"Watch where you're bloody well going..! 'ell, let me 'elp you up."

     "No, it's my fault. I was trying to prove to myself that I could find my way to the hotel I am staying at in the dark."

     " 'ere, take my hand."

     "Thank you. By the way, you can stop looking at my frame."

     "You're just --"

     "Just what?"

     "Never mind. I don't think that sack of flour survived, luv."

     "That's all right."

     " 'ere, let me 'elp you pick these things up."

     "I can manage. Thank you."

     "No, I insist. An' let me replace the flour for you. I 'ave plenty at my house. My problem is I don't know wot to do with it."

     "Doesn't the Navy feed you?"

     "I don't work for th' Navy."

     "Ah, you do have that stance to you. Let alone the manner you act. As for the flour, it's a kind offer but it's not necessary. It was a pleasure bumping into you. Can you kindly point me in the direction of Brompton Road?"

     "It's that way."

     She turned and started to way away.

     " 'old on a minute. I 'ave another suggestion."

     She stopped walking and turned around.

     "And what would that be?"

     "I wonder if y'might have a drink with me sometime."

     She hesitated, then said, "I'm not sure I want to drink with frightful a Englishman who insists on walking the streets of London wearing a trenchcoat. But I suppose you look harmless enough. So the answer is yes."

     She walked away again.

     "Wait, come back. I don't even know your name."

     "It's Katherine," she called. "Katherine Pryde."

     "I need your telephone number," Wisdom said helplessly.

     But she had melted into the darkness and was gone.

DISCLAIMERS: All characters are owned by Marvel and are hereby used without permission. No money is getting made off of this story. This was originally a story to perk the Dora Leav up then slowly it grew into this due to I love the characters of Pete Wisdom and Kitty Pryde. Enjoy or don't enjoy, your choice really.
 

     When Pete Wisdom arrived home he went into his study, picked up the telephone and dialed. He identified himself, and a pleasant female voice instructed him to remain on the line. A moment later he heard the American accent of the man he knew only as Nightcrawler.

     The world had changed vastly since the Axis party had won World War II. The factor that really pushed the Axis party to win was not of Hitler's movements but rather a fierce new force that had joined the party. That man was named Apocalypse. For the past fifty-five years, the world had been in the firm grasp of Apocalypse; the same ideas known by the human named Hitler have been placed on humans themselves. Regardless of their religion, humans are quickly put to death or placed into a labor camp to work until they die.

     The world was kept in the darkness about the whole operation of the termination of humans. A branch of the government was kept up to research any that happened to learn of its existence and then "clean up the mess." That branch was titled "Black Air," and its members tended to keep to their designated codenames. Peter Paul Wisdom was not one for such things.

     "I'll say one good thing about this war with the X-Men," Agent Cully said, as he and Pete sat down at a corner table. They were within the Crown, one of the privately owned pubs belonging to Black Air. "It's done wonders to my net worth. While I've been over here playing hero, my stocks have been soaring. I've made more money during the past six months than I did for ten years working at Dad's insurance company."

     "Why don't you tell old Dad to toss off?"

     "He'd be lost without me."

     Cully signaled the waiter and ordered a martini. Wisdom ordered a whiskey.

     "Tough day at the office, honey?"

     "Brutal."

     "The rumor says you're working with the Smurf. Can't believe they placed my partner.. with another partner. So when are you going to tell me what you're working on?"

     "I can't. You know I can't."

     "Its just me, old Cull. You can tell me anything."

     "I'd love to, Cully, but if I told you I'd 'ave to kill you. Then Sally would be a widow and Billy would have no father."

     "Billy is in trouble again. Kid gets in more trouble at that school than I did."

     "Now that's something."

     "The headmaster's threatening to throw him out. Sally had to go over the other day and listen to a lecture about how Billy needs a strong male influence in his life."

     "I never knew he 'ad one."

