Disclaimer: TPTB, though they do make good cartoons, tend to gloss over
a few things. I suppose they do it to make things easier, etc. but I
object. Hence, this fic, which covers a missing base. They own the
characters and setting, I own the words.
Archiving: email cat@devil.com and ask nice :) You can also send
comments here. I don't mind :)
Code-o-rama: *bla* - emphasis
_bla_ - italics or thought
{bla} - sound effect
And I don't 'do' accents unless someone's imitating them.
Author's Note: This is a fanfic sequel to _Middleverse_, which I've had
on my backburner for *far* too long. Some things just need to be
*solved*.
The Price
InterNutter
The car roared down the night-lit streets of Bayville, just another
set of teenagers heading for a wild party, hyped up about having fun. Or
so one would think, were one a casual observer.
A more formal observer would notice little oddities about *this* group
of teenagers. How the driver wore ruby-red sunglasses in the night time.
How one of the teenagers in the back was finishing off a large bottle of
milk as if his life depended on it. How another of the teenagers was
fiddling incessantly with his watch.
But there weren't any formal observers. There were hardly any casual
ones either.
Because when Duncan Matthews throws a party, he throws a *party*. His
simple solution to ettiquite was to invite just about everyone in
Bayville under the age of thirty (Freshmen excluded) and let the good
times roll.
Judging by the lights and the noise as the last stragglers pulled up,
this one was a forty-kegger. He'd even posted impromptu bouncers at the
door, so a queue had formed.
Scott, Jean, Kurt, Evan and Kitty hung around in the queue in a little
cluster, talking amongst themselves about the plan to get Kitty in.
"No way, Kurt! That's like, totally *gross*!"
"Trust me, Kitty, it's the best way to find out how much of a jerk he
really *is*."
"Like, the rule against freshmen doesn't like, clue you in?" Kitty
folded her arms.
Kurt made a face. "After running across some of your - ah - 'less
gifted' contemporaries, Katzchen? I can... kind of see the point."
"Jerk."
"Look, I'd rather not judge, okay? I barely know the dude, it's a good
excuse, and I can only take it as far as it needs to go, ja? The less I
have to take it, the less of a jerk he is."
"If you two have quite finished arguing?" Scott interrupted. "We're
nearly at the door. Remember, we've *got* to be careful in there."
"Yes, daddy," Kurt droned. "Don't brush up against people, Kurt; watch
where you put your feet, Kurt; Always get your own drinks, Kurt - and
that goes double for you, Kitty. Yaddah yaddah yaddah..."
"And watch out for 'E'," Kitty reminded.
"Are you still going on about that? The joke's wearing thin, guys." He
snorted in contempt. "You get points for continuity, but *really*...
Getting high off a letter of the alphabet? Come *on*... I'm smarter than
*that*."
"Whatever," said Jean, figuring that Kurt would find out in his own
time that Ecstacy was a real threat. "Just stay away from anything anyone
else tries to give you. And *don't* go up to the second floor. No matter
what."
"I like, *heard*," said Kitty. "Buncha jerks."
Duncan was part of the Jock Door Guard. "Summers, what did I say about
bringing Frosh?"
"Hey, come on," defended Kurt. "She's not a Frosh - she's my date."
"And I thought you were cool."
"Come on, be a pal. It's our first date... The only reason she said
yes was that I could get you to let her in. She won't bite."
"Freshmen are lame, especialy the chicks. She won't even dance with
you, pal - she'll probably just talk fashion for hours on end."
Kurt grinned. "That's where you're wrong, mein 'fruend'," only the X-
men heard the quotes. "She promised me more than dancing, if you get my
drift."
Kitty blushed, even though she *knew* Kurt was lying through his
pointy teeth.
Duncan grinned. "Let's pretend I don't."
"Well... what she *said* was..." murmur murmur murmur.
Scott, closer to the duo, started to turn pink.
"*Alright*! I *knew* you were cool. Listen, just in case she gets cold
on ya, slip a couple of these into her drink. Good luck."
The X-men herded into the party.
"Jerk," said Kurt, staring at a little baggie in his palm. "What the
heck are these? No-doze?"
Jean identified them first. "*Kurt*! Don't wave those around. Get rid
of them. *Now*."
"Omy*God*..." Evan's eyes bugged. "'E'... Duncan Matthews slipped you
some 'E'?"
"'E' is real?"
"Not so *loud*," cautioned Scott. "Just ditch them somewhere. Go."
"It's really *real*? Mein Gott... where can I--?"
"There's like, some potplants over there?" Kitty pointed.
Kurt tossed the little baggie in their direction, while making it look
like he was casually linking arms with his 'date'. "Katzchen? Leibe... I
think I owe you rather big." His other arm moved to wipe the memory of
Matthews' back-pat off of him.
At least they were all in.
Kurt was drawn to the buffet like a moth to a flame. He grabbed seven
slices of pizza, five burgers and a litre bottle of gatorade, devouring
them all, before he offered a plate to Kitty.
"Ew," she said, taking the clean plate. "Starve much?"
"Sorry," he engulfed another slice of pizza, using his plate as a
crumb-catcher more than a resting place for food. "I guess today ist
catching up mit me. Odd, that. I didn't feel hungry when I was in the
Middleverse..." He shrugged and siezed another burger and half a fried
chicken.
"Do you like, *ever* stop eating meat? Urgh..."
"I can't help it," Kurt defended, gnawing the marrow from what was
once a drumstick. "Mein metabolism is pitched way higher than yours. I
need a lot of energy." He shrugged.
"You *are* aware that you're like, totally maxing on the buffet,
aren't you?"
"I'm *hungry*. What do you expect?"
Kitty rolled her eyes and sighed as she picked at her salad. "Well,
since I'm your like 'date', I was kinda like, hoping for at least like,
*one* dance. Not that I'd like, dance with you for any other reason than
like, versimillitude."
"Vas?"
Sigh. "Pretense."
"Hey, I love this song!" Kurt crowed, seizing her wrist. "Let's
dance!" And with no more preamble, he dragged her out onto the floor.
Scott was enjoying the rare privalege of having a slice of pizza
unclaimed by the 'roving blue stomach'. Right up until Duncan Matthews
decided to talk to him.
"That little Frog pal of yours sure knows how to move, doesn't he?"
"What?" Scott stared at Matthews. "Who?"
"The foreign kid. I forget, is he a Frog, Spick, Polack or Ruskie?"
"*Kurt* is from *Germany*," Scott said rather pointedly.
"Ah. Nazi. Should'a guessed." Matthews pointed out a gyrating figure.
"All that kick-marching pays off or something."
Scott followed the gesture. Kurt was right in the middle of the dance
floor, eyes tight shut, grin as wide as his face and - this was the part
that made his heart leap - moving as if he were the only person on the
dance floor. He was missing touching people by *millimeters*.
"...hork..." One wrong move and they were *toast*.
Matthews, as ever, was completely ignorant. "And I thought all them
Nazis had a big pole up their butt. He's kinda cool. Why on *Earth* does
he hang out with *you*?"
"Maybe because I can remember his *name*, and what *country* he's
from. You know, little details like that."
The snipe failed to hit home. "Whatever. Maybe the little Kraut's too
dumb to know what cool *is*. Later, shades."
Scott counted to ten, only thinking about the number of extremely
bloody things he could do to Matthews. "Jerk," he muttered.
Jean returned to his side with two glasses of punch. "I caught that.
What'd Duncan do *now*?"
Scott told her.
"Jerk." She followed Scott's near-hypnotised gaze to the dance floor.
"So, enjoying the party, or just having fun pulling faces?"
Scott took the punch. "Am I that obvious?"
"I happen to think you have a cute flinch, but you can relax. Kurt
knows exactly where everyone is."
"He *does*?"
"Sure. It's tied to his power - he can feel a person's electromagnetic
aura. He can even see it, especially at night. How else do you think he
gets through the day without someone stepping on his tail?"
Scott twitched. "I swear... he does this just to *annoy* me."
"Just think of it as an object lesson. Kurt *is* fully capable of
looking after himself without you fretting over every detail. Deal."
"But--"
"He's a big boy."
"But--"
"He doesn't need a guardian."
"But--"
"Are you gonna dance with me or what?"
Scott grinned. "Okay."
