Luba and others --
sorry this took so long. stuff happens.
Anyway I will be needind a beta reader for another Kitty story line and later
a Pete storyline which will eventually cross over.  Anyone who wants to apply, 
email me.
Love ya,
christi

Fine print: Lady Sad Eyes (Madison Avery) and David Alexander belong to me.

Lady Sally and her house belong to Spider Robinson.
Don't sue me.
I have no money anyway.  It wouldn't be worth it.
Kitty, the X-men and their allies/villains,  and Pete Wisdom belong to Marvel
entertainment. Don't sue me.
This is purely for entertainment.  Again, don't sue me.
If you E-mail me please use the heading "Endings of a sort".


To know whom you worship, let me see you in your shop, let me overhear
you in your taste, let me know how you rent your houses, how you get your
money, how you keep it, how it is spent.
The sacramental test of your religion is not your Sunday idly spent, not
the words of David or Jesus which you repeat; it is your week-day life--it
is
your work and not your words.
--Theodore parker

Endings of a sort
(Part -who knows/I've lost count -  of In the company of a lady.)
By kaz (Ckazmierc@aol.com)

*****

"You didn't have to shut him up."  Katherine Pryde glared at me.

"He had been rambling for a hour.  Honestly, even you were ready to take
matters into your own hands. In your case -- literally."  My tolerance for 
the young brunette's erstwhile boyfriend had been spent some time ago.  After
taking all I could, I had simply reached out a telepathic 'hand' and turned
his conscious thoughts off.  I can do that.  My power is more attuned to
synopsis then actual thought.  Or so I like to delude myself.

Not that I could blame him for rambling.  Mr. Wisdom had taken the brunt
of the aftermath from an exploding woman.  Not that the rest of us hadn't
been covered with the red-brown gunk, but he had received the most of it.
And damn it! I like the guy.  Which is probably why I have endured him
this long.

Katherine nods reluctantly.  "Perhaps... but he deserved more than just
being... shut down." She looks off to the corner, choosing her words for
impact, no doubt.  "He is a man after all!"

I am not raising my voice.  I wish I could.
"What he is, young lady, is a trained lap dog who finally decided to
think.  He might have had questions about his superiors' actions before the
two of you decided to blow up Dream Nails, but did he ever seriously act on
it?  Hell, did he even try to do anything about it before he met up with you?
No, he just did what he was told.  He didn't even try to look into the
things that might have bothered them.
You think what he did is so heroic?  Giving up Black Air and all that?
Going after the aftermath?  Guess what? So do I...  But it isn't like his
actions are all that unique either.
Thousands of other 'special-agents', for many different countries, have
done the same thing.  Most have ended up at the bottom of a not too shallow
grave, or in the sewer system thanks to a liberal sprinkling of acid and a
hacksaw or two.  Most started to think and act within their own agency -- to
make it into a better place -- and not just by betraying their colleagues.
Doing what they thought best to keep the body count down.
And do you have any idea how many people the United States and Canada lost 
due to traitors turning over information to our supposed allies, as well
as our enemies?  Do you know have any clue as to how many times both
countries where purposely provoked into going into war -- and didn't.  Where
both countries let their calmer heads prevail.  Bases overrun.  Exchange
students killed.  Ambassadors' families brutalized.  Tourists butchered.
How about Britain and Mexico?  Even with extremely competent and usually
discreet services, they still get in the news.  They tend to be better at
keeping secrets, but that could be chalked up to--"

"Fine!" Kitty had finally succeeded in interrupting me. (Then again I am
finally taking a breath.)  "But he never had a top secret clearance.  He was
just a field operative.  He did what he was told without all the information.
How was he supposed to find out what was going on?  Oh, I get it, you just
don't like people who do something against their 'master' for the betterment
of the general population."

Now I am angry.  "If I am not completely and totally wrong, both PBS and
the BBC are still relatively good at their documentaries.  Not to mention
live coverage of Senate, House and Parliament meetings.  All the whiner had
to do was turn on the T.V."

Asheley nods.  "Or read the little blurbs in the paper that get no more
than a paragraph of space.  Even with the constraint of it being easier to
prove libel in the U.K., the BBC has been able to do some remarkable work."

"Like you have ever been in his shoes!"  Kitty yelled from across the
table.

I will never know what is possessing me to take Katherine up by the collar, 
but...  "Listen here, little girl.  Don't ever tell anyone they don't
know how it is, because more then likely they do.  I spent decades in
constant fear because I was doing the best I could to make the agencies I
worked for a better place.  Keep innocents from being killed, taking out
threats to the world on a daily basis, etcetera.  I spent countless hours
trying to talk people into doing what I thought best.  Call it manipulation
-- but I never purposely used my powers against them.
So did hundreds of others.  With or without mutant abilities. Again, most
of them weren't as lucky as the black haired avenger here.  They were far
more capable and they ended up dead."
I let go of Katherine's collar.

"They just weren't intelligent enough, or didn't have enough chutzpah, to
pull it off."  Katherine eased a lock off her hair behind her ear.

"Delude yourself if you want.  It will make going to sleep every night
easier.  I only wish that were the case and not some blind luck."
I do believe young Kitty has finally registered the fact I have been
quite silently crying during this whole scenario.  She is actually looking at
me without that judgement gleam in her eyes.  She might actually make a good
leader one day.

Your Ladyship, where are you?

