Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men. Please don't sue me or steal my story. Thanks!
NOTE: This story takes place in the Movieverse but some of the settings and characterizations were drawn from the comics. The words between the brackets aren't in English, despite the fact that they appear to be. It's a strange and mysterious illusion.
NOTE II: This story was directly inspired by a real exhibit I went to see with my Dad some years ago. All the drawings described in the story are real, and the quotes/captions are taken from the souvenir book of John Lennon's art I bought while I was there.
Lennon's Ghost
by Rowena Zahnrei
["Hey, she fell for it! Look, she's actually leaving!"
"This is crazy, Stefan. Are you sure we won't get in trouble for this?"
The older boy looked down at his seven-year-old brother, his dark eyes glinting with mischief.
"Only if she finds out what we're up to."
At his young brother's stricken expression, the older boy laughed.
"But she won't, trust me! We've got at least fifteen minutes before they figure out that explosion was just a false alarm. Come on!"
Grabbing his hesitant brother by his thin, wiry arm, the dark-eyed boy rushed up the stairs and into the small, cluttered space the two children had been forbidden ever to enter.
The younger boy looked around, his wide eyes falling on a small, shallow bowl of water resting on a roughly carved wooden table. The table itself was covered in strange symbols and shapes, and several mysterious stains that were definitely not paint splatters colored its surface.
"What do you think this is for?" he whispered, very much aware that this was a strange and dangerous place, a place they were not supposed to be.
The taller boy chuckled, his eyes filling with an intense excitement. His brother shivered slightly at the sound.
"Oh, you'll like this," he said. "Here, climb up on this chair and look into the water."
Still hesitant, the small boy hopped up to kneel on the low, wooden chair, propping his elbows on the table and stretching his back to peer into the shiny, dented bowl.
"Well?" his brother asked, leaning over his shoulder. "Can you see anything?"
"Not much," the boy replied. "Just my reflection, and some ripples, and..."
He trailed off, gasping as the ripples shimmered and shook his reflection until the round young face shifted into the face of a much older man. This man was smiling, his dark eyes sparkling in his long, pale face. As the image cleared, the boys could see he was standing on the steps of some kind of building.
"Who is that?" the young boy whispered to his brother.
"I've never seen him before," the taller boy responded, then rushed across the cluttered space to steal a peek outside the door. "There's no one around," he said. "We've got some time yet. Let's watch and see what happens."
His young brother nodded, fascinated by the scene playing out before his eyes. As the taller boy returned to lean over the table beside him, the child grinned to find he could actually hear what the smiling man was saying... ]
"Stay together, bitte!" Kurt Wagner called out to the straggling group of teenagers standing on the steps to the small art museum. The congested New York City traffic honked, squealed, and zoomed behind them, the frustrated shouts and faulty mufflers blending together to make up the unique soundtrack of the bustling city. "You all remember the rules for when we go inside, ja?"
Several of the older students rolled their eyes, but a few of the younger ones chorused a bright, "Yes, Mr. Wagner."
"Do nothing that will attract attention to yourselves," Ororo Munroe warned them, her tone stern and her crystal gaze directed firmly at the more exasperated of the teenagers. "The Professor isn't with us today. If anything should happen, we will all have to deal with the consequences - and the six o'clock news. Remember that before any of you get bored and decide to show off."
Kurt tilted his head.
"Bored?" he repeated, incredulous. "But how could anyone get bored? We are about to see an exhibit of John Lennon's artwork!" He winked at Ororo, his smile sly as he spoke in a theatrical stage whisper. "Have you seen some of those drawings? All that nudity...scandalous! Mein Gott, I'm not even sure we should allow the children to come inside!"
As intended, his not-so-subtle whispering worked like a charm. The students who had previously been indifferent suddenly perked up, their eyes alert and curious. It was a real struggle for Kurt to keep his professional 'teacher' face intact as he pulled the glass door open.
