Disclaimer: All characters herein are the property of Marvel. I'm using them without permission, and for entertainment purposes only. No profit can be made from such a story without the permission of Indigo or Marvel. Unless such condition prevails, no challenge or infringement upon the copyright is intended, nor should any be inferred.

NOTES: This happens oh, approximately five years after Excalibur #125 but presumes the team hasn't broken up. The German words are left without the umlauts intentionally. Thanks to Falstaff and Redhawk for doing the Beta thign.

FEEDBACK: Welcome as long as it's polite, to indigo@spork.com

...Than to Fade Away

by Indigo

*ring ring* *ring ring* *ring ring*

--klik--

"Wot?"

%Found you. Finally. Don't hang up. %

"What the bloody fuck do *you* want?"

%Nothing. At least, not for me. But she --%

"The bloody hell with her! She doesn't need me."

%I wouldn't be asking if she didn't need you. Do you think I'd call *you* if I thought someone else, anyone else, would do? I wouldn't be swallowing my pride otherwise, you stupid, idiotic, selfish, hard-skulled, two-legged, black-hearted...%

"Feel free to stop anytime. I know she put you up to this, you..."

% She doesn't even know I'm calling. She's in London, and she's all alone.%

The voice began to give detals, but was cut off.

" --Really now. You're doin' this all on your own initiative, is it? I'm impressed."

%Then you'll help her?%

"Hell, no."

%She *needs* you, damn it!%

He chuckled. ~Such language. Not like he could've picked it up from anyone but me or MacTaggart.~

"If she needed me, I'd still be with her." His voice remained calm; but he was inwardly thankful this was only a phone call. He doubted that his eyes would've supported that lie under scrutiny. Epecially not to the damnable pest on the other end; and he was in no mood to be gloated at.

%Are you going to let that stop you?% demanded the frantic voice on the other end of the phone.

"Fuck, yes."

%You don't really mean that - you wouldn't be so ...what's the word? ve-he-ment if you didn't still care. Admit it.%

"Get off my *back*, you insufferable little bugger, or I will spit and roast you!"

%You can't just turn your back...!%

"Can't I? I got out of the hero business same time I got out of the love business. And I'm the happier for it. Too many of the bloody stupid spandex types as it is. Even if I was inclined to help her, and I'm not, I don't exactly ... have much time on my hands."

%But -- %

"She's on 'er own. You never wanted me around anyway -- *you* save 'er arse."

With that, Pete slammed down the telephone before his caller could counter-argue or plead. ~When the bloody hell did he learn to dial a telephone? Little bugger always was smarter than he looked, and playing innocent.~

He lit a cigarette with a match he struck off the stone wall of his cottage, took a deep drag, and sighed. ~Damn. Damn it all to hell.~ "Bugger," he swore aloud, softly. He realized his hands were shaking. ~Look at this. She still gets to you even at one remove.~

~The little bastard is right.~ If he was desperate enough to ask Pete Wisdom for help, then Kitty really was in serious trouble.

"Fuck," Pete muttered under his breath, and began to dress. He spent as little time clothed as possible these days. The fabric didn't feel right on him; it never did since it was no longer cheap. Neither was it a poly-cotton blend, nor off-the-rack. But now, it was all he could have against his skin for longer than a few moments. Despite the discomfort, he endured until the black suit and white shirt were on and he was safely presentable.

He stalked out of the cottage without further consideration, pausing only to spare himself one reluctantly vain glance in the mirror.

~You look like shit, Wisdom.~

He wasn't unrecognizably changed, but he knew how he'd changed in the eighteen months since he'd left Muir Island the third time. His hair was developing a streak of grey. His blue eyes had gone to green, sometimes even hazel. His face, already thin, was almost frighteningly so now -- his cheekbones stood out in harsh relief, as did his jaw. The rumpled suit, black like a dragon was black, refracted back all colors of the spectrum, even in the dim light of nightfall.

He was about to get on the custom no-name motorbike when the phone rang again. He spent fifteen seconds warring with himself over whether to let it ring, then stormed back into the cottage and picked up. "Wisdom."

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Personal business." Another cigarette found its way out of the pocket of his iridescent black jacket. Striking the match off the stone wall, Pete growled, "You can't very well bloody deny me that."

"Sure we can. You're no longer on active duty."

"Too right. Thanks to you lot. I *am* entitled to get my affairs in order, am I not?"

"You know perfectly well the London office has handled that. You were most useful to us for three years, Mr. Wisdom. And we're grateful. But you are retired now, and a recluse. Need we remind you there's a *reason* you live in a stone cottage by yourself?"

