Author's note: Okay then, just a couple of quick notes... those of you on OTL will know about this, but for those who don't, there's been a longrunning debate recently about characterization, much of it hinging on the 'demonization' of characters by authors who either don't like them, or who only read fic that portrays them badly, and thus assume it must be so. The two examples I remember best were Storm and Colossus, so since this is my story and I want to explain how it came into being, I'll take a brief look at that. Colossus now, Storm in the next one.

I think it was Alara who complained that recently Colossus has been consistently demonized as 'an evil, abusive SOB who Kitty hates'. She has a point. However, it cannot be denied that Colossus has spent quite some time lately, to put it bluntly, out of his tree. Colossus bash everyone, especially people whose side Colossus supposed to be on, and so forth. I do not, nevertheless, think he is a bad character. In the early years, I quite liked him. I hope that in this story, I have clarified not only the fact that he IS losing control, but why.

By Dyce

The image bloomed under the brush's gentle strokes. Soft fibres mingled with pigment to limn the lines of a delicate face, wide eyes, a sweep of dark hair. Rich colours blurred and mingled, creating a luminous darkness that seemed somehow filled with stars, even though none were visible. Tiny hints and touches of light brushed at the edges of the picture, but could not touch the velvety shadows.

"It is a difficult exercise," the artist mused. He chose another brush, adding a soft veil of shadow to the slim neck.

"Very. You're doing it well, though." The observer rested her chin on her hand, watching a delicate tracery of light blooming over the face on the canvas.

"Do you think so?" He rinsed a brush, gazing critically at his work. "I only have pictures to work from."

"It's definitely her." She shivered a little. "Actually it's a little creepy. I'm used to thinking of her as a kid, but this... she's so remote."

"Not remote, Katya...distant. Elusive." Piotr paused, then carefully added a delicate blue highlight to the raven hair. "I seek to capture one who eludes all cpture, one who maintains a distance even to those to whom she is closest."

"Do you think so?" Kitty looked up, surprised. "She's always been so... vivid. So open."

"That can be a form of defense, Katya. A bright smokescreen to distract from the pain beneath." He smiled ruefully, his brush tracing a spiraling shadow downwards to pool at the image's feet. "It is not one I am good at, but I recognise it."

"Oh." She looked at the painting. "How? I mean, how can you see so much in... in..."

"In someone I have never met?" Piotr shrugged. "As I said, it is a difficult exercise. But worthwhile one, da?"

There was a pause, as a tiny brush deepened the soft colour of the lips, giving them a mysterious curve that could have been a smile. Eventually, Piotr sighed, and lowered the brush. "Yes."

"What?" She had the grace to look a little guilty.

"Yes, I am considering leaving the X-Men. In fact, I almost certainly will." He tilted his head, then reached out to smudge a shadow with his thumb. "And yes, it is in part because Jubilee has done so."

"In part? What are the others?" Kitty asked, then winced. Perhaps not a question she should have asked.

Piotr noticed, and smiled. "It is not because of you, Katya. I have already apologised for my attack on Wisdom, and I meant it. I was confused, and angered, and I did not know what I was doing. That is why I must leave."

"That went by a little fast. So you had one lapse that you didn't mean. That doesn't mean we-"

"Three."

"What?"

"I have had three such lapses, Katya. Also, I am having difficulty controlling how much I drink." He took a tiny brush and with tiny strokes fanned raven lashes across the soft cheek.

Kitty sat silent for a moment, stunned. "But... since when? Why didn't you tell someone?"

"I am telling someone, Katya. I am telling you, now." The brush shifted to trace a single strand of hair out of place, drifting across the cheek in an invisible wind. "I am leaving, Katya, as soon as this painting is finished."

"So you have a problem. Piotr, that doesn't mean you have to go!" Kitty's eyes filled. "We can help you! You don't have to tackle this on your own, not this time. We're your friends, we'll be here for you."

"No, you cannot help." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I have given this much thought, Katya. I... am not a warrior. My powers, it is true, can be destructive, but my heart cannot." He looked at her, eyes pleading with her to understand. "I cannot live so, or I will truly go mad, as I have already begun to do. It is time for me to walk away, while I still can."

"But..." She paused. "Why haven't you ever said anything about this before?"

"Because I did not know it until I thought about it." He shrugged, adding a mysterious gleam to the blue eyes. "I had simply assumed that I would always be involved in the mutant struggle... on one side or another. But when Jubilee left, it made me think things over. I no longer wish to fight, to destroy, but to create. Can you understand this, Katya? I cannot do this any longer.

She began to protest, then stopped. "You mean that, don't you?"

