"You're going to need to remove your shirt."
"Excuse me?"
Storm put her hands on her hips, cocking a gentle eye at Kurt. "We'll put it this way; are you in pain?"
Kurt appeared to consider this for a moment. "Ja." He finally answered, a bit reluctantly, looking around the inside of the jet. A first aid kit lay next to him, it's contents – gauze, medical tape, disinfectant, Band-Aids, etc. – sprawled across the seat, as if it's owner had trifled through it at a leisurely pace, which she had, considering they were in no great danger at the moment.
The X-Jet, the X-Men, Magneto, Mystique, and Kurt were stationed in the middle of the deep, dark woods, the same woods Kurt had found himself flying toward earlier, the same one he had crash-landed in, a panicked Rogue clinging to his chest. After they had been found, de-treed, and drug back to the temporary base camp, both had been subjected to brief medical examines.
Rogue had passed with flying colors. Accelerated heart rate, for sure, and she was still in a slight state of shock, but other for a few bruises and a quick drink of water, she was fine. Kurt, on the other hand, winced whenever anybody got near his chest, and took quick, shuddering breathes every few seconds. He had waved the second offered examine away with a flick of his tail, ranting on about how the incredible Nightcrawler needed no help, and had limped away painfully. Since Jean was sorely needed in some secret meeting around the campfire, making all the younger mutants feel excluded, Storm had volunteered to give him the second medical examine. He was still putting up a fight. He didn't want his pride hurt after all the praise he had received for saving Rogue.
"And where does it hurt?" Storm asked.
Kurt stared down at his feet and drew in a rattling breath. "Mein chest," he muttered hesitantly.
Storm noticed the hesitation. "Not your chest?" She wondered. Slowly, Kurt shook his head. "Where?"
Kurt looked up from his feet and reached down, grabbing the edge of his shirt and pulling it up about half-way up his stomach. There was a small bump, a bugle that pressed against Kurt's blue skin, that stretched the tattoos he had engraved himself, with a smaller one just below it. Storm pursed her lips. The problem was instantly clear; Kurt had broken a few ribs when he had fallen into the tree and out of pure modesty and not wanting to be a burden, he had kept it a secret.
She nodded, running her fingers over the injury lightly. Kurt gasped and backed up against the wall, a pained expression plastered across his dark features. "Don't!" He whined, hand clasped over his side.
"Kurt, I've got to fix your ribs." Storm told him firmly. "Otherwise you might be in pain forever."
It sounded like such a daunting idea, having that sharp pain in his upper body forever, but Kurt wasn't entirely sure what would happen if he agreed to Storm allowing her to have her way with ihis/i body. He only had one, after all.
"Vat vill you do?" He asked, lowering his hand.
"I'll have to reset the bones," Storm explained. "And then wrap you up, in a manner of saying, to keep the bones in place. The usual, you could say."
"And zat's it?"
"Well…"
"Vell vat?!" Kurt asked in a panicky manner.
"Kurt, calm down. You're just going to cause yourself more pain." Storm said. "I was just going to say…" She glanced down at the small bump in Kurt's skin. "The bone's pressed pretty tightly against your skin. There's a chance that it might puncture the skin."
Kurt's expression hollowed and he gave a squeak. "Vat?"
"But, it's unlikely, don't worry! If you'd just stop moving, it'd lessen the risk, you know. Just…take off your shirt, and lie back, okay?"
Kurt didn't move.
"Are you iable/i to take your shirt off?"
Kurt didn't answer.
This was starting to get frustrating. Here Storm was, using up her free time when she could have been at the "meeting" to help Kurt out of the kindness of her heart, and he wasn't even willing to cooperate with her. But still…she couldn't help but understand. Kurt was a fragile, shy creature, shunned by most of society, living in an abandon church for she couldn't even guess how long, relying on the unspeaking voice of God to guide him through his troubles. And all of a sudden, along came a group of overly-friendly people willing to accept him without so much as a whim, offering him a home, a warm meal. It must have been a bit overwhelming for him.
Storm gave an agitated sigh and grabbed Kurt's shirt suddenly, pulling it up and yanking it off him quickly. Kurt flinched.
"Gah!" He gasped.
"Did that hurt?" Storm asked sarcastically, arms crossed against her chest. Kurt paused, and then shook his head vigorously.