     "Very funny, asshole. Sally's having trouble with the car. Says the thing needs tires but she can't buy new ones because of rationing. Says they couldn't open the Bay House for Christmas this year because there was no fuel oil to heat the damned thing."

     Cully noticed Wisdom was studying his drink.

     "I'm sorry, Pete, am I boring you?"

     "No more than usual."

     "I thought some news from home might cheer you up."

     "Who needs sodding cheering up?"

     "Peter Wisdom, I haven't seen that look on your face in a very long time. Who is she?"

     "You 'ave no idea."

     "Would you like to explain that?"

     "I bumped into her along the way to my place to call the Elf, literary. Knocked her groceries out of her arms, it was very embarrassing. But there was something about her."

     "Did you get her number?"

     "No."

     "How about a name?"

     "Yes, I got her name."

     "Well, that's something. Jesus Christ! I'd say you're a little out of practice. Tell me how she looked."

     Pete Wisdom told him. Tall, brown hair falling across her shoulders, a wide mouth, beautiful cheekbones, and the most spectacular eyes he had ever seen.

     "That's interesting," Cully said.

     "Why?"

     "Because that woman is standing right over there."
 

     Men in dark attire generally made Kitty Pryde nervous. But as Pete Wisdom crossed the bar toward her, she thought she had never seen a man look so handsome as he did in his clothes, which made him look like someone from a 1930s movie. He was a strikingly attractive man -- she had not noticed how attractive the previous evening. His white dress shirt fit him perfectly through his square shoulders and chest, as thought it had been cut for him by a tailor in Manhattan. He was trim at the waist, and his walk had a smooth confidence about it that only self-possessed, successful men have. His hair was ebony, in contrast to his pale complexion. His eyes were a distracting shade of blue -- pale blue -- his mouth was soft and sensuous. It broke into a slight smile when he noticed she was looking at him. It was a bit of a unpleasant smile to look upon with the cigarette hanging from the lower lip, however, it could suffice.

     "I believe I bumped into you last night," he said and stuck out his hand. "My name is Peter Wisdom. Pete, if you like."

     She shook his hand, then absently allowed her fingertips to trail across the palm of his hand when she released her grip. Her American accent countered his English one as she spoke.

     "My name is Kitty Pryde."

     "Yes, I remember. You look as though you're waitin' for someone."

     "I am, but it appears he's stood me up."

     "Well, I'd say he's a damn fool then."

     "He's just an old friend, actually."

     "Can I buy you that drink now?" Pete asked.

     Kitty looked at Wisdom and smiled, then glanced across the bar to Cully, who was watching them intently.

     "Actually, I would love to go somewhere a little more quiet to talk. Do you still have all that food at your house?"

     "A couple of eggs, some cheese, maybe a can of tomatoes. And lots of liquor."

     "Sounds like the making of a wonderful omelet to me."

     "Let me get my coat."
 

     During the taxi ride to Pete Wisdom's house, Kitty Pryde realized quite suddenly that she was nervous. It was not because a man who possessed the most important secret of the war was sitting right next to her. She was just not very good at this -- the rituals of courtship and dating. For the first time in a very long time, she thought about her appearance. She knew she was an attractive woman -- a beautiful woman. She knew most men desired her. But during her time in Britain she had gone to great lengths to conceal her appearance, to blend in. She had adopted the look of an aggrieved widow: heavy dark stockings that hid the shape of her long legs, poor-fitting skirts that concealed her slightly curved hips, chunky, mannish sweaters that concealed her round breasts. Tonight, she was dressed in a striking gown she had bought before the war, appropriate for drinks at the Crown. Even so, for the first time in her life, Kitty worried about whether she was pretty enough.

     Something else bothered Kitty. Why did it take circumstances like these for her finally to be with a man like Pete Wisdom? He was intelligent, rude but attractive -- well, apparently normal. Most of the other men Kitty had known would be behaving very differently by now. She remembered her first time with Illyana's brother, Peter Rasputin. He had not bothered with flowers or romance. He'd barely even kissed her. He had just pushed her down onto the bed and that was it.

