despite the mess, Moira had emerged triumphant and her jubilant chuckles were her trophy. It was quite some time after Wisdom left that Moira was able to stop laughing. ----------------------------------------- "There! Outside!" Lockheed's eyes strained as he peered through one of the large glass windows that overlooked Muir's surface. "Well," he thought, "at least the 'orrible git ain't found my Kit... Bugger! Kitty's morning walk!" With a noisy flap of purple, leathery wings, Lockheed hurriedly made his way to the door leading outside. ---------------------------------------- It was probably the fresh air. Or maybe it was the bright light. No, it was definitely the freezing cold. "KITTY!" Yes, it was the cold that he detested the most. Definitely the cold. Pete was thankful he had decided to put on his trenchcoat before venturing outside. (Besides, it hid the brown coffee stains on his shirt.) The long, black material flapped in the wind as he finished another cigarette. "KITTY!" he longingly shouted for a second time as he extinguished the cigarette, grinding it into the hard rock surface of Muir. Fortunately, it had masked the taste of Moira's horrid coffee. "It's bloody crazy, that's what it is," he thought. "Who in their right mind would actually want to wake up early so that they could walk around some bleedin' freezing rock?! My girlfriend of course." Pete stuck his numb hands into the pockets of his trenchcoat and let his eyes wander around the jagged landscape. "KITTY!" he exclaimed a third time, not expecting a response, unaware that she was approaching him from behind. "Is it that miserable without me, you dirty old man?" He jumped at Kitty's voice. "Hey! Don't sneak up on an old man like that now," Pete said as he turned to face his companion. Like always, her modest beauty took his breath away. Pete's eyes filled with the face of what he perceived as an angel as he took in her soft, flawless skin, that was always such a pleasure to touch. He lifted his hand to her and lightly caressed her delicate, shimmering, chestnut colored hair, enjoying the way it felt running through his fingers. He looked up and met her eyes. Those radiant, entrancing eyes that reflected an even more beauteous soul. He could stare deep into them for years, losing himself in the vast ocean of deep brown... "Pete, you really should wipe that drool off your chin," Kitty remarked, feeling a bit self-conscious but at the same time extremely flattered at the way Wisdom gaped at her. Pete smiled, and with a quick grab, pulled Kitty closer to his cold body. "Ha! You actually smiled! And your face didn't even crack!" "No jokes, Kitty, not now. God, you're beautiful..." Pete didn't allow himself to look into her eyes this time, afraid he would again lose his composure. He slowly pressed his lips against hers, savoring the sweet taste, taking pains to make every motion as full of love as possible, in an attempt to express to her what he never seemed to be able to put into words. "He remembered!" Kitty's thoughts beamed. "Of course he remembered, you silly twit! He loves you!" Kitty matched Pete's every move with an equal passion, enjoying the way he felt close to her, as his cold body slowly began to warm. After what seemed like an eternity of heaven, the two pulled apart. "Any special occasion for that taste of paradise, Pete?" Kitty asked, with a twinkle in her eye. "I've had a hell of a morning, Kitty," Pete said, ignoring her blatantly suggestive question, focusing instead on the lack of hot water for showers and his encounter with Moira. "And to top it all off, Jack and Annie closed the pub today. I was thinkin' of goin' down to London and visitin' the old waterin' hole. You up to it?" "London? Is there some sort of 'special occasion' you had in mind, Pete?" Kitty again asked hopefully. "Yeah, Kitty, sure..." Pete said hesitantly, his thoughts racing to uncover what 'special occasion' Kitty could be deliberately hinting at. "It's uh... um... well..." Pete braced himself for impending doom at the hands of his vengeful girlfriend. A short burst of sound followed by a heavy stench proved to be Wisdom's salvation. "Look, Kitty, it's Wagner!" blurted an unusually relieved Pete. "God, brimstone's never smelt so good," Pete thought as he relaxed inwardly. "Guten morgan, Katchzen," Kurt said with a dashing smile followed by a playful bow. Kitty launched a hostile look directly towards Kurt. "Good morning, Kurt," she managed through gritted teeth. Kurt, with a puzzled look on his face, turned towards Pete. The two men shared a quick glance that conveyed their mutual confusion over Kitty's mysterious behavior. "Uh... 