Originally I had planned on illustrating this as a mini-series. Not that Marvel would pick it up or anything, but the intention was there for me to get better at my own artwork. The story was more or less just sitting around in my head. And I hate loose ends, so this me tying a few up. This is also the first time I've ever written anything comic-verse related, I've stuck to X-Men Evolution up until now. Please be gentle.

Continuity wise... I suppose this takes place after the MekaniX mini-series but before God Loves, Man Kills 2 (X-Treme X-Men #25).

X-Men is a trademarked product from Marvel, all the characters are owned by Marvel and not me. This is a work of fiction based off of said comic series. I make no money off this, yadda yadda yah.


"It's My Life" - by Val Shrum (kiyonekatz@yahoo.com)


Chapter 1

It was a busy night. All Fridays were. Wall to wall customers, a band on stage playing. The noise level up pretty loud, so much that the only communication was either yelled or motioned.

"What time is it?" The brunette female bartender asked the male one.

"What?!" He yelled back in response.

The girl leaned closer, speaking directly in his ear. "TIME?"

"One fourty three AM." He replied.

"Hey Dylan! Shot of whiskey over here!" Yelled a customer in the seat across from them.

"Gotcha! Kitty, can you take care of the cop down there?" He pointed to the other side. "Janine just went on break."

"Sure thing, boss man." The girl identified as Kitty nodded, heading over to the awaiting customer.

The tavern was known as the Belles of Hell, a long established watering hole for the denizens of the downtown Chicago area. The band was winding down it's last set, usually they do last call around two, but it's exceptionally busy tonight. The band onstage had just gotten a big break from a local record company. It was a long anticipated celebration, the unusual crowd mixed with the regulars made for a busy night all around.

"Please tell me we're closing soon?" A waitress came to the counter with her tray.

"Not likely. We might even push on till three. Sorry, Ally." Kitty started to fill the order.

"At least that's the last song." Ally pointed to the stage. "They're good, but my ears... my poor ears."

"Totally." Kitty put the newly mixed drinks on the tray. "Good luck."

"Right." Ally left.

Kitty leaned back, taking a moment among the chaos. It was the first official day of spring break for her. All that meant was a little downtime from her schoolwork and maybe some full-time hours at the bar. 'That might actually be the reason we're this busy. Ugh.' Kitty rubbed her temples as the band finally stopped. Dylan, the owner of this establishment, turned on the sound system for bar area to keep the music going - though a little quieter than the live band was. She pulled out a washcloth and started to wipe down the wooden bar area.

"Janine is back, do you want to take a break?" Dylan asked her. The dance floor looking quite empty now.

"Just a bathroom break. Thanks, Dylan." Kitty hung the cloth behind the bar, taking a turn and heading off to the bathroom.

It had been a long semester for her. Kitty, also known as Katherine Pryde had already been trying to make a home for herself here for the past year, but things grew complicated a few months back. Someone said the wrong thing to her. She started a fight. She almost got expelled. Somewhere between the good nature of her boss and the Dean of Students, she managed to stay in school, but only if she took mandatory psychological counseling sessions with the school shrink, Maureen Lyszinski. It was only a few weeks back that she's had to fight for her own way of life. Killer robots, exploding labs, angry mobs. The works. Finally all that died down and things were starting to go back to relative normality for the nineteen year old university student.

She washed her hands. She cupped a bit of water, using it to slick a few wild strands of hair back.

"Wild night, huh?" Asked a girl.

"Long night is more like it." Kitty smiled. "Have a good one."

"Thanks."

Kitty stepped back into the hallway, almost bumping into Dylan.

"Oh good, that's where you are." He said.

"That's where I said I'd be... what's up?" Kitty wondered. "I thought we were slowing down?"

"We are, but I have a customer asking for you."

"For me? Who is it, Marco? Felicia? Danny?"

"No one I recognize. He's drinking scotch. Left side of the bar, dark hair. Let me know if he gives you any trouble. He certainly looks it." Dylan nodded.

"Oh please, Dylan. You know full well I can handle myself." Kitty poked Dylan with her index finger.

"Yes, I do. But sometimes, you know, it's fun just kicking people out. It's the end of the night and I'm restless." Dylan smirked.

"Hah. You're incorrigible. Bad, Dylan." Kitty scooted past her boss, over to where he had instructed.

There was a dark haired man sitting at the bar. Back turned, an empty shot glass on the countertop. Kitty approached him, asking politely. "Sir, would you like another drink?"

"If you're offerin'." The man turned around to face her. "My poisin o'choice, Scotch, if you please. And Pryde, don't you ever call me 'sir' again."

The wiff of a certain brand of cigarettes and the british accented voice from her past that sat before her stunned Kitty into complete silence. Frozen with disbelief, her brown eyes locked with his baby blues. His name was Pete Wisdom.

"Oi. Cat got yer tongue? I want me bloody scotch sometime this year." Pete sneered.

The comment snapped her out of her daze, reaching behind her to fetch the bottle of scotch as she poured another shot for him. "... well, Wisdom... I see even dead men get thirsty. Though Chicago is a bit far to go for just a drink."