     Kitty didn't hate herself for the way she was, nor did she love herself. On the few occasions she had reflected on her own psychology, she had thought of herself as a rather interesting character. She had also come to the realization that she was perfectly suited to being a spy -- emotionally, physically, and intellectually. Xavier had recognized this, and so had Rasputin. She loathed them both but she could not find fault with their conclusions. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror now, one word came to mind: spy.

     The taxi drew to a halt in front of Wisdom's house. He took her hand to help her out of the car, then paid the driver. He unlocked the front door to the house and showed her inside, closing the door before turning on the lights -- government rules. For an instant, Kitty felt disoriented and exposed. She didn't like being in a strange place with a strange man in the dark. Wisdom quickly switched on the lights and illuminated the room.

     "My goodness," she said. "How did you get a quarters like this? I thought all you secret agent men were packed into hotels and boarding houses."

     Kitty knew the answer, of course. Nevertheless, she needed to ask the question. It was rare for a British officer to be living alone in such a place.

     "My father-in-law bought the house years ago. He spent a great deal of time in London on both business, pleasure an' decided he wanted another place 'ere. I 'ave to admit I'm glad the old git bought it. The thought of spending the war packed like a sardine tin really doesn't appeal to me. 'ere, let me take your coat."

     He helped her off with her overcoat and went to hang it in the closet. Katherine surveyed the drawing room. It was handsomely furnished with the sort of deep leather couches and chairs one finds in a private London club. The walls were paneled, the wood floors were stained a deep brown and polished to a lustrous shine. The rugs scattered about were of excellent quality. There was one unique feature to the room -- the walls were covered with photographs of landscape of England.

     "You're married, then," Kitty said, making sure there was a slight note of disappointment in her voice.

     "I beg your pardon?" he said, returning to the room.

     "You said your father-in-law owns this house."

     "I suppose I should say my former father-in-law. My wife was killed in an automobile accident before th' war."

     "I'm sorry, Pete, I didn't mean to --"

     "Please, it's fine. It was a long time ago."

     She nodded toward the wall and said, "You like England."

     "You might say that, yes. I grew up 'ere."

     Katherine walked across the room and looked at one of the photographs close up. It was of the London Bridge, in 1968.

     "So tell me, Mister Wisdom, what are you currently wasting your time on?"

     Nosey cow, he thought to himself.

     "I'm sorry," Pete hesitated. "I can't discuss my --"

     "Please. Believe me, I understand the rules."

     "I could do the cooking, but I couldn't guarantee that the food would be edible."

     "Just show me where the kitchen is."

     "Through the door. If you don't mind, I'll be right back."

     "Of course I don't mind."

     She watched his next movements very carefully. He removed his keys from his slacks pocket and unlocked a door. That would be the study. He switched on the light and was inside for less than a minute. When he emerged Wisdom was no longer carrying his briefcase. He probably locked it inside his safe. He climbed the stairs. His bedroom was on the second floor. It was perfect. While he was sleeping upstairs she could break into his safe and photograph the contents of his briefcase, Ramsey would make sure the photographs reached Manhattan, and then McCoy would examine them to discover the nature of Peter Wisdom's work.

     She went through the doorway into the kitchen and was stuck by a flash of panic. Why was he suddenly leaving? Had she done something wrong? Made some mistake? Was he on the telephone right now to the infamous government police, Excalibur, ran by Nathaniel Essex? Was Excalibur calling Apocalypse's Tower? Would he come downstairs and sweet talk her until they broke down the door and arrested her?

     Katherine forced herself to relax. It was ludicrous.

     When she opened the door to the refrigerator, she realized something. She didn't have the vaguest idea how to make an omelet. Illyana made excellent omelets -- she would just imitate everything she did. From the refrigerator, she took three eggs, a small pat of butter, and a chunk of cheddar. She opened the door to the small pantry and found a tin of tomatoes and a bottle of wine. She opened it, found the wineglasses, and poured for them both. She didn't wait until Wisdom returned to try the wine; it was delicious. She could taste the wildflowers, lavender and apricot, and it made her think of her imaginary villa. Warm the tomatoes first, that's what Illyana did, except before, in Chicago, the tomatoes were fresh, not these beastly tinned ones.

