prydeful: (Damaged)
[personal profile] prydeful
She's bleeding.

You don't think of it as bleeding, really. Or she doesn't, not most months. It's her period. It comes three months, regular as clockwork, when she's on the pill, and it's every five to six weeks when she's not on it. It's just part of a biological system.

But the reality, Kate thinks, is that she's bleeding.

If you bleed this much, people rush to help you. To bandage you up, to stitch up wounds. People recognize it as something being wrong, that the world isn't working like it should. They give you pain medicine and let you cry and scream, because it's a lot of blood, a lot of tissue, and that's got to be a horrible thing.

Unless it's this sort of bleeding. This bleeding from between her legs, she thinks as her hands form fists, and it makes her sicker to see the blood staining her panties than it did to see the blood gushing from a bullet hole in her chest. Than it felt to be gouged through with a beam and pinned to Piotr like a butterfly on a placard.

This is bleeding out, and it's bleeding out with hope, and no one will--

It's just a period. A period, something at the end, something final. It marks the end of one cycle, and now the next starts. It's just a period. A simple function.

Except it's bleeding, too, gushing blood and tissue and hope, more than anything, and since they made that damned cure it seems like Kate's seeing hope bleed out everywhere in ways it never should.

It's not that much blood, part of her wants to say, and it's so much blood she feels like if she stands here it will keep leaking down her legs, stain the floor, her skin, build up around her ankles and drown her whole. Like Alice and her tears.

She didn't know how much she was hoping and praying without words to a deity she doesn't much acknowledge that a baby would be conceived right away. That they'd be started.

She hit the period earlier than she thought she would have, but she hasn't been off the pill for a couple of years.

She didn't even have time to try out the pregnancy test this time. The best pregnancy test there is gave her the answer for free.

She's still bleeding on the floor, Kate realizes, because she's frozen since the moment she realized what was happening, and she quickly cleans up herself best she can, tile somewhat better, and then leans against the wall and closes her eyes.

And the worst part is that part of her is gong inside oh God, one more month, one more month I can't phase just as loudly as the part that's upset and demanding why they can't have their little boy or girl yet. Why they can't have their family yet. It's so fucking easy for so many people, and she knows it's hard for some mutants to conceive with each other, and she is praying to any god that might listen that they don't have that one too. Not that problem, not after all the others.

Sticking a tampon in hurts. In all ways; emotionally, because she doesn't want that little mess of absorbency in her, doesn't want to need it, and physically because Kate has a temper and is losing it, and shoved it in too fast and at the wrong angle.

Pain'll go away, and it's her own damned fault.

It still hurts, though, and it makes her slam her first one, two, three times against the wall, and then more till she's lost count and breathing heavily, shoulders shaking and chest heaving.

She should go out of the bathroom, she realizes, soon.

But first she closes her eyes and lets go for the first time in weeks, lets her body be intangible and her fingers drift through the sink.

There's no reason for the moment not to, after all, and part of her hates herself that she's grateful for this reprieve.

But that doesn't stop her from enjoying it.

Date: 2007-11-27 05:00 am (UTC)
steelartisan: (...eh?)
From: [personal profile] steelartisan
Piotr was reading, crosslegged and content on the bed.

And then the first punch hit the wall, and his head jerked up.

Then the second, and the third, and the fourth -- enough, and rhythmic and consistent enough, to make it clear what he was hearing.

His brows have drawn together, and the book rests forgotten in front of him. He's trying to figure out if he should knock on the door, or just wait; either way, he's worried.

Date: 2007-11-27 05:29 am (UTC)
steelartisan: (kinda concerned)
From: [personal profile] steelartisan
She phased, and from that alone he almost guessed.

(And his heart drops in his chest, and he only barely manages to keep that reaction off his face, because he didn't realize he was hoping for another miracle so soon until it was denied.

He should know better. For so many reasons.)

He turns enough to face her better, hands loose on his knees. It's a long moment in which he doesn't know what to say or do, what will help and what will make her angrier at the world, before he says softly, "It is one month, Katya."

They have time.

Plenty of couples have to keep trying.

Date: 2007-11-27 05:57 am (UTC)
steelartisan: (worried)
From: [personal profile] steelartisan
Piotr is silent, watching her.

They'll be fine. They will be.

It isn't a big deal.

(It isn't, he tells himself. It's one month. That's nothing, in the long run. It's just random chance. It's not a big deal.