"After you, Damen und Herren," he said, bowing his head politely as the teenagers began to file past him into the museum.
Ororo, who had been taking her seventh head-count of the day, brought up the rear.
"All present and accounted for, Liebchen?" Kurt asked playfully, leaving the door to swing shut behind them as he offered her his elbow.
Ororo nodded, but even though her lips were tight with frustration she threaded her arm around Kurt's willingly.
"Sometimes I despair of these children ever learning responsibility," she said with a slight shake of her snowy head.
Kurt looked to where the students had already spread out around the small, brightly lit gallery. The entire place seemed to be made of glass.
"They appear to be behaving themselves now," he observed.
"I give them half and hour at the most," Ororo said cynically. "Once the novelty starts to wear off—"
"Excuse me?"
Kurt and Ororo turned to face the man who had spoken. He was tall and lanky with sparse, orange hair and very large glasses with thick, blue frames. He sat on a tall stool beside a large, clear-plastic box half-filled with crinkled bills and glinting change.
"Would either of you care to make a donation?" he continued, once he was sure he had their attention. "It all goes into a fund to help public school teachers get the supplies they need. The proceeds from everything you buy here today will likewise go to this fund."
"Of course, mein Herr," Kurt said, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet and handing the lanky man a crisp, fifty-dollar bill. "I think two dollars for each of us should be sufficient, nein?"
The man grinned as Kurt stuffed the bill into the box.
"Thank you, sir. And if you have any questions about the artwork you see, please don't hesitate to ask me."
"Danke," Kurt said with a friendly smile. Only when he started for the gallery did he notice the barely contained anger distorting Ororo's delicate, mocha features.
"Is something wrong, meine Liebe?" he asked her, concerned. His concern transformed into startled confusion as Ororo pulled her arm away from his and fixed him with a burning glare.
"That was embarrassing," she hissed.
"Was? Pardon?" Kurt asked, at a total loss.
"You could have at least let me contribute half," she snapped, careful to keep her voice low so no one would notice their argument.
Kurt stared, incredulous that she would be so upset over such a little thing.
"If you say so. It never occurred to me that this would bother you, Liebchen," he said sincerely.
"That is exactly the point. It didn't occur to you," Ororo said. "I was standing right there, yet instead of consulting me, as an equal, you spoke for me."
"My apologies!" Kurt said. "I swear, it was never my intention to embarrass you. I just figured, since we were all together..."
He sighed.
"I should not have assumed. I'm sorry, Ororo."
Ororo's glare began to thaw, and Kurt glanced over to the little gift counter, his lips twitching in a very slight smile.
"Perhaps there is a way to make it up to you," he said.
Ororo's glare turned suspicious.
"How?" she demanded.
"You could buy me a souvenir over at the gift table," he said, pointing at the glass counter with two holographic fingers. "It will be just like making a donation of your own, only better because we will both get something out of it, ja?"
Ororo's face darkened and for a moment Kurt was afraid his teasing had really angered her. Before he could apologize, however, he was relieved to see a small smile warm her cold expression.
"If you promise to behave yourself," she said, taking his hand and twining her slender fingers through his thick ones with a familiar affection that made his heart soar, "I'll consider it."
Kurt grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
"When am I ever not on my best behavior?" he asked her. As she opened her mouth to respond, he held up two holographic fingers to cut her off. "Nein, don't answer that, Liebchen." He chuckled. "Let's just look at the artwork, ja?"
The gallery had been arranged to give visitors a feeling of space and light while at the same time hemming them in on both sides by a double ring of priceless drawings. The outer ring was comprised of pictures with more 'adult' themes, particularly those dealing with John and Yoko's marriage and relationship, while the inner ring was mainly drawings John had made for his son, Sean. According to the typed notice that lay on the table in front of each drawing, these had been colored by a professional artist after John's death.
