The Spider and The Fly

Posted on Tue Jun 2nd, 2026 @ 11:33am by Kennedy Kelly & Shinobi Shaw

6,918 words; about a 35 minute read

Mission: Episode 7: Pathogens and Contagions
Location: New York City
Timeline: March 17, 1992

Kennedy paced the length of the Manhattan penthouse, her heels clicking softly against marble as if each step might burn off the nerves coiled tight in her chest. The space was vast and immaculate, all glass and velvet and wealth, yet she felt trapped inside it, caught between anticipation and dread. With every turn, her certainty fractured anew. This was a mistake. No, this was inevitable. The conflicting thoughts shifted back and forth with each breath she took.

It had begun a few days ago with a phone booth in Salem Center in a moment of weakness and self-loathing. A moment when the loneliness finally outweighed her pride and when Desmond's advice to take the first step seemed like a good one. She had missed being cared for, she had missed being chosen. Missed the warmth of another body, the intimacy of being seen and wanted without conditions. Those feelings had crested all at once, blinding her judgment and loosening her resolve until she did the one thing she swore she never would.

Kennedy called Shinobi Shaw.

The conversation itself had been brief and cautious, edged with restraint but ultimately it ended in an agreement. One meeting and nothing more, at least that was the lie she told herself. Because the moment Kennedy heard his voice again, she felt the threads tighten inside of her as she slipped back into the familiar pull of him.

The last time they had shared a hotel room, he had still been ‘Jace’, and a fellow X-Men. The room had been cheap, with its garish wallpaper and flickering lights, and their time together had been hurried and uncertain, charged with the nervous intensity of two young people afraid of what they felt. When Kennedy left that night, she hadn’t known it would be the last time she would ever see Jace alive.

What came after was Shinobi Shaw.

He had taken the Hellfire Club by force and called it inheritance, then he built an empire from corruption and blood, wrapping himself in luxury while mutants screamed beneath the weight of his ambition. Fleets of Sentinels bore his signature, cold machines designed to cage, to crush, to exterminate the vulnerable mutant population he had once sworn to defend. He ruled with a polished smile and iron cruelty, and the world suffered for it.

And still…

Shinobi had been the first person to ever love her.

He had wanted Kennedy when no one else did, he had seen her power, her fire, and asked her to stand beside him as his queen. He had promised her the world, laid it at her feet in silver and gold. He had been deliberately cruel whenever their paths had crossed. Yet, over time, the sharp edges of his sins dulled in Kennedy’s memory until his presence was softened by longing and loneliness and only the echo of warmth remained.

It was a dangerous kind of forgetting and Kennedy knew better, she just didn’t know how to stop.

She had dressed for tonight with intention, a cocktail dress in deep indigo that clung to her body like a second skin, it was elegant and deliberate. The color set her hair aglow like spun gold against the dark and it made her eyes a surreal shade of lapis. She stopped pacing and caught her reflection in the window, her image was ghostly against the sprawl of New York City lights glittering like stars that had been bought and paid for. For a fleeting moment, she looked exactly like what Shinobi had once promised her she could be.

A queen.

The soft click of the door lock shattered the silence and Kennedy inhaled sharply and turned.

Shinobi stood in the doorway, perfectly at ease, as if the space already belonged to him. He was broader now, his frame honed and controlled, the last traces of his adolescent awkwardness carved away by power and intent. But it was his eyes that rooted her in place. Blue, yes, but cold now. Measuring. Predatory. A man who calculated outcomes before emotions ever entered the equation.

“Shinobi,” The name slipping from her lips with a traitorous note of awe. “You’re late. I was starting to think you weren’t going to come.”

It had been a long time since he'd seen Kennedy. The last year had been taken up with rebuilding and forging along, but he still thought about her at times. And Selene could tell when that happened. She would take measures to clear his mind and refocus him. She hadn't been too pleased when he agreed to this meeting, but he took it anyway. If nothing more than to satisfy his own curiosity.

