In Virtue

Bobby and Rogue were silent and stone-faced as they waited for the bus, the grey landscape was shadowed and blurry in the harsh weather. Kitty stumbled over a vague collection of apologies and excuses, trying to explain why her talk with Erik was necessary without explaining what they'd actually talked about.

The bus slowly rolled down the street, inching forward warily through the snow and ice. It came to stop with a sigh, and by the time Rogue had already started towards it, followed by Bobby, and then Kitty. The explosion of heat and light that greeted her was almost overwhelming, and her head throbbed from the sudden, drastic change in temperature.

“You kids are lucky,” the busdriver said as he began to pull away. “Almost didn’t make this trip. ‘No one is going to be out at this late hour with this great storm,’ they tell me, but I says, ‘it’s my job, they expect a 9pm bus, they gets a 9pm bus.’”

“Thank you,” Kitty smiled, throwing her coat onto the open seats. “You’re a real lifesaver.”

She turned to see Rogue's now unobscured face, her eyes ablaze, their heat burning into her skin. Her teeth were gritted, and the space just under her nose was stained black with dry blood.

Oh no. 

“Rogue, are you okay?”

“Rogue? What the hell are you talking about?” She let out a brief, dry laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “What are you saying to me?”

Kitty opened her mouth to respond, to explain herself. But nothing came out. Maybe it was her throbbing head, maybe it was her heavy limbs, or her still-stinging face. Or maybe she'd been caught up in so many half-assed lies, she was caught in a stalemate. Either way, the silence between them grew tenser and thicker as the seconds ticked by.

“Do you know that we searched for you for hours? Do you even fucking care?”

Kitty didn't try speaking this time. There was nothing she could say that would be authentic, and any further lies would be an insult to her friends. So, she said nothing.

Rogue scoffed and shook her head in disbelief, casting a look towards a weary Bobby. He seemed to have aged considerably since Kitty last saw him, just a few hours before. His face seemed rugged, and his eyes were distant. She was suddenly reminded of how her father looked when there was trouble at the bank. Real trouble. 

She felt a familiar feeling of helplessness creeping through her, as familiar as warmth.

"I'm so sorry, Anna, Bobby." Her voice cracked as she spoke and she looked down, swallowing hard.

"How could you just wander off with some creepy old guy like that?" Rogue barked. "Are you deranged? We thought he kidnapped you!"

The driver stepped on the breaks at a sudden yellow light, and the bus lurched forward. As Rogue and Kitty latched onto the same pole to steady themselves, Kitty's hand brushing against the other woman's. She chanced a look into those dark eyes and was met with such disdain, her heart skipped a beat. Bobby stumbled hard as he struggled to reach something to steady himself against in time, and he fell back into one of the plastic seats lining the perimeter of the bus with a loud thud.

As soon as the bus rolled to a stop, Kitty hurried towards him.

“Bobby, are you alright?” She put a hand on his shoulder, ready to help.

“No!” he shouted, pushing her hand away.

Then he pointed at her and jerked his head from side to side to emphasize his point.

"No." He spoke more quietly this time, but there was a note of finality to it.

She straightened up and backed away, then sank into a seat on the opposite wall. She held Bobby's gaze as she did so, his bright eyes shifting rapidly with conflicting emotions.

“Hey, is everything okay back there?” The driver snuck a peak at the rearview mirror, where Kitty was backing away. “Hey, everyone just take a seat or hold onto something, okay?”

“Okay!” Bobby called back, a little bit too loudly, leaning across the bus seats and rubbing his forehead.

The bus was silent now, the only sounds were from the tires grinding on gravel and the engine. Kitty kept her head down in fear that another look from her might cause her friends further distress. But she could feel Rogue's eyes glaring down at her, scornfully, and she could hear Bobby sighing and shifting in a bout of restlessness.

She felt the weight of what she had put them through - the worry, the anger, the panic, the hurt - she felt it in the way Rogue periodically shook her head long after they stopped talking. In the way Bobby’s eyes were glossed over and distant, how his mind was a million miles away. She’d driven the friend who’d shown her boundless kindness and patience into a fit of fury. She’d caused the most present and positive person she knew to retreat into his shell. 

And suddenly she ached for her powers with a new strength that nearly brought her to tears. She wanted to phase through the walls of the bus, she wanted to disappear. Because she was unbearable to be around when she was always around. She turned people into the worst versions of themselves.

“Alright-y,” the driver put the gear into park and leaned back. “Have a good night!”

Rogue was moving towards the exit before the bus even came to a stop. She got off without saying a word and didn’t wait for Kitty or Bobby before trudging away through the snow.

Bobby sat up slowly, his faraway eyes lingering over the bus as he wordlessly shuffled towards the exit.

“Thank you,” he touched the back of the driver’s seat, then descended down the stairs with slow, jerky moments, as if he was an elderly man with stiff joints.

Kitty went last, wiping the tears off of her face, and smiling despite her red, puffy eyes.

“Thank you, have a good night,” she said, as cheerily as she could manage.

“Yeah, you too, sweetheart,” the driver’s brows knitted together with concern, and he watched her as she followed her friends out into the bitter darkness.

Bobby was standing by the exit as Kitty stepped out, turned away, and he immediately started towards the Victorian as she emerged. He tried to stay a bit ahead of her as they walked, and after a few failed attempts at hurrying beside him, she let him.

