This Changes Everything

by Falstaff

Something was different. Katherine Pryde wasn't even fully awake yet and she could feel it. Her fuzzy mind began to click slowly into action.

[What's different, what's different . . . . hmm. Okay, last night--]

And then her mind cleared as she recalled exactly what had happened last night. The last of the finals was over, and she and Illyana had celebrated by splitting a bottle of champagne filched from the White Queen's headquarters some months before. They'd gotten pretty smashed . . . . or at least, she had. 'Yana hadn't seemed too badly effected by the bubbly.

And then, around two or so, Illyana had leaned toward Kitty . . . . and kissed her. Not the sisterly peck on the cheek Kitty'd come to expect from her best friend. No, ma'am. It was the genuine article, with heavy breathing and moaning and a pair of tongues doing the tango. And after that . . . .

[Oh, my God!] Kitty thought.

She lifted up the sheet that covered her, mentally rolling her eyes at doing such a cliched thing. Yup, no nightgown. Just her Star of David necklace. She looked over at Illyana, who was sleeping in her own bed. [That's strange,] Kitty thought.

She clearly remembered falling asleep last night, with Illyana cradling her in her arms and whispering soothing phrases into her ear. [So gentle . . . .] Kitty shook her head, violently. [Quit that. Let's get logical here, Pryde. It could have been a dream, but on the other hand, the likelihood of it being a dream is greatly diminished by the fact that your nightgown is sitting on top of the lamp where 'Yana threw it last night. So, conclusion: probably wasn't a dream, but we need further information. In other words, your best bet is to talk to your best friend.] She raised her eyebrow. [Wonder if we'll have to redefine the title now,] she thought, climbing out of her bed and grabbing the nightgown from its perch atop her desktop lamp. Slipping it on over her head, she took one last slow breath and walked the few feet to Illyana's bedside.

Kneeling down, she shook 'Yana's t-shirt-clad shoulder. "Illyana. Wake up."

The Russian-born mutant did not wake, but she did stir, sighing slightly.

"Come on, 'Yana, wake up," Kitty said, shaking harder. "

Huh? What? Oh," Illyana muttered as she awoke, "Kit. Good morning."

"Good morning," Kitty responded automatically, her sense of propriety kicking in.

Illyana's half-closed eyes moved slowly to her bedside alarm clock, then arched just as slowly back to Kitty's face. "Problem, Kit? I mean, it being six o'clock in the morning and me having a four-alarm hangover, I assume this is important."

"It's about last night."

"Last night," Illyana mused in her throaty purr of a voice. "Last night . . . what about it?"

"I think we should talk, don't you?" Kitty asked, a touch incredulous.

"I don't see anything to talk about," Illyana countered. "I'm going back to sleep."

"Hold on a sec!" Kitty said, grabbing the other young woman's shoulder again for emphasis. "I really think we need to talk."

Now Illyana seemed fully awake for the first time. She drew herself up, sitting with her back flattened against the wall behind her bed. "Look, Kit," she said slowly, as if talking to a imbecile child, "last night was fun. I enjoyed myself. I know you did too. But as far as I'm concerned, last night's the past. Something to be remembered and not talked to death, comprende?"

"Wait a sec--" And now the familiar wine-red flecks began to appear in Illyana's eyes.

Her throaty voice seemed to grow ragged around the edges, becoming less of a purr and more of a growl. "Look. We've been friends for a long time, so I'm going to be a lot more patient that I'd ordinarily be. What did you think, Kit? That there's some kind of relationship in the works here? Damn, you're naive." Illyana rolled her eyes in disgust. "You know me. I'm not the relationship type. I needed release, you needed release, we managed to help each other out. Why do you think I moved over here after you toddled off to dreamland? I was trying to be subtle. Obviously a bad move, since you don't seem to get subtlety when your hormones get involved."

Kitty had seen Illyana's malevolence before, but never directed toward her. Besides, the acidic sorceress before her now didn't jibe with her memories of the gentle, tender--loving, for God's sake!--Illyana of the night before. She swallowed hard. "I just wanted to see where we stand now, 'Yana. I wasn't intending to try and force you into anything you don't want."

A soft snort from the demon sorceress. "Like you could."

"So . . . ." Kitty said, her voice trailing off, "where do we stand now?"

Illyana cocked her head to the right. "We stay friends, if you can handle it. Otherwise, we start fresh. Deal?"

Not entirely sure she was comfortable with this--but unwilling to let Illyana see it--Kitty nodded briskly. She shook the sorceress' outstretched hand. "Deal."

Kitty Pryde would live a great many more years, and even live happily ever after with somebody . . . . she'd see many places and do many things, and acquire a great deal of--forgive the pun--wisdom along the way. But she was never able to reconcile Illyana's tenderness of the night with the harsh coldness that met her in the morning. No matter how hard she tried.

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