'ahem'," Kurt stuttered hesitantly, "Am I interrupting something?" Kurt recalled the times that he and Amanda had feuded over trivial things whose meanings still escaped him. "Actually--" began an irate Kitty. "Actually, mate," Pete hurriedly interrupted, "Kitty and I were just about to head out to London for a drink." Pete hoped that he could quickly change the subject and give Kitty time to relax. "London?" asked a surprised Kurt. "Is there some sort of special occasion you had in mind?" "Good God. What is this, deja vu?" silently quipped a disgusted Pete. "That's exactly what--" Kitty began before she was cut off by a small purple torpedo, shooting directly at Wisdom with blinding speed. Pete's quick reflexes allowed him to duck and narrowly miss a hissing, flame spouting Lockheed, but the dragon's even quicker reflexes allowed him to make a sharp turn and again pursue Wisdom at an incredible speed. Pete hastily scrambled in a zig-zag pattern, nearly tripping over his own feet more than once, all the while vociferously voicing his immediate desire for help. Lockheed would obviously overtake him in a short amount of time. "Kitty, something is wrong with Lockheed!" cried an astonished Kurt. "Wisdom is in danger!" He racked his brain to think of what possible reason the normally peaceful dragon would be attacking a fellow team-mate. By this time, it had become painfully obvious to Kitty that Pete had indeed forgotten their anniversary. "Let him fry" she sourly replied. "WAS?!" ----------------------------------------- By then, a considerable distance away, Pete turned on his heels to face his diminutive attacker. "All right you perverted clone of a rotten grape," he snarled as Lockheed rushed towards him, "Girlfriend's pet or no, you are dead!" A barrage of hotknives rushed toward the dragon who was approaching blinding speed. With a quick turn of his compact body, Lockheed easily avoided the small missiles and resumed his destructive course towards Wisdom. ----------------------------------------- "Unglaubich!" rang Kurt's thoughts. "Lockheed is out for blood!" With no time left to ponder Kitty's sudden change of behavior, Kurt teleported towards the dragon and his intended victim, leaving Kitty alone. "He forgot," she whispered to herself, a deluge of sorrow washing over her. ---------------------------------------- Pete, to his then great regret, had taken up smoking at an early age, which had had a less than desirable effect on his lungs. Gasping for air, all he could do was watch as Lockheed, jaws gaping, launched straight towards him. He closed his eyes in anticipation of collision. Instead, he heard the steady beating of wings six inches directly in front of is face. "Listen you detestable, low-lived, maggot," hissed Lockheed. Wisdom's eyes burned with anger while his face glowed a shade just as fiery. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead as he gasped for air. "Just where -- huh -- the hell -- huh-- do you get off -- huh -- calling me--?!" "Just listen!" interrupted Lockheed. "Today is yours and Kit's--" "BAMF!" A familiar sound that accompanied the teleportation of Nightcrawler echoed through the pair's ears. "WISDOM!" Kurt exclaimed, half-expecting to see a charred body. "HEY!" Pete yelled at Lockheed, as the dragon quickly flew upward to escape Nightcrawler's intended punishment. "Get back down here and finish what you were saying!" Pete jumped into the air wildly flailing his arms in an attempt to grab hold of Lockheed, who had by then flown over fifty feet skyward. "Now look what you've done!" shouted Pete at a befuddled Kurt. "The filthy little beast was just about to tell me what day it is!" "Breathe in deeply," replied a cautious Kurt. "It's Tuesday," he smiled reassuringly at Wisdom, unconsciously taking a step away from him. "Oh God. That's right. He hasn't spoken to any of you yet," said Pete, his body heaving up and down after the physical exertion that had just been placed upon him. "Yes, Wisdom. I'd like you to see Moira abou--" "I am NOT bloody crazy!" Pete growled as he looked directly into Kurt's eyes. "And no one thinks you are, mein freund. Just calm down--" "Oh, SOD OFF!" Pete shouted over his shoulder as he walked towards the Muir complex, visibly seething in anger. Kurt, afraid of agitating Wisdom further, decided it would be best to leave him alone. *********************** NEXT: "How Dry We Am" 'hic'!" -- Kitty and Amanda are off to town while Kurt and Pete visit a pub! Thanks for reading! :-)