<strong>About Four Years Ago.</strong><br/><br/>Felt like, so.  Long ago.  She.  He.<em>They</em>, were.  But kids.<em>Teenagers</em>.  And, it was the.  Day that, she.  Had come.  To the school.  A day, wherein.<br/><br/><em>Piotr</em>and<em>Elizabeth</em>, became.  Friends.<br/><br/>The tall teenage, boy.  Wanted to give, the pretty.  Girl, a tour.  So asked, her to follow him.  She decided, to.<em>Tease</em>, by.  Being CLOSE, in.  Proximity, to him.  Throwing him, off.  A little.  With such!  He.  Cracked a smile.  And actually, laughed.  Out loud, some.<em>Piotr</em>.  Tried to, pay.  Attention.  To her words, so.  That he could, address her, "The last thing I want is lose new<acronym title="”girl”"><em>девушка</em></acronym>.<em>Professor</em>would be mad, and you are..."  VERY<em>pretty</em>!  "...uhh, very nice,<em>да</em>?"  He made sure, not to meet.  Her gaze, with that.  Last comment.<br/><br/>Some.  Something about, that.  About them.   Those first moments, that.<em>Sparked</em>, a.  Connection, for them.  Betwixt them.  BECAUSE, of.  Them.<br/><br/>She* agreed, beaming.  Her smile, right.  Back up.  To the boy.  “No, best not lose the new girl on her first day.”<br/>========================================================================<br/><strong>One Month Ago.</strong><br/><br/>Outside.  Near the lake.  He always liked working here.  Where it wasn't really 'work' at all....but rather it felt like undergoing a journey.  An exploration.  Of the soul.  Of the heart.  The mind.  Each time.  Each piece.  Each bless-ed stroke of the brush, per se.  Of...<br/><br/><em>Art</em>.  Art work.<br/><br/>And here, within the embrace of<em>Mother Nature</em>, one could truly...well....be free.  To create.  Any and every.  Thing.  From the sun and the sky.  The moon and the stars.  The<em>Mallard Duck</em>.   Or the<em>Eastern Painted Turtle</em>.  Even, hmm...<br/><br/>Friendship.  A smile very slowly illuminated his face -- the source of the light.<em>Her</em>, of course.  While he was drafting out the scenery before him, pencil onto the paper -- the might of the crisp lake in the afternoon's light -- she had often teased him about modeling for him, to be a part of one of his paintings, and forever immortalized in art.  Heck, she INSISTED!  Not that he would ever put up any sort of fight.  Not with her.  So it was.  Before he could apply the first of the<em>water colors</em>, he sought to add the lone figurine.  Poetically.   And significantly.  In the foreground.  Framing the left side of the composition.  Her lithe form facing the right.  Flirtingly turned to the 'camera'.  Larger than life.  Light heartedness.  A floral sundress with a laced slit up the hip revealing an exposed leg, tanned just the right amount and barefoot her toes wiggling in the warm grass now and again. Her purple tresses peaked from underneath.  A wide brimmed, straw summer hat.  Enwrapped in a bow.  He had actually got that for her the spring before last.  He had told her it was to protect her from the rays of the sun, but it was a private joke between them, his teasing her about her upbringing and being a lady of leisure.<em>Piotr</em>was elated she was wearing it now.  In this moment.  To be captured.<br/><br/>Forever.<br/><br/>The wind was just barely.  Caressing.  The skin.  It must have been tickling.  Her violet irises had a twinkle in them.  From below the rim of the hat.  As her lips began to curl, her nose twitched.  She was becoming.  Fidgety.<br/><br/>"You know you need to be still.  For me."<br/><br/>"<em>Peter</em>.  I'm trying.  Maybe I should have just posed nude?"<br/><br/>Perhaps it was the expression on his face.  The sort of intensity he got.  In his eyes.  When he concentrated like this.  Because she couldn't help but let out.  A giggle.<br/><br/>"<em>Eliz’beth</em>.."<br/><br/>"Okay.  I’m sorry, but it is just too easy with you sometimes.  But, I'll be good.  Promise."<br/><br/><em>Elizabeth Braddock</em>.  Aside from the<em>Professor</em>, she was the one person that helped acclimate him.  To life here.  In the States.  Over the course of four years, she became not only a companion.  But a close friend.  Near and dear.  To his inner essence.  She was older than him.  Yet age was but a number.  Of inconsequence.  And he couldn't imagine being here at the school.  Without her.  And given this experience.  This moment.  Why, it was nothing short of...<br/><br/>Perfect.<br/>========================================================================<br/><strong>That Evening.</strong><br/><br/>Inside.  The quiet of the encompassing<em>Library</em>.  If books could talk, rather than.  Listen in.  On these two.<br/><br/>He made sure to sit her down, as he wasn't sure how this would go over.   The painting was on the table before her.  His gift to her.  She hadn’t expected him to give it to her, and had tried to convince him he should keep it.  But when he insisted it was meant for her, she took his hand in hers.  It was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for her, and that was saying a lot.  Through the years, there were very few who she let be as close to her as he had become, and yet as her gaze fell to the painting, she felt the unease coming from him.<br/><br/>"I spoke with the<em>Professor</em>all ready.  And cleared it with him..."<br/><br/>Violet eyes fluttered up.  To peer at him.  Inquisitively.  "You cleared<em>what</em>?" Her tone didn’t hide the weight of what she felt was about to fall from his lips.<br/><br/>Swallowing, removing anything that would obstruct.  His voice.  "A trip.  To my homeland.  To see my family."<br/><br/>"<em>Peter</em>, I don’t understand, why?  Why now?  Why is this the first time you have mentioned this, to ME of all people?” There were a lot of other why’s she wanted to ask but she was his friend, and every emotion she felt emanating from him told him he needed her support.  Instinctively she squeezed his hands. ”For how long?"  Her pulse began to race as thoughts poured into her mind.<br/><br/>"It will be for ten days.  Two weeks at most."<br/><br/>"Peter, are you sure about this?  I know you need me to be okay with you going, but this… this just doesn't feel right...."  She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his, that to any other observer might be mistaken for an intimate gesture between lovers versus best friends. .<br/><br/>"I need to do this.  Please understand.  I haven't been to my country.  In a long time."<br/><br/>"I know, I know.  But I can’t shake this feeling Peter that something... “ She cut herself off and nodded.  “I know.”  She finally whispered against his forehead before sitting up straight.  Which is why I'm coming with you”<em>Peter</em>, please.  You and I.  We're a team, right?  And teams belong together."  She looked in his eyes knowing she could easily persuade him to her way of thinking, but that wasn’t their way.  It was clear she was concerned, or was it that she was just going to miss him?  He couldn't quite pinpoint it.<br/><br/>"<em>Eliz’beth</em>.  It cannot be.  You have classes to teach.  Finals are coming up."  He reached out to take her other hand in his, holding them both to his chest. But by this point she had already realized he had made up his mind, and she used his hands to pull herself forward, her arms wrapping around his neck to hug him.  He readily encased her within his warm embrace.  Tightly.  Suffice it to say.  More than anything.  He was going to miss...<br/><br/>His best friend.<br/><br/>"Be home before you know it."<br/><br/>"Promise?"  She nuzzled and squeezed him in return.<br/><br/>"<em> да </em>.  I promise."<br/>========================================================================<br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 6pt;">*Thank you to the lovely Miss "Angelicant" for collaborating with me, on this post with her input on <em>Psylocke</em>.  It couldn't have happened without her!<br/><strong>****Again, this happened one month ago.  Not now.  <em>Colossus</em> has NOT been at the school since.****</strong></span>