A little Note: Yeah, I know I've been outta the writing loop for a bit of a long time, but I had this little idea while watching an old rerun of the Cosby Show. This takes a place a little while after Excalibur #125.

Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. All belong to someone else. No money being made.

Nightmare Special

Peter Paul Wisdom would have stared his sandwich in the eyes, had it had any.

Smoked turkey, Muenster, Swiss, provolone and American cheese, roast beef, mustard, ketchup, mayonnaise, pickles, tomato, lettuce, and chive and onion cream cheese. This sandwich had been sitting on Wisdom's kitchen counter for exactly 14 hours. He would have eaten it earlier, but was called into work sooner than expected.

It was three in the morning in his London flat, and Pete was hungry.

His ex-girlfriend would have told him it was too bloody late and a sandwich like that would give him nightmares.

Well, his ex was his ex, and she was in the states anyway. He snatched his sandwich and took a substantial bite. And another, and then another, and another until he couldn't eat the rest. He sighed, stretched, undressed and went to bed. He quickly fell asleep.


An hour into his sleep, Pete woke up. But he was no longer in his messy bed. He was on a couch, a very familiar couch. The one that normally sat in the sitting room of the Muir Island Medical Research Station. He decided then and there that he was dreaming, and the only thing he could do was strap in and brace himself for the ride.

"Oh, bloody hell," Pete muttered, sitting up.

"WISDOM!" A Scottish accented voice yelled. "If ye drooled on muh couch, Ah'm gonna kill ye!"

Pete rolled his eyes and stretched, and looked around to find that the television was on, and Kurt Wagner, former leader of Excalibur, was on the screen, swashbuckling with someone he didn't recognize. "Wagner?"

"Herr Wisdom!" Kurt cried from inside the TV. "Good morning! Sleep well?"

"Do I ever?" Wisdom cracked. "What the hell're you doing?"

"I'm practicing!"

"But… you're on TV."

"You're observant for this time of morning," Kurt smirked. "What are you doing on Muir, anyway?"

Pete blinked. "I don't know. I didn't fall asleep here."

"No, but you can't escape the X-Men," Kurt replied. "You'll always come back. One way or another."

"Not me, Mate."

"Then what the hell are you doing here?"

Pete shook his head. "I'm hungry. I'm gonna go get breakfast."

"It's ten in the evening," Kurt told him. "But that wouldn't matter to you anyway, would it? You'll eat anything at any time of day."

Pete blinked at the screen before getting up and walking into the kitchen to find Domino doing Rahne Sinclair's nails in a lovely shade of pink. Domino's nails were already done in this color.

"Dom, what the hell're you doing here?" Pete asked.

"Vacation," Domino replied. "I've been on the road for a while. Thought I could use some downtime."

"Nate around, then?"

"No," Domino shook her head. "He's probably off somewhere hanging himself from a cross or something."

Pete snickered. "What happened to yer nails? You hate pink."

"Everything changes, Wisdom. Even you."

Rahne smiled. "Doesn't et look nice?" The younger woman asked, lifting her finished hand.

Pete nodded absently, and reached for the cigarettes in the pocket of his black slacks, and came out with them. Only it wasn't his usual brand. On the front of the carton was the face of Moira Mactaggart. Pete's eyes widened and he tried to ignore it and take out a ciggie. But the face spoke before he could.

"Dinnae e'en think aboot it! Nae in my house."

"Bloody hell!" Pete cried. "Do you mind! I'm tryin' ta smoke!"

Moira groaned and disappeared. Pete sighed, and took out a cigarette, and lit it up. "Think I've lost me appetite," he announced to the girls. "I'm off."

"Have fun," Domino said as he walked away. "Don't step on anyone."

Pete wound up roaming around outside for a while, finding Amanda Sefton looking off a cliff.

"Wot're you doin, 'Manda? Thought you ran from this hell hole, too."

"I did," she replied. "But we always come back."

"S'true, then," Pete commented. "You an' Wagner really do share a brain."

"Still love her, don't you?" Amanda asked.

"Who? Pryde? Nah," he denied.

There was a long pause.

"Y'know I'm lyin' out me arse, right?" he asked her.

She nodded. "Lying is bad. Y'know that, right?"

"Some lies are necessary," Pete replied.

"But they always lead to trouble, don't they?"

"Always?" Pete asked.

Amanda grabbed him by the arm and flung him off the cliff. As she watched him fall to his death, she said "Always."