The door was open when they trudged up the porch steps, signaling that Rogue was already inside. Bobby went in first, but held the door for Kitty without looking at her, and then she heard his keys jingling as he prepared to open the door to his apartment.

“Bobby, wait,” her voice was barely more than a whisper, and she touched his arm lightly. He ignored her, jamming the key into the lock and letting the door swing open.

“Bobby, please,” she hated how whiney she sounded. “Let me come in and talk to you.”

He stopped for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. Then he slouched his shoulders and met her gaze.

“I think I need to be alone right now,” he stepped into his doorway as he spoke. “I’m sorry, Kathryn.” 

The door clicked shut, and then there was silence. She leaned against it for a moment, taking comfort in the sound of his keys clacking onto the table, and the scuffing sounds of his shoes and coat coming off.

Her mind raced as she once again wished she could fall through the floor and disappear. She closed her eyes, and turned to the second-best escape she could think of, letting her words flow through her mind.

Do you know that one look 

from you could smooth 

the seas and flurry the storm? 

How can I move without breaking 

the ice and sending us into darkness? 

How do I say that the sky turns grey 

and the seas rise in your absence? 

When will you know that the cold wind 

blows searching for you?

Her eyes snapped open, and she trudged up the stairs, feeling heavy and uncomfortably aware of herself. A big romantic pose wasn't what Bobby needed right now, and she'd never cared much for poetry, anyway.

She awoke to the sound of roaring laughter outside, her apartment chilly from a window that she’d forgotten to shut the night before. It took her a little extra time getting out of bed that morning, and finally, she turned over and found the receipt Max had given her sitting on her night table. 

She mulled over yesterday’s events as she made coffee, trying to focus on her side-street chat with Max rather than the bus ride blow. 

Although she awoke before her alarm, the uncertainty of her situation and her spinning thoughts caused her to lose track of time.

“Good morning, everyone,” Kitty dropped her bag onto her desk, breathing heavily, her dark hair slicked to her forehead. 

“I apologize for the delay,” she gasped, looking out over the class with a reassuring smile. “It was poor planning on my part. I didn’t think of the extra time it would take to trudge through all that snow!”

Of course, it was no more snow than usual, and a few puzzled looks in the crowd confirmed what a weak excuse it was.

She straightened her posture and cleared her throat.

“So,” she clasped her hands together, trying to command the attention of any inquisitive minds. “What did we think of this story?”

“I have a question,” Luke blurted out, despite the fact that his hand was raised high above his head. “Why didn’t we just read The Time Machine?”

“Well, The Chronic Argonauts actually predates The Time Machine, and I find that its slight ambiguity makes for a better discussion.”

“Plus,” she added with a mischievous smile. “It’s significantly shorter than The Time Machine and I thought you guys might appreciate that.”

“We sure do,” Luke nodded as the class buzzed with agreement. 

Keeley raised her hand slowly, just barely reaching above her slouched figure. 

“Keeley?”

“I don’t understand the ending,” she said softly, shuffling her feet, and looking at the floor.

“That’s okay!” Kitty assured her, trying to cool the note of enthusiasm in her voice. “Does anyone feel confident enough to explain it?”

“Eh,” Bernie said. “Dr. Negopifull killed the father and framed the sons, didn’t he?”

“Well,” Kitty tilted her head from side to side in a so-so motion. “Sort of -”

“No,” the firmness in Keeley’s voice silenced the class at once. “I get that. But what does the last line mean? I mean, it just struck me as a bit odd. Did H. G. Wells plan this to be a series or something? Why had the voyage just begun?”

“Yeah, it’s got a bit of a ‘The Avengers will return,’ vibe, doesn’t it?” Bernie agreed.

Kitty shook her head in confusion. “A what?”

“That’s right,” Keeley smiled, craning her neck to see Bernie, who sat a few rows in front of her. “I -”

“They’re stuck in a time loop, is what it means,” interrupted Ranata, turning around in her seat in the first row to glare at Bernie. “Obviously.”

“Ranata is correct,” Kitty nodded and Ranata leaned back in her seat with a smug smile. “By committing the act that drew him to the house in the first place, Dr. Nebogipfel creates a paradox, doomed to rinse and repeat until the end of time.”

“Why would Dr. N do that?” Aaron huffed, slumping back in his seat and crossing his arms.

“That’s a good question,” Kitty leaned back on her desk and crossed her ankles. “And it brings up an interesting point - perspective. We never get to see the events from Dr. Nebogipfel’s point of view, so we don’t really know why he does it.”

“Arrogance,” Ranata said with a note of finality, as if she was confirming a great suspicion. “Men think they’re unstoppable.”

“Eh?” Bernie cocked an eyebrow.

“Perhaps,” Kitty deliberated. “Or it could just be ignorance. H. G. Wells is credited for coining the term ‘Time Machine.’ People didn’t really think of these things then - or, at least, not in that way. Actually - you’ll want to check with Professor Summers on this - I believe the first person to theorize the time loop was Gödel in the ‘40’s or ‘50’s. So, Wells is way ahead of the game on this one.”

“So you think the good doctor did it because he was unaware of the consequences?” Aaron asked, chewing on his pen.

“That’s right.” 

The class broke out into hushed discussion among themselves, and Kitty leaned back on the palms of her hands, satisfied.

Happy with her lecture that day, and in a relatively good mood, all things considered, Kitty didn’t dread it when Aaron approached her after class.

“Professor!”

“Aaron!”

