Gehenna: Part Two

by Luba Kmetyk

Part 2

"So the elf backed himself inta a corner and ya need my help ta calm him down, so the kid can come back? Izzat why you're with Pete in London now, 'cause the kid's mad at Wagner?" Lord knew Wisdom was one of the most stubborn men Logan knew -- and Logan had some pretty high standards for hardheadedness. And, although Kurt could usually be reasoned with, this didn't sound like one of those occasions.

"No, not exactly. That was just the start..."

"Ok, pun'kin, sorry I interrupted." He got up and, holding the phone to his ear as he cautiously sketched the phone cord to its limit, walked over to Harry's private liquor stash and brought a bottle back to the desk for what was obviously going to be a long session. "Go on, Kit, I'm still listening. So the kid left with the brigadier..."

"So *we* left with the brigadier. You didn't think I'd let him go off without me, did you? No matter what Fuzzy said..."

Hearing the hint of badly-hidden trepidation behind her defiant announcement, Logan figured that Wagner must have made some blistering comments on her decision to accompany the former agent. The huge sigh of relief she heaved when all she got was a quiet "That's my gal" just confirmed his hunch. He and Kurt were her oldest friends after all, and, after Pete, their opinions mattered most to her. So his approval meant a lot, just as Kurt's disapproval must have hurt, a lot. (Her other oldest friend was Ororo, but they didn't need to bother getting Storm's reaction -- her disapproval could be taken as a law of nature.) "So the two o' ya went with the brigadier, and...?"

"His chopper flew us down to London. We spent a couple of days there, mostly in briefings -- satellite photos of the research complex, lectures on biological research equipment and facilities, proper use of protective gear and precautions to take against accidental infection, probable weak points and possible vulnerabilities, the geography of the surrounding countryside and the city itself, possible routes in and out, personnel assigned to the nearby embassy and their assignments, other inhabitants who might be useful in case of assorted complications..." Kitty stopped to take a much-needed breath, then went on, pensively, "You know, Logan, I never realized just how much preparation goes into official-type missions. Now I finally understand why Pete is always badmouthing us as nothing but a bunch of sloppy amateurs."

"Nobody objected to you dealing yourself in?"

"Yeah. Pete did," Kitty replied sourly. "He kept telling me he was going alone, he didn't need help, and I should go back to Muir."

That didn't surprise Logan at all, that Wisdom hadn't wanted Kitty exposed to his previous lifestyle. Telling her about it secondhand was one thing, but having her see it 'live' -- up-front and in person -- was a totally different matter. However, Pete must have realized, just as Logan had as soon as he'd heard the former Black Air agent and Kitty had gotten together, that it was inevitable she'd end up going along on his pseudo-official jobs eventually; the only question really had been when and where.

But he was still wondering why they'd let a nineteen-year-old girl -- officially only an 'amateur' -- participate in such a covert mission. It wasn't as if this Ferguson knew Kitty's abilities or training or experience, after all, like the late Brigadier Stuart had, or that Yard man Excalibur usually worked with. "I meant, this brigadier and his bunch didn't object ta you muscling in?"

"Well, of course they did." Her tone was scathing, at his asking the totally obvious. "The brigadier kept ordering me to get lost -- to go back to Muir, to just go *away*... somewhere, *anywhere*... He even tried to have the guards on duty outside his office haul me away." She snorted inelegantly at the memory. "Of course, they found out it's pretty hard to throw out somebody that you can't lay a hand on."

"And the kid *let* them try to pull that crap?!" If that were the case, no wonder Kitty was so upset.

"Of course not! As soon as the brigadier tried to kick me out Pete did a complete flip-flop and read them the riot act about how I was the best partner and backup he could ever have, much better than anybody the brigadier could provide. He even offered the brigadier a demonstration, if he didn't mind all his troops ending up in hospital. But just then the brigadier's deputy came back in and whispered something to him and he just quit objecting. Since she was a Scotland Yard Chief Detective Inspector herself, I figured she must have talked to Dai or something."

"So there was no problem about you tagging along? Except for th' Elf, o' course..." Logan took another drink directly from the tequila bottle, then rubbed his temples absently; he was going to get a headache trying to follow Kitty's story if she didn't get to the point soon.

"Oh, as soon as the brigadier said I could go, that stupid git of mine did *another* flip-flop and tried telling me to stay behind again. But I kept reminding him he'd promised *never* to run off and leave me behind again, like he did when he and his weird friend went off to raid the temple of doom that time..."

"Well, that went pretty well without ya, darlin' -- at least based on the shitload of goodies they brought back." There was a dead silence on the other end of the line, and Logan could almost feel Kitty's scowl. So her sense of humor was still on a leave of absence -- hopefully only temporarily. "Ok, so ya went along with him..."