Kurt was sweating by the end of the dance, puffing and blowing from
exhertion. But usually, dancing like that didn't bother him at all. He
was shaking as they came off the dance floor, like he'd been excercising
too much and all his muscles were protesting.
Kitty surrupticiously took his pulse while she hung onto his wrist,
following him through the maze of the crowd. It was going like a
jackhammer.
He took her straight to the buffet and ate four pizzas, five chickens,
two burgers and drank two litres of gatorade. He ate like he was totally
desperate for food.
"Like, are you okay?" Kitty snagged the last slice of vegetarian pizza
and continued to boggle at the way Kurt was stuffing his face. She
hadn't seen anything like this since he'd 'ported about fifty times in
the Danger room, and even then it had been milder than this. "You *can*
come up for air, y'know..."
"Sorry, Kitty. I'm *starving*..." he crammed a whole slice of pizza in
his mouth and chased it with about half a bottle of gatorade.
"Exhausted... Haven't felt this bad since the last time I tried to 'port
too... much... weight." A look of complete horror froze his face, and he
swallowed his latest mouthful, hard. "Oh, Gott... Kitty, you have to get
Jean and the others. *Now*. I gotta get out of here... back to the
Institute. I'll be waiting for you outside in the garden, away from
people. Go. Go!"
"Kurt... What--?"
"*GO*!" He shoved her. He actually shoved her - not in a rude way or
anything - but the shove was enough to get her scared. Kurt *never*
relied on force.
Kitty walked backwards, watching him load his pockets with gatorade
bottles, and then a couple of paper plates with enough calories to sink
a barge. He was still stuffing his face when she lost sight of him in
the crowd. She had to find Jean. Like, five minutes ago. _JEAN!_
_Ow... Not so loud, Kitty._
_Where are you guys? Something's up with Kurt._
_Stay there. I'm coming to you._
"Lost your date?"
Kitty followed the sudden hand on her shoulder up to Duncan Matthews.
It was easy to be swayed by that smile, but then Kitty remembered what
lie Kurt had to tell him to get her in. "No," she lied. "Like, hands
off."
Matthews smiled as he removed his hand. "Easy, now, Kitty. I just
wanted to offer you a glass of punch. You look kinda thirsty."
"I'm fine, thanks," Kitty tried to smile, but it wound up as more of a
grimace. She knew that the drink in Duncan's hand was likely laced with
enough drugs to have her in a coma for a week.
Kurt was very glad of the tree. It helped him stay upright as he
wolfed down what was left of the supplies he'd grabbed. His muscles were
twitching, making him shake as if he was in a freezer.
Had to stay conscious.
The gatorade was starting to taste funny. So did the food. Kurt looked
at it. Of course. He had to have a nosebleed whenever this sort of thing
happened. Kurt ate the last of the bloodied food and drank the tainted
gatorade anyway.
So tired...
He couldn't afford to pass out. Not here. Not now. Had to wait until
his friends came.
His heart was pounding like a jackhammer.
Kurt staunched the flow of blood with a napkin and tried to pop the
top off another gatorade. Only a few left. He hoped they were enough. He
sank the latest bottle in one go.
This was bad... this was *really* bad.
Why the hell did he have to try and 'port a whole damn *car*? Even if
it was a sports model, he should have known better.
But at the *time*, there hadn't been any time to think about such
things. Two lives were on the line.
He couldn't stop hyperventillating. It was like there wasn't enough
air in the world for him.
He felt so *heavy*...
Kurt sank another gatorade. Maybe if he sat down, he'd feel a little
better. His friends would still be able to find him. Out here, all
alone, he sort of stood out. Everyone else was partying. Or at least,
judging by the noises from the nearby shrubbery, something within ninety
degrees of partying.
The bottle in his hand was empty. Kurt dropped the thing and opened
another. He had to remember to *sip*, make the damn thing last. They
were litre bottles, for crying out loud, they aught to quench his
burning throat.
Too late, it was gone, too.
Only one left.
Kurt opened it without thinking, and swallowed half of it before he
needed to breathe again. Where were his friends? What was taking them so
long?
He tried to yell out, call for help, but all that came out was a weak
moan.
"Someone's out there," said the girl in the shrubbery.
Everything was so heavy. Maybe if he shut his eyes, just to rest them,
he could hang on for a little longer.
Kurt took one last swig of his gatorade before he could no longer hold
up his arms.
It tasted like blood.
"Bet you're looking for your friends, right? Well I think I saw Jean
headed upstairs. She said something about looking for you."
"I *said* buzz off, you *jerk*!"
"This guy bothering you?"
"Evan!" Kitty almost sighed with relief. "I think you saved his life.
I was like, *this* far from testing some of Wolverine's karate on him."
"Jerk," muttered Evan as he glared Matthews off. "I got Jean's SOS.
What's up?"
"Ex*cuse* us..." Jean sniped at a particularly oblivious teenager in
their way. "Okay. What's up with Kurt?"
Kitty proceeded to spill her story, during which the X-Men's faces
grew more and more worried.
"Hey!" Someone shouted over the general party noise. "Some kid's
collapsed in the garden! He's OD'd or something!"
There was a general exodus.
"Please tell me that isn't Kurt?" Scott begged.
"OmyGod... Someone *is* out there. Better not be whacking off on us."
"*Ew*... *Da*vid..."
"Yo! Jerk! Get'cher jollies somewhere else, willya?"
The figure sitting under the tree was completely motionless.
"Hey, asshole, I'm talking to you."
Nothing.
David emerged from the shrubbery and landed a boot in the shadowed
figure's side. "*MOVEIT*!" He bellowed.
The kid under the tree didn't even moan as he fell over. Now that he
was in the light, David could see the blood on his face, the horrible
pallor of his skin. There were gatorade bottles *everywhere*. No-one
could drink that many litre bottles of gatorade and not be *on*
something.
"Oh shit..." he whispered, backing off.
"Dave?" Jan was pulling her shirt down. "What's going --" she stared at
the red pool slowly gathering under the kid's head. Then she screamed.
"Stay there. I'll get help." David ran for the main dance floor, where
the most people were. Where there was a passing chance someone would
pick up a phone and dial 911. "Hey!" He screamed. "Hey! Some kid's
collapsed in the garden! He's OD'd or something!"
Apparently, in the Matthews party scene, OD'ing was a spectator sport.
Kids that had been dancing just a minute ago were clustered around a
tree and discussing the victim.
"Jeez, that's a lot of gatorade."
"Did he drink it *all*?"
"Greedy little Kraut must've taken all the eccies for himself..."
"Is he still alive?"
"Was he in a fight?"
"Is it normal to be breathing like that?"
"Look, you can see his pulse jumpin'. Lookit it..."
"Well, *you* can..."
"Oh God, he's still bleeding..."
"Blood? ...oooollp... IthinkI'mgonnabesick..."
"Who *is* that guy?"
"I dunno. He's pretty much the star at PE."
"Isn't that the exchange student?"
"Naw, it's the other foreign guy. Kurt whatsisname."
"Yeah, mister showoff on the uneven bars."
"Hey, did someone say he took some eccies? *COOL*!"
"Is there 'E' going around?"
"Is there 'E' going around?"
"Is there 'E' going around?"
"Must be bad shit, lookit him."
"I would if I could, you sonova--"
"Get away from him! Could you let me *through*?"
"Clear outta here. We're his friends."
"OmyGod. *Kurt*!"
"See? I told you his name was Kurt."
"Yo, who'd he get the 'E' off of?"
"Yeah, I wanna score!"
Scott stifled a snarl. "Give him some air," he ordered aloud, then
mumbled under his breath, "pack of mindless sheep..."
"Shit. He just stopped breathing."
"Call 911!"
"Call 911!"
"Call 911!"
"Someone call 911!"
"*JEAN*!"
She, too, dropped to the ground while Scott wrestled Kurt's body into
something resembling a comfortable position. "Right here."
"You breathe, I pump. C'mon, Kurt... don't do this to us. One. Two..."
Kitty's brain had gone on a nice holiday somewhere. It was nice and
pink and she didn't have to process the fact that Scott and Jean were
working to bring Kurt back from the dead.
Jean had blood on her mouth.
Kurt's blood.
Some kid was noisily sick in the background.
Some other kid was trying to pick her up.
"I'm sorry, what?"