He stood before her desk, full of the optimism of youth, clasping his hands together as if he was a Professor about to announce some exciting news to his class.

“So, I spoke with Professor LaBeau, and we’re going to do a minimalist production of The Tempest!”

“Aaron,” Kitty beamed, sitting up in her chair. “That’s amazing!”

“She said she’d already heard about the idea from you and loved it, she said I could even run the production if I wanted to. She would oversee it. We’re starting casting today.”

“That’s incredible, I’m so proud of you. Please let me know when it is, I can’t wait to see it!”

And she meant it, she really did. Aaron flashed her a toothy grin before dashing out of the classroom, energy bursting from his every step. Kitty’s smile lingered long after the door swung shut. Whether she was teaching at Xavier’s school, or here, or a colony on Mars, it wouldn’t matter. The best part of her job was the small role she played in helping her students grow, watching young adults explore their ideas, and guiding them whenever it was needed. She hadn't considered how little timelines actually mattered when watching students develop their talents. She made a silent oath to remember this, always.

Kitty held her head high as she walked down the hallway, smiling at students and faculty. The memory of Bobby and Rogue still weighed on her, but she resolved to make it up to them tonight. But right now, she had somewhere to be.

She stepped off the bus, squinting through the bright sunlight at the writing scribbled on the receipt. She looked back up at the buildings of the town, trying to make heads or tails of the strange address.

She wandered along a rocky path, grateful the snow had somewhat melted away already. She found a colonial-style house at the address.

Had he invited her to his house? She didn’t know. And she didn’t particularly care.

She knocked on the door, and, to her surprise, Kier answered. 

“Kathryn!” They smiled, holding the door open for her. “What are you doing here?”

“Erik invited me -” she stepped inside the large foyer. “Max, I mean. Max invited me”

“Oh, have you heard from him?” Kier led Kitty down a narrow hallway, familiar dark wood panels lining the walls. “Max was supposed to be here this morning, but he hasn’t shown and hasn’t called.”

“Oh?” Kitty raised an eyebrow, following Kier into a brightly lit dining room. At the table sat Jean Grey and Charles Xavier.

“Oh, no, don’t worry,” Kier smiled. “Sometimes Max gets in a mood, and he’ll shut himself inside. It happens from time to time.”

“Kathryn!” Jean exclaimed, her eyes widening with surprise. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

“Uh, yeah. Max invited me.”

“Oh, hello!” Charles stood up to welcome her, Kitty attempting to mask her own surprise at the motion. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Kathryn. My name is Charles Xavier. Please, make yourself at home.”

He gestured to the open space next to him, and Kitty took a seat.

“I’m sorry,” she chuckled awkwardly. “I thought Max would’ve told you I was coming.”

“Oh, don’t think anymore of it,” Charles waved the thought away. “We’re more than happy to have you. Any friend of Max’s is a friend of ours.”

“Kathryn is actually my colleague at the University,” Jean smiled and leaned forward, looking from Charles, to Kitty, and back again. She had a calming presence that made everyone feel at ease, regardless of how unusual the situation might be.

“Oh, so you’re already acquainted then? Wonderful!” Charles turned to Kitty, his voice as warm as ever. “We’re going to have lunch before we get started, is that alright?”

Before what gets started? She wondered, but she simply nodded and smiled politely in response.

She refrained from asking any questions during the generous lunch, grateful for the feast Charles had prepared, not wanting to bring down the high spirits of her companions. Charles served a roasted chicken, with gravy and mashed potatoes. An assortment of fruits and cheeses were arranged on a platter in the center of the table, along with corn bread and butter. By the time Kitty was done eating, she was the most full she’d been since last Thanksgiving. And while they ate, the group discussed philosophy, music, politics (briefly, as Charles claimed it wouldn’t be fair to discuss Erik’s favorite subject without him), movies, science, and theories about what lies in the deep corners of the universe. 

A few times throughout the meal, Kitty’s eyes landed on Jean, and she fought the desire to ask her about Logan. But Jean smiled brightly, and if she was at all bothered that Kitty was there, or if she still felt odd about their conversation in her office, she didn’t show it.

“Kitty, why don’t you take a seat in the living room,” Charles gestured to a set of double doors at the end of the dining room. He gathered plates, and turned towards the kitchen. “I’ll be in in just a moment!’ 

She could hear the clashing of ceramic-on-ceramic as Jean cleaned up in the kitchen.

She felt awkward not helping to clean up, but she was alone in the dining room now, and she figured it was best to just do as Charles said. It always has been.

She closed the double doors behind her as she stepped into the extravagant living room. Gold-stained molding lined the perimeter of the ceiling over wall-to-wall bookshelves housing everything from Tolstoy to Virgil to the writings of Frances E. W. Harper. A grand piano sat in the far corner, to the left of a small TV. A green velvet couch faced opposite of the TV, flanked by two elegant, cream chairs. 

On the couch sat Kier, phone in face, their legs folded under them. 

“Hey,” Kitty took a seat in the nearest chair, flashing light from the TV momentarily blinding her. “Whatcha watching?”

“Star Trek.”

“Ah,” Kitty nodded. “The correct answer.”

Kier didn’t say anything, their attention drawn far away into the deep depths of the internet.

“So, how do you know Charles?” She propped her foot up on her knee, like her dad used to do, and stretched her arms over either side of the chair.

Kier put their phone down, then, holding it close to their chest. 