     She opened the tomatoes, drained off the water, chopped them, and dropped them into a hot pan. The kitchen immediately took on the smell of tomatoes, and she drank some more wine before cracking and beating the eggs and grating the cheese into a bowl. She had to smile -- the domestic routine of making dinner for a man felt so odd to her. Then she thought, perhaps Logan should add a cooking course to his little Chicago spy school.

     Wisdom set the table in the dining room while Katherine finished with the omelet. He had changed into cotton khaki trousers, but they were black. Kitty took a look at him, and she wanted to let her hair down -- to do something to make herself more attractive to him -- but she stayed within the character she had created for herself. The omelet was surprisingly good and they both ate it very quickly before it could get cold, washing it down with the wine, a pre-war bordeaux Wisdom had brought to London from Germany.

     By the end of the meal Kitty felt pleasant and relaxed. Wisdom seemed that way too. He appeared to suspect nothing, appeared to accept that their meeting was wholly coincidental.

     "Have you ever been to the States?" she asked, as they cleared away the dishes.

     "Yes, my mother an' I stayed there a bit when I was in my teenage years. I 'ave very fond memories of that time. I've been there on a few cases since."

     There were photographs in silver frames over the fireplace, and she looked at them while Wisdom poured a brandy for them both. He joined her in front of the fire and handed her one of the glasses.

     "Your wife was beautiful."

     "Yes, she was. Her death was very 'ard for me."

     "And your son? Who's caring for him now?"

     "St. Hubbins' sister, Carol."

     She sipped her brandy and smiled at him. "You don't sound terribly thrilled about that."

     "Is it that obvious?"

     "Yes, it is."

     "Carol an' I never really got along very well. An' frankly, I wish Harold wasn't in the tart's care. She's selfish an' petty an' spoiled rotten, and I'm afraid she's goin' to make Harold the same way. But I really had no choice. My sister has a family of her own. The day after I joined, I was sent 'ere an' two weeks after that the X-Men decided to attack fully."

     "Harold is the image of his father," Katherine said. "I'm certain you have nothing to worry about."

     Wisdom smiled and said, "I 'ope you're right. Please, sit down."

     "Are you sure? I don't want to keep you --"

     "I 'aven't 'ad an evening as pleasant in a very long time. Please stay a little longer."

     They sat down next to each other on the large leather couch.

Wisdom said,      "So tell me how it is that an incredibly beautiful woman like you isn't married."

     Kitty felt her face flush.

     " 'ell, you're actually blushing. Don't tell me no one has ever told you before that you're bloody beautiful."

     She smiled and said, "No, it's just been a very long time."

     "Well, that makes two of us. It's been a very long time since I've told a woman that she was fit.. let alone beautiful. In fact, I can remember the last time. It was when I woke up and saw my wife's face the day she died. I never thought I could find another woman beautiful after that. Until I made a fool of myself by crashing into you last night. You took my breath away, Pryde."

     "Thank you. I can assure you the attraction was mutual."

     "Is that why you didn't give me your telephone number?"

     "I didn't want you to believe I was a wanton woman."

     "Damn, I was 'oping you were a wanton woman."

     "Peter," she said, and jabbed him in the leg with her finger.

     "Are you going to answer my question? Why aren't you married?"

     Katherine stared into the fire for a moment. "I was married. My husband, Piotr Nikolaievich Rasputin, was shot down over the Channel the first week of the Battle of Britain. They never were able to recover his body. I was pregnant at the time, and I lost the baby. The doctors said it was the shock from Piotr's death that did it." Katherine's gaze shifted from the fire to Wisdom's face. "He was handsome and brave and he was my entire world. For the longest time after his death, I never looked twice at another man. I started dating a short time ago, but nothing at all serious. And then some foolish, gobby Brit who wasn't looking where he was going smashed me on a pavement in London..."