It was Duncan Matthews. "You don't wanna hang out with that guy, do
ya? I mean, look at him. Stoned to death on 'Eve'..."
Someone punched Matthews out. Evan.
"He's hyperglycemic, you stupid *fuck*!"
Part of her brain kicked into gear. "Yeah! He'd never even *heard* of
'E' until *you* slipped him some - *Duncan* *Matthews*! *AND* he ditched
them at light speed! *Jerk*!"
"Hey, hear that! Matthews was handing out bad 'E'."
"Shit, no wonder that kid's in trouble..."
"Was he handing out bad 'E'?"
"Duncan Matthews *is* a jerk."
"*Now* I remember his name! Kurt Wagner!"
"Is he really hyperglycemic?"
"No wonder he eats as much as that Dukes guy."
"I got a pulse!" Jean crowed. "Now come on and breathe."
Scott stood up. "Get outta the way, damnit! We gotta get him out of
here."
Kurt coughed.
Kitty felt like yawping with glee. Alive. For however long it lasted.
His chest was going up and down like an overworked bellows. _Be all
right,_ she thought at him. _If you die, I'm gonna kill you..._
She followed from a distance, as if she were on the end of an
invisible string. All she could do was watch, concerned, as her friends
arranged Kurt in the back seat of Scott's car. She was numb. Not afraid,
not anything. It couldn't be real. It couldn't be happening.
Evan piled into the back, supporting Kurt's head and torso, babbling
at him, trying to get him to respond.
Kitty just slunk into her seat in a daze, staring at nothing.
"You're in shock," Jean announced, and strapped her into her seatbelt.
"It's gonna be okay, Kitty. The Professor knows what to do."
Scott layed rubber as he peeled away from the Matthews' place.
Blink. Someone had put a blanket around her and given her a hot
chocolate.
Kurt's favourite beverage.
She must have been staring at it for a while. Kitty couldn't remember
how long. The marshmallow had melted. It was pink.
Odd how little details could fill up the whole world, capture and
enrapture the mind.
Pink. Soft, sweet pink. All melted and shiny. Turning around and
around like a record. Only it was pink, and melted, and oh God, she was
crying. Kurt liked the pink marshmallows, too. He said they were sweeter
than the white ones.
"Drink it, Half-pint," Logan ordered. "You'll feel better."
She did. It was tepid. She didn't feel better at all.
The door to the hospital wing slid open. All faces turned towards it,
as if they were all hopeful little robots. Pavlov's mutants.
"He's in bad shape," murmured the Professor. "Kurt improved a little
when we put him on oxygen, but we still had to defibrilate him about
five times. I -- I touched his mind. He's fighting to stay with us."
Was that good news, or bad news? Was he ever going to lecture her on
the perfect cup of hot chocolate ever again?
"He needs energy," Kitty heard herself say. "He's like, running on
empty."
"That makes sense," sighed Ororo. "From what I've heard about today,
it's amazing he held out this long."
"The new formula in his nasogastric tube aught to help," said the
Professor. He sounded as dull as Kitty felt. He sighed. "He's stable, at
least. He's hanging on by a thread, but he's stable."
"Is he awake?" asked Evan.
"Can we see him?" said Scott.
The Professor looked so frail and helpless, slumped in his chair like
that. Didn't he know he was the strongest out of all of them? Didn't he
know that he was their anchor?
Kitty threw herself into the arms of the nearest person and started
crying her eyes out. It would only be later that she would realise that
she'd thrown herself at Logan.
"He's still unconscious," Storm began. She'd put a comforting hand on
the Professor's shoulder, and was using the gentle tones of Doctors
everywhere who were breaking bad news. "We've had to put in an IV as
well as the nasogastric tube in order to replace lost fluids and
minerals. He has - monitoring equipment all over his body."
If he had one of those machines that breathed for him in there, Kitty
was sure she'd start screaming. How could it happen? How could someone
be so alive one minute, and the next, dying on the ground? *Why* did it
happen?
Logan was holding her and patting her shoulder. "It's gonna be okay,
Half-pint. He's gonna get better."
He carried her in. Even though she was sort-of scared of Logan, she
felt safe when he held her.
Kurt wasn't half the mess she'd last seen him in. All the blood had
been cleaned away. He was breathing on his own. For that much, Kitty was
greatful.
He just looked like he was sleeping, even *with* all those tubes and
wires on him.
"Hey, Elf. Wake up," said Logan. "Show the Half-pint here that you're
okay."
Nothing. Why did she expect his to open his eyes on command? He was
really sick. The Professor had *said*.
Hanging on by a thread.
Well, she wasn't going to be the one who snapped it. "Yeah, come on.
You like, got me totally scared."
She only heard the _Sorry, Kitty,_ in her head. She was so used to
hearing it that she wanted his lips to move and say it, even when he was
unconscious.
She'd never complain about another 'Sorry, Kitty' as long as she
lived. All she had to do was hear it again, for real, from him.
Scott stepped forward and squeezed the hand that didn't have a tangle
of IV tubes in it. "Get better, Kurt," he said. "That's an order." His
voice broke on 'order', and he retreated behind Jean to wipe water from
his eyes.
Without a word, Kitty climbed down from Logan, pulled up a chair next
to Kurt, and very carefully laid her hand on his arm. "Please wake up?"
she asked.
He didn't. Sorry, Kitty.
Now she focussed on blue. Why *blue* fur? Why did it have to be so
soft? So beautiful to touch... it was like petting a cloud. Would that
annoy him, being petted? Kitty didn't know if he liked or hated being
touched.
There were tiny flecks of blood around the nasogastric tube. They
hadn't waited for the nosebleed to stop before they intubated him. They
just cleaned up the mess, after.
His face, usually so animated, was still.
She didn't know how long she stayed there, only that people came and
said things to her that didn't make sense.
"Dinner's ready, Half-pint," said Logan. "Come on. You can't help,
here."
"Not hungry," she lied. "I wanna stay."
"Elf's got a call button if he comes 'round."
"I'm staying."
Logan sighed, and physically picked her up. "No. You ain't. You're
eatin' dinner."
"Like, under *protest*!" Her kicks and punches had no effect. She
daren't phase in the hospital wing, lest she blow up something
important. She didn't want to eat, despite how her stomach growled.
Eating was like, some kind of betrayal.
Ororo had all her favourites out, ready for her. Cheaters. The lot of
them.
There was an empty place setting. For Kurt. If he woke up.
Everyone was eating like they weren't hungry, but weren't allowed to
leave until they'd cleaned their plate. The air of overall gloom hung
over them like a dark cloud. Everyone was worried and afraid.
The phone rang. Everyone left the answering machine to get it.
It was one of Kitty's friends, all hyped up because she'd heard that
Kitty had been able to get into Duncan Matthews' party. She wanted a
full report.
Kitty didn't feel like talking.
"Kitty, are you like, okay?" asked Stephanie. "I heard the whole
thing."
"Yeah," said Trish. "Like, it must totally *suck* to have your date
like, die on you."
"Kurt's not dead," said Kitty. "He just hasn't woken up."
"How much 'E' did he *take*?" asked Melanie. "Did he have to get his
stomach pumped?"
"'E'?" said Kitty. "He never touched it! Whoever told you that is
like, *lying*, okay? Kurt didn't even know what 'E' *was* until that
night. He ditched it at light speed."
"Like, omyGod..."
"That jerk Matthews like, *lied* to us."
"I've got half a mind to like, slip parmesan cheese in his locker."
"Ewwww..."
"Hey, c'mon. It like, *fits*."
"Shyah. A stink for the stinky."
"So what like, really happened?"
Kitty took a deep breath. She could handle this. She could. "Kurt's
hyperglycemic, and some jerk stole his lunch money, yesterday."
"Probably Matthews," growled Kylie.
"He like, went into sugar shock at the party, and because he'd been
like, dancing so hard? He like, got a nosebleed, too."
"Ow," whispered Gi. "I think I like, heard somewhere that like,
gatorade's like, *the* worst thing to take if you're like,
hyperglycemic."
"It's like, *worse* to take when you're in like, sugar shock," said
Kitty. "Kurt didn't know. The whole sports drink thing like, passed his
home town right by."
"Is he okay?"
Kitty sighed. "He's - stable."
There was a chorus of sympathetic moans.