“My mom is his sister,” They replied after a brief pause. “I come here when I get sick of campus food.”

“That was a glorious meal,” Kitty laughed, then, just as quickly, sobered in thought. “They don’t have a gender-neutral term for niece-or-nephew, do they now?”

Kier shrugged and stretched across the couch, the pillows encompassing them in a manner that seemed so cozy. Kitty yawned.

“Some people say nibling, but I find that confuses a lot of people. Especially of a certain age.”

“Hm.” Kitty nodded, watching Captain Kirk record his Captain’s Log on the TV.

The doors swung open as Charles pushed through them, dramatically extending his arms behind him as he did so, closely pursued by Jean.

“Kier, I do apologize, but do you mind if we take this space? You can help yourself to whatever you’d like in the kitchen.”

“Ye!” Kier bounced off of the couch and raced back into the dining room.

“Thank you!” Charles called after them as Jean sunk into the still-indented space on the couch.

Charles pulled over the remaining chair so that the three of them formed a sort of circle, and settled into it, muting the TV as he did so.

“So,” he raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Let’s discuss.”

Jean broke the silence almost immediately.

“I talked to Scott.”

“And?”

“I don’t think he knows anything. He laughs at the idea of The Mandela Effect, and the multiverse, and all that.”

“That’s not very science-minded of him,” Charles frowned, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his temple.

“He believes that science requires proof,” Jean shrugged and pursed her lips. “I tell him that, at one point or another, everything we know now was unproven.”

“And what does he say to that?”

Jean bit back a smile.

“He says, ‘prove it.’”

Charles chuckled, then sighed. “Oh, Scott.'

Seeming to notice Kitty for the first time since he sat down, Charles suddenly straightened up and cleared his throat. 

“Kathryn, I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”

A knot in her stomach, Kitty looked from Jean, to Charles. 

“I…don’t even know what to ask.”

“Why don’t you start by telling us why Max invited you here.”

Kitty shook her head, her cheeks flushing with heat.

“Oh, right,” She laughed awkwardly. “Sorry.”

Charles smiled and waved a hand. “It’s no bother, really. We’re happy to have you.”

She studied her boots and swallowed hard, the absurdity of her previous life suddenly overwhelming her. 

“Logan…” she started, her voice was low, and it felt like a strain to speak. “Was in my dream.”

She chanced a quick glance up at Jean, who looked back at her out of the corner of her eye, her eyebrows furrowed with confusion, or doubt, Kitty couldn't tell.

“And so was Max.” 

Charles glanced at Jean, uncertain, who was frowning slightly. He shifted in his chair, attempting a comforting smile.

Kitty raised her chin, and met the Professor’s eyes. 

“And so were you, Charles Francis Xavier.”

Charles scoffed, taken aback. Jean didn’t react.

“Well, I -” Charles stumbled. “Why don’t you tell us how you know Max?”

Kitty hurriedly explained how she’d gone to visit Logan’s grave with Bobby and Rogue, how they’d encountered Max, the pub, how they’d talked in the back alley (though she didn’t go into the specifics of the conversation), and how he’d given her Charles’s address, scribbled on the back of a receipt. She pulled the receipt out of her pocket now and handed it to Charles, who studied it intently, Jean leaning in close as he held it out for her to see. 

“Max knows me as ‘Kitty,’” she finished, hesitating as Charles and Jean exchanged a long glance. “Kitty is what I’ve been called all my life, and it’s what I’d like to continue to be called.”

When she’d finished, she saw that Charles was grinning. A Mona Lisa smile danced on Jean’s face, before she leaned forward and squeezed Charles’s hand, giving him a curt nod as she did so. 

Charles took this gesture as encouragement, and turned back to Kitty.

“Decades ago, Logan - who, as I understand it, you sort of know -, Max, and myself conducted an experiment after Logan claimed he had awoken that morning from a strange and vivid dream. The dream involved the world ending at the hands of a man named Dr. Bolivar Trask.”

Charles paused briefly to observe Kitty, and glanced back at Jean. Then he went on.

“He’d claimed that, in this dream, he had strange abilities. Immortality, regeneration, among other things. He’d said that Max and I were there as well, but there were two of each of us.”

The brightness faded from Charles’s face and he looked to Jean, once again. She stared absentmindedly at the floor, her eyes dark and distant.

“And then he collapsed. He’d had a perfect medical record, never so much as a cavity, but he started convulsing violently, then. A stream of blood ran from his nose, and his eyes stared widely around the room.”

Charles swallowed hard, a faraway sadness gleaning in his eyes.

“And then he shouted, ‘Kitty, help me, please. Kitty, I’ve gone too far back.’”

Kitty dragged in a shattering breath, tears welling in her eyes. Suddenly, the room felt as if it was spinning, and she fought to stay grounded. Logan hadn’t abandoned her; he’d gotten stuck in time and his mind snapped. All this time, she’d been bitter and miserable to be the sole bearer of the burden of these memories. Along with that burden, she’d carried around a resentment she hadn’t even been fully aware of until now; a feeling of spite that Logan left her here alone. But at least she’d gotten to live. It might not be the life she'd wanted, and it might not be easy, but it sure as hell beats dying alone, in fear and panic, pleading to be brought back. She’d failed him.

“Logan was a great person,” Charles smiled through his watering eyes. “He’d adopted his niece when she was just two after her parents died in a tragic car accident.”