"Oh, I like this one," Ororo said, gently pulling Kurt to stand with her before the piece she was admiring. It was a simple pen sketch of John Lennon's spectacled head looking down at a tiny patch of bumpy ground. The scribbled caption underneath read "At last he could see the mountains."
"Kind of puts everything in perspective, doesn't it," Kurt observed thoughtfully.
Ororo regarded him, uncertain as to whether he was being serious or not, and he smiled.
"Herr Lennon was a brilliant man, nein?" he said. "It takes a genius to make molehills out of mountains."
Ororo laughed.
"And yet, you seem to be able to do that so well," she teased. She squeezed his arm, her tone sincere. "Whenever anyone has a problem, you always help them step back and look at it from a new angle."
"What can I say?" Kurt grinned with a small shrug. "It is a gift I have! Just one of the many." He laughed as Ororo gave him a playful shove. Then, his eyes fell on a new picture. "Come and look at this one, Liebchen!" he said, taking his turn to pull her to him as they crossed over to the center ring.
"That is perfectly adorable." Ororo smiled warmly as she looked at the brightly colored picture entitled 'Sheep Meadowing'. A small write-up on the table informed them that John Lennon had drawn it in response to a question his son had asked him. The young boy had wondered what sheep saw when they looked up in the sky. According to the picture, they saw the fluffy clouds as reflections of themselves, grazing peacefully in the meadow.
"And look here," Kurt said, pointing. "Here are your mountains again in the background."
Ororo smiled and nestled her head against his shoulder. Kurt wrapped his arm around her waist in lieu of his tail and rested his cheek on her soft, snowy hair, reveling in the innocent intimacy of their half-embrace. However, almost as soon as it had begun, their warm moment was shattered by Artie's lisping voice. His dark, forked tongue made it hard for the boy to speak properly.
"Miss Munroe, Mr. Wagner!" the young teen whined, pointing to the lanky, balding man with the large, blue glasses. "That man said we couldn't look at the pictures behind that last table without adult supervision!"
"Yeah," Kitty added. "It's, like, totally unfair. I mean, how bad can they possibly be?"
"These pictures are barely more than sketches, anyway," Jubilee complained, gesturing with slight derision to the rest of the drawings. "It's not like we'd really 'see' anything, is it?"
"Rogue and Bobby got to look at them," Theresa pointed out, her lilting Irish accent thick with annoyance.
"In that case," Ororo told them, "I'll have to ask them if the content of those pictures is suitable for the rest of you to see. Where are they?"
"They're, like, still back there," Kitty said, and smirked. The rest of the gathered children began to snicker. Even Kurt couldn't suppress a chuckle.
Ororo shot him a look and shook her head.
"Kurt, will you stay here with them while I retrieve Bobby and Rogue?" she asked him.
"Of course, meine Dame," he assured her as she marched across the gallery to the large divider that hid the most controversial of the drawings from view.
"So," Kurt said, grinning at his gathered students. "What do you think so far?"
"They're just a bunch of scribbles by some famous dead guy," Jubilee sneered. "Even the naked pictures aren't much good. When's lunch?"
Kurt had to force himself to retain his smile. If he hadn't had to keep his tail wrapped securely around his waist, it would have been lashing in annoyance at her tone. Even so, he managed to keep his voice light as he said, "At noon." Then he turned to the rest of the students. "Anyone else?"
"Some of them are, like, really deep," Kitty said. "Like that one where the people are the notes of the staff? That one's cool. But, like, instead of the regular G clef thing at the beginning, there was a symbol for a British pound note."
"I liked the one with the pondering frog," Artie giggled. "Because there was really a pond there. I thought that was funny."
"The collie flower was cute," Theresa spoke up. "I always wanted a collie. I could never stand cauliflower, though. Even cauliflower cheese. Yuch!" She made a face.
"My favorite was 'The Hole of My Life," Piotr said thoughtfully, his deep, Russian accented voice soft and quiet. Everyone turned to the shy, young artist as he went on. "He is pointing to a little black hole and he says 'The hole of my life flashed before my eyes.'"