Shinobi smiled as she said his name, more because of the tone than anything. He didn't move immediately, other than stepping in just far enough to close the door. The soft click echoed through the penthouse. Only then did he look at her fully, standing next to the windows. Gone was the girl he'd helped stuff envelopes, the one he'd kissed in the Savage Land while fishing. In her place stood a slender young woman, composed, deliberate, and polished by experience.

His mind raced back to when he burned her possessions...where did she get that dress?

"You asked for the meeting. I agreed," he said mildly, voice smooth and unhurried. "You would still be here, so I wasn’t worried."

He removed his coat and draped it over the back of a chair without looking, as though he already knew exactly where everything was. The suit beneath was immaculate; dark, matte, and perfectly tailored. It was expensive without trying to be.

He looked back to Kennedy, slow and assessing, lingering just long enough to be unmistakably intentional. "You look well," he said. No admiration, just observation. "Can I get you something to drink?"

She felt his eyes on her, an unmistakable weight that made her suddenly hyperaware of herself. Kennedy ran her hands down the length of her dress, a nervous, habitual motion meant to smooth nonexistent wrinkles while quieting the swarm of butterflies trapped in her chest.

“Oh! Um, thank you.” The words came out softer than she intended. Kennedy wasn’t sure why his manners had caught her off guard. This moment felt strange and unreal, like she was standing slightly outside herself. “I’ll have tonic water with lime… please,” she added belatedly, her politeness surfacing as an afterthought while her thoughts tangled into further contradictions.

“You look nice too.” Heat rushed to her cheeks the instant she said it and she knew she was blushing. She pressed on before she could second guess herself. “You’re not living in America anymore, are you? I trust you had a nice flight?”

Shinobi moved to the wet bar and turned over a glass. The crystal caught the city glow as he set it on the bar and put in some ice. "Thank you," he said as he selected a chilled bottle of tonic and cut of fresh lime from the under-the-counter fridge. He squeezed the juice once over the ice, never wasted. He poured the tonic slowly, watching the bubbles settle, then slid the lime in. No garnish, no flourish, no excess.

"Your tonic water with lime." He removed a bottle of Sanpellegrino from the fridge and poured some into another crystal glass with ice. He took a sip before continuing.

"Right, I don't live in America anymore. But New York City still knows how to receive us guests. And the flight is always nice," he added, considering it was his Shaw Industries jet. He took another sip, looking out the windows at the skyline. "You still live at the mansion." It was less of a question and more of a statement. There was no edge in it either, only recognition.

His gaze returned to her, steady. "I imagine it still feels like home."

“It’s the closest thing I have to a home,” Kennedy replied sheepishly, her gaze dropping into her drink as though the fizzy liquid might offer absolution. A lot had changed over the years but not everything. Shinobi could still see the lost, lonely girl he’d first met at Xavier’s, the one who had been so desperate to be loved. It was both endearing and a little pathetic, more importantly it was something he knew he could exploit.

“I’ve thought about moving out. Doing something else with my life,” Kennedy admitted. “But it all feels… sad. Lonely. Coming home to nothing but a cat isn’t the future I pictured for myself.”

Shinobi didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he listened with purpose and watched her body language. He heard the quiet confession and saw the lowered gaze. It was then the girl he’d first met at the school peeked through.

"Lonely," he repeated thoughtfully. He set his glass down carefully, eyes looking at hers. "Loneliness isn’t a circumstance. It’s a decision you sit with too long."

He paused to let that sink in before continuing, his tone calm and measured. "You’re not afraid of coming home to a cat. You’re afraid no one will be waiting." Shinobi wasn't being cruel with his words, just precise. "You’ve always wanted to be chosen. But you can't confuse being chosen with being kept."

He stepped a fraction closer, but not touching. "You’ll move out. Not because you’re restless, but because you’re ready. Ready to build something. You were never meant for small lives. You just keep retreating into them. You want significance. Partnership. Something that matters."

The faintest hint of a smile, controlled and almost private, crossed his face. "And you’ve always known what that looks like. Long before the school."