He took Jean’s hand and she took his.

“They had ten beautiful years together as father and daughter. Ten beautiful, short, years.”

Jean gripped his hand firmly now and shut her eyes.

“The fear in his eyes, in that moment, has haunted me for over twenty years.”

Charles sniffled, and then his gaze returned to Kitty. Her stomach was still tumbling and twisting, her lungs contracting as she struggled to breath. He didn’t abandon me, I abandoned him!

“And then you showed up. No one outside of this room, besides Max, knows the details of his ramblings. No one knows about the name ‘Kitty.’ The brain can fire synapses in the moments leading up to death. Part of me has always doubted that there was meaning behind his words, that it wasn’t simply the last flicker of life in him before the light went out forever.”

Jean and Charles clung to each other, Jean bowing her head towards Charles as he spoke. 

“And then there’s you,” He muttered, almost absentmindedly. “Crashing into our lives with impossible knowledge like a bulldozer taken to a sand castle.”

“Kitty,” Jean smiled through tears and leaned forward, breaking away from Charles. “I know you told Max everything yesterday. But would you be willing to tell us?”

Without hesitation, Kitty launched into her story again, the weight of their skepticism off of her shoulders now. Charles was taken aback as she described his rivalry with Erik, and appeared relieved to hear about how they'd worked together, in the end. Her face felt hot, and she looked at the floor as she briefly described the special connection Logan and Jean seemed to share, doing her best to leave out details that might shock this Jean and this Charles. She talked about Rogue’s enrollment at school, the ensuing chaos, about her own epic fight with Juggernaut, about the friends she’d grown up with - the ones who existed in this timeline, and the ones who didn’t. She felt her face get hot again as she talked about Bobby, and she squirmed in her seat, desperate to wrap things up. But she was determined to tell the truth, the whole truth. They deserved the truth. She even, carefully, talked about the Dark Phoenix, how Jean lost control of her powers, how Charles had meant well by suppressing it, he really had. She was sure to quickly follow this up with how much effort the X-Men put into saving her. How that was a major factor in their time jumping. 

If hearing the news of the Dark Phoenix disturbed Jean, she didn’t show it. She listened intently as Kitty spoke, her hands folded neatly, her eyes never leaving Kitty’s face. She clasped her hands together tightly, tears welling in her eyes as Kitty talked about Logan, but this was the only emotion she expressed.

And then Kitty told them about how she’d sent Wolverine’s consciousness into his younger self. How Mystique had chosen forgiveness, therefore, avoiding capture and preventing the end. How everyone around had died, one by one, as Kitty sat by an unconscious Logan. Her voice trembled as she described Bobby’s death, and she willed herself not to start crying as she felt that all-too-familiar pressure behind her eyes she’d been feeling so often, lately. If Jean hadn't cried over Logan, or her own fate in the other timeline, Kitty wouldn’t cry over a version of Bobby that no longer existed, no matter how badly she missed him or how persistent the memories were when she shut her eyes at night. And she talked about how they’d all meant well, really, but something had gone terribly wrong, and history had been rewritten.

“This is my punishment, I think, for messing with time,” her voice was hoarse from the strain of keeping her voice steady. “I have to carry this burden, this - this curse of knowing what has been. This isn’t my life, I haven’t lived it. I’ve only been here for a short while.”

The three of them sat in silence for a long time. Kitty took an odd comfort in the sound of the second hand ticking away on the grandfather clock in the corner, the light of the TV basking them in red, blue, and yellow.

Charles sat, rubbing his chin with one hand, deep in thought. Jean was very still, her eyes bearing the scars of a life she’d never lived. Suddenly it occurred to Kitty what an awful thing she’d done. She’d been cursed with this knowledge of other lives, burdened by it, broken by it. And rather than carrying it gracefully, she’d used it as a weapon, even if her intention wasn't to cause pain.

“I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through,” Jean interrupted Kitty’s thoughts, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“This is…” Charles’s voice was quiet and he stared past them. “This is more than I ever could have imagined. Have you seen any traces of remembrance in Anna or Bobby?” 

“No.” Kitty cleared her throat and sat up. “They couldn’t know even if there was some little fragment.”

“Well, if there’s even a thread of a former life within a person, that thread can be pulled. Pull hard enough and the cover will unravel and reveal the memories of this previous life.”

Kitty scrunched up her face in doubt. “What effects would that have on the timeline, though?”

“Well, if it’s just simple memories and nothing solid, I don’t really see why it would affect the timeline. As you’ve proven, the space up here -”

Charles tapped the side of his head.

“- has little effect on the space around us, as long as this knowledge stays in your head.”

“Well, Bobby…” She hesitated, breathing in deep, then blowing the air out of her cheeks. “Bobby loves the cold.”

She closed her eyes and held her palm up.

“Like, loves it.”

Charles and Jean exchanged a look of confusion. 

“No, no,” she leaned forward in her chair. “You don’t understand. All the windows in his apartment are wide open, all of the time. His jacket is always open, even last night, when we were out in the storm. Also, I once watched him stick his wet hands in the freezer to get something, so -”

Kitty threw up her hands in a shrug, her eyes moving from Charles, to Jean.

“Hm,” Charles nodded as if considering her point, but his eyebrows were furrowed in doubt. “That is unusual, for sure, Kitty. But I’m not quite sure that’s enough. Everyone has quirks, but we’re looking for -”

“You don’t understand!” She shook her head and laughed a dry, cynical laugh. “It’s him, it’s as close as he can get to his powers in this timeline.”