"Don't worry, Kitty," said Kaitlin. "We'll like, totally spread the
truth around. Matthews and his like, filthy lies don't stand a like,
chance."
"Thanks," Kitty muttered. "But I don't think the truth is like, more
interesting than the fiction."
She did all right, holding herself together, until she passed by his
locker and completely failed to see the blue-haired German boy chowing
down on his obligatory breakfast burger from Gut Bomb. Her friends
herded her into the office and told the whole story, round-robin style,
to the secretary. They finished with a collective, "And that was when
she like, totally broke down."
Kitty spent another handful of hours in worried numbness. Ororo
collected her from school, chiding herself the entire time for letting
Kitty out of her sight. She should have known that the Freshman was in
no real shape to go to school.
"Is he ever going to wake up, Storm?"
Ororo sighed. "I don't know."
Kitty's heart fell when she saw Logan running towards the car. Ororo
stood on the brake, and Kitty phased out of the car, fearing the worst.
Logan was grinning. "Elf's awake," he said. "He's askin' for ya."
Blink.
Alive. She was holding his hand. He was holding it back. There were
still tubes and wires everywhere, but now his tail and his free hand
were absently fiddling with them. Alive. What a wonderful word.
"I never meant to scare you," he said. "For what it's worth, I was
scared, too. I'd never felt that bad in my *life*."
"I'm just glad you're back, fuzzy-elf. Like, don't do that again."
"Ich verspreche, fraulein."
"Uh..." Kitty was lost. "I like, know 'fraulein'..."
"I promise," he translated.
"*Good*." Kitty sighed. Everything was back to normal. She could
relax. Everything was going to be okay.
Kurt made up for lost eating-time at dinner *and* breakfast. People
previously amazed at his ability to pack away food were now completely
stunned.
Kitty was personally amazed that he didn't like, accidentally inhale
his fork. Well, he seemed happy enough. He wasn't eating as if some
invisible terrorist was holding a gun to his head. He was just -
*eating*.
His concession to manners was stifling a huge belch at the end of the
feast, and a murmured, "Pardon," before he bamfed off to get ready for
school.
"Things *should* be back to normal soon," said the Professor.
"Like, the sooner, the better."
It was good to be alive. Every day was a miracle, and so many people
ignored that fact. Kurt hummed to himself as he made his way towards his
locker, his friends by his side.
"Hey, hey! It's the dancing king!"
"Shake that booty, German-boy!"
"Look! It's the nosebleed guy!"
_Must be an American thing..._ Kurt smiled, because they were smiling,
and made a mental note to ask Kitty what was up, later. Or maybe Evan.
Evan had street cred.
"Woohooo! Partyboy!"
"Way to score!"
"Saw ya in the garden! Was that high, or *what*?"
"Yo, how was your date with 'Eve'? Haha!"
"Vas?" Kurt's smile was completely gone. What was this, Confuse The
Foreign Guy Day?
"Hey, partyboy! Way to pass out!"
"Hey, can you hook me up with whatever you were on?"
"Who gave you the eccies, dude?"
"Yeah, I wanna score too."
Kurt leaned over to Kitty Pryde. "Is it just me, or has everyone gone
insane?"
"For *some* reason," here, Kitty glared at Duncan Matthews. "Everyone
in the school's got the idea that you spend half your time drugged out
of your mind on 'E'."
The PA whistled into life. "Would Mr Kurt Wagner please report to the
office. *Now*."
"I guess that means *everyone* in the school." Kurt sighed. "I'm
doomed, aren't I?"
"Pretty much."
"Do me a favour? If they come to take me away - bail me out?" He waved
them a somewhat doubtful farewell and started the long walk up to the
Principal's office. A mixture of cheers and catcalls followed him the
whole way.
At least he had the proper cover story from Kitty and Evan, one the
Professor would back up in a cold second. Feeling charitable, Kurt
decided not to 'remember' the bullies who took his lunch money, the day
of the party. Best not to finger people for a crime they didn't commit,
or else they'd make sure they committed it. Threefold. With Flushings on
top.
Principal Darkholme was sitting on her desk. _Gott, Nein. *Anything*
but her, I'm-here-to-help-you mode. She's *scary* when she does that!_
"Ah, Mister Wagner."
"Vaugner," Kurt corrected, almost absently.
"Now Kurt, I understand that there was a little - problem - involving
some controlled substances, the night before last."
Kurt sighed. "Not you, too..." he slumped in the Supplicant's chair.
"I didn't even *touch* them."
"That's not what Mister Matthews says."
"Das ist because Herr Matthews is covering his own ass," Kurt
protested, perhaps a little too vehemently. "He was handing the verdammt
things out like they were candy! Party favours!" Kurt took a breath,
noting Darkholme's expression. "You're not believing a word of this, are
you?"
"Mister Duncan Matthews is our star quarterback. *You*, Mister
Wagner--"
"Vaugner," murmured Kurt, unheard.
"--are little more than a frequently tardy trouble-maker with a list of
offenses - albeit minor - as long as my arm. Considering your record,
it's only a matter of time before you get into the serious offenses."
"I passed out because of sugar shock," said Kurt, tired of losing the
battle. "You can ask the Professor. They did tests."
Darkholme wasn't listening. "I've set up an appointment for you with
the school counsellor, Mister Keen. Three doors down the hall, that way.
If I hear that you missed the appointment, you'll find yourself talking
to the police. Have I made myself clear?"
"Crystal." Kurt slouched out of her office and stomped to the
counsellor. There was, when he looked at it, nothing he could really do,
save keep repeating the 'truth' as it stood and hope that someone would
listen. The real truth, that he'd collapsed as a direct result of
overstraining his power, would not go over too terribly well. Plus, the
Professor would ground him.
Mr Keen was the sort of person who always showed up in one's short-
term memory wearing a tweed jacket, whether he was in one or not. He had
a pencil moustache and a coached voice designed to be quiet and
unintimidating.
"Ah, Mister Vaugner," said the counsellor. "I'm Mister Kian, but you
can call me Tom, if that's a little formal for you, m'kay?"
"Er. I must have the wrong office. I was sent to Herr Keen?"
Kian winced. "Ms Darkholme's a wonderful person, m'kay; truly, but she
does have a wee little bit of a blind spot when it comes to
pronunciation. One typo gets indellibly burned into her brain, m'kay?"
"You too?"
"Yyyesss... Have a seat. Tell me about your problem, m'kay?"
Kurt shrugged as he sat. _Oh well..._ "I'm hyperglycemic."
Kian raised an eyebrow. Then he looked at his appointment book. "Kurt
Vaugner, from Germany. Says you're here for a suspected *drug* problem,
m'kay?"
"Nein. The hardest thing I've ever taken ist the communal wine in
church. The *problem* ist that Herr Matthews ist telling everyone I OD'd
at his party when I *really* collapsed from sugar shock."
"Sugar shock," Kian repeated.
"Ja. I never thought I was that bad until I realised what was
happening. One missed lunch and *pow*--" he clapped to demonstrate his
point, "--down I go. It was very frightening, I can tell you."
"M'*kaaaayyyy*... So. Why was Mister Matthews saying that he saw you
with a little bag of pills?"
"Because the Arschgesicht was giving them away. I had to do a little
creative lying in order to get mein freshman friend in, you see, and he
handed me the pills in a little baggie."
"Mmmn-hmmm..."
"He said I should put them in her drink if she - what was the phrase?
'Got cold on me'. The man ist ein Drecksau. *Really*."
"And what did you *do* with the baggie?"
"Soon as I realised what was in it? I tossed it at some pot plants -
the decorative sort - as fast as I could!"
"You weren't even tempted to try just one?"
Kurt glared at him. "Are you *nuts*?"
Kian smiled. "I'll take that as a 'no', m'kay. A very wise choice for
someone your age. You see, 'cause drugs are bad, m'kay? Especially the
newer ones, because you never know what they put in them..."
Kurt sighed. He was obviously not going to get out of here without the
'drugs are bad' lecture. _Just nod and smile. Try not to space out.
Nod... and smile._
It was recess by the time he got out. Matthews was more-or-less
waiting for him.
"What'd you tell 'em?"
"The truth. Not that it has any *impact* around here. Congratulations,
you're enough of a jock to get away scott free."
"I *knew* you were cool!"