“Maybe,” Kennedy agreed softly, too humble and too guarded to say 'yes' outright. “I struggle with the idea that the life I had before Xavier’s was chosen for me. That it wasn’t what I would have picked for myself if I’d truly been free to choose.” Her fingers traced the rim of her glass as she spoke, as the gesture would ground her to something solid. “Sometimes I wonder if that’s just foolish logic, something I tell myself to make sense of what I lost.”

She lifted the drink to her lips, the elegant line of her throat curved as she swallowed, the subtle motion was far too intimate for such an ordinary act. For a fleeting second, the world narrowed to that small detail and how hard she was trying to remain composed in front of him. “But I did find a few moments of happiness in my new life,” she continued, her voice steadier now. “I don’t regret… most of my choices.” A faint, self-conscious smile touched the corners of her mouth. “It’s one thing to know what you want for yourself. Figuring out how to get it? That’s something else entirely.”

Silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable but charged. Kennedy hesitated, her lashes lowering before she looked up at him through them. Those deep blue eyes held his, curious, and braver than her earlier restraint. She seemed to be weighing the risk of her next words, and he could almost feel the moment that it tip toward something more vulnerable.

“When I first met you,” she said quietly, “you had this reckless, almost effortless defiance about you. Like nothing in the world could really touch you.” Her gaze softened, studying him in a way that felt dangerously close to a caress. “Now you’re focused and honed.” A faint breath caught in her throat. “You feel like a blade that’s been sharpened into something lethal.”

Kennedy's eyes flicked over his face, lingering just a fraction too long. “What happened?”

Shinobi didn’t look away when she studied him. But he did feel the moment shift; that subtle tipping point where curiosity became something more fragile. More dangerous. He watched her swallow her drink, the corner of his mouth ticking upward with half of a smile. It disappeared with just as much speed.

"You said it yourself," he replied evenly. "It’s one thing to know what you want. Reaching for it is something else. Most people never do. But I did." He took a drink before continuing. "I stopped mistaking chaos for freedom. Recklessness isn’t defiance, it’s distraction. It burns fast and it impresses people." He paused, letting the charged silence do the work. "Recklessness doesn’t build anything. And I wanted to build. So I became focused. Honed, as you put it. Lethal."

He held his drink in one hand and placed the other at the small of her back, not possessive, but directive. He guided them nearer to the windows and gestured with his drink hand. "Look at it," he said quietly, as the city stretched beneath them. "Astors built real estate. Vanderbilts built railroads. Rockefellers built oil. Morgans built banks. Carnegie built steel."

He then turned to face Kennedy, removing his hand from her back and placing it lightly on her shoulder. His eyes held hers. "They didn't let other people choose their lives. They decided what they were. If you don’t decide what you are, someone else will." And there it was, the answer. It was clean and unapologetic. "And you're still deciding."

“And what exactly are you?” Kennedy’s voice fell to a breath against her lips. Fear fluttered in her chest, but curiosity held her in place in that rooted yet reckless manner that seemed to be her cornerstone.

His hand slowly and deliberately drifted across her waist and upward to trace the elegant line of her shoulder and the vulnerable curve of her neck. His touch was almost reverent, almost tender, and that was what made it so dangerous. He wasn’t gripping her to hold her in place, he didn’t need to. Instead there was ease in his touch, in the subtle flex of his fingers, and that skilled and controlled manner told her everything. With the slightest shift, Shinobi could silence her pulse forever… or make it race until she forgot her own name.

Kennedy's breath caught as his thumb ghosted just beneath her jaw and she tilted her face toward his. The air between them thickened, charged with a promise that tasted of both honey and venom.

“What has Shinobi Shaw decided that his legacy will be?” she whispered, the question less an accusation and more an invitation. “Mercy? Or ruin?”

His thumb remained ghosted beneath her jaw, steady and deliberate. "Mercy and ruin are not opposites," he said, staring into her blue eyes. "They are tools." A slow, warm breath passed between them. "The Lord Imperial exists to shape the world." His fingers traced the line of her neck, slow and controlled. "Mercy is for those who understand strength. Ruin is for those who mistake restraint for weakness."