"Yeah, we flew down there, switched to a helicopter in Kinshasa --I wish I'd had a chance to examine it, and figure out how they got it so super-quiet -- then I phased us down a whole lot closer than planned --since the chopper didn't have to find any open spot to land -- and Pete and I took ourselves a little nature hike through heat and humidity you wouldn't believe, then Pete took out a few guards and I phased us inside and Pete took out some more guards and threw some sleepy-gas cannisters into the air duct intake -- one thing that place had, naturally, was an absolutely state-of-the-art air filtration and exchange system -- then we slunk along distributing some other goodies we'd backpacked in in various appropriate places, Pete took out a few researchers who'd been working in air-tight containment suits and hadn't been knocked out by the sleepy-gas, and then he blew the generators and I kept us phased while we just walked out while the whole place went up in flames..."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Her voice trailed away, and the ensuing silence stretched out while Logan tried to sort through and absorb the import of her sudden, jumbled rush of words. Then he prodded gently, "So, ya bothered by what ya did? What ya helped Pete ta do?"

"Yes, of course, I was -- I am. I don't feel bad about any of the researchers and staff, not one damn bit, not considering what they were up to. But the patients, that they were using as human guinea pigs..." He could hear her voice break for just a moment, then strengthen again. "I mean, yeah, Moira agreed with the brigadier even the regular Ebola virus was untreatable and uncureable and a horrible death, and I know that they'd have had no chance anyway and it was too dangerous to risk the virus spreading, but I kept hoping we'd find some way around it, some way to get them out."

"Didja try?" If that idiot Wisdom had let Kitty get anywhere *near* such highly infectious patients... Logan's hand tightened convulsively and the tequila bottle shattered, raining its remaining contents all over Harry's desk and the piles of paper on it, joined there by blood dripping from his cut hand before his healing factor sealed the gashes, all ignored by the scowling Canadian holding his breath waiting for her answer.

"We went over the whole place, after the gas did its work. There were only a few prisoners there then... They looked *horrible*, Logan, absolutely ghastly." Before he could interrupt and demand an answer, she went on, "Pete and me, we'd argued earlier on the way in and we agreed, we'd check the medical status records in the central files before trying a rescue... and the brigadier wanted us to bring back all their computer files anyway. But, after I'd hacked into the records, both the current readings and their histories, especially the viral counts, Pete wouldn't let me go anywhere near the prisoners. He wouldn't even let me try, he said it was too dangerous, and too late anyway -- most of them were so far gone the sleeping gas had put them to sleep permanently, it hadn't taken much in their weakened state..."

Even hearing that, Logan wasn't quite ready to relax yet, although he forced his tone to stay level, even casual. "Maybe ya oughta get Moira ta check ya both out anyways... Rahne was right, ya know -- no matter what the elf thinks, Muir is still MacTaggert turf and Kurt ain't got no right ta order ya ta stay away. No matter how careful you were, I'd sure feel a damn sight better hearing her say ya didn't pick up that bug."

He was so distracted trying to figure out how many days ago all this had happened and remember the virus' incubation period, he almost missed Kitty's offhand "Oh, the brigadier's people did bloodtests on us -- and on the flight crew -- when we landed, before they let us off the plane. And they said we were clean."

Fighting off a new chill wondering what might have happened if the test result had been different, Logan returned to her earlier comment. "So, how'dja feel, when ya couldn't take any o' the prisoners out? Ya said it didn't bother ya none ta take out the bad guys, but what about the guinea pigs?"

"I told you already, I was upset about it... but I'm ok about it now, really. I hated that we had to do that, but -- even after days of thinking about it -- I don't know what we could have done different." But his sensitive ear detected a lack of conviction, the faintest little tremor, the least hint of hesitation.

"Ya talk ta Pete about how you're feeling? He not understand?" He should, Logan thought. Wisdom had never enjoyed the killing, not even of his principal targets and certainly not of their support troops and staff or any innocent bystanders caught up in the crossfire, and he should understand how hard it would be for Kitty to accept the necessity of euphemistically-named collateral damage her first time out.

"No, we haven't talked about it since, there hasn't really been a chance... and maybe there won't ever be." Logan frowned at that. "But it's ok, I'm ok, Logan, really. I mean, it's not easy to accept but I still can't think of anything different we could have done."

"But ya didn't talk on the way back, or since?" That seemed odd, Logan thought to himself. Kitty had always been a bit of a chatterbox -- as witness this current conversation -- and he'd noticed she had Pete acting more open than the older man had ever seen the Englishman before.