Kurt didn't even look at him as he muttered, "Mach es dir selber,
Arschloch." Further down the hallway, out of his hearing range, he
added, "Jerk."
Kitty was just around the corner. "So it's official, huh? The whole
school - minus like, the brainless sheep who are like, his fan club -
thinks Duncan Matthews is a jerk."
"I'm pretty sure the whole school *knows* it," said Kurt. "But he's
good for getting the school money, so nobody cares."
"Relax. He's like, one year away from being like, a freshman in
college."
"This ist supposed to cheer me up how?"
"Matthews like, *hates* freshmen. He thinks they're like, the scum of
the Earth."
Kurt grinned. Then he laughed. A very *evil* laugh. Jerks may have the
right of way, but time caught up with them. It always did.
~Fin~
a few things. I suppose they do it to make things easier, etc. but I
object. Hence, this fic, which covers a missing base. They own the
characters and setting, I own the words.
Archiving: email cat@devil.com and ask nice :) You can also send
comments here. I don't mind :)
Code-o-rama: *bla* - emphasis
_bla_ - italics or thought
{bla} - sound effect
And I don't 'do' accents unless someone's imitating them.
Author's Note: This is a fanfic sequel to _Middleverse_, which I've had
on my backburner for *far* too long. Some things just need to be
*solved*.
The Price
InterNutter
The car roared down the night-lit streets of Bayville, just another
set of teenagers heading for a wild party, hyped up about having fun. Or
so one would think, were one a casual observer.
A more formal observer would notice little oddities about *this* group
of teenagers. How the driver wore ruby-red sunglasses in the night time.
How one of the teenagers in the back was finishing off a large bottle of
milk as if his life depended on it. How another of the teenagers was
fiddling incessantly with his watch.
But there weren't any formal observers. There were hardly any casual
ones either.
Because when Duncan Matthews throws a party, he throws a *party*. His
simple solution to ettiquite was to invite just about everyone in
Bayville under the age of thirty (Freshmen excluded) and let the good
times roll.
Judging by the lights and the noise as the last stragglers pulled up,
this one was a forty-kegger. He'd even posted impromptu bouncers at the
door, so a queue had formed.
Scott, Jean, Kurt, Evan and Kitty hung around in the queue in a little
cluster, talking amongst themselves about the plan to get Kitty in.
"No way, Kurt! That's like, totally *gross*!"
"Trust me, Kitty, it's the best way to find out how much of a jerk he
really *is*."
"Like, the rule against freshmen doesn't like, clue you in?" Kitty
folded her arms.
Kurt made a face. "After running across some of your - ah - 'less
gifted' contemporaries, Katzchen? I can... kind of see the point."
"Jerk."
"Look, I'd rather not judge, okay? I barely know the dude, it's a good
excuse, and I can only take it as far as it needs to go, ja? The less I
have to take it, the less of a jerk he is."
"If you two have quite finished arguing?" Scott interrupted. "We're
nearly at the door. Remember, we've *got* to be careful in there."
"Yes, daddy," Kurt droned. "Don't brush up against people, Kurt; watch
where you put your feet, Kurt; Always get your own drinks, Kurt - and
that goes double for you, Kitty. Yaddah yaddah yaddah..."
"And watch out for 'E'," Kitty reminded.
"Are you still going on about that? The joke's wearing thin, guys." He
snorted in contempt. "You get points for continuity, but *really*...
Getting high off a letter of the alphabet? Come *on*... I'm smarter than
*that*."
"Whatever," said Jean, figuring that Kurt would find out in his own
time that Ecstacy was a real threat. "Just stay away from anything anyone
else tries to give you. And *don't* go up to the second floor. No matter
what."
"I like, *heard*," said Kitty. "Buncha jerks."
Duncan was part of the Jock Door Guard. "Summers, what did I say about
bringing Frosh?"
"Hey, come on," defended Kurt. "She's not a Frosh - she's my date."
"And I thought you were cool."
"Come on, be a pal. It's our first date... The only reason she said
yes was that I could get you to let her in. She won't bite."
"Freshmen are lame, especialy the chicks. She won't even dance with
you, pal - she'll probably just talk fashion for hours on end."
Kurt grinned. "That's where you're wrong, mein 'fruend'," only the X-
men heard the quotes. "She promised me more than dancing, if you get my
drift."
Kitty blushed, even though she *knew* Kurt was lying through his
pointy teeth.
Duncan grinned. "Let's pretend I don't."
"Well... what she *said* was..." murmur murmur murmur.
Scott, closer to the duo, started to turn pink.
"*Alright*! I *knew* you were cool. Listen, just in case she gets cold
on ya, slip a couple of these into her drink. Good luck."
The X-men herded into the party.
"Jerk," said Kurt, staring at a little baggie in his palm. "What the
heck are these? No-doze?"
Jean identified them first. "*Kurt*! Don't wave those around. Get rid
of them. *Now*."
"Omy*God*..." Evan's eyes bugged. "'E'... Duncan Matthews slipped you
some 'E'?"
"'E' is real?"
"Not so *loud*," cautioned Scott. "Just ditch them somewhere. Go."
"It's really *real*? Mein Gott... where can I--?"
"There's like, some potplants over there?" Kitty pointed.
Kurt tossed the little baggie in their direction, while making it look
like he was casually linking arms with his 'date'. "Katzchen? Leibe... I
think I owe you rather big." His other arm moved to wipe the memory of
Matthews' back-pat off of him.
At least they were all in.
Kurt was drawn to the buffet like a moth to a flame. He grabbed seven
slices of pizza, five burgers and a litre bottle of gatorade, devouring
them all, before he offered a plate to Kitty.
"Ew," she said, taking the clean plate. "Starve much?"
"Sorry," he engulfed another slice of pizza, using his plate as a
crumb-catcher more than a resting place for food. "I guess today ist
catching up mit me. Odd, that. I didn't feel hungry when I was in the
Middleverse..." He shrugged and siezed another burger and half a fried
chicken.
"Do you like, *ever* stop eating meat? Urgh..."
"I can't help it," Kurt defended, gnawing the marrow from what was
once a drumstick. "Mein metabolism is pitched way higher than yours. I
need a lot of energy." He shrugged.
"You *are* aware that you're like, totally maxing on the buffet,
aren't you?"
"I'm *hungry*. What do you expect?"
Kitty rolled her eyes and sighed as she picked at her salad. "Well,
since I'm your like 'date', I was kinda like, hoping for at least like,
*one* dance. Not that I'd like, dance with you for any other reason than
like, versimillitude."
"Vas?"
Sigh. "Pretense."
"Hey, I love this song!" Kurt crowed, seizing her wrist. "Let's
dance!" And with no more preamble, he dragged her out onto the floor.
Scott was enjoying the rare privalege of having a slice of pizza
unclaimed by the 'roving blue stomach'. Right up until Duncan Matthews
decided to talk to him.
"That little Frog pal of yours sure knows how to move, doesn't he?"
"What?" Scott stared at Matthews. "Who?"
"The foreign kid. I forget, is he a Frog, Spick, Polack or Ruskie?"
"*Kurt* is from *Germany*," Scott said rather pointedly.
"Ah. Nazi. Should'a guessed." Matthews pointed out a gyrating figure.
"All that kick-marching pays off or something."
Scott followed the gesture. Kurt was right in the middle of the dance
floor, eyes tight shut, grin as wide as his face and - this was the part
that made his heart leap - moving as if he were the only person on the
dance floor. He was missing touching people by *millimeters*.
"...hork..." One wrong move and they were *toast*.
Matthews, as ever, was completely ignorant. "And I thought all them
Nazis had a big pole up their butt. He's kinda cool. Why on *Earth* does
he hang out with *you*?"
"Maybe because I can remember his *name*, and what *country* he's
from. You know, little details like that."
The snipe failed to hit home. "Whatever. Maybe the little Kraut's too
dumb to know what cool *is*. Later, shades."
Scott counted to ten, only thinking about the number of extremely
bloody things he could do to Matthews. "Jerk," he muttered.
Jean returned to his side with two glasses of punch. "I caught that.
What'd Duncan do *now*?"
Scott told her.
"Jerk." She followed Scott's near-hypnotised gaze to the dance floor.
"So, enjoying the party, or just having fun pulling faces?"