His gaze was not heated, but heavy with control. "My legacy will be order. Anyone in the way decides for themselves which tool they receive." His thumb pressed just enough to tilt her chin higher as he moved closer. His eyes dropped briefly to her mouth, not with hunger, but assessment. "Call it mercy, call it ruin. I call it consequence."

Her breath warmed his lips now. He was close enough that the next inch would change everything. But he didn’t take it. "Legacy is built by those who know exactly when to act..." He paused, his eyes steady and sovereign. "...and when not to."

Shinobi stepped back, just enough to let the air rush in. "I don’t serve kings, Kennedy. I create them. And when necessary, I end them. That is what it means to be Lord Imperial." He watched her, the silence stretching. "I've answered what I became. Tell me Kennedy, if no one were choosing your life anymore, who would you decide to be?"

A cold chill ran down her spine and it raised goosebumps along her arms. Kennedy shivered, uncertain whether the sensation came from danger or excitement. Shinobi was toying with her, she could feel it in the deliberate stillness of his gaze, in the way he pushed just a little further each time to see how much she would bend before she finally broke.

It was a game she never should have invited him to play. And yet, here she was, still playing.

“I don’t know if I can truly answer that,” Kennedy admitted at last. “I’m not even sure who I want to be… but I do know how I want to feel.”

She glanced down, suddenly remembering the glass in her hand. The rediscovery felt like a small mercy and she took a slow sip of the cool, citrusy water letting it steady her before continuing.

“I want to feel loved and valued. I don’t want to be alone or shut away from the world.” Her voice softened in a thoughtful but earnest way. “I want to help people in some way or another… maybe not in some grand, public spectacle, but in a way that makes me feel like I’m actually leaving things better than I found them.”

It was the perfect answer. Pageant polished and altruistic, it was the kind of response that painted her as compassionate, and generous, a true humanitarian at heart. Years in the public eye had trained her well.

But Shinobi knew better.

And Kennedy knew he knew.

His cold stare lingered on her, and she felt that same chill crawl along her skin again. This time she didn’t look away.

“But…” she added quietly.

The word hung between them.

“I do like nice things. Beautiful things.” A faint, almost guilty smile touched her lips. “Luxury and design. I love walking into a room and knowing everything in it was chosen for me, curated to my tastes.” She let out a soft breath. “I like being pampered, spoiled even.”

Her eyes flicked back to his. “Because that’s how I know I’m loved.”

Shinobi was silent for a few moments while her words settled. His eyes lingered on her, observing the subtle shifts, the careful honesty she had allowed to surface beneath the polished answer. Then quietly, he exhaled.

"There it is."

He set his glass down on a nearby table before gently, almost caressingly, taking hers from her hand and placing it near his. Shinobi had removed the small barrier that had been placed between them.

"That," he said calmly and with a smile, "was the first honest thing you’ve said tonight." His eyes returned to hers. "There's nothing wrong with wanting beautiful things. Wanting things designed and curated just for you. Wanting luxury. People pretend they want meaning. Purpose. Service. And few are able to admit the truth as you have."

He lifted his hand briefly, gesturing toward the penthouse and the city beyond it. "Most people think, at some point in their lives, that luxury is about objects. But I've learned it isn't, not really." His voice lowered slightly. "It’s about attention. It's when someone has the power to give the world to anyone… and they choose to give it to you." He paused.

"But at least now we’re speaking honestly." Whether they were completely or not, it was the first step. His head tilted slightly as he took her in. "So when you imagine that life, the one where everything is at your feet, where you're pampered, spoiled, and loved..." His eyes held hers. "Who do you imagine providing all of that?"

When he praised her for being honest, Kennedy made a small, uncertain sound that was something caught between a gasp of surprise and a weary sigh of relief. This conversation felt raw and uncomfortable, like she was pressing a hand against a tender bruise, yet there was something strangely liberating about it. She had spoken aloud the things that filled her with shame and he hadn’t recoiled. If anything, he had embraced them.

And that was the problem.

