Disclaimer:  I own nothing, therefore I market nothing!  This was just for
fun!

Note:  This is my first attempt at fan fiction, so I would adore any and
all comments. You can reach me at shire@one.net.  Thanks in advance.


Father Knows Best

Chapter Two

Time was not behaving.  Kitty couldn't seem to draw a breath.  She was
immobile in her father's embrace.  Over his shoulder, she could see Pete
frozen in his chair. 

Sentinels!  

Again.  No matter what alterations they made to the time stream, the
Sentinels kept appearing.  This time her father was involved.  Horrible,
horrible. 

With force of will, she made her lungs obey.  The advent of that deep,
rattling breath seemed to jump-start reality.  Everyone moved at once. 
Pete was on his feet.  Kitty was wriggling from her father's arms.  Carmen
jumped a little, surprised by the others' movements.

"Dad,"  she began, (good, her voice sounded normal), "that must be really
top secret.  We usually hear rumors of most US or British government
operations that involve genetics.  We are the top genetic research
facility in the world, you know."  She paused.  "Are you sure that's why
you are here, or do you just need an excuse to drop in to see me after so
long?"

Carmen twisted a brass button on his blazer, looking uncomfortable.  He
obviously hadn't meant to cut to the chase so prematurely in his visit. 
He opened his mouth to further explain, when the oddest scent of sulfur
wafted into the room.

Kitty and Pete both knew that smell and turned towards the door with great
relief.  In strolled an image-enhanced Kurt, along with Moira.

"Herr Pryde!"  Nightcrawler said warmly.  "It is very nice to see you
again!"  He held out his hand for a shake.

Carmen, obviously flustered, accepted the proffered hand and shook it
weakly.  "Kurt, er, yes, very nice."

Kurt grinned.  "Allow me to introduce our director here at Muir, Dr. Moira
McTaggart."

Moira was attired in jeans and a rugged cable sweater. This was certainly
not a typical business ensemble.  However the white lab coat she wore over
the casual clothing lent it an academic air.  "It certainly is a pleasure
to finally meet the father of our prodigy," she said.

While Carmen was absorbed in greeting Moira, Pete walked over to Kitty and
whispered in her ear. "Aren't they all laying it on a bit thick, luv?"

Moira, with ears like a panther, whirled around in genuine annoyance.  "Of
course not, Pete Wisdom!  Kitty's been a certified prodigy since she was
thirteen!  Ye'd think you of all people would know that!"

Carmen Pryde looked very smug.  "Well actually, Dr. McTaggart, Kitty
tested off the charts at the age of five."  With that, he and Moira fell
back into conversation.

Pete moved behind Kitty and slid his arms around her waist.  "Bloody
genius at five," he muttered.  

Kitty leaned into him, but didn't respond.  Her father's words still
stung her ears.  She didn't want to believe it.  She watched her father
oozing charm at Moira, hinting at research endowments from the government.
She felt sick.  She longed to just phase through the floor.   Obviously
not an option.  Neither was staying in the room.  She tilted her lips back
to Pete's ear and murmured,  "Pete, I have to get out of here.  Can you
stay and watch him?"  She made the last word fade into a soft kiss on his
earlobe to disguise her speech.

Carmen Pryde was openly staring at the couple.  Obviously not pleased with
the display of physical affection.

Pete matched his gaze.  "Yeah, Pryde."

Kitty disengaged herself from Pete's arms and turned to leave the room.

"Sweetheart?"  Carmen's tone was anxious.

She stopped, not turning.  When had he last called her that?  An image of
a thirteen-year-old Kitty at a surprise Hanukkah party sprang to mind.  An
exhausted child who had just destroyed a demon.  She even remembered the
silly pink robe she had been wearing.  Was that the last time he'd called
her a pet name?  It must have been.  The only other time she had seen him
ended up in less than pleasant circumstances.  Even then it had been Logan
who had saved her.  Her life, her soul.

Still not turning, she said,  "Excuse me,"  and left the room.