“Oh, Kitty,” Jean said with a sweet sadness. “I know you want him to remember, but that isn’t enough.”

Kitty’s mouth formed a tight, crooked smile, and she dropped her head.

“You’re right,” she sighed. “It’s better if he doesn’t remember, anyway. It’s safe here. He’s free in a way that he wasn’t before.”

“That’s right,” Charles assured her with a sympathetic smile. “It’s a clean slate for you both. There’s no life-threatening obstacles here, you’re both safe.”

She smiled sadly, looking up at the window. It was dark out, and she was about to check the time when Charles spoke. 

“It’s getting late, my friends,” he stood up and pushed the chair back to the opposite corner of the room. “As always, you’re welcome to stay here if you’d like. But I think we’d better get our minds to brighter places in the time leading up to sleep.”

“Thank you, Charles,” Kitty stretched her arms over her head and sighed. “But I have a morning class.”

“We’ll do this again soon.” Charles looked from Kitty to Jean. “Tomorrow?”

“I can’t,” Jean said with a disappointed click of her tongue. “I teach a night class tomorrow.”

“The day after, then?” 

Both guests agreed.

“Kitty, I’ll show you to the door.”

She followed Charles back down the narrow hallway and into the foyer. He paused with a hand on the front door.

“Kitty, thank you for sharing your story with us. You’ve brought at least some degree of closure to people who’ve been grieving for decades. I hope that knowledge can bring you peace.”

“Oh, yeah,” Kitty shuffled her feet, awkwardly. “I’m sorry my story isn’t happier.”

Charles gave her a kind look, a curt nod, then held the door for her as she disappeared into another cold night. She was tired, and freezing, and she couldn’t wait to be home in pajamas, reading a book. But there was one more stop she had to make.

Kitty hesitated outside of Bobby’s door for a moment, taking a breath to try to steady her nerves. She knocked, then adjusted the brown bag tucked under her arm. The door swung open almost immediately, and Bobby appeared in the doorframe, slumping his shoulders as he met her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was monotone, although he didn’t look angry. He just looked tired, and he wore plaid pajama bottoms and a T-Shirt donning the mascot of the local football team. His hair was disheveled, and he rubbed his eyes. But it was more than that. He seemed tired in a way that reached deeper than a need for sleep. His eyes were dull, and he carried himself in a defeated manner.

“I live here,” she smiled, digging into her bag. “And I have a special delivery.”

She pulled a cookie out of the bag, and took a bite out of it without breaking eye contact.

“Is this supposed to make last night okay?”

“No,” she said through a mouthful of cookie. “But it’s a start.”

He leaned on the doorframe, the corner of his mouth bending into a crooked smile, and closed his eyes.

“They’re chocolate chip,” Kitty taunted, waving a cookie in the air before taking another bite.

“Oh, alright,” he snatched the cookie from her hand, and chewed it as he took a seat at the table. She followed him, closing the door behind her and taking a seat across from him.

He had a stack of papers in front of him, and picked up his pen to continue grading. Taking another look at his pajamas and disheveled hair, she said, “No class today?”

“Nah,” Bobby popped another cookie into his mouth. “I didn’t feel like it so I just told them to watch Trainspotting and write a paragraph on unreliable narrators.”

“My favorite topic,” she leaned forward, trying to meet his eyes as he scribbled huh? on some poor soul’s paper. “Speaking of, I want to talk to you about last night.”

Bobby slowly lowered his pen, the mischievous spark in his eye going out as quickly as it appeared.

“You really scared us, Kathryn -”

“I know, I -”

“Or is it Kitty?” He crossed his arms and leaned back. “That’s what you told that guy.”

“Yes, it…” she grasped for the words, stretching, reaching. Something to say, something that would explain her actions without lying to him. But it was impossible, and she felt her own heart pounding with every second that ticked by as Bobby watched her struggle.

He took a deep breath and leaned forward, taking her wrist in his hand. She felt a little thrill run through her as his thumb traced over her skin.

“You can take your time, you know.” He looked down at her hand, a shadow of a smile flickering across his face. “When you try to explain yourself, you sound like you’re drowning. Like you can’t get enough air. Just take your time, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

He let go of her wrist and picked up his pen again, continuing to grade papers like she wasn’t there. She sat in stunned silence for a moment, watching him scribble something down as the room started to spin around them. Even here, even now, Bobby had the ability to see right through people as if they were made of, well, ice. And with every attentive look, with every profound word per ten stupid jokes, whether he was lying across a row of bus seats in misery or drying her bleeding nose, she knew this was Bobby, her Bobby. Even if he didn’t remember their life together, or even live it, Bobby was unconditionally, incomparably, his kind, lovely self, wherever he was, whatever life handed him.

She watched him as he sat, grading papers, doing nothing extraordinary except making her fall in love with him all over again. She shook her head in disbelief. She couldn’t believe she’d ever thought of him as anything besides her Bobby. 

And when she eventually did open her mouth to speak, the words spilled out, naturally. And Bobby put down his pen and looked her in the eye as she spoke, really listening as he always did.

“His name is Erik, and I’ve known him for the better half of my life.”

“He said his name was Max.”

“I know, but I knew him as Erik, like he knew me as Kitty.”