Shinobi had done terrible things. He had betrayed the X-Men and profited from the enslavement and deaths of fellow mutants. When the American legal system could no longer ignore the crimes of the Hellfire Club and his corporation, he had simply shifted the blame to Emma Frost and walking away a free man.

He was devious and cunning, deceptive and ruthless. And yet… Shinobi had always wanted her.

Kennedy had rejected the luxuries, the beauty, the promises he had placed at her feet. She had told herself it was easy to turn away from that glittering life he could offer because it came at too high of a price. But when the room was quiet and the pillow beside her had gone cold, when there was no one with her but her own thoughts, she couldn’t stop remembering him or the future he had so patiently laid before her.

“Do you...” The word slipped from her like a confession. It was soft, heartfelt, and damning all at the same time. It was an admission that somewhere deep inside, parts of her soul were darker than she wanted to believe. Her voice faltered as the weight of it settled in. “...forgive me?”

"You don’t need my forgiveness. You’re not confessing a crime, Kennedy. You’re admitting a truth." Shinobi stepped towards her, the space between them tightening without becoming too intimate. "You always did have good instincts, though." There was no arrogance in his voice or the statement. Just certainty. And a smile.

"You should be very certain you understand the kind of man you’re naming when you say that. And whether you’d still want him once you did. You see, I choose people because they have a place in the world I’m building." He paused, the silence stretching between them. "Do you believe you belong in that world?"

For a moment, he didn't move. Then Shinobi’s hand slowly lifted again, fingers gently tracing her neckline until his thumb brushed beneath her jaw the way it had earlier. He tilted her chin up just slightly, but not enough to pull her closer. Just enough for their eyes to lock. Then his hand dropped away again. After a moment, he slowly took a step back. The Lord Imperial simply watched her. And waited.

“I…” Kennedy faltered as his hand found her, the simple contact unraveling her far more effectively than any argument could. Her gaze lifted to meet his and in an instant she was no longer here, but standing beside that pond in the Savage Land, wrapped in the memory of a promise he had made. He had said he would hold on to her and that he would never let go.

And he hadn’t. Not really. Not in the way that mattered.

The thought settled into her with quiet certainty, smoothing over every contradiction, every sharp edge that might have challenged it. Just like then, Shinobi filled that gnawing hollow inside her. The cruel, whispering voice that insisted she was unworthy and unlovable fell silent in his presence, it always had. That had to mean something, it had to mean he was the answer.

“I don’t want to be alone,” she admitted, her voice soft but steady, as though saying it plainly made it less fragile. “I hate feeling… cast off... forgotten.” Something self-deprecating flickering through the sadness in her eyes. “I’m not something people keep. If they want me at all, it never lasts.”

Her eyes searched his, blue and open, brimming with a trust that hadn’t been earned so much as carefully constructed. “But you…” she continued, almost reverently, “you didn’t give up on me. I hurt you. I betrayed you. And still, in your own way, you stayed.”

To anyone else, the claim might have sounded distorted in an attempt to reshape cruelty into devotion, but Kennedy held onto it with unwavering conviction. It was the only version of events that made the world feel stable beneath her feet.

“I would like to find my place in your world,” she said, the words gaining quiet strength as she spoke them, as if simply declaring it made it inevitable. His hand at her throat grounded her, and she swallowed against it, needing the closeness to tether her. “To be part of your future.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away.

“Because without you,” she finished, certain in a way that left no room for doubt, “I am lost.”

"You are neither cast off nor forgotten...at least not by those who matter," he replied evenly. "And if others don't want to keep you, then it is they who are failing to recognize something rare."

Underneath everything, part of him still cared about her. Even her very presence in the room had affected him more than he let on. But a long time ago, he made a conscious decision: nothing would control him to again. Not even love.

"I stayed because I chose to," he said quietly.

Something quiet sat beneath that statement. Something older that went back to prehistoric fishing. But he didn't touch it. The statement and just underlying quiet were both true, but only one was allowed to exist in the open.

"If I had wanted you gone, you would've been." His hand then moved to the back of her neck and head, steady, deliberate; cradling rather than claiming.