"No, we didn't talk on the way back... but that wasn't a problem, really. We didn't talk at all coming back; we just held each other. We held hands hiking back to our pickup, then I sat in his lap the whole flight back, first in the helicopter -- even though the pilot fussed it wasn't proper safety procedure -- then on the plane ride back. We just held each other, and that was enough, to know he was as bothered as I was, because it meant it was ok to be upset, that he didn't just brush off what we'd done as nothing, that he understood how I felt because he felt the same. It was when we got back that the shit hit the fan."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Logan settled his rump more comfortably in the rickety old office chair, the lingering smell of spilled liquor making him wish absently for more of Harry's good tequila. Now it sounded like they were finally going to get down to it.

"So we got back to London -- and got tested and there was no sign of the virus inside us or on us -- and Pete tells the crew to take me on up to Muir and then he tells me he's staying in town and he'll call me. Call me! Have you ever heard anything so damn ridiculous?! Like I'd go back to Muir without him!"

"But you obviously got him ta change his mind," Logan chuckled, "since the both o' you're in London..."

"Well, no, not exactly..." Kitty's sudden change of tone had him straightening up, ears perking. "It was kinda like the brigadier trying to throw me out -- except for a few of our friendly neighborhood evil supervillains, nobody can make me go where I don't want to go, or keep me from going where I want. The crew couldn't keep me aboard -- and at least *they* were smart enough not to try -- and Pete couldn't stop me going with him... well, following him, really, running after him..."

"Yeah? And?" Logan had to consciously force himself to relax his fingers clenched around the phone receiver.

"And we ended up in Soho. He kept Culley's bolthole..." He could hear the hurt in her voice clearly. "You know, his Black Air friend who got bit by the Uncreated back when we were first getting together. He showed me his friend's hideout then... And he kept it, Logan. The whole time we were getting together, Pete kept himself a nice, secret, little hideout where he could go get away from us... from *me*...."

He decided to give in to his craving for a drink and got up to fetch himself another bottle, careful to keep the phone to his ear. "Don't sound like he tried very hard ta hide it from ya, darlin', if he headed straight there knowing you were tagging along."

"But if I hadn't 'tagged along,' if I'd listened to him and gone on to Muir, I wouldn't have had any idea where he was," Kitty snapped back sharply.

Sitting back down to a protesting creak from the chair, setting the new bottle on the nearest clear section of Harry's cluttered desk, Logan discarded the point as just another sidebar not worth a silly argument. "Ok, so the two o' ya ended up at this guy's hidey-hole... then what?"

"Actually, Pete stopped at the local off-license and picked up a carton of Scotch first. Then, when we got to Culley's place, he just locked the door, grabbed one of the bottles, flopped down on the bed and started drinking. And that's all he's done since -- that, and smoke. He hasn't gone out once, he hasn't eaten, he just keeps drinking himself into a stupor, passing out, waking up and being sick, and hitting the bottle again. I brought food in, all his favorites, but he just ignores it. I even tried shoving some food in his mouth a couple of times, when he was just barely conscious, but Pete just spit it out and knocked the rest away... or else he grabbed it from me and threw it at the wall."

"He didn't hit ya or nothing like that, did he, pun'kin?" Logan jumped up and stood balanced on the balls of his feet, poised to run out and fly over to London immediately. "You do know better than ta try 'n' cover up any shit like that, right?" Not that Wisdom had ever shown any tendencies in that direction. He had always seemed right at home around strong, confident (and bossy) women like Neena or Emma or Raven, or that bitch-boss of his -- it was *men* in authority Pete couldn't tolerate, especially sanctimonious bastards he felt didn't deserve their power. But those other women knew his habits, and knew when to lay off. Pete's relation with Kitty was different than with any of those others, and Logan was suddenly afraid the drunken Englishman might get to resenting her well-meant efforts at compassionate interference.

"What?!" Hearing the unbelieving shock in her voice, he relaxed, and sat down again. Obviously such a possibility had never even crossed her mind -- which augered well for Wisdom's self-control... and for his continued existence. "Of course not! Most of the time -- well, most of the time he's awake, and at least semi-conscious -- Pete just ignores me... except when I get completely in his face and he can't and then he just tells me to go away and leave him alone. And once or twice he told me to make myself useful, and go get him more booze or more cigarettes. But he just keeps on drinking, he won't eat anything, no matter what I buy and bring back, he won't clean up or let me clean him up, he won't let me touch him, he passes out and then when he wakes up screaming from nightmares he pushes me away when I try to hold him, and I don't know what to do, I'm running out of ideas, and I'm so afraid--"

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