"Da. You, Ororo, Logan... you all have the spirit of the warrior. But I have looked deep into my soul these past days, and I find that I do not. I am an artist, that is all." He smiled then, for the first time without any hint of bitterness. "And I find that I am content with that. It is what I want."

"If that's true, then you're right. You should leave." Kitty sighed. "But we'll miss you, Piotr Nikolevich."

"And I you, Katya." He sighed too, setting down his brush. "There. It is finished, and if the lights remain on it it will be dry by morning. Will you arrange it for me? There is a frame against the wall, and a hook still in the lower hall where the painting of Storm once hung. Bastion had no use for a rusty old hook, it seems, and now it will have a painting again. Please tell anyone who asks that it is my parting gift, and that I wish it to remain on that hook."

"Will do. They're not going to like it, though." Kitty gazed at the painting, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. "It's her. But her as an adult."

"Not an adult, Katya... a young girl taking her first steps into adulthood. The first steps are the hardest, and I think that I must follow her in them." He smiled a little whimsically. "I too, must find my placce in the world. There is just one more thing before I leave."

"What?"

He smiled wistfully. "I would settle my past before seeking my future. I would set things right between us before I leave, Katya."

"I don't understand. Set what right?" she hedged, looking away.

"I wish to apologise. For everything. The way I treated you when Illyana died, Zsaji, Wisdom... all of it." He smiled hopefully at her. "I know I do not deserve it, but I hope that you can forgive me for the hurt I have done you."

"You were a jerk. For whole years at a time." Kitty folded her arms.

"I was, and I am sorry."

"You treated me like dirt, you know."

"I wish I had not. But we are all young and cruel at some time, da?" The dig at her own recent behaviour was voiced so gently that it barely stung. "We all hurt those we love."

"You switched sides on us!"

"I wass half-mad with grief and pain. I wanted desperately to believe that Magnus was right, because I needed something to believe in, anything. It is not an excuse, I know, but it is what I felt."

"You nearly killed the man I loved."

"I know. And I am leaving so that I will never do anything like it again." Piotr methodically washed out his brushes, dryng them gently and packing them away in a small case. "When he wakes, please tell him from me that I am truly sorry for what I have done, and that I wish you both only happiness."

"I- I will. We wish you happiness too, Piotr," Kitty said slowly. "Wherever you may go."

And as easily as that, the past was let go. A brief, dancing night breeze blew away old loves and hates, until only a man and a woman stood facing each other, knowing they would part as friends and, at last, content that it should be so. The man smiled, reaching out to touch the woman's shoulder, and the woman laughed and hugged him. He hugged her back and picked up his bag, and she watched him leave with a fond smile on her face. Then she turned, and went inside the sleeping house.

* * *

The first bright fingers of dawn crept through a window, lighting upon bare wood, cracked plaster, and the dust that somehow could never quite be gotten rid of. Then, as the sun crept a little higher, the gleaming fingerlings of light brushed a large canvas, hanging in solitary splendour on one wall. They played across it, drawing deep, soft nuances of colour from it that had never yet been seen by mortal eyes.

A slender, beautiful Chinese girl gazed out of the dark, almost formless background of the painting, which only hinted at the great, dark forest which loomed around the defenseless girl. Blue-black hair framed her face, falling in a straight, silky curtain to barely touch her shoulders, left bare by the dark silk garment that draped over her slender body, concealing everything and nothing at once. Her small hands rested easily at her sides as one small foot peeped out from beneath the long garment, her entire body poised for that first forward step.

What drew the viewer's eye most strongly, however, was her small, delicate face. Emotion filled it, with a soft curve to the lips that might have been a smile of happiness, and a bravely lifted chin that betokened courage. The girl gazed directly at her viewer with wide, innocent blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with some mischievious knowledge. 'I know a secret', those eyes whispered, 'and nobody knows it but me'.

Two weary lovers watched the light play across the painting, and took one another's hands without knowing it. The man sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "Truth, I never woulda believed it of the bugger."

"I would. It's beautiful." The woman touched his shoulder gently. "You should have rested longer, Pete."

"Nah, 'sall right." He yawned. "Just need some decent coffee is all. Dowanna miss meetin' all me new family, do I?" He glanced with satisfaction at the ring on the woman's finger. "Least they can't get rid o' me now."

"There'll be quite a ruckus, that's for sure." Kitty smiled, touching her husband's cheek. "Good timing, anyway... maybe there'll be so much fuss, they won't notice the painting all at once."

End

Yes, yes, all right, I promise I'll explain the wedding and describe the aftermath next time. <g> Have a heart, I'm working my fingers to the bone as it is...