DISCLAIMER: Pete Wisdom and Kitty Pryde belong to Marvel Comics (even though it’s been a while since they deserved them). They are used without permission, but no infringement is intended. Please don’t sue me, I’m a broke college student.

NOTES: This story is a companion piece to "Lonely". This story actually is supposed to take place a few months before "Lonely". I just wrote "Lonely" first. Jenny Gardner(AKA Javelin) belongs to me. I'm rather fond of her so please don't use her without asking my permission (if you ask I'll probably give it).

FEEDBACK: As always send feedback to RhiannonAZ@aol.com. No flames, please. If you want to archive this story e-mail me at the same address. I will definitely give you permission, I just want to know where it is.

I took a drag of my cigarette and looked off into the distance. I was supposed to be in the make-shift infirmary, but had snuck out. I couldn't have taken being fussed over for another second. Everyone's tip-toeing around me. Even Jen is. Hell, she has been since the lot of us got together to deal with all of this crap, but she's been worse this past week. Makes me feel like I'm a cripple or something. Damn it, I wish ... I wish somebody would just bloody argue with me or cuss me out, but they all just smile politely and pretend to agree with me, even the ones that hate my guts. It's weird, I'd probably feel better if Jenny or Jake or someone would rag me about the 'Nick Fury impression' or something like that. Everyone was being so damned polite, that it was maddening. And they wouldn't let me work, so I had no choice but to think. My mind kept wandering to the last thing I wanted to think about and I had no way to distract myself. I saw someone moving towards me in the smoke and dying light. It took me a second to realize that it was Gardner, but as soon as I recognized her I tried to blend into the background. She was looking for me. I know she means well, but damn it's annoying. She spotted me after a minute.

"Puck?", she called softly, using the old nick-name that no one has called me in years, that seems so ancient now. I guess old habits die hard and a lot of Jen's have been coming back lately. Though in the old days I was the one that was always looking out for her, not the other way around.

"I'm over here, Jen. Been a while since anyone's called me that. Since back when you still went by Zoe, probably.", I replied quietly. She almost winced as she came near me. I must look worse than I thought. Thinking back though it's been a couple days since I last shaved, or brushed my hair ... I really didn't want to think about my eye ...

I had moved a bit to slowly when we had been taking down some ex-KGB agents that were working for Black Air ... Had it really been only a week ago?

"Nah, I'd stopped that by the time we stuck you with that one.", Jen replied, smiling in spite of herself. Back when I had first met her she had been a thirteen year old runaway in London's East End, and I was a fifteen year old obnoxious little twit. I had pretty much declared myself her older brother. It was damned obvious that she was from the upper class then, even if it isn't now. She still had a tendency to be impulsive and insane though. It was sort of odd though. Back then if you had told us we would be spies we would have burst out laughing.

She had tried to keep her tone light, knowing that it was quite likely that I would be insulted by her concern. I guess I always have kept everything bottled up. I knew I had been even worse than usual lately, though. Since me and Pryde ... I jerked my mind out of that line of thought. Jen was probably thinking the same thing I was.

"So, how's it going?", she asked in that same tone of forced lightness, and then winced. Her internal 'Stupid question, Gardner.' was almost visible on her face.

"I'm fine, Jen.", I lied. I couldn't ignore the pain, the grief, the bitterness, but I could sure as hell hide it. Jen may be one of my oldest friends, but I don't want anyone seeing me like this.

It was stupid of me to think she wouldn't figure that out, though. The answer was typical of me lately, and she'd had it. The look in her eyes was reminiscent of when we were kids and I had just announced my intention to do something especially reckless or stupid. Usually that look meant 'change your mind before I hit you, you idiot'. This time she only glared at me and said, "That's what you said yesterday and we nearly sent out a search party for you." Slight exaggeration, but not by much. She was clearly thinking, 'Damn it Pete, why can't you open up to anyone?'. Jen's one of the few people that's seen me like this before, when my mother had died. It was damned obvious that she was worried sick about me.

"I just need some time t' think, without everybody givin' me odd looks. I don't need t' be baby-sat!", I snapped, letting some of the anger out. "Yer worried about me, I know." Hell, I'm worried about me. "But treatin' me like I can't take a little conflict or like I'm gonna do somethin' amazin'ly stupid the second yer back is turned on me ain't helpin' much." I got up and began to pace. "No, we mustn't get poor Wisdom upset. The old chap might crack. Christ, Jen! I thought you knew me better than that." I slammed my fist into the nearest, nice convenient crumbling wall. I was so angry that I barely registered the pain. "An' yer the worst of the lot. Always followin' me about like I'm some rookie or somethin'. Do ya 'ave any idea 'ow annoyin' that is?" I scowled at her, "Just because I lost my eye --"

"That isn't why I'm worried, Pete.", her voice was so soft that I had to strain to hear her.

"I know it ain't ..." I felt awful about blowing up at her like that. I know that she meant well, and it hadn't been anything she'd done or said, just ... my own need to yell at someone and she happened to be there. And she did have reason to worry about me, too. Oh, I'm quite bloody aware of how I 'handle' personal problems. Bury myself in work or drown myself in the bottle, anything but actually deal with it. Neither of those were options at the moment. The former was out for the moment, nobody would let me do anything yet, and even if they weren't watching me like hawks I refused to consider the latter as an option. I wouldn't use booze as a crutch, not this time. I'd seen what I would become going down that road and it had scared me shitless. After all I've done, all I've gone through, it's Pryde that makes me hit bottom. "I just need some space t' think." Which was partially true, but mainly just me trying to get Jen out of my face.