He woke with a start, but he still wasn't in the bed in his London flat. He was in the bed in his quarters on Muir Island.

It was a small improvement from the couch. He got up, walked to the doorway, and stepped out.

He nearly tripped over something. Looking down, he realized it was someone.

Logan. Wolverine.

Pete blinked. "Hell'er you doin' here?" he asked his old acquaintance.

Logan looked up from his meditation position. "I'm you're sandwich, Bub."

Pete stared at Logan as if he had two head. "Wot?!"

"That damn sandwich that ya left sittin around? That's me."

"How the hell did you wind up bein' my sandwich?" Pete asked with a laugh.

"How the hell should I know?" Logan asked. "Your fucked up head, innit? I'm the reason, though. This whole messed up dream thing? You ate me, and I'm givin' ya nightmares."

Pete sighed and sat next to Logan. "Was thinkin' Maybe Frost'd wind up bein' the sandwich. Or Conjob. Or Pryde. Speakin o' which, she around? Hopin' t' talk to 'er."

"Why d'you care, Kid? You ran from her, remember?" He sighed and let out his Adamantium claws with a metallic SNIKT! "Speakin o' which," he said, turning to Pete. "You hurt my Pun'kin."

Before Pete could say anything, Logan jammed his claws into Wisdom's stomach, and everything went black.


Again, he woke with a start, but this time in a different bed, a larger one with nice sheets, and a woman with brown hair sleeping beside him.

"Wisdom, it's early," she mumbled. Her voice was too familiar. "Go back to sleep."

"Inna minute, Love," he replied. He got up and walked out into the hallway to stare at two other doors across from his room. He opened one of them to find a bunk bed. On the bottom sat a girl with brown hair, holding a flashlight and wearing glasses, reading a hefty-looking book. On the top bunk, a young boy slept, snoring lightly. The girl didn't notice him.

He closed the door and opened the one to the next room over to find a very young girl, around six or seven, with black hair, holding an old stuff bear in her small arms. She looked up at him.

"Da, I'm scared."

"Why's sat, Love?" Pete asked, not moving from his spot near the doorway.

"There's a monster in my closet," the little girl replied.

"There's nothing in there," Pete said gently. "Here, now. Let's have a look." He walked in, and opened the closet door, only to have Scratch, his old Black Air rival, jump out at him.


He shot up instinctively with a cry, ramming his head into something hard.

That something let out an equally loud cry.

When Pete got a hold of himself, He saw that the something that he had rammed into was not a something at all, but a someone that was sitting on his bed.

A someone he had been hoping to talk to.


"Dammit, you stupid git," she said. "That hurt!"

"Why didn't you bloody-well phase?" he asked, a bit annoyed.

"You kinda caught me by surprise," she replied in the same aggravated tone.

"Wot the hell'er you doin here, anyway?"

Kitty sighed. "Haven't been sleeping well, and… I think it's your fault."

"Really?" Pete asked, getting to his feet. "Cause neither 'ave I, an blame that on you."

"Oh?" Kitty snapped. "I could've sworn that was the remains of a nightmare special sitting on your kitchen counter."

"Wot gives you th' right to phase into my place, anyway?" He asked.

"I didn't! You're door was unlocked, you lazy sod!" she cried.

They paused, and stared at each other.

"What the hell are we fighting about?" Kitty asked.

Pete shook his head. "Damned if I know," he told her. "Sorry I… went off li' that. Just woke up from one of the most fucked up dreams I ever had."

Kitty sighed. "I'm telling you, it's the sandwich."

Pete smirked. "Yeah, yer probably right. So. You didn't come all this way t' tell me I'm a stupid git fer eatin' the sandwich from hell before bed, did you?"

"No," Kitty replied. "I… I came because… well, since I got back to the states, I've had some time to reflect, and… I wanted to say that I'm sorry. For everything that happened between us at the end, and I still… I mean…"

"Me, too," he replied softly.

She stared at him. "Really?"

He nodded and slid closer to her. "Pryde… I… I'm sorry. I'm a git."

She nodded back. "Yeah, you are… so am I."

He leaned in to kiss her but she stopped him.

"Don't you dare breath anywhere near me after eating that sandwich, Wisdom… not until you've had an Altoid."

He smirked at her, and blinked, and pinched himself.

She raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Making bloody well sure I'm not still dreaming."

She pinched him as well.

"Ow! Pryde! You bitch, that fucking hurt!"

"Now you know you're not still dreaming."

He glared at her, and got up to find his mouth wash.