~Why am I even bothering with this conversation? What're they gonna *do*?~ Pete suddenly found himself wondering. Without further comment to his former employers, Pete set down the phone on the stone table and walked back out of the house, taking one final drag of his cigarette.

~And to think, MacTaggart always said the fags'd kill me.~ He recognized the sound of his own humorless, whiskey-roughened laughter.

It was full dark now. There was not even a moon in the sky, and the combination of English clouds and smog blotted out any possibility of a starry night.

"One more time, then. For old time's sake."

Mounting the bike, he revved the engine and sped off into the night, toward London, with the bike's solitary headlamp to guide him through the darkness.

It took practically no detective work at all. Pryde was good. She should be; between the ninja stuff from that Canadian bloke Logan and what Pete himself had taught her, she was damn near nonexistent when she set her mind to it.

That wasn't the case for him, though. He knew how she worked, how she thought, how she moved. ~You don't spend that much time loving a woman like that without learning her ways. ~ He tried not to think about how he was almost desperately, phobically avoiding thinking of her name. Katherine. Kitty. ~Just another rescue mission, mate. Just doing your job. What needs doing.~

Ignoring the tightness in his throat and the persistent ache in his fingers, Pete set to working out the city along the grid he customarily used when he needed to scour London.

The good thing about looking like he did now was that no one considered him the least threat. He looked like some strung out druggie at the minimum, or like an AIDS victim on his last legs at worst. So his questions, seemingly centered around the girl who got him his fix, went answered with responses varying from amused, to contemptuous -- pitying to disgusted.

Time was of the essence, but perseverance paid off. She was last seen by the docks, hanging out by the warehouses. Some new club called Atramentous Lust ~Bloody highfalutin' pretentious name for a dance spot~ was all the rage there with the kids. ~And as we well know, no one in Excalibur could pass for a kid, save mebbe Wagner if 'e deigned to use the image inducer, or Meg, if convinced to take the shape.~

He almost gave up on walking in, Pryde or no Pryde, when he saw the crowd. It had been over a year since he'd been around people. The crowded streets of London were one thing -- he'd missed those -- but this was a teeming group entity that could go from mindless swaying to panicked mob if they smelled danger. ~Hah, yeah. And I'm as dangerous as ever I was.~

Every instinct he had told him she was *here*. Every instinct he had told him that there was more to Atramentous Lust than merely a chic night spot where rich kids slummed and got wasted on whatever chemical was currently en vogue. ~The trick, then, is to find out *what* more there is, then, isn't it?~

He cased the place for cameras and noted the location of each. Then he spotted the insufferable pest, pretending to be part of the gothic decor, and knew he was right.

~You came,~ thought the other, perched in the shadows, watching Wisdom. ~I knew you wouldn't abandon her.~

Wisdom nodded in his direction to make it known to the other that he'd been spotted, then quirked an inquisitive brow. Watching for response, Pete gave a jerk of his chin to indicate he understood, and headed for the employees only area.

It was simplicity itself to act drunk; Pete Wisdom had, in his time, put away more whiskey than -- well, anyone. Too bad his metabolism burned it out of his system now before it could blunt the pain that was even now blurring his vision. He was lucky to get a five minute buzz these days.

The world skewed in his vision and he caught his breath as a wave of pain tore through him, leaving him doubled over. Fortunately, he hadn't eaten anything in days, so there was no embarrassing puking up of his guts. The dry retching was enough to get people to back away and selectively ignore him. ~Imagine that. Who'd have thought the pain would come in handy?~

Pete's shadowy companion gestured to a door that would've otherwise been hidden -- except for the fact that Wisdom's eyes now saw beyond normal vision and into the infrared. The slight draft around the edges of the door made a cool blue halo plain to him.

"I see it, you little --" Wisdom hissed, knowing he would be heard. He concentrated, clenching his teeth as the pain sought to rise up and shred through him again. The lock-latch on the door became visible to him as the metal composing it was cooler than whatever the door itself was made of.

~Deep breath now.~

Pete extended his left forefinger and a hot knife sizzled into existence. He jammed it into the slit of the door and sliced downard, feeling the satisfying sensation of metal vaporizing.

The door swung open inwardly, on hidden springs, and led down a flight of black stone stairs that led nowhere but down. After some effort, Wisdom forcibly extinguished the hot knife, and proceeded in the dark. His eyes would manage on the faint traces of ambient heat left by whatever had passed here.