Piotr narrowed his eyes slightly, speaking to the group as a whole.
"To me, it means that success isn't everything. No matter how successful you get, there always remains a hole that can't be filled."
"Hey, I didn't see that one!" Jubilee cried out. "Where is it?"
Kurt grinned delightedly as Piotr pointed the picture out to Jubilee.
"Now, that's more like it!" he said. "It is always good to open yourselves up to new ways of looking at things. Herr Lennon's clever little drawings help to give you a glimpse into how he saw the world around him. Their simplicity is deceptive, and his intelligence and humor shines through each of them."
"Which is your favorite drawing, Mr. Wagner?" Jamie asked curiously.
"You first," Kurt shot back with a smile.
The boy looked thoughtful for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was hesitant.
"I guess it's the one when he's looking in the mirror, but he doesn't see himself as he is at the time, but the way he was in the past." Jamie shivered slightly. "It kind of creeped me out."
Kurt nodded his agreement.
"Ja, that is a good one. So, now it is my turn, ja?"
The gathered children looked up at him with expectant eyes.
Kurt grinned.
"Well, my personal favorite out of all these drawings is the one where—"
"OK, we're here," Bobby interrupted - completely oblivious that he was doing so - as he, Rogue, and Ororo crossed the room to re-join the group. "There's only three pictures back there, you know," he said. "I really don't see what the big deal is."
"What did you think of them, Ororo?" Kurt asked curiously. "You must know better than I what would be considered appropriate in this country for the students to see."
Ororo shook her head.
"Actually," she said, "I probably know less. I saw no problem with those pictures personally, but I can understand why they were separated from the rest of the exhibit."
"So, can we see them?" Kitty asked.
Ororo looked thoughtful for a moment.
"Do you all believe you can approach these images as mature young adults?"
The kids looked at each other, then burst out laughing.
Ororo scowled.
"Very well, then," she said. "In that case, only those of you who are over sixteen may view those pictures."
Those chosen let out a cheer while the remainder grumbled and whined.
"Hey, that's not fair!" Kitty exclaimed. "I'm fifteen and a half! Why can't I—"
["What are you two doing in here!"
The two boys jumped, their heads turning so quickly to face the newcomer that they risked spraining their necks. When they saw who it was, however, the older boy smiled.
"Oh, it's just you," he said.
The girl scowled.
"What do you mean by that?" she snapped. "What are you up to, Stefan Szardos? You know this trailer is forbidden!"
"Then what are you doing here, Jimaine?" her big brother shot back.
"There was an explosion in the latrine," Jimaine explained. "Mother sent me to find you and Kurt, to see if you were all right." She glared pointedly. "Now I have found you, I'm starting to wonder if that explosion really was an accident."
Kurt shrank in his chair, reaching out with his spaded tail to tug his brother's arm.
"What, Kurt," Stefan asked, pulling his arm away. "Don't do that."
"Sorry," Kurt said, "but maybe we should go now? Mama's already mad at me for scaring the new act this morning at breakfast, and—"
Jimaine laughed.
"They screamed so loud you'd think they never saw someone hanging from a tent-pole before."
"They never saw someone hanging by his tail before, you mean," Kurt said softly, obviously deeply disturbed by the memory. "Mama said they were going to quit. She had to promise them a greater percentage of the takings before they'd agree to stay."
Stefan's eyes lit up.
"Oh!" He realized, "That's why she was in such a foul mood!"
"Yeah..." Kurt sighed, his bright, golden eyes lowered and his tail limp. "And if she found out what we were looking at, she'd probably blame me for everything all over again."
"What were you looking at?" Jimaine asked curiously, striding over to peer into the bowl. "Awww," she whined, "it's gone blank!"
"It was a man who had the same name as me," Kurt told her, peering into the rippling water himself, his tail twitching behind him. "He was German too, but everyone was speaking English. I think he was a teacher in Australia."