Moving quickly to avoid being followed, Kitty slipped around a corner and
phased through the floor.  She kept going down until she reached the
sub-basement.  This was where she kept her work area.  Old computer parts,
electronic components, her soldering equipment, and other assorted junk. 
This was her private space.  

Sniffling a little, she sat down at her desk and flipped on the lamp. 
Covered as it was by the debris left over from her previous projects,
there was still room on her desk for a few framed photographs. Displayed
here was Illyana grinning in a smile few but Kitty ever saw.  Storm 
tending her plants.  Doug in a horrible disco skating outfit, complete
with baby blue skates.  A grumpy Logan with a sixpack and a lit cigar.  

A tear rolling down her check, Kitty reached for Logan's picture.  This
was someone who took care of her.  Someone who taught her about life. 
About honor.

Still holding the picture she dialed the phone.  "May I please speak to
Logan?"  she asked a trifle huskily.  "This is Kitty."  

Several minutes passed.

"H'lo Punkin'."

Kitty let out a small sob.  The casual endearment went straight to the
core of the hurt that had been building since her father's arrival.  She
held Logan's photo tightly to her chest as she inhaled sharply, trying to
stop crying.

Logan didn't miss much, and was waiting patiently for her to begin to
speak. 

"Hi Wolvie," she said in a watery voice.  "I hope you're not too busy to
talk."

"What's wrong, darlin'?"  Logan never was one to mince words.

Kitty toyed with the phone cord.  "You know, I don't have a picture of my
dad on my desk.  Funny, huh?"

She could hear Logan sigh on the other end.  "Why not?"

"Because I haven't seen him in about five years.  Haven't spoken to him."

Unsaid was,  'He hasn't cared enough about me to keep in touch.'

"Kit, yer dad took a wrong turn in life.  He got you involved once.  You
were hurt.  Maybe he has been trying to keep you safe."

"Logan, phone calls and letters are safe enough."

"True.  But like I said, your dad chose a different life.  A darker one. 
It isn't easy to face those who knew you before. They remind you of what
you might have been.  Trust me, I know."

Kitty slammed down Logan's picture on the desk with enough force to crack
the glass.

"Damn it, Wolvie!  He is my Father.  I love him, and I thought he loved
me."  Kitty ran a finger along the edge of the cracked glass.  "It hurts,"
she said in a small voice.

"I didn't say he didn't and I didn't say it shouldn't,"  Logan said
gruffly.

There was a lull in the conversation, each of them lost in thought for 
a moment.

"Kiddo, this is old news.  What stirred up the old hurt?"

"He is here."  Kitty's voice grew cold.

"Not to visit I take it?"

"No.  He wants something horrible.  Information on the genetic weaknesses
of mutants.  He is involved with the devel-"

Logan cut her off.  "I know Punkin'."

"WHAT?!?"

"Forge found some top secret documents about a year ago.  They were
schematics for Sentinels and related memos.  Your father's name was
mentioned."

"You didn't tell me!"

"Why would I?  It was a slender connection.  I didn't have any real proof.
I wanted to be sure, before I started making accusations."

"Oh."  Kitty was more stunned than angry at this new development.

"Do you want me to come?"

"No.  I need to handle this on my own."

"Thought so.  Just remember this:  He is still your father.  Use that."

"Thanks Logan.  I need to go."

"Ok... and Punkin'?  You'll do fine."  With that Logan hang up.

Kitty sat in the pool of light cast by her desk lamp and stared into the
darkness of the basement for a long time.  She was pondering Logan's
advice when she saw a smoldering flicker of orange light at the far end of
the room.  The slight smell of smoke drifted towards her.  

Emerging from the gloom, Pete took a long drag from his cigarette.  "You'd
better go upstairs, Kitty.  Yer dad's got them all in an uproar."

"Pete!"  Kitty sprang up from her chair.  "I've got the answer.  There
must be some of the man my dad used to be left.  Buried deep inside the
person he has become.  I just have to find it."

Pete gripped her shoulders.  "Don't be gettin' your hopes up, Pryde."

Kitty leaned back and looked into his eyes, "Trust me."

Pete narrowed his eyes.  Trusting her was not the problem.  Trusting
Carmen Pryde was a whole other issue.