~Whatever.~

The heat trails were human shaped in some places -- against the walls. But otherwise, they were more ... insectoid. And that worried him. There were two insectoid races Pryde had tangled with, to his knowledge.

He was not looking forward to meeting up with either in his condition. Especially if Excalibur was in such dire straits that the one member of the group still free had called *him*.

As bad as he imagined it to be -- it was worse than he expected. It wasn't one of the races he'd listened to Pryde describe to him...

It was *both.*

~Oh, Christ.~

The brown ones that looked like a cross between the common cockroach and Sigourney Weaver's Aliens were the Brood. ~Pryde called 'em -- what -- Sleazoids.~

The black ones that looked like manta rays on crack were the Sidri. Excalibur had tangled with them recently; last recollection he had was that they'd gone back to space, albeit limping, after Douglock had interfaced with them under Venice.

~How am I supposed to get Pryde, let alone all of Excalibur, out of this one by myself?~ Then he remembered he wasn't *quite* by himself.

~So what the bloody hell are they doing here n--nnnnngh!~ The wall sizzled as the moisture and lichen boiled away; the stone gave under his fingertips as they glowed first red, then white, and crumpled under his grasp like it was nothing more than clay.

Pete clung to his burned-in handhold until the pain passed again, then looked up. His heart sank as creature that could only be a Brood/Sidri hybrid scuttled past. ~Luck's on my side tonight,~ he thought gratefully, ~that they haven't spotted me yet. I don't remember her describin them as bein' this oblivious.~

Pete Wisdom was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, though -- he finished descending the stairs, leaving steaming imprints of his feet behind him on the stairs with every step.

Within 20 paces, it became obvious why the club was on the waterfront. The hatch of a ship was built right into the wall. Within thirty paces, Wisdom had twigged to why the zombie-like hybrids were ignoring him. ~It's some kind of birthing creche. They're blind or completely obliviated on something. Likely the ones in the ship itself will be mature, and not suffering whatever malady these babies are.~

Inside the ship was a nightmare. Ichor dripped from the ceiling, and the floor was four inches deep in it. It sizzled away from Wisdom's shoes with a foul burst of black steam that threatened to clot his lungs.

Wisdom's unseen ally finally made himself visible, now that they were beyond the sight of humans.

"You *can* lead them to me, can't you, Lockheed?" Wisdom hissed as softly as he could manage.

"Yah," answered the diminutive purple dragon, flapping his wings once, and gliding on the fetid thermals toward a narrow chamber.

Pete had to crawl on his belly through the ichor, where Lockheed could flit through with his wings half-folded. When the narrow, organic, foul-smelling tunnel ended, it emerged into a chamber that was worse than the entryway had been.

The walls blistered in gelatinous membranes held people inside them -- including Kurt, Piotr, Rahne, Meggan -- ~oh, damn ~ -- and Pryde. Pete noted with a cold satisfaction that was a pinpoint against the heat inside him, that there was no sign of Rigby -- the guy 'her own age' Kitty had thrown him over for.

"Where's Brian?" Pete demanded of the dragon.

"Dead. They gave him a queen Brood egg and it hatched. Kitty put a fist through his brain."

"Others incubating?"

"Don't know. Kitty, no. Can't plant an egg in what they can't touch."

"How'd they trap her?"

"Sidri bolt from the back. Vibrating field prevents phasing," Lockheed answered, yellow eyes worried as they fell upon his mistress.

"Right, then," Pete said softly, and walked up to Kitty's membrane. He closed his eyes and winced in pain as the hot knives lanced on. The heat was beyond the tips of his fingers -- there were trails of white glowing and alight under his skin, following the trails of his blood vessels along each hand and up his arms, disappearing under the sleeves of his strange, black suit.

Pete felt the sweat forming at his temples, over his upper lip, in his armpits and under his balls, even though it evaporated almost instantly. ~Yer pushin' yerself, mate,~ he warned himself, but ignored the instinctive warning from his subconscious.

The membrane was tough. No wonder Lockheed had wanted his help. The dragon could spit a nasty gout of flame when he wanted to, but Wisdom's flame burned at a couple hundred million degrees. That, of course, was the reason he was cutting Pryde out first. He couldn't burn what wasn't there to touch.

~And God, how I miss her touch.~

Kitty gasped, choked, and spat gelatinous ichor into Wisdom's face. It evaporated off his skin.

"Hi to you too."

"Wisdom?!"

"Pryde."

Lockheed nearly bowled his mistress over, cooing adoringly at her, but she shook her head. "Not now, Lockheed. I have to free the others." Without another word to Wisdom, but one or two stolen glances, Shadowcat moved to pull her teammates free.