He tells himself, and it mostly even works.)

But right now...

He looks at Kate, and he knows fine's not the word.

Date: 2007-11-27 06:11 am (UTC)
steelartisan: (worried)
From: [personal profile] steelartisan
Softly, "Katya..."

He wants something to do with his hands.

He wants something to do. Something to help.

"You do not have to be fine."

Date: 2007-11-27 07:14 am (UTC)
steelartisan: (sometimes you get discouraged)
From: [personal profile] steelartisan
He rises, now, and slips off the bed to unfold to his feet. It's only a few steps from the bed to where Kate's standing, and his socks whisper against the floor.

He starts to lift his hands to her shoulders; realizes that, with the amount she's been phasing these last few minutes, he's not likely to be able to touch her if he tries it, and lets them drop halfway instead. One more step takes him to her side, and more into her peripheral vision.

In soft Russian, "I know."

Date: 2007-11-27 07:21 am (UTC)
steelartisan: (got no choice sometimes)
From: [personal profile] steelartisan
Piotr breathes in, and out.

"I would like to."

In other words: no.

It's been a very long time since he had answers for life's unfairness.

Date: 2007-11-28 04:43 am (UTC)
steelartisan: (things we know and things we learn)
From: [personal profile] steelartisan
"Da. I know."

He lifts a hand now, slowly, to brush her cheek or to brush the air near it.

"We have time, my Katya."

Date: 2007-11-28 05:17 am (UTC)
steelartisan: (things we know and things we learn)
From: [personal profile] steelartisan
"We have all our world," he says softly, after a minute. "The bar. We have resources."

"We will make it work out, if we need to."

But that doesn't address most of the problem.

And there's nothing he can do to help that part, except to be here for her.

(Piotr is well aware that, whether he wants it that way or not, he has the easy part here.)

Date: 2007-11-28 05:50 pm (UTC)
steelartisan: (why I'm here)
From: [personal profile] steelartisan
He'll try very hard not to die again! And he definitely won't commit suicide this time.

Which, really, is about all either of them can guarantee.

"You're not the only one." But he's smiling, a little, and he lifts his hand to her cheek again, and doesn't pull it away this time.

(Half-truth, in a way; of the two of them, Piotr is the one better equipped to be a single parent, if he had to be. But he's not a pure selfless paragon, and they both know it.)

"You have a few days of phasing safely. And then we will try again."

"It will be all right."

Dear universe: please don't prove him wrong.

Date: 2007-11-29 05:47 am (UTC)
steelartisan: (why I'm here)
From: [personal profile] steelartisan
He wishes that, too.

And yet.

"Da."

The curl of his lips is less a smile, and more just rueful affection.

Date: 2007-11-29 06:37 am (UTC)
steelartisan: (smiling at Katya)
From: [personal profile] steelartisan
Every time they talk about this -- about the baby they might have, in words like will and in speculation -- it makes his face soften more than he knows.

(And it's just a little terrifying, too. But.)

"Da. Or a dancer like her mama."

Or both!

Date: 2007-11-29 07:19 am (UTC)
steelartisan: (steel and shadow)
From: [personal profile] steelartisan
Simply, after a moment, "You are you."

These things are good to talk about. Good to make clear.

But this particular one doesn't exactly surprise him.

"We will figure it out. Talk. I don't..." There's a pause, while he looks for the right words. "I do not want to stop entirely either. I don't know if we can, and live in our world -- trouble finds us. And we are both X-Men." It gets into your bones after a while, into your self; most of the people who've quit have come back sooner or later. "But. To step back -- teach more, and fewer missions, maybe. Trade off when we are not both needed."

Perfectly usual for working parents!

For... some definition thereof.

Date: 2007-12-02 07:04 am (UTC)
steelartisan: (Not Superman)
From: [personal profile] steelartisan
"I could," he says quietly, after a few moments of careful consideration. "Not give it up, but -- less."

"For a good reason. A baby is a good reason."

He doesn't exactly want to, or at least part of him doesn't. He enjoys the job, in its way; more than that, it's much, much harder to stand back and watch your friends charge into danger than it is to charge yourself. At least for Piotr.

But a baby's a good reason.

(He's an X-Man, and always will be; he's also, deep down, still a farmer.)

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Kate Pryde | Shadowcat

July 2016

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