“Hm,” Bobby nodded slowly, studying her face. “Continue.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him, so he didn’t recognize me. We were at the grave of a mutual friend, who I’ve known for as long as I’ve known Erik, called Logan. Logan was Jean’s adopted father.”

“Jean, who?”

“Jean Grey, Professor Grey.”

Bobby raised his eyebrows, and the confusion on his face doubled. “I didn’t know you knew Jean before you came here.”

“I didn’t, I actually only found out that Logan adopted Jean today. I mean, I knew of Jean before, but in a different, um - context, and -”

“Wait,”  Bobby rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “You said you’ve known Max, or Erik, or whatever his name is, for the better half of your life?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve known Logan for as long?”

“Yes.”

“How can that be true if Logan died, like, thirty years ago? You’re not even thirty now.”

“That’s where this gets kinda weird, so bear with me.”

Bobby shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had these…visions. I have dreams of people who’ve died, or different versions of people who are alive, and they tell me things.”

Bobby nodded slowly. “What sorts of things?”

“Their dreams, their regrets. The people they wish they could’ve been. Sometimes they tell me about their loved ones, about the people they wish they could’ve loved…”

She trailed off, looking at Bobby’s hands and remembering how good they felt on her skin.

“And what did Logan tell you?”

“He was vague, but he told me that something had gone horribly wrong. He’d died under mysterious circumstances, you know.”

She shivered, and Bobby stood to close the windows.

“Kitty, I…” he shook his head.

“You think I’m crazy?”

“No, no,” he dropped his arms and slumped back into his seat. “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and I do believe something is going on, I mean, that exchange with Max at the cemetery was kind of strange, I just -”

“You don’t get along with your parents, William and Madeline, or your younger brother, Ronny. Ronny is incredibly jealous of the ease at which you make friends and meet people.”

“Okay” Bobby scoffed. “Anyone who's met my family could probably deduct that. And you’re more observant than most people.”

“You have a half sister.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Agree to disagree.”

“I - what?”

Kitty shook her head, and her eyes landed on the windows. The windows that had just been open, as they always were, even when it was snowing outside.

“You were bullied as a teenager. A lot. Many kids were, but the beatings you took and the torment you endured were unusually cruel and relentless. Then you went home to a father who mocked you, a mother who wasn’t there even when she was, and a brother who loathed you. And all the while, you were cold. No matter how many jackets you wore, or how hot it might be outside, regardless if it was ninety degrees outside or five degrees, you could never get warm. And you were never colder than when the bullies hit you, when your father sneered at you, when your brother screamed at you. Like something ghostly overtook you in those moments, as if something was there, or, as if something…wasn’t there, that should’ve been. Like helplessness and hopelessness were a tangible feeling. Like you’re already dead.

When she was done speaking, she forced her eyes back to Bobby. He was rigid, and he stared back at her, eyes shining with fear and pain.

“And now, well, now you’ve adapted. You’ve felt cold for so long that you almost can’t feel it anymore. Actually, you prefer it this way and you don’t know why. Doctors said your health is perfect, you look well, and you don’t feel cold to the touch. And so, you stopped trying to find answers. You’ve mostly let it go, except for the part of you that’s persistent, that tells you, deep down, something is wrong. The nightmare you wake up from in the middle of the night, the presence you feel walking behind you, even though there’s no one there when you turn around. The way you keep the windows open, not just for the cold that seems to welcome you, but also because the noise from the streets below make you feel less alone. You’ve been met with such hostility, and violence, because you don’t belong here. Like the world is trying to extract a rotten tooth. That’s the creeping dread buried in your gut that tells you there’s something very wrong with you.”

She leaned forward, speaking slowly and putting careful emphasis on her words.

“The world knows you don’t belong here, and it hates you because it knows that you know it, too.”

Bobby took in a sharp breath, shaking slightly.

Kitty leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“But hey, doctors say there’s nothing wrong, and you’re finally living life away from your dad, and your brother, and all those foul bullies. So life must be good, right?”

Bobby said nothing, frozen in place, eyes gleaming with horror. 

Kitty felt a twinge of guilt in her stomach that evolved into a simmering panic.

“Bobby, I’m sorry. I went too far. I shouldn’t have said all of that.”

He shook his head slowly and swallowed hard. “What do you want from me?”

Kitty stood up and rounded the table taking a seat next to him and turning her chair to face him. She wanted to reach out for him but stopped herself.

“I don’t want anything from you. I just want you.”

Bobby took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes.

“I’m so confused. What’s going on right now? What are you trying to tell me?”

“I’m trying to tell you that we live multiple lives, Bobby. There are many versions of us in many places. You and I, we don’t belong here.”

Bobby shook his head, and looked out the windows. 

“Well, where do we belong then, Kathryn? I’m serious, where do we belong?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

A heavy silence hung in the air, the refrigerator droning softly. A car beeped somewhere in the distance. Kitty felt tears welling in her eyes, her face warm, her heart slowly breaking.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered.

Bobby shook his head again, swallowing hard.

“Everything was okay until recently. You used to be the most reliable person I knew. You used to be all funny, and you smiled a lot, and…”

Kitty nodded slowly, then smacked her lips. “Bobby, that wasn’t me.”

He groaned softly and slumped back into his chair. Kitty quietly let the silence hang in the air for a while this time, watching Bobby trace the lines on the table with shaking hands.

She looked around the small apartment, pulling her coat tightly to her. She looked out the window, but she couldn’t see much through the reflection of the fluorescent lights. 