"America, Kurt," Stefan corrected. "Those kids had American accents."
Jimaine narrowed her eyes, regarding her young foster brother with curious intensity.
"Kurt," she said, gesturing to the bowl, "do you know what this is?"
Kurt shook his head.
"Nope. Stefan didn't tell me. He just said to look."
Jimaine glared at Stefan, who shrugged carelessly, then turned back to Kurt.
"This is a scrying pool, Kurt," she explained. "It shows you your future."
Kurt looked up at her, confused.
"My future?" he repeated. "But that man wasn't me. He was..."
The wiry little boy trailed off, twirling the stubby spade at the end of his tail in his three-fingered hands.
"...normal," he finished in a very small voice.
"Maybe the bowl got confused," Stefan suggested, peering surreptitiously out the door. "Still no one around," he said, turning back to face his siblings. "Both of us were looking in at the same time, and you've got to admit 'Kurt Wagner' is a pretty common name. Why don't you try again, Kurt. Maybe it'll work right if it's just you."
"But what if Mama—"
"Don't worry about Mother, Kurt," Jimaine assured him, a mysterious look in her eye. "I'm curious now too. Go ahead and look."
Kurt sighed and nodded. He knew better than to argue with Jimaine when she looked like that. Leaning over the table with his tail wrapped tightly around the back of his chair, Kurt peered once again in to the shallow, rippling water...]
"Mr. Wagner?"
Kurt looked up from his desk, laying his pen down next to the large stack of papers he had been correcting.
"Jamie!" He grinned, waving the boy into the room. "Please, come in!"
["See anything?" Stefan asked, pushing between Kurt and Jimaine to look into the bowl himself.
"Yeah," Kurt said. "It's that man again, only he's not at the art museum anymore. He's sitting at a fancy desk and talking with one of the kids from before."
"What's he saying?" Jimaine asked.
"I don't know," Kurt said, slightly annoyed. "I can't hear him with you guys asking all these questions!"
"The images are fading again!" Jimaine warned. "Pay attention, Kurt!"
Kurt rolled his golden eyes and turned his gaze back to the pool, the images coming into sharper focus, almost as though the children were looking through the lens of a camera rather than a dented bowl of slightly dusty water...]
"You're still wearing your image inducer."
"Wha—?" Kurt looked down at his hands as though noticing them for the first time. "Oh! So I am!" He smiled. "Funny, I didn't even notice. It really must have been a long day for me to forget like that."
Straightening in his seat, Kurt pressed a large button on the side of his bulky wristwatch. The air around him shimmered as the holographic image the watch had projected faded out, then vanished all together.
"There," Kurt said, flexing his thick, indigo fingers and uncoiling his long tail from around his waist, adjusting his position in his chair so it could swing freely behind him. "That's much better."
["My God!"
The three children gasped as one as they tried to wrap their heads around what they had just seen.
"Kurt, that really is you!" Stefan exclaimed, looking from the image in the pool to his foster brother, then back to the pool. "Man," he shook his head. "What happened to your face?"
"Huh?" Kurt leaned in closer and squinted his eyes at his older self. "They're angelic symbols," he said.
"They're scars," Jimaine added, a touch of disgust in her voice. "That's messed up. Why would you do something like that to yourself, Kurt?" she asked.
Kurt shook his head, his golden eyes wide.
"How should I know!" he exclaimed, feeling rather overwhelmed and more than slightly betrayed by everything he was seeing. "What am I doing in America, that's what I want to know! I'm supposed to be a famous acrobat when I grow up! The greatest who ever lived! Greater than Sabu, even! What the heck am I doing as a teacher? I've never even been inside a school!"
"Maybe if you both shut up and listened we'd find out," Stefan pointed out.
Kurt and Jimaine shot him dark looks.
Stefan spread out his hands.
"What? It's a reasonable suggestion!"
Jimaine and Kurt continued to glare, but they did so while facing the shallow pool...]