Scott took the punch. "Am I that obvious?"
"I happen to think you have a cute flinch, but you can relax. Kurt
knows exactly where everyone is."
"He *does*?"
"Sure. It's tied to his power - he can feel a person's electromagnetic
aura. He can even see it, especially at night. How else do you think he
gets through the day without someone stepping on his tail?"
Scott twitched. "I swear... he does this just to *annoy* me."
"Just think of it as an object lesson. Kurt *is* fully capable of
looking after himself without you fretting over every detail. Deal."
"But--"
"He's a big boy."
"But--"
"He doesn't need a guardian."
"But--"
"Are you gonna dance with me or what?"
Scott grinned. "Okay."
Kurt was sweating by the end of the dance, puffing and blowing from
exhertion. But usually, dancing like that didn't bother him at all. He
was shaking as they came off the dance floor, like he'd been excercising
too much and all his muscles were protesting.
Kitty surrupticiously took his pulse while she hung onto his wrist,
following him through the maze of the crowd. It was going like a
jackhammer.
He took her straight to the buffet and ate four pizzas, five chickens,
two burgers and drank two litres of gatorade. He ate like he was totally
desperate for food.
"Like, are you okay?" Kitty snagged the last slice of vegetarian pizza
and continued to boggle at the way Kurt was stuffing his face. She
hadn't seen anything like this since he'd 'ported about fifty times in
the Danger room, and even then it had been milder than this. "You *can*
come up for air, y'know..."
"Sorry, Kitty. I'm *starving*..." he crammed a whole slice of pizza in
his mouth and chased it with about half a bottle of gatorade.
"Exhausted... Haven't felt this bad since the last time I tried to 'port
too... much... weight." A look of complete horror froze his face, and he
swallowed his latest mouthful, hard. "Oh, Gott... Kitty, you have to get
Jean and the others. *Now*. I gotta get out of here... back to the
Institute. I'll be waiting for you outside in the garden, away from
people. Go. Go!"
"Kurt... What--?"
"*GO*!" He shoved her. He actually shoved her - not in a rude way or
anything - but the shove was enough to get her scared. Kurt *never*
relied on force.
Kitty walked backwards, watching him load his pockets with gatorade
bottles, and then a couple of paper plates with enough calories to sink
a barge. He was still stuffing his face when she lost sight of him in
the crowd. She had to find Jean. Like, five minutes ago. _JEAN!_
_Ow... Not so loud, Kitty._
_Where are you guys? Something's up with Kurt._
_Stay there. I'm coming to you._
"Lost your date?"
Kitty followed the sudden hand on her shoulder up to Duncan Matthews.
It was easy to be swayed by that smile, but then Kitty remembered what
lie Kurt had to tell him to get her in. "No," she lied. "Like, hands
off."
Matthews smiled as he removed his hand. "Easy, now, Kitty. I just
wanted to offer you a glass of punch. You look kinda thirsty."
"I'm fine, thanks," Kitty tried to smile, but it wound up as more of a
grimace. She knew that the drink in Duncan's hand was likely laced with
enough drugs to have her in a coma for a week.
Kurt was very glad of the tree. It helped him stay upright as he
wolfed down what was left of the supplies he'd grabbed. His muscles were
twitching, making him shake as if he was in a freezer.
Had to stay conscious.
The gatorade was starting to taste funny. So did the food. Kurt looked
at it. Of course. He had to have a nosebleed whenever this sort of thing
happened. Kurt ate the last of the bloodied food and drank the tainted
gatorade anyway.
So tired...
He couldn't afford to pass out. Not here. Not now. Had to wait until
his friends came.
His heart was pounding like a jackhammer.
Kurt staunched the flow of blood with a napkin and tried to pop the
top off another gatorade. Only a few left. He hoped they were enough. He
sank the latest bottle in one go.
This was bad... this was *really* bad.
Why the hell did he have to try and 'port a whole damn *car*? Even if
it was a sports model, he should have known better.
But at the *time*, there hadn't been any time to think about such
things. Two lives were on the line.
He couldn't stop hyperventillating. It was like there wasn't enough
air in the world for him.
He felt so *heavy*...
Kurt sank another gatorade. Maybe if he sat down, he'd feel a little
better. His friends would still be able to find him. Out here, all
alone, he sort of stood out. Everyone else was partying. Or at least,
judging by the noises from the nearby shrubbery, something within ninety
degrees of partying.
The bottle in his hand was empty. Kurt dropped the thing and opened
another. He had to remember to *sip*, make the damn thing last. They
were litre bottles, for crying out loud, they aught to quench his
burning throat.
Too late, it was gone, too.
Only one left.
Kurt opened it without thinking, and swallowed half of it before he
needed to breathe again. Where were his friends? What was taking them so
long?
He tried to yell out, call for help, but all that came out was a weak
moan.
"Someone's out there," said the girl in the shrubbery.
Everything was so heavy. Maybe if he shut his eyes, just to rest them,
he could hang on for a little longer.
Kurt took one last swig of his gatorade before he could no longer hold
up his arms.
It tasted like blood.
"Bet you're looking for your friends, right? Well I think I saw Jean
headed upstairs. She said something about looking for you."
"I *said* buzz off, you *jerk*!"
"This guy bothering you?"
"Evan!" Kitty almost sighed with relief. "I think you saved his life.
I was like, *this* far from testing some of Wolverine's karate on him."
"Jerk," muttered Evan as he glared Matthews off. "I got Jean's SOS.
What's up?"
"Ex*cuse* us..." Jean sniped at a particularly oblivious teenager in
their way. "Okay. What's up with Kurt?"
Kitty proceeded to spill her story, during which the X-Men's faces
grew more and more worried.
"Hey!" Someone shouted over the general party noise. "Some kid's
collapsed in the garden! He's OD'd or something!"
There was a general exodus.
"Please tell me that isn't Kurt?" Scott begged.
"OmyGod... Someone *is* out there. Better not be whacking off on us."
"*Ew*... *Da*vid..."
"Yo! Jerk! Get'cher jollies somewhere else, willya?"
The figure sitting under the tree was completely motionless.
"Hey, asshole, I'm talking to you."
Nothing.
David emerged from the shrubbery and landed a boot in the shadowed
figure's side. "*MOVEIT*!" He bellowed.
The kid under the tree didn't even moan as he fell over. Now that he
was in the light, David could see the blood on his face, the horrible
pallor of his skin. There were gatorade bottles *everywhere*. No-one
could drink that many litre bottles of gatorade and not be *on*
something.
"Oh shit..." he whispered, backing off.
"Dave?" Jan was pulling her shirt down. "What's going --" she stared at
the red pool slowly gathering under the kid's head. Then she screamed.
"Stay there. I'll get help." David ran for the main dance floor, where
the most people were. Where there was a passing chance someone would
pick up a phone and dial 911. "Hey!" He screamed. "Hey! Some kid's
collapsed in the garden! He's OD'd or something!"
Apparently, in the Matthews party scene, OD'ing was a spectator sport.
Kids that had been dancing just a minute ago were clustered around a
tree and discussing the victim.
"Jeez, that's a lot of gatorade."
"Did he drink it *all*?"
"Greedy little Kraut must've taken all the eccies for himself..."
"Is he still alive?"
"Was he in a fight?"
"Is it normal to be breathing like that?"
"Look, you can see his pulse jumpin'. Lookit it..."
"Well, *you* can..."
"Oh God, he's still bleeding..."
"Blood? ...oooollp... IthinkI'mgonnabesick..."
"Who *is* that guy?"
"I dunno. He's pretty much the star at PE."
"Isn't that the exchange student?"
"Naw, it's the other foreign guy. Kurt whatsisname."
"Yeah, mister showoff on the uneven bars."
"Hey, did someone say he took some eccies? *COOL*!"
"Is there 'E' going around?"
"Is there 'E' going around?"
"Is there 'E' going around?"
"Must be bad shit, lookit him."
"I would if I could, you sonova--"
"Get away from him! Could you let me *through*?"
"Clear outta here. We're his friends."
"OmyGod. *Kurt*!"
"See? I told you his name was Kurt."
"Yo, who'd he get the 'E' off of?"
"Yeah, I wanna score!"
Scott stifled a snarl. "Give him some air," he ordered aloud, then
mumbled under his breath, "pack of mindless sheep..."