After a long while, Bobby took a deep breath.

“These dreams you have…am I - or is some version of me, ever in them?”

She chuckled sadly, her eyes grave with the memories of multiple lives. 

“All of them.”

Bobby leaned forward, then, clasping his hands together.

“And, so, how do I appear to you? Am I better there? This…dream version of me.”

Kitty let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“It’s not like that. It’s like…you’re different in a lot of little ways. The smaller details are changed. But fundamentally, you are who you are. You’re a kind person through and through, Bobby Drake. You joke a lot, but ultimately, you wear your heart on your sleeve. You have a heart of gold in every universe.”

“Wow,” he smiled. “That’s high praise, Kathryn Pryde.”

And then the tears spilled from her eyes as she teetered on the sharp edge between the known and the unknown. Her hands shook, and she took a breath to try and steady her nerves. Then, she closed her eyes and leapt.

“I miss you,” she whispered, her tight breath shuddering. “Oh god, I’ve missed you,”

She could hear the blood rushing in her ears, and she studied her hands, not daring to look up at first. But soon, the suspense overwhelmed her, and she met his beautiful blue eyes. And then, his hands gently cupping her face in the way she knew so well, and he kissed her. She was Prospero set free by the crowd’s applause; she was Dr. Negopifull breaking out of his time loop; She was Odysseus returning home to Ithaca, to Helena, after twenty years. She was Kitty Pryde, as she knew herself, for the first time in a long time. It didn’t matter anymore what timeline she was in. She was home.

He pulled away, just a little bit, just enough so he could see her.

“I love you,” her voice was barely audible, and her face was slick with tears.

He pushed her hair behind her ear and studied her face. Then he pulled her to him again, and she kissed him back this time. She kissed him with the passion and love and grief of a lost lifetime. 

She pressed her body to his, and kissed him again. In his arms it seemed as if she was able to slowly draw together all the pieces of her broken heart.

“I’m going to make this right for us, I promise,” she traced the lines of his face with her fingertips, feeling as if she was falling deeply into the eyes she knew so well. “I’ll fix everything and we can just go back to the way things were.”

Bobby’s fingertips grazed down her forearms until his palms settled on the back of her hands.

“I don’t want to go back to the way things were. Those aren’t my memories. I want to be with you, here and now. I want you, I don’t want second-hand memories from some dream version of me.”

“Oh, Bobby,” she smiled sadly. "I could fall in love with you a million times, in a million different ways. It doesn’t matter to me where we are, as long as you’re here with me.”

Then she dropped her hands and shook her head. “But I have a responsibility to do right by the people I love, and right now, that responsibility is getting things back to how they were.”

“Have you ever thought there’s a reason for all of -”

Bobby gestured around the room.

“- this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you think there might be a reason you’re here and not there? You did say the world ended in your dream. So maybe this is the way it was always supposed to be.”

Kitty scoffed, standing up and turning away, towards the door.

“Wait, Kathryn,” Bobby caught her wrist and spun her back around. “I wasn’t trying to upset you, I just - all I mean is that if the world ended there, maybe you’re meant to be here. And we found each other, right? So it worked out.”

“No!” Her voice was rising steadily and her hands shook. “No, it didn’t ‘work out.’ People died. So many people. Good people. Can’t you see that?”

“Sure. But, like, in this hypothetical situation, people always die, right? It’s either everyone, like in your dream, or only some, like here. You can’t save everyone, but this seems like the better choice.”

“You don’t understand.” Her simmering voice began to boil, and she took a step towards him as he backed away. “We were a family there. All of us, going through life together, as one. My parents didn’t see me through my teen years, no. Instead I was raised by many people, from all walks of life -”

“Yeah,” Bobby said dryly. “I get it. Something, something, ‘it takes a village,’ right?”

He walked away, and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. He talked low, and slow, as if trying to instill a sense of calmness in her. 

“But you’re doing the opposite of that now. I never hear from you unless you need something. You abandoned me yesterday and left me to think you’d been thrown in some old guy’s van, and now you come in here tonight saying you love me? And now you’re going to leave again on some, what? Dream? Hunch? You do whatever the hell you want to do.”

“Well, that’s my point. That’s what people do here, isn’t it? Everyone is so cold and isolated. They cook alone, they eat alone, they sit in their apartments by themselves. To be with others is an anomaly; being alone is the default. It should be the other way around.”

Bobby sighed deeply, staring distantly.

“You know, you once told me that I’ve spent my whole life reliving my childhood, projecting it on everyone who cares about me. And you were right. But now, look at you. You have to stop this, Kathryn. I’ll cook with you, I’ll eat with you, I’ll sit in your apartment with you. You can build your own life, you don’t have to do this anymore.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears as she smiled, shaking her head sadly.

“That’s sweet, really, but it’s bigger than that. It’s how this world works. I don’t want to be alone for most of my life.”

She stepped towards him and ran her fingers through his hair.

“We have to go back. And when we do, you’ll remember everything. And you’ll see how perfect things were. You just can’t see it yet.”

Bobby smiled sadly, his eyes dark with doubt. He swallowed hard.

“Okay.” He took a deep breath and looked at the floor. “I trust you. Just please be careful.”

She kissed him one more time, and lingered there for a moment, despite the lack of passion this time. Then she pulled away without meeting his eyes and turned towards the door.

The next time I see you, she thought to herself. Things will be different. You’ll see.