"...never got the chance to tell us which was your favorite picture," Jamie was saying. The boy had taken a seat across from Kurt and was now leaning forward with his elbows on the desk.
"Good point," Kurt said, and smiled. "Here, why don't you scoot your chair around to this side of the desk and I'll show you in my book."
Kurt lifted a small, cream-colored book from his cluttered, yet well organized, desk and started to flip through it while Jamie rolled his wheeled chair next to his teacher's.
"Ah, here it is," Kurt said as Jamie sat back down. "'Jazz, Man', 1979."
"Did Miss Munroe get you that book?" Jamie asked, his tone completely innocent.
"Why, yes, actually," Kurt told him. Then he grinned. "It was for a good cause."
Jamie smiled back.
"You really like her, don't you, Mr. Wagner."
"Well...um..." Kurt cleared his throat, taken off guard by the boy's unexpected remark. "It's that obvious, is it?" he asked rather sheepishly, his tail twitching behind him.
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, you know," Jamie told him. "She really likes you too."
Kurt raised an eyebrow.
"Is that so?" he said, a small smile quirking across his narrow features. "Just out of curiosity, what else do you know?"
Jamie considered.
"Well," he said, "Jubilee says you two are worse than Bobby and Rogue and Mr. Logan wanted to know when you were going to stop with all the sissy hand-holding sh...uh...stuff and get on with it."
Kurt's golden eyes widened.
"That does sound like something Logan might say," he said with a short laugh. "So, Jamie, tell me. How long have Miss Munroe and I been the subject of school gossip?"
Jamie stared at him.
"Since, like, forever!" he said. "Ever since you first came here."
"That long!" Kurt exclaimed in surprise.
"Well, yeah," Jamie said. "Everyone noticed how Miss Munroe kept picking on you to do things for her all the time. And she kept smiling. Before you came, Miss Munroe hardly ever smiled."
Kurt tilted his head, touched and more than slightly intrigued by Jamie's observation.
"Really?"
"Yeah," Jamie said. "She was always so stern and aloof. Bobby used to call her the Ice Goddess. But after you came, she warmed up. And then there was all that German you always use."
"What do you mean?" Kurt asked, his brow furrowed.
"You always call her 'Liebchen' or 'meine Liebe' or 'Schatz' and stuff, but you call everyone else 'Liebling' or 'mein Freund'," Jamie said. "That was suspicious to begin with. Finally, Kitty looked up 'Liebchen' on the internet and found out it means 'sweetheart'."
Kurt laughed out loud.
"Ach! So, I've been found out!"
He looked back down at the book in his hands, a flash of guilt passing over him as he remembered why Jamie was there.
"But you came here for a reason, ja? And I don't believe it was to gossip about me and my lady love."
Jamie giggled.
"'Lady love'," he snorted behind his hand.
Kurt shot him a look.
"Here," he said, holding the art book open to the correct page and handing it to Jamie. "It's the one on the right."
"Oh!" Jamie grinned. "I remember that one! So, this is your favorite picture?"
Kurt nodded.
"Yep. I had seen it before, but today was the first time it actually seemed to speak to me, you know? It made me think of everything that has happened in my life over this past year, and how different everything has turned out from what I had expected."
"What do you mean?" Jamie asked, looking up at him curiously.
Kurt smiled softly, his eyes focused on the picture as he fingered the rosary at his belt.
"I believe that everything happens for a reason," Kurt told him. "All things are a part of God's great plan, including our own little lives. For most of my life, I questioned what God's plan might be for me. Why would He create someone like me? What could my purpose be."
He turned to Jamie.
"Do you know what I mean?"
Jamie nodded slowly, reflecting on his own experiences as a mutant.
"Yeah," he said. "I think I do."