Kurt awakened quickly as well, gagging and choking. "Ach du lieber," he whispered, then looked up. "Danke schoen, Herr Wisdom." Then, "Was?!" in astonishment, as he realized Wisdom's hotknives were still burning at the ends of his hands -- more like hot daggers. They were twice as long as Kurt recalled.

Then, there was no time to think. "Katzchen, no!" Kurt whispered, diving after Kitty and, of course, going right *through* her. "Meggan's had a hybrid egg implanted in her. It was the last thing I saw before the narcotic gel put me under."

Kitty swore under her breath, but backed out without touching Meggan Braddock. Wisdom hadn't known she knew words like that in Japanese.

"If we can't save her, we avenge her."

"What's with the babies out front? And will they all be like that, so we can get the hell out of here?"

"No," Kitty said softly. "The adults are lucid and evil. The babies were humans who got doped up on the new designer drug upstairs in the club. The effect'll wear off in a day or two, resulting in super-strong hybrids."

"Fuck me," Wisdom murmured. "Where the hell'd the drug come from?" Almost casually, Pete made a gun of his hand and fired hot knives into the membranes near the ceiling. With wet, succulent noises, the humans fell from their pod- like capsules. ~We're not gonna be able to get 'em all out of here alive. They're too weak. This thing's gonna have to be nuked.~

"That's what we were in the city investigating," Kurt continued, as Piotr sank to his knees before them. "We had just found out it was a mingling of the street drug Ecstasy and a failed synthetic duplicate of the Super Soldier Serum. And as a side effect, it makes human DNA pliant enough that the Brood and Sidri can mingle theirs and generate hybrid offspring that take the enhanced properties of the human host before taking over the body entirely."

Pete continued firing hot knives into the walls around him. "I understand. Get as many of these people out as you can. They're gonna notice any second that their preserves are hatching prematurely. It'll be only a few seconds more before I cut deep enough to do damage to some critical systems. "

"Yuir hot knives, Pete -- a've never seen them like this before!" Rahne gasped, transforming to her werewolf state to shake off the last of the narcotic gel.

"Yeah, luv, well, I got an upgrade, courtesy of me old mates at Black Air." Pete's eyes hardened. The ooze at his feet was boiling around him, before vaporizing. He was giving off enough heat that no one could get near him.

"Thought you were done with them," Kitty said reproachfully.

"I was, until I made the mistake of getting drunk outside the privacy of my flat, Pryde. I got ... dealt a blow that knocked me on my arse. Didn't have any bloody reason to get up again, so I drowned my sorrows." He flashed her a toothy, humorless smile, letting her know exactly *why* he hadn't given a damn where he drowned his sorrows. "Passed out drunk after a three-day bender at the Slaughtered Lamb. Woke in a Black Air hospital, told I had been cured of alcohol poisoing through an experimental serum. Ramped up the heat, burned the alcohol out of my system. Hah. Haven't been able to get drunk since. And Black Air figured I owed them one. So they got a new ... cleaner.

"Only problem is, the power's been building ever since -- exponentially."

Kitty paled. "Good God, Pete! Why didn't you come back to Muir?"

"Got a doctor's opinion." Pete said, backing away last as Excalibur herded the groggy captives toward the way Pete had come. "MacTaggart gave it the old try, she did -- but not even her coffee would counteract this poison."

~And she never told me she knew he was sick,~ Kitty thought, stomach knotting.

The hissing and shrieking began, and they realized that their borrowed time had run out. The Brood and Sidri together began clambering down the wall like cockroaches, toward them.

"Oh well, right, then -- enough with the kid gloves." He glanced over his shoulder. "Pryde, at all costs, keep everyone *behind* me."

"What're you gonna do?" Kitty demanded.

"Wot needs doing," Pete replied, and stopped resisting the heat. The white luminance under his skin spread, until it was no longer glowing filaments under his skin, but a glow that encompassed his entire body.

He lit up like a halogen bulb, and the aliens cried out in pain from the sudden luminance.

Meggan, awake, lit afire -- willingly. With the last of what remained of Meggan Braddock, she used the power she commanded -- now tainted by the embryonic hybrid -- to influence the ship around her. The tiny passageway expanded into a tunnel large enough to walk through upright.

Pete glowed like the molten heart of the earth, and the walls began to melt.

Kitty watched, horrified -- transfixed, Lockheed clinging to her shoulder. "PETE!" she screamed.

"They can't be allowed to get away an' try this again," Pete replied, voice calm despite the waves of heat coming off him.