"Um…am I interrupting anything? 'Cause if I am, I can come back…"
Bobby stood at the lowered gangplank to the X-Jet, looking a bit dumbfounded at what he had stumbled upon.
"No, no…Kurt's just being…stubborn." Storm said, eyeing the mutant in question impassively.
"Can I ask at what…?" Bobby asked remotely, eyebrow raised. "Or do I want to know?"
Storm frowned, her lips pressed together in a tight line. "Bobby!" She scolded.
"Just joking."
"Kurt broke a few ribs, that's all. Kurt, say hi to Bobby." Storm felt like she was dealing with a toddler with the way Kurt looked up at Bobby timidly, only raising his head up half-way so he was looking up at Bobby slightly like a puppy that just got hit on the snout with a newspaper.
"Guten tag." He said, his accent thick and obviously apparent.
Bobby waved back. "Hi, Kurt. Thanks for saving Rogue." He moved across the jet and picked up Rogue's discarded jacket hanging on the back of a chair. "She got cold." Bobby explained briefly. "Uh, bye then. Hope you feel better soon, Kurt."
Kurt's rattling intake of air drew Storm back to reality as she watched Bobby leave the jet.
"Well now that that's over…" Storm sighed. "Okay, Nightcrawler, just lay back, okay? Try and stay calm." Admittedly, Storm had had almost no medical training whatsoever, just the usual tips and tricks Jean had shown her while she helped down in the labs. Other then that, Storm was going by basic instinct and fact and every woman's maternal instinct. Carefully, she helped Kurt lean back on the cold metal seat. He gave small gasps every time his bare skin made contact with the cold metal and Storm couldn't blame his huffs of breath as he laid down.
Kurt gazed up at Storm, wondering just how much pain he would feel in a second. He felt he had burdened these people so much. He had tried to kill their President, he had commanded they leave him alone, and all they wanted to do was help him. There had to be some catch…
"Okay Kurt," Storm said. "Brace yourself, because this is going to hurt."
Kurt's stomach tightened. "How mu- AHH!" He wished Storm had warned him first; well, warned him a little better, like a countdown or something. But instead it just felt like she had suddenly punched him harshly where the broken ribs were, and now she was what, positioning the bones? It felt like she was attempting to kneed his skin into Play-Dough. The sharp pain shooting from his side made him squirm instinctively as he gawked blankly up at the ceiling, trying to get away from Storm's unexpectedly painful touch.
"Kurt, no, stop, stop squirming!" Oh, what an impression she must have been making for any nearby mutants listening in. "Kurt, you-need-to-stop-moving!" Storm grunted. "iKurt!/i You're doing to fall off the table if you don't stop!"
The solid smacking sound that resonated from Storm's hand making brutal contact with Kurt's face echoed around the mostly empty jet. Kurt made a small gasping noise, but then was quiet.
"iThank you./i" Storm said gratefully, giving Kurt's head a little pat. The rest of the procedure went without a hitch except for the occasional whine of pain and instinctive twitch from Kurt's part. After a few minutes of what felt like simply fiddling with Kurt's ribs Storm helped him sit upright.
The reaction was instant; Kurt could suddenly breathe a lot easier and without the jagged pain that hit him whenever he did. Mind you, he was still sore, and would probably have a good-sized bruise on his side, but at least the worst was over. Storm set about wrapping him up in thick gauze and when she was done she tied it off and taped it over with medical tape, just to be sure.
While Kurt greedily gulped at the chilly air coming in through the ramp of the X-Jet, Storm double-checked the bullet wound on Kurt's shoulder, cleaned it quickly with some disinfectant from the first-aid kit, and put a new pad of gauze over it, just to be safe.
She leaned back, observing her medical skills at work with pride, although she would probably never consider it as a serious hobby. "There, now that wasn't so bad, was it?"
Kurt observed Storm with one eye squinted half-way, a look which clearly said; "Are you kidding or are you just stupid?"
"Ah, maybe not. But do you feel better?"
"Ja, mein lieber. Danke." Kurt nodded thankfully. Storm wasn't entirely sure what he had said, but she would assume it was a 'thank you'.
"Um, good. And Kurt?"
"Yes?"
"Next time, aim for a softer tree."
"Any'sing for you, mein lieber." Kurt said cheekily, grinning.