"I understand. If you need someone to talk to ..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know 'mum' ... Thanks, Jen."

She nodded and began to walk away slowly, like she was waiting to be called back. She knew that if she took long enough to leave I'd start babbling. Gardner knows me too well, damn her.

"It was ...", I began quietly, "It was like her loving me was the only thing that was redeeming me, ya know? That she didn't condemn for everything I'd done, maybe I'd have a chance. God knows I'm damned for everything I'd done with Black Air." Jen looked as if she was going to say something and I had a pretty good idea what. "Don't go telling me that it's bullshit, 'cause it ain't. You may have done some wet work, but MI6 ain't nothing like wot Black Air was, trust me. It eats at yer soul ... If I hadn't gotten out when I did I probably would have ended up like Scratch. Christ, that's scary." I stood silent for a moment, trying to banish that possibility from my head. "They encouraged people like that ... Ya know, when the X-Men dumped Remy in Antarctica,"

Jen's eyes went wide in shock, I guess she hadn't heard about that. I was on a roll now and couldn't stop to explain.

"'Cause they found out about him working for Essex, I was scared stiff ... I mean I'd done stuff just as bad with Black Air ..." Seeing Kitty livid with rage, ready to kill Gambit if he had been in front of her, had ... I don't know how to put it. Pryde had been my angel, my confessor, my savior, my goddess. I had told her everything. Everything. I had knowingly done worse things than LeBeau had done unwittingly, and done them more often. "I dunno, things changed a bit around then. Most of them never really trusted me in the first place, and it seemed like they stopped trusting everyone then ... Except me. I still trusted Kitty with my life ..." And my heart and my soul. So why the hell I keep her out of what happened in Germany, after Jardine died. Hell, I never even told her that Jardine got iced. I'm still surprised that she had just let me go off on my own -- this was the woman who had been ready to kill me after I got back from that pseudo Indiana Jones thing with Conjob. "It got to me too a bit, I guess ..." Thinking back I had more been trying to protect her. That whole Ogun thing had just happened and she had seemed so vulnerable. It was still one of the stupidest things I had ever done though.

"Before she went off to S.H.E.I.L.D., to help their lot out with something, we had this huge fight. Ya know, I can't even remember what it was about. An' then when she got back she was avoiding me like the plague. Then ... Then I finally get 'er t' tell me wot the 'ell's goin' on an'," the bitterness in my voice surprised me, "She tells me that she's met someone. Her own age. Like I'm ancient or somethin'. I ain't that much older than 'er." Nine years, maybe. I just turned thirty and she must be twenty-one by now. It always seemed like less. "Maybe I am ..."

"I split. I had to. If I hadn't I would have said ... I don't know what I would have said. Something I couldn't apologize for, something I couldn't take back." My life had been filled with such fights, with my parents, with my sister, with girlfriends, with superiors, with friends. Romany and a few of my mates are the only ones that know not to listen to me when I get like that. Everything in my life ends with fights like that. My mother and I had fought just before she died. Then I hadn't visited when I said I would and she had died ... I got my temper from her. It seems like the only people that see the worst of it are the ones I care about. I guess I take after her in a lot of ways. I got kicked out of University after telling off a professor. God knows how many times me and Scicluna had it out, even though she never fired me, as much as I wished she would. I've always avoided real relationships, but of the few I've had I can only think of one that ended on a good note.

"I would have hurt her more if I had stayed." When I get like that it isn't so much losing my temper as it is lashing out. Making whoever hurt me hurt back.

"So you think you didn't hurt her?", Jen asked. Not taking Kitty's side just knowing me well enough to know I needed a devil's advocate.

"I did. I could have a lot more, though. I was strong enough t' stop myself. Just barely." Oh God, I had wanted to hurt her. "She's probably better off without me, anyway."

Jen's eyes narrowed. "You're still in love with her, aren't you?"

"... Of course I am ..."

You can't -- I mean you shouldn't expect her to save you or ... whatever -- Bloody hell! You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know what you mean ..." Kitty had been my ... redemption, I guess. I've faced up to the fact that I can't expect her to be. No one's going to save my soul except me. Christ, that sounds like a line from a bloody folk song. "I know the chances of us actually getting back together are pretty much nil. I'm moving on. That doesn't mean I'm not still in love with her." That I still wouldn't give my life and soul for her.

"So ... What now?"

"Damned if I know." That isn't quite true. Like I said, I have to find my own redemption. To make up for the things I did while I was in Black Air. Or just the things I didn't try very hard to stop. And there's plenty of them.

"You coming in now?"

"In a few minutes Jen." This time she believed me and walked away. I suppose this is my life now, I thought as I looked around not seeing my surroundings so much as I saw what they meant. This is my life again. Missions. Doing what needs doing. Which at the moment is cleaning up after Black Air. Setting things right that the X-Brigade don't even notice in their tunnel-vision. Living in the real world. Moving on. You know, it isn't as lonely as I thought it would be. I'm not saying it isn't, sometimes I feel so alone that I think I'm going to go insane. Despite that this is the first time in years that I can stand my own company. I almost don't mind being solitary that much. Almost.