"Well, I'm certainly not here to chat up the locals." Pete downed the drink. There was a bit of an awkward silence.

"It's been ages. Actually, more like years, Pete. What are you doing here?"

"Hopefully getting a bit sloshed." He held out the empty cup to Kitty.

"You know damn well what I meant. Last I heard you DIED. Last I knew, you wanted nothing to do with me. I can't exactly blame you." Kitty seemed annoyed, but poured him another shot. "You're paying for that one."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, luv." Pete took the shot, placing his glass down. "I need you, Pryde."

"Like you need a hole in the head, huh?" Kitty started to clear off the counter.

Pete lit a cigarette. He scratched the back of his head with his free hand, "Took longer'n expected t' track you down. I heard about the Russian ox. My condolences."

"And you put that oh so eloquently too." She glared at Pete. "You know what? Get out."

"Wot? You can't be serious!" Pete stood. "It wasn't meant t' be offensive."

"You're trying my patience. Look, what the hell do you want? I've got to close up this place, I don't have time to play 'twenty-questions-or-I'm-drunk' with you. For the record? This is not funny." Kitty continued her glare.

"What time y'off?" He took another puff of his cigarette.

"When we close. Whenever that is." Kitty took a look around. The bar seemed a lot less empty than it had been only a few minutes before.

"We need to talk."

"No, really?"

"I'm not quite enjoying your snappy sarcasm this time around, Pryde. I came all this way to see you, you might as well have me a listen."

"What if I say no?" Kitty crossed her arms.

"Last call." Announced Dylan, who was near the front of the bar.

"That a trick question? I know where you live." Pete put his cigarette out.

"Is that a threat?" Kitty's voice raised.

Dylan moved over behind the bar next to Kitty. "Is there a problem over here?"

Kitty sighed, she rubbed her eyes. "Yes. Nothing you can do about it, though. Dylan, this is Pete. An... he's uh... a former boyfriend of mine."

Dylan raised an eyebrow, "Oh really?" He seemed stunned. "This is a surprise... I didn't think that... I mean... you seem so..."

"I think the word you're looking for is 'incredibly old', Dylan." Kitty finished wiping down the bar.

"Sod off. You didn't seem to have much of a problem w'it before." Pete slipped a hand into his pocket, pulling out his wallet.

"I was going for English, actually. Not exactly the type I thought you'd go for." He hinted.

"Dylan!" Kitty nudged him. "I don't have a type."

"Sure you don't. Anyways... time to start sweeping. Your friend can stay while I kick everyone out and close up."

"Thanks, mate." Pete took his seat, tossing a few bills onto the counter. "That should take care o'my tab."

"Right." Kitty went to the register, putting the money away and locking it up. She glanced back at Pete. A mixture of anger and relief washed over her. Last she had heard, the man was dead. Absolutely no closure between them, which made the ache worse. She regretted that. Mainly because it was her own fault. She made no motion to stop him when he first left. She made the mistakes that brought the relationship to an end. Things have changed since then, that's for sure. 'What could he want? Why now?' She wondered.

It didn't take long to finish up the closing duties. Kitty fetched her jacket from the back room and clocked out for the night. They left together, Dylan locking the door behind.

"See you later." Dylan waved. "Don't stay out too late, you two."

"Yeah. Right." Kitty rolled her eyes, stuffing her hands in her jackets' pockets.

"Have you gotten taller?" Pete wondered.

"Might've. I haven't noticed." Kitty started to walk slowly.

"Y'look good. Never thought I'd see you all sharp dressed up like so."

"These are my work clothes, Pete."

"Seems to suit you. Better'n the ol' blues and yellows, eh?" Pete pulled out another cigarette.

"Do you mind? We were just in a bar. That's got to be like your third one."

"What can I say? You drive up my stress levels." He was about to light it, then grumbled, putting it back in his pocket. "Let's find a place."

"I know of this twenty four hour cafe. I skipped dinner and it's too late to crash Shan's place. This way." Kitty chose a direction and started to walk faster.

"Shan?" Pete wondered.

"Friend from Xavier's. Before your time." They turned the corner. She pointed to a small cafe-like place, opening the door. "After you."

"Oh great, make me look like the insensitive clod." Pete grabbed the door from behind Kitty, giving her a nudge. "In y'go. I didn't leave too many of m'manners back in England."

Kitty looked back at Pete. She shook her head with a sigh, stepping in and seating herself at a small booth. Pete followed, sitting across from her. She opened up a menu, glancing it over.

"I've got this one." He opened his own menu. "Breakfast. Lovely."

She closed her menu, putting it aside. Kitty watched Pete, a look on her face somewhere between annoyed and contemplative.

"Wot now?" He put the menu down.

"So this is how it's going to be? Like nothing has changed?" Kitty wondered.

"Not likely." Pete replied.

"Then what are you here for?" Kitty crossed her arms.

"The moment of truth." Pete leaned back. "I know y've been missin me old mug. What say we have ourselves a little bit of a road trip?"