He glowed white, now, and the strange variation on his customary suit reached the limits of its capability. It ignited, and burned. The strain on Pete's face was heartbreaking.

The aliens from both twisted races caught fire and burned. Beneath their feet, the floor began to rumble.

"Lieber Gott!" Kurt shouted over the roar of the flames, "They're trying to take off."

"Won't happen," Pete growled through clenched teeth. "Everybody out." Extending both hands, he looked now like an angel about to take flight -- without the wings.

He heard the footsteps, knew Kurt, Rahne and Piotr were moving the human victims out as fast as they were able. But he also could feel her eyes still on him.

"Pryde, don't stand around gawkin'! Move your bloomin' arse!"

The glow kept getting brighter, and Kitty had to finally look away. Then, heeding Wisdom, she ran, Lockheed flying alongside her.

The Thames found its way in once the hot knives cut far enough from where he stood to the outside of the ship. It began as tiny trickles that vaporized within a few feet of him. ~That's it, then,~ Wisdom thought, but didn't move. The hot-knives were hot-swords now; hot lances.

"PETE!" Kitty screamed at the top of her voice. "Come on! The ship is gonna sink!" The water was rushing in through the crevices, and the place was becoming unbearably hot and humid.

Pete turned and smiled sadly at her. "No can do, love," he said. "The heat's on. Can't turn it off anymore. I've already tried. My insides're cookin'. The outside, thankfully, will probably go last. In one quick burst o' solar plasma."

"There has to be something we can do," Kitty called, from the top of the stairs leading back to the club. Pete had backed up as far as the sewer chamber, but was still giving off scorching heat that could be felt even as far away as Kitty was.

"Yeah, Pryde, there is. One thing you can do f'me."

"What?"

"Say g'bye."

"Oh, God, Pete...."

"Hey. Only the good die young, an' MacTaggart....will...tell ya...I was ....never any....damn good...."

He sank to his knees, then, and the Thames rushed into the chamber as an outer wall finally ruptured under Wisdom's onslaught. There was a burst of steam, filling the chamber with brackish grey fog, as the river water washed over him and put him out. The sound of cold meeting hot was a deafening sizzle-roar.

"NO!" Kitty dove without hesitation, and swam through the murky, roiling water, seeking Pete. The river had doused his heat -- there was time to save him before he drowned or was washed away. Her phasing protected her from the worst of the heat.

She closed her hand on his arm and phased them both, then swam opposite the water. It was hard, slow, painful going. She broke the surface and kicked for the staircase which was now half-submerged.

"KATYA! UNPHASE!"

Colossus' steel hand closed over her and fished her from the now-hot water. He hauled her and her passenger the rest of the way up the stairs, into the now-evacuated club. With a look of sorrow and respect, Piotr stepped away and left Kitty alone with him.

She held the sodden, nude Wisdom with arms and legs, cradling his burned body against her. Her own costume was beginning to smoulder, but she didn't let go.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Kitty demanded, shaking Pete as he regained consciousness.

"For what?" he asked softly, "So you could watch me get eaten alive by my own power? 'M not that much of a bastard, Pryde."

"Why didn't you come back?"

Pete shrugged, and doubled over, clutching his sides as the pain renewed. "You ever known me to stay where I wasn't wanted?"

~But you *were* wanted,~ Kitty thought, but somehow couldn't get the words out of her mouth. Instead, she asked, "Then why'd you come now?"

"Wanted or not --" Coughing spasms interrupted Pete this time. "... I was needed."

"Pete! Pete Wisdom, damn you, you can't die on me like this!"

"I've been dead for eighteen months, love," Pete choked, eyes fluttering open and fixing on Kitty's face. His eyes were blue again. He'd expended all the heat in his system destroying the craft and all its inhuman inhabitants -- as well as some of the unlucky human ones. He was simply Pete Wisdom again, rather than the deadly flaming creature Black Air had made him, but the damage was done -- irreparably.

Kitty pulled off her black mask and blinked back tears. "I'll avenge you, Pete. I will."

"Shh." Pete reached up and stroked her cheek, then put a finger to her lips. His fingertips were blackened and blistered, but she didn't flinch away.

"Pete..."

His eyes were unfocusing, drifting closed. "Hey... it ain't a bad way t'die. Blaze o' glory, Pryde ... At least I got the chance to ride in like a white knight an' save ...m-my..."

With a motion that took the last of his strength, Pete leaned up and pressed his lips to Kitty's. "...my love..."

...then his body gave up the ghost, fluids leaking from his mouth and ears as he went limp in her arms.