"If you truly wish to find a place in my world," continued Shinobi, "then understand this. I don't choose people who need something to hold on to." His thumb subtly traced a small circle. "They know exactly who they are when there's nothing left to hold them up."

The space between them felt heavy. "You find your place by deciding who you are…and whether that person can stand in it without breaking. If you walk into my world lost, it will consume you."

He leaned close to her ear as he cradled her head and placed his free hand around her waist. Shinobi whispered, "Can you stand in my world without breaking…or trying to change it?"

Kennedy shivered at his question and at how close he stood to her, his voice lowered just enough to make it feel like a secret meant only for her. Goosebumps prickled along her skin as she tried to untangle what he was really asking. Shinobi’s proposition was dangerous, she knew that much. She turned it over in her mind, carefully weighing the risks and the consequences that would follow if she agreed.

But the moment stretched, and with it came the warmth of him brushing against her. The clarity she’d had a second ago began to blur. Maybe there was a way around it, she told herself. Not approval, not betrayal... just a distance from the truth. Something that let them both keep what they were without forcing the other to look too closely.

It wasn’t perfect. It might not even be wise. But it felt reasonable enough to stand on.

“I think we need boundaries between us,” she said at last. The faint tremor in her voice betrayed the nerves she couldn’t quite hide. “We don’t tell each other anything that could be considered incriminating or dangerous. There are parts of our lives that are in direct conflict with each other…” She hesitated, but pressed on anyway. “Those parts stay out of this relationship.”

Shinobi didn’t answer immediately. He watched her and considered the care in how she built her response. There was restraint and a quiet hope that a relationship could exist without breaking either of them. It seemed she didn't want to fully be a part of his world, just a part of him. And that was acceptable for now.

"I think those are some good boundaries to set," he said calmly, considerate of the tremor in her voice that betrayed the nerves. He stepped back slightly but still held her hand.

"It isn't easy to divide two lives into pieces and pretend they won’t collide. They will one day. And we will be on opposites of a battle. By then, we’ll know whether we’re capable of walking away and still be able to meet like this."

Shinobi wasn't offering compromise, rather, he was offering coexistence.

"And as much as we need boundaries, we also need honesty about what this is." He looked deeper into her blue eyes. "That said, if you ever decide you want a weekend with something less…restrained, you know how to reach me."

They would not be lovers hiding things. Nor would they be enemies cutting ties. But they would be something much more interesting. They would be two people who understand each other…and will eventually stand on opposite sides anyway.

“Does that mean you’re leaving?” The question slipped out before Kennedy could stop it. The moment Shinobi took a step back, something fragile in her expression cracked, the hurt in her eyes was sudden and unguarded. She had spent so much of the evening choosing her words carefully, circling the things she was afraid to admit, but the thought of him walking away stripped all of that away. Beneath the caution and the practiced confidence was something painfully real, she didn’t want him to go.

“I’m sorry,” she added quickly, her voice softer now, almost rushed, as if she could patch the moment before it broke completely. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Kennedy bowed her head in a quiet, almost instinctive apology. Her sleek golden hair fell forward, hiding the uncertainty in her blue eyes as she dipped her chin. Tonight had taken courage she wasn’t sure she truly possessed, it had required her to take bold, reckless steps just to reach this moment with him. And now the ease with which he could simply turn and leave had her scrambling, a flicker of desperation creeping in before she could hide it.

“For all this talk about what I want… and how I see things,” she continued, her voice smaller, more honest than before, “I didn’t really stop to think about you. About what you might want.” She swallowed, the admission clearly costing her something. “I’m sorry.”

Her gaze dropped to where his hand still held hers, Kennedy hesitated for a second before gently brushing her thumb across his knuckles. The small motion was tentative, almost pleading, a quiet reminder of the closeness they had once shared, and how much she still wanted it.

She looked back up at Shinobi then, vulnerability written plainly across her face.

“What do you want from me?” Kennedy asked softly. “What can I do… to make you happy?”