     There was a long and slightly uncomfortable moment of silence. The fire was dying. Katherine could hear the sound of a rainstorm getting up and pattering against the pavement outside the window. She realized she could stay like this for quite a while, sitting next to the fire with her brandy and this kind and gentle man. My god, Katherine, what's got into you? She tried for a moment to make herself hate him but she could not. She hoped he never did anything to threaten her, anything that would force her to kill him.
 

     Kurt Wagner had been raised in New Mexico as a child. His last name was taken from his real father, to which he had been dead for sometime now. He had adapted to that way of life until the age of twenty. Raven Darkholme then enlisted her son into Apocalypse's force. Who would have known that by the age of twenty-eight, he would be the world's greatest spy? Especially for a man whose skin was solid blue.

     Upstairs in the bedroom, Kitty Pryde slowly woke to the sound of the phone ringing in the locked study. She had attempted to gain access to the room, but honestly, she was too tired from the night before. Her brown eyes found their way to him beside her. In the brilliant sunlight, his porcelain skin was barely distinguishable from the white satin sheets. Pete was not like most -- strong cheekbones, a sharp jawline, soft blue eyes, and ebony hair. Lying in bed now, his upper body exposed, he looked, Kitty thought, like a tumbled Michealangelo. She glanced at the hazy sky and frowned.

     "Get up, Pete, your phone is ringing." Kitty said, poking him with her big toe.

     "Five more minutes."

     Pete didn't move.

     By the fifth ring, Wisdom finally got out of bed. He then made his way to the study, he did some movement by the doorframe and unlocked the door. That had to be it, Kitty thought, some kind of hidden lock as well.

     "Speak."

     "Wisdom?"

     "Wot th' 'ell do you want?"

     "This is Nightcrawler, I would appreciate if you didn't take that tone with me."

     "Right. Now wot do you want?"

     "The Lord wants those plans in action tonight. This war will end by tomorrow morning."

     "Tell th' almighty that he'll get his bloody plans by this afternoon. As originally planed."

     "So lovely dealing with you, Wisdom."

     Click, came off the other end of the phone as Wisdom once again went to his study door and locked it. He paused to glance at Pryde, who had already started dressing. " 'ow do you manage to look so beautiful two minutes after getting out of bed?"

     Kitty was relieved. "You're certainly in a good mood. I was afraid you'd have a hangover and be perfectly beastly all day."

     "I do 'ave a 'angover. Benny Goodman is playing in me head, and my tongue feels like it could use a shave. But I 'ave no intentions on acting --" He paused. "What was the word you used?"

     "Beastly." She sat down on the edge of the bed. "There's something we need to discuss, and this seems a fine a time as any."

     "Mmm, sounds serious, Pryde."

     "That depends." She held him in her playful gaze, then feigned a look of irritation. "But first get dressed. Or aren't you capable of dressing and listening at the same time?"

     "I'm a highly trained, highly regarded spy," Pete forced himself to bend over to snag his pants, groaning at the effort. "I can probably manage it."

     That's when the cold steel of the pulse blaster raised into sight.

     "Ah, bloody fuck."
 

     Wisdom kept thinking that he had a tunnel running in his chest. The path the beam took, burrowing through the flesh and sinew and whatever muscle the beam encountered went through his chest and out again. The wound had healed and there was no pain. The two ends of the tunnel were closed, although there was a puckering of skin at both ends of the tunnel. And a faint redness. Pryde either had a interesting sense of humor or she actually cared for the git. She had filed him under care of one of the Allies' (the X-Men's undercover title) hospitals within London. After the war had ended, the aftermath settled, and the future was somewhat clear, that's when Wisdom decided to finally heal. It had been six long months since he had seen Katherine Pryde, and that was who was next on his visitor's list.