"My greatest talent has always been acrobatics," Kurt said, a touch of pride brightening his voice. "When I was on the trapeze, I felt I could truly be myself. It was the one place where I could put the unique gifts God had granted me at birth to their fullest use - my agility, my tail, even my appearance was a blessing there because it drew in the audience." He smiled, his golden eyes twinkling. "And, what is a performer without an audience?"
Jamie shrugged.
"I don't know."
"Neither do I." Kurt grinned. "In any case, for the longest time, it seemed my purpose was to be the best acrobat I could be. My family always teased me, saying I had been born for the trapeze. And I always believed that they were right. Until I came here and met all of you."
"But you still practice acrobatics," Jamie pointed out. "All the time."
"Yes," Kurt acknowledged, "but it is for a different purpose now. I am no longer an entertainer. The skills that made the Incredible Nightcrawler so famous throughout Europe are now being put to a far nobler use. For the first time in my life, I truly feel I understand why God made me as He did.
"Because the X-Men found me, Stryker's wicked plans to destroy all mutants backfired. I was to be a scapegoat, a symbol of all the things humans fear about mutants. Instead, I was given the chance to help stop Stryker, to redeem myself, and to bring the light of truth and understanding to the President's eyes rather than the darkness of fear and anger. And now, here, as a teacher and an X-Man, I can help do the same not only for my students, but also for the rest of the world. I can use my gifts to change the world for the better." He laughed brightly as a sudden thought occurred to him. "I've become a language teacher who works as a superhero in his spare time!" he chortled. "Better than Superman, nein?"
Jamie laughed along with him, but when he spoke his tone was sincere.
"Yeah, you're much better than Superman. He's just a comic book hero in a cape. But you and the other X-Men really did save the world when you destroyed Stryker's Dark Cerebro."
Kurt nodded, his eyes darkening with memory.
"Yes, I suppose we did. But it was at a very great and terrible price."
Jamie nodded and lowered his head, the two of them sharing a somber moment of silence in memory of the tragic sacrifice of Dr. Jean Grey.
"Well," Kurt said at last, trying to lighten the atmosphere once again, "in any case, the point is that all this is most definitely a far cry from what I thought I'd be doing when I grew up!"
"And that's what you see when you look at this picture?" Jamie asked, leaning in closer to get a better view of it.
Kurt nodded.
"Yes. You see, in this picture, John Lennon is passing the 'ghost', if you will, of his younger self in the street. His younger self was a successful man. He had become famous doing what he loved to do best. But, he was still confused as to the meaning of it all. Here, though, as an older man, holding his son's hand in his, many of these questions have been answered for him. You see," he pointed, "he can give the younger man a reassuring wave."
"What would you do if something like that happened to you?" Jamie asked him, his head tilted in curiosity.
Kurt laughed.
"You mean if little Kurt Wagner appeared here right now and asked me how it all turned out? Well, first of all," he grinned, "I don't think I would react as calmly as Herr Lennon here. But once I'd calmed down, I'd tell the boy not to worry so much. Life will always be hard, but the real challenge is to stay true to yourself, not to be so concerned about what everyone else thinks of you all the time. True friends will love you for who you are, not what you look like, or what you might be able to do."
He smiled, a little sadly.
"It sounds corny, I know, but it took me a very long time and many wasted hours of anxiety and angst before I finally figured that out," he told Jamie with a wink.
Jamie smiled.
"I'm really glad you're here, Mr. Wagner," he said.
Kurt blinked up at him, deeply touched by the boy's sincere words.
"As am I, Jamie."
He smiled, looking over his small, cluttered office with pride, his eyes softening as they fell on the small Polaroid photograph of him and Ororo Kitty had taken during the field trip that afternoon.
"As am I..."
["We've looked everywhere else, Margali," a voice came from outside the small trailer. "They've got to be in there."
The three children looked up from the scrying pool with wide, startled eyes. They'd been found out!
"Jimaine!" Stefan hissed, "I thought you said you were taking care of that!"
"I'm sorry!" Jimaine exclaimed, alarmed. "I got so involved in what I was seeing, I forgot to keep up with the spell!"