"Shit. He just stopped breathing."
"Call 911!"
"Call 911!"
"Call 911!"
"Someone call 911!"
"*JEAN*!"
She, too, dropped to the ground while Scott wrestled Kurt's body into
something resembling a comfortable position. "Right here."
"You breathe, I pump. C'mon, Kurt... don't do this to us. One. Two..."
Kitty's brain had gone on a nice holiday somewhere. It was nice and
pink and she didn't have to process the fact that Scott and Jean were
working to bring Kurt back from the dead.
Jean had blood on her mouth.
Kurt's blood.
Some kid was noisily sick in the background.
Some other kid was trying to pick her up.
"I'm sorry, what?"
It was Duncan Matthews. "You don't wanna hang out with that guy, do
ya? I mean, look at him. Stoned to death on 'Eve'..."
Someone punched Matthews out. Evan.
"He's hyperglycemic, you stupid *fuck*!"
Part of her brain kicked into gear. "Yeah! He'd never even *heard* of
'E' until *you* slipped him some - *Duncan* *Matthews*! *AND* he ditched
them at light speed! *Jerk*!"
"Hey, hear that! Matthews was handing out bad 'E'."
"Shit, no wonder that kid's in trouble..."
"Was he handing out bad 'E'?"
"Duncan Matthews *is* a jerk."
"*Now* I remember his name! Kurt Wagner!"
"Is he really hyperglycemic?"
"No wonder he eats as much as that Dukes guy."
"I got a pulse!" Jean crowed. "Now come on and breathe."
Scott stood up. "Get outta the way, damnit! We gotta get him out of
here."
Kurt coughed.
Kitty felt like yawping with glee. Alive. For however long it lasted.
His chest was going up and down like an overworked bellows. _Be all
right,_ she thought at him. _If you die, I'm gonna kill you..._
She followed from a distance, as if she were on the end of an
invisible string. All she could do was watch, concerned, as her friends
arranged Kurt in the back seat of Scott's car. She was numb. Not afraid,
not anything. It couldn't be real. It couldn't be happening.
Evan piled into the back, supporting Kurt's head and torso, babbling
at him, trying to get him to respond.
Kitty just slunk into her seat in a daze, staring at nothing.
"You're in shock," Jean announced, and strapped her into her seatbelt.
"It's gonna be okay, Kitty. The Professor knows what to do."
Scott layed rubber as he peeled away from the Matthews' place.
Blink. Someone had put a blanket around her and given her a hot
chocolate.
Kurt's favourite beverage.
She must have been staring at it for a while. Kitty couldn't remember
how long. The marshmallow had melted. It was pink.
Odd how little details could fill up the whole world, capture and
enrapture the mind.
Pink. Soft, sweet pink. All melted and shiny. Turning around and
around like a record. Only it was pink, and melted, and oh God, she was
crying. Kurt liked the pink marshmallows, too. He said they were sweeter
than the white ones.
"Drink it, Half-pint," Logan ordered. "You'll feel better."
She did. It was tepid. She didn't feel better at all.
The door to the hospital wing slid open. All faces turned towards it,
as if they were all hopeful little robots. Pavlov's mutants.
"He's in bad shape," murmured the Professor. "Kurt improved a little
when we put him on oxygen, but we still had to defibrilate him about
five times. I -- I touched his mind. He's fighting to stay with us."
Was that good news, or bad news? Was he ever going to lecture her on
the perfect cup of hot chocolate ever again?
"He needs energy," Kitty heard herself say. "He's like, running on
empty."
"That makes sense," sighed Ororo. "From what I've heard about today,
it's amazing he held out this long."
"The new formula in his nasogastric tube aught to help," said the
Professor. He sounded as dull as Kitty felt. He sighed. "He's stable, at
least. He's hanging on by a thread, but he's stable."
"Is he awake?" asked Evan.
"Can we see him?" said Scott.
The Professor looked so frail and helpless, slumped in his chair like
that. Didn't he know he was the strongest out of all of them? Didn't he
know that he was their anchor?
Kitty threw herself into the arms of the nearest person and started
crying her eyes out. It would only be later that she would realise that
she'd thrown herself at Logan.
"He's still unconscious," Storm began. She'd put a comforting hand on
the Professor's shoulder, and was using the gentle tones of Doctors
everywhere who were breaking bad news. "We've had to put in an IV as
well as the nasogastric tube in order to replace lost fluids and
minerals. He has - monitoring equipment all over his body."
If he had one of those machines that breathed for him in there, Kitty
was sure she'd start screaming. How could it happen? How could someone
be so alive one minute, and the next, dying on the ground? *Why* did it
happen?
Logan was holding her and patting her shoulder. "It's gonna be okay,
Half-pint. He's gonna get better."
He carried her in. Even though she was sort-of scared of Logan, she
felt safe when he held her.
Kurt wasn't half the mess she'd last seen him in. All the blood had
been cleaned away. He was breathing on his own. For that much, Kitty was
greatful.
He just looked like he was sleeping, even *with* all those tubes and
wires on him.
"Hey, Elf. Wake up," said Logan. "Show the Half-pint here that you're
okay."
Nothing. Why did she expect his to open his eyes on command? He was
really sick. The Professor had *said*.
Hanging on by a thread.
Well, she wasn't going to be the one who snapped it. "Yeah, come on.
You like, got me totally scared."
She only heard the _Sorry, Kitty,_ in her head. She was so used to
hearing it that she wanted his lips to move and say it, even when he was
unconscious.
She'd never complain about another 'Sorry, Kitty' as long as she
lived. All she had to do was hear it again, for real, from him.
Scott stepped forward and squeezed the hand that didn't have a tangle
of IV tubes in it. "Get better, Kurt," he said. "That's an order." His
voice broke on 'order', and he retreated behind Jean to wipe water from
his eyes.
Without a word, Kitty climbed down from Logan, pulled up a chair next
to Kurt, and very carefully laid her hand on his arm. "Please wake up?"
she asked.
He didn't. Sorry, Kitty.
Now she focussed on blue. Why *blue* fur? Why did it have to be so
soft? So beautiful to touch... it was like petting a cloud. Would that
annoy him, being petted? Kitty didn't know if he liked or hated being
touched.
There were tiny flecks of blood around the nasogastric tube. They
hadn't waited for the nosebleed to stop before they intubated him. They
just cleaned up the mess, after.
His face, usually so animated, was still.
She didn't know how long she stayed there, only that people came and
said things to her that didn't make sense.
"Dinner's ready, Half-pint," said Logan. "Come on. You can't help,
here."
"Not hungry," she lied. "I wanna stay."
"Elf's got a call button if he comes 'round."
"I'm staying."
Logan sighed, and physically picked her up. "No. You ain't. You're
eatin' dinner."
"Like, under *protest*!" Her kicks and punches had no effect. She
daren't phase in the hospital wing, lest she blow up something
important. She didn't want to eat, despite how her stomach growled.
Eating was like, some kind of betrayal.
Ororo had all her favourites out, ready for her. Cheaters. The lot of
them.
There was an empty place setting. For Kurt. If he woke up.
Everyone was eating like they weren't hungry, but weren't allowed to
leave until they'd cleaned their plate. The air of overall gloom hung
over them like a dark cloud. Everyone was worried and afraid.
The phone rang. Everyone left the answering machine to get it.
It was one of Kitty's friends, all hyped up because she'd heard that
Kitty had been able to get into Duncan Matthews' party. She wanted a
full report.
Kitty didn't feel like talking.
"Kitty, are you like, okay?" asked Stephanie. "I heard the whole
thing."
"Yeah," said Trish. "Like, it must totally *suck* to have your date
like, die on you."
"Kurt's not dead," said Kitty. "He just hasn't woken up."
"How much 'E' did he *take*?" asked Melanie. "Did he have to get his
stomach pumped?"
"'E'?" said Kitty. "He never touched it! Whoever told you that is
like, *lying*, okay? Kurt didn't even know what 'E' *was* until that
night. He ditched it at light speed."
"Like, omyGod..."
"That jerk Matthews like, *lied* to us."
"I've got half a mind to like, slip parmesan cheese in his locker."
"Ewwww..."
"Hey, c'mon. It like, *fits*."
"Shyah. A stink for the stinky."
"So what like, really happened?"