He felt the brush of her thumb against his hand, bringing back memories. He watched her countenance fall as she looked more... broken? No, not broken. Vulnerable. The distinction mattered. Broken things collapsed inward; stopped reaching. That wasn't Kennedy right now. There was also the apology. And the question that followed it.

Shinobi momentarily released her hand and tucked strands of her golden hair behind her ear. "My dearest Kennedy," he said, "You haven't upset me at all. And as far as what you can do to make me happy, that's not how this works. You don’t shape yourself to make me happy. I don't want that."

He paused, allowing a brief silence to settle. He took her hand once again, a subtle, grounding motion.

"What I want is for you to know who you are," he continued. "Don't ask me to decide that for you." There was a time when he did that, but not anymore. Her vulnerability didn’t push him away. But it didn’t necessarily pull him closer either.
It held him exactly where he stood.

"You’re not here to make me happy, Kennedy. You’re here because you chose to be." The faintest hint of that private smile she knew surfaced. "If I wanted something easy... I wouldn’t be standing here. But I do need to leave shortly."

“Oh… okay.” Kennedy nodded, her voice steady even as she tried to swallow the sting of his rejection. “I understand. I guess I just… missed you more than I realized.”

The words came easier than she expected but not easily enough.

This whole encounter felt like a test she hadn’t quite passed. She’d worked up the courage to reach out, to stand here in front of him but when he pushed her to be honest, to say what she really felt, she’d faltered. The truth had hovered on the edge of her tongue, close enough to taste. Shinobi had drawn it out of her, almost tempting her into saying the things that mattered.

But in the end, she’d pulled back because he still scared her. She exhaled quietly, folding her arms as if to hold herself together.

“You’re busy now, right?” Kennedy continued, a faint edge slipping into her voice despite her best efforts. “You don’t have time to wait for me outside class anymore.”

The memory flickered in her mind and it felt soft, warm and it also made her chest tighten. Things couldn’t go back to that, no matter how much she wanted them to.

Kennedy hesitated, then lifted her gaze to meet his again. There it was, that flicker of something steadier beneath the doubt. She was vulnerable and broken but there was also that stubborn fighter inside of her that demanded nothing but the best, the steely grit had saved her life on more than one occasion.

“Will I see you again?” she asked, more direct this time. Then, softer but not retreating. “Or was this just… a courtesy?” A small, self-aware smile tugged at her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Pity, maybe,” Kennedy added with a quiet huff but she managed to hold his gaze. “Or your way of saying I told you so?”

Shinobi noticed the placement of her arms and waited. There was the admission, an edge, and the deflection at the end. None of it escaped him. "No, no time for waiting outside classes anymore. But I'm never too busy to accept your phone call and fly halfway around the world to see you," he added with a smile.

"I'm sure we'll see each other again, but it won't be by accident," he continued. "But pity? Or courtesy? You know me better than that. If I hadn't wanted to come, I wouldn't have." He let that settle along with his comment about flying halfway around the world to see her. There was no elaboration, no justification, just truth.

"I don’t do courtesy visits, Kennedy." His eyes didn’t leave hers. "And I don’t revisit things I consider finished." To Shinobi, Kennedy wasn't finished; despite him not saying it out loud. He wasn't chasing her, but neither was he gone.

He paused, allowing the silence to intentionally stretch. Then he closed the gap between them once more and gently placed his hands on her upper arms. "You said you don’t want to choose yet," he said quietly. "Seeing me again… is a choice. And it’s not one you get to make halfway."

He moved his hands to her cheeks, gently holding her head. For a moment, he just looked at her, taking in the vulnerability she hadn’t quite managed to hide. Then, without hesitation, Shinobi leaned in and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to her forehead. When he pulled back, his hands lingered only a second before falling away. His expression hadn’t softened, but it hadn’t hardened either.

He held her gaze when he pulled back. "I have a business meeting tomorrow. But please feel free to stay the night, or even the weekend, in the penthouse. My bedroom is just down the hall."

She leaned into the kiss he pressed to her forehead, and Shinobi felt the subtle hitch of her breath the instant his lips touched her skin. Kennedy didn’t breathe again until he pulled away, the silence breaking in a soft, unguarded gasp.