*****

The girl looked to be about five years old. All innocent expression and
chubby arms.  But her eyes looked like they had seen eternity in a totally
blank room.
The builder looked around the white room.  In a room seemingly devoid of
entrances or exit, he had just appeared.  "I guess this is what I have to
work with.  Not an entirely unique description of reality."
The builder approached the girl.  His well muscled legs walking in
meaningful strides under worn blue jeans. "Hello?  Anyone in there?"
Several minutes pass.  And still nothing from the child.
"I guess I have to call in the reserves."

*****

Sally appeared before us covered in a cascade of bubbles, which quickly
solidified into a red dress.  "Children!  I am out of the loop for a few
hours and you can find nothing better to do then begin arguing with
yourselves! For Chr--" And disappeared again.
"She'll be back."  That was the first thing Roma had said in hours.

****

Rather quickly, Sally recovered from her initial shock.  She was used to
teleportation.  "Been a while, Builder."
The grey haired man with the tool belt nodded.  "Not without reason, dear
lady.  It appears we have a problem."
Sally raised an eyebrow.
The man pointed to the girl at the loom.  "It isn't her time.  But she
doesn't want to go back.  Lady Sally McGee, I could use your help."
"What do you have planned?"

A few minutes later...

Lady Sally had been a mother many times over.  Not only to her biological
offspring, Mary -- whom she was proud of, but to her employees as well.  Now
she was trying to put every bit of parental instinct she could muster into
her words.  And her behavior.  Sally was trying to make her existence into a
tangible lifeline which the child could grab.
"Maddy, it is time to go home."
"Don't want to."
"Please," the grey haired man said, "you can't stay here."
"Why not?"  Putting her hands on her hips, the child stated. "It's not
fair back there."
The grey haired man smiled sadly. "How is it ever going to be fair back
there when there is one less person taking responsibility for making it a
fairer place?  And is it fair that you should be able to stay here, when you want
to, when many other kids don't get to go back when they want to?  Is it fair
that others can't decide wether they get a chance on staying or going?"

The girl looked at the two adults with puppy dog eyes.  As shaky as her
voice was, it was the voice of an adult.  "Please!  I am so tired.  Tired of
reliving my life every day.  Tired of looking in the mirror and praying for
acne so I won't have to look at the tiny lines which cover my face.  Using
bottles of stage makeup to hide the tiny scars from myself.  Tired of putting
myself out there only to be hurt.  Tired of trying to help...
It's warm here and safe.  For the first time in my existence I am safe.
No one was questioning me until you showed up.  I wasn't even questioning
myself. I wasn't asking myself:  what if they were right?  What if I am some
kinda all powerful mumbo jumbo?  You know what that would mean?  I did
everything to myself by allowing it to happen.  Now, what kinda sick fuck
would do that?"

Sally and the builder looked at each other.  It was a good question.

Sally went up to the little girl, closing an arm protectively around her.
"Look, dear heart, I don't know.  And I will never know.  Neither will you.
But I do know that even if you were responsible for everything, well...
That takes a lot of energy.  Energy that you will be using to hold yourself
together till your body can maintain itself.  You won't have any energy to
influence those around you."

The little girl looked up at Sally. With a world of hope in her voice the
little girl questioned "Really?"

The builder shrugged as the room became a skyscraper.  "Worth a shot."

"Okay -- but none of this all powerful stuff.  I want to be just me. Not
what someone else wants me to be."

Sally looked at the girl with a tender smile.  "Meaning?"

The girl raised herself, growing into a teenager.  "Its bull.  Okay, even
if I could pull off something like world peace without killing everyone else
on the planet -- WHAT WOULD HAPPEN WHEN I DIE?  People would just go back to
their old obnoxious ways -- worse for not knowing why they had been doing what
they were other than manipulation.  Then things will only be worse.  I don't
want it.  Better for people -- myself included -- to make mistakes or not,
evolve or not, on their own."

The builder put his hands on his tool belt.  "You have the power.
Shouldn't be a big problem."

"Really?"  The teenager turned away.  Now she was an adult.

******

Madison sat at the bar in the Parlor.  A cup of coffee in one hand and a
cigarette in the other.  "So, Pete, what do you think?  Do with my life what 
I will." 
"Huh?"  Pete Wisdom looked at his hands, no longer covered in pieces of
the woman now very much alive besides him.  "Right. Why not? Have control
over it.  Not like there isn't going to be enough plonkers who will try to
control you."
"One catch, though," Madison said while putting down a tip for the barkeep
(a really good looking transvestite).  "I've chosen not to remember meeting
any of you.  Just another name in the chat room.  Cause I don't want to
regret."
"Scratch that, you are not doing a Sevengali on-"
"Just myself, Pete.  Just myself..." Madison raised her cup to him.
It was met with a resounding clink.

***

Postscript

I am asking myself for the fifteenth time tonight: why am I doing this.
This being sitting on my computer at 2:45 a.m. in a chatroom called "Lost
Souls".
Well, this is my night job.
I am available from 11:00 p.m. to 4:00 am, every other night, to chat to
people who want someone to talk to.  I get paid eight bucks an hour to sit
here in case someone wants to chat in complete anonimity (whatever).  (Ever
wonder why those chat lines can promise someone to talk to? Now you know.)
Well, not complete anonimity (yeah, whatever)

*Bring*
Room TWO
Smoker has entered.
Smoker: I called her.
LSE: Really?

Oh, long suffering... I don't remember our last conversation.  The last
few weeks I've been working on getting my husband's estate through the
agreement process.  Something about a girl? Could be thousands of people...
If I wait...

Smoker: She's going off to college.  And I am ... well I'm going to drive the
little yank strumpet there.
LSE: on the wrong side of the road?
Smoker: Why not? 'T give us something to talk about

I like people.  I gotta admit I really do.