will1@earthling.net

 Blame THIS !

 by Phil Hartman

 DISCLAIMER: Everyone here is Marvel's. Please don't
sue.

 NOTE: For Luba, Carmen, and the Rehabilitators - ask
and ye shall receive >)

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 The Crown: 1/1/2000: 19:00 hrs local:
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 He slid into the corner booth, his one good eye
trailing the smoke coming from the front of the bar.

 #I lost my taste f'r fags after Genosha. Somethin'
not quite th' same when y'r old mate is in a robot
body an' y'r eye's been pulped,# the man thought,
shoving black hair out of his face.

 He looked at his pitcher, sighing, and started on his
beer.

 #Another year, another soddin' millennium ... at
least I got out o' the flat ...#

 A wolf whistle from the front of the bar made him
look up - and keep staring.

 She was Caucasian, young, perhaps 18 or 19, with long
brown hair trailing down from her head framing
narrowed brown eyes. She was dressed in a skirt and
sleeveless blouse, leather jacket hurled over one
shoulder.

 The small purple dragon perched on the other shoulder
gave the lie to her seeming naivete.

 #Ruddy 'ell,# Pete Wisdom thought in shock.

 He finally rubbed his eye, letting the woman slide in
beside him, and half-smiled.

 "Damnit," Kitty Pryde sighed after draining half the
pitcher in a gulp. "I cross the frigging Atlantic to
get a straight answer and you're still drinking this
crap. Your liver'll implode at this rate, Wisdom."

 "You never drank like that before, Pryde," Pete
shrugged. "Y'didn't ask f'r better beer."

 "You had better taste before," Kitty smirked. Her
face went soft, and she caressed Pete's left cheek.

 "Sam told me about the Russian op," she breathed,
motioning Lockheed to sit on the table. "And Genosha
... Pete, I ..."

 Pete sighed, then squeezed her hand.

 "Y'deserved better'n what I did t'ye," he said.

 "Oh no - don't you dare take all the blame," Kitty
demanded. "If I'd wanted to, I would've stopped you at
the dock on Muir. But I didn't act, and because of
that -"

 Pete looked at her - a longing, pleading look that
made Kitty shake for a second.

 #Damnit, I will NOT cry ...#

 "C'n we forego the blame crap ?" Pete whispered. "We
were both right an' both wrong. I missed ye ...

 "I love ya, Pryde."

 "I love you too," Kitty gulped, hugging him.

 They ignored the "AWWWWW" coming from the rest of the
bar, which was cut off by a sudden snort and gout of
flame from Lockheed.

 "Jenny ! I got t'go - c'n this cover me tab ?" Pete
called, hurling his last pound note onto the table as
he followed Kitty out.

 "Only if ya stay with th' gel, ya bloody idiot," the
head waitress smirked. She shook her head as the
mutants and dragon headed for the street, chuckling at
where Kitty's hand drifted before they got to the
door.

 "First order of business after several hours of
unrepentant naughtiness: we get that eye regenerated,"
Kitty insisted as she and Pete headed down the
snow-covered street.

 "Hell, I was thinkin' o' sexual healin'," Pete
deadpanned.

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 end ;) ... for now >)
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