His words seemed to ease the tension that had gathered between them, smoothing over the sharp edges left by their earlier exchange. Kennedy was a princess in every sense of the word, accustomed to things unfolding according to her expectations. And when they didn’t, the spoiled, stubborn part of her threatened to rise up, caught between a refusal to feel disappointed and a quiet, aching need to be wanted.

And yet, there was something charming in that contradiction. The haughtiness, tempered by a softer longing made Kennedy feel delicate, she was like a Persian cat who was aloof, particular, and impossibly selective. But when that cat chooses you, when it settled into your space and allowed affection, it always felt like a small victory.

“Maybe breakfast, then?” Kennedy suggested, idly swirling her drink as if the idea had only just occurred to her. The casual motion did little to disguise the careful hope beneath it. “I could stay… we could reconnect in the morning.” She glanced at him, a hint of teasing slipping back into her tone. “You still eat, don’t you?”

Shinobi picked up his glass and carried it to the counter. "I do indeed still eat," he said, a hint of that private smile returning briefly. "But I'll be out of the country for that meeting. If you're still interested when I return, we'll have breakfast."

"In the meantime, I’ve arranged a few things for you tomorrow. Linda Dresner’s boutique, Chanel on Madison, and Henri Bendel on Fifth. Let them know who you are and they’ll take care of the rest." The last time they saw each other hadn't gone so well. Shinobi had burned her possessions and clothing. "Use the car service if you like. Especially if you need a way back to Salem Center."

“Oh! Thank you.” Kennedy’s surprise flickered plainly across her face at both the gesture and the generosity behind it. Beautiful things had always held a certain pull over her and she would openly admit that her tastes were predictably indulgent. Still, it made her easy to delight and when she smiled it was with that same dazzling allure that had always managed to captivate him.

She might have refused Shinobi's offer to become the new White Queen, but in this moment she carried herself like one with all the same regal, composed, and effortless elegance.

“I have my own car to get back home,” she added, her tone softening, “but something for getting around the city would be nice.” He had spent hours beside her in that car, riding along on quiet errands to the post office, helping her fold and seal the endless stream of charity letters. Another fleeting memory that helped to reinforce this meeting.

“And I would like that…” Kennedy continued, her gaze lifting to meet his. “Seeing you again... when you’re free.”

Shinobi took her in slowly, his gaze lingering. The ease with which she settled back into her poised sophistication... like it had never truly left. She wore elegance as if it were a birthright.

"Of course you do," he said lightly at the mention of her car. A faint curve touched his mouth, subtle but real. "I’ll have something suitable waiting for you. It wouldn’t do for you to navigate my city without the proper accommodations."

He swirled the rest of his drink before answering. "I’m rarely free, Kennedy," he stated. "But I decide what’s worth my time." There it was. "When I return, I’ll reach out." There was no if or maybe. "Just be somewhere I can find you."

“Just say the word.” Kennedy agreed, the quiet promise settling between them. It was something tentative, but with the weight to become more.

Shinobi Shaw was not a man who moved without purpose. Every step, every decision, was measured and deliberate. He had no interest in stumbling blindly or playing the fool to her heated whims. It was that steady, controlled confidence that had earned the regard of people like Emma Frost and Erik Lehnsherr and as he turned to leave the penthouse, Kennedy found herself recognizing it too.

She hated how easily he drew her in. It wasn’t just the power or the wealth, though both clung to him like a second skin. It was the composure and the quiet authority he held that seemed to reshape a room the moment he entered it. Shinobi Shaw had become something undeniable, a force in his own right. And when his gaze lingered on her just a moment too long, it left her weak in the knees.

He was standing at the door now and turned for one last look. "You look elegant, Kennedy. You always do." He exited the penthouse and went for the elevator. Fortunately, the flight to Madripoor would be long but he would be able to sleep on the jet. Then clean up, a good breakfast, and a fresh suit before his meeting. The Lord Imperial didn't go to world leaders. He made them come to him.

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