"What are we going to do now?" Kurt asked nervously, the wonder he had felt while listening to his older self's words fading quickly from his round face.
"I suppose I could try a teleport spell," Jimaine suggested.
Stefan's dark eyes bugged.
"You're crazy!" he exclaimed. "That's way too advanced! What if it went wrong? We could all end up in India!"
"India?" Kurt asked, interested.
"First place that popped into my head." Stefan brushed him off, rushing to peek through the crack in the door.
"OK, they're not facing us," he told them, his voice tense. "Jimaine, help me with a misdirection spell, will you? We're going to have to make a run for it."
Before Jimaine could move to join her brother, there was a burst of violet light and a tall, formidable woman with curling, black hair appeared in the center of the small space.
"I know what you children were doing," the imposing woman snarled, her dark eyes flashing with anger. "And I'm only going to ask this once. What did you see?"
Stefan was the first to recover from his shock. Roughly tugging Kurt's tail away from his forehead - the small boy had leapt up onto his brother's shoulders at their mother's arrival - Stefan met his mother's eyes directly.
"Nothing," he told her.
Margali glared at him, then her eyes narrowed as she advanced on her cringing daughter.
"What about you?" she demanded.
Jimaine looked up at Kurt with thoughtful eyes.
"Well," she said, "We did see something but it didn't mean anything."
"Tell me what you saw, girl," Margali demanded.
"Nothing, really!" she exclaimed, her face wearing an expression of perfect innocence. "Just Lennon's ghost."
Margali stepped back, confused.
"You mean, you saw nothing of the future? Nothing concerning Kurt and Stefan?"
"What about me and Kurt?" Stefan asked, playing with his brother's spaded tail where it hung over his shoulder.
Margali regarded her son closely, then sighed, her violet eyes closing in what seemed to be relief.
"I can see you know nothing. You three may go," she said. "But I warn you - if I ever find you in this trailer again, you may or may not live to regret it. My rules are not to be taken lightly."
The sorceress stepped back from her thoroughly intimidated children and sat in the chair recently vacated by Kurt.
"Now, leave me," she snapped. "I have much work to do."
The children stood frozen for a moment, then they turned and ran from the trailer, not stopping until they'd reached the safety of the surrounding trees.
"We're going to have to sneak back in there sometime," Stefan said, lifting his brother from his shoulders and setting the boy down on the soft, pine-needle strewn ground.
"Are you crazy, Stefan!" Jimaine exclaimed. "We barely escaped with our lives this time!"
Stefan shrugged.
"That's your fault," he said. "You didn't keep up with the spell. Next time, though, you will."
Jimaine glared.
"With an attitude like that, brother, there won't be a next time. Why do you want to risk going back anyway?"
Stefan glanced down at Kurt, who was looking up at him through curious, golden eyes.
"I want to know if Kurt and that Miss Munroe chick get married," he teased.
"Married!" Kurt exclaimed, his jaw dropping. "Me?!"
"Hey, it could happen!" Jimaine laughed, grinning herself. "I gotta say, you didn't look half bad as an adult, even with all those weird scars."
Kurt flushed a violent shade of royal purple, his tail twisting itself into knots behind him.
"Come on, Kurt," Stefan urged. "You can't tell me you're not curious!"
"Well," the small boy said hesitantly, but when he looked up, his golden eyes were twinkling with a familiar mischief. "Mama does have to leave the camp next Thursday to see about the booking in Dusseldorf. I suppose we could try it then."
"That's the spirit, Kurt!" Stefan grinned, winking at his sister. "Your name may be Wagner, but you've got the heart of a true Szardos."
Looking up into the beaming faces of his foster siblings, young Kurt felt a warm, happy swell of pride rush over him. His big brother affectionately ruffled his tousled, indigo curls, then said, "Now, where was that great climbing tree you were telling me about this morning..." ]
The End