Kitty took a deep breath. She could handle this. She could. "Kurt's
hyperglycemic, and some jerk stole his lunch money, yesterday."
"Probably Matthews," growled Kylie.
"He like, went into sugar shock at the party, and because he'd been
like, dancing so hard? He like, got a nosebleed, too."
"Ow," whispered Gi. "I think I like, heard somewhere that like,
gatorade's like, *the* worst thing to take if you're like,
hyperglycemic."
"It's like, *worse* to take when you're in like, sugar shock," said
Kitty. "Kurt didn't know. The whole sports drink thing like, passed his
home town right by."
"Is he okay?"
Kitty sighed. "He's - stable."
There was a chorus of sympathetic moans.
"Don't worry, Kitty," said Kaitlin. "We'll like, totally spread the
truth around. Matthews and his like, filthy lies don't stand a like,
chance."
"Thanks," Kitty muttered. "But I don't think the truth is like, more
interesting than the fiction."
She did all right, holding herself together, until she passed by his
locker and completely failed to see the blue-haired German boy chowing
down on his obligatory breakfast burger from Gut Bomb. Her friends
herded her into the office and told the whole story, round-robin style,
to the secretary. They finished with a collective, "And that was when
she like, totally broke down."
Kitty spent another handful of hours in worried numbness. Ororo
collected her from school, chiding herself the entire time for letting
Kitty out of her sight. She should have known that the Freshman was in
no real shape to go to school.
"Is he ever going to wake up, Storm?"
Ororo sighed. "I don't know."
Kitty's heart fell when she saw Logan running towards the car. Ororo
stood on the brake, and Kitty phased out of the car, fearing the worst.
Logan was grinning. "Elf's awake," he said. "He's askin' for ya."
Blink.
Alive. She was holding his hand. He was holding it back. There were
still tubes and wires everywhere, but now his tail and his free hand
were absently fiddling with them. Alive. What a wonderful word.
"I never meant to scare you," he said. "For what it's worth, I was
scared, too. I'd never felt that bad in my *life*."
"I'm just glad you're back, fuzzy-elf. Like, don't do that again."
"Ich verspreche, fraulein."
"Uh..." Kitty was lost. "I like, know 'fraulein'..."
"I promise," he translated.
"*Good*." Kitty sighed. Everything was back to normal. She could
relax. Everything was going to be okay.
Kurt made up for lost eating-time at dinner *and* breakfast. People
previously amazed at his ability to pack away food were now completely
stunned.
Kitty was personally amazed that he didn't like, accidentally inhale
his fork. Well, he seemed happy enough. He wasn't eating as if some
invisible terrorist was holding a gun to his head. He was just -
*eating*.
His concession to manners was stifling a huge belch at the end of the
feast, and a murmured, "Pardon," before he bamfed off to get ready for
school.
"Things *should* be back to normal soon," said the Professor.
"Like, the sooner, the better."
It was good to be alive. Every day was a miracle, and so many people
ignored that fact. Kurt hummed to himself as he made his way towards his
locker, his friends by his side.
"Hey, hey! It's the dancing king!"
"Shake that booty, German-boy!"
"Look! It's the nosebleed guy!"
_Must be an American thing..._ Kurt smiled, because they were smiling,
and made a mental note to ask Kitty what was up, later. Or maybe Evan.
Evan had street cred.
"Woohooo! Partyboy!"
"Way to score!"
"Saw ya in the garden! Was that high, or *what*?"
"Yo, how was your date with 'Eve'? Haha!"
"Vas?" Kurt's smile was completely gone. What was this, Confuse The
Foreign Guy Day?
"Hey, partyboy! Way to pass out!"
"Hey, can you hook me up with whatever you were on?"
"Who gave you the eccies, dude?"
"Yeah, I wanna score too."
Kurt leaned over to Kitty Pryde. "Is it just me, or has everyone gone
insane?"
"For *some* reason," here, Kitty glared at Duncan Matthews. "Everyone
in the school's got the idea that you spend half your time drugged out
of your mind on 'E'."
The PA whistled into life. "Would Mr Kurt Wagner please report to the
office. *Now*."
"I guess that means *everyone* in the school." Kurt sighed. "I'm
doomed, aren't I?"
"Pretty much."
"Do me a favour? If they come to take me away - bail me out?" He waved
them a somewhat doubtful farewell and started the long walk up to the
Principal's office. A mixture of cheers and catcalls followed him the
whole way.
At least he had the proper cover story from Kitty and Evan, one the
Professor would back up in a cold second. Feeling charitable, Kurt
decided not to 'remember' the bullies who took his lunch money, the day
of the party. Best not to finger people for a crime they didn't commit,
or else they'd make sure they committed it. Threefold. With Flushings on
top.
Principal Darkholme was sitting on her desk. _Gott, Nein. *Anything*
but her, I'm-here-to-help-you mode. She's *scary* when she does that!_
"Ah, Mister Wagner."
"Vaugner," Kurt corrected, almost absently.
"Now Kurt, I understand that there was a little - problem - involving
some controlled substances, the night before last."
Kurt sighed. "Not you, too..." he slumped in the Supplicant's chair.
"I didn't even *touch* them."
"That's not what Mister Matthews says."
"Das ist because Herr Matthews is covering his own ass," Kurt
protested, perhaps a little too vehemently. "He was handing the verdammt
things out like they were candy! Party favours!" Kurt took a breath,
noting Darkholme's expression. "You're not believing a word of this, are
you?"
"Mister Duncan Matthews is our star quarterback. *You*, Mister
Wagner--"
"Vaugner," murmured Kurt, unheard.
"--are little more than a frequently tardy trouble-maker with a list of
offenses - albeit minor - as long as my arm. Considering your record,
it's only a matter of time before you get into the serious offenses."
"I passed out because of sugar shock," said Kurt, tired of losing the
battle. "You can ask the Professor. They did tests."
Darkholme wasn't listening. "I've set up an appointment for you with
the school counsellor, Mister Keen. Three doors down the hall, that way.
If I hear that you missed the appointment, you'll find yourself talking
to the police. Have I made myself clear?"
"Crystal." Kurt slouched out of her office and stomped to the
counsellor. There was, when he looked at it, nothing he could really do,
save keep repeating the 'truth' as it stood and hope that someone would
listen. The real truth, that he'd collapsed as a direct result of
overstraining his power, would not go over too terribly well. Plus, the
Professor would ground him.
Mr Keen was the sort of person who always showed up in one's short-
term memory wearing a tweed jacket, whether he was in one or not. He had
a pencil moustache and a coached voice designed to be quiet and
unintimidating.
"Ah, Mister Vaugner," said the counsellor. "I'm Mister Kian, but you
can call me Tom, if that's a little formal for you, m'kay?"
"Er. I must have the wrong office. I was sent to Herr Keen?"
Kian winced. "Ms Darkholme's a wonderful person, m'kay; truly, but she
does have a wee little bit of a blind spot when it comes to
pronunciation. One typo gets indellibly burned into her brain, m'kay?"
"You too?"
"Yyyesss... Have a seat. Tell me about your problem, m'kay?"
Kurt shrugged as he sat. _Oh well..._ "I'm hyperglycemic."
Kian raised an eyebrow. Then he looked at his appointment book. "Kurt
Vaugner, from Germany. Says you're here for a suspected *drug* problem,
m'kay?"
"Nein. The hardest thing I've ever taken ist the communal wine in
church. The *problem* ist that Herr Matthews ist telling everyone I OD'd
at his party when I *really* collapsed from sugar shock."
"Sugar shock," Kian repeated.
"Ja. I never thought I was that bad until I realised what was
happening. One missed lunch and *pow*--" he clapped to demonstrate his
point, "--down I go. It was very frightening, I can tell you."
"M'*kaaaayyyy*... So. Why was Mister Matthews saying that he saw you
with a little bag of pills?"
"Because the Arschgesicht was giving them away. I had to do a little
creative lying in order to get mein freshman friend in, you see, and he
handed me the pills in a little baggie."
"Mmmn-hmmm..."
"He said I should put them in her drink if she - what was the phrase?
'Got cold on me'. The man ist ein Drecksau. *Really*."
"And what did you *do* with the baggie?"
"Soon as I realised what was in it? I tossed it at some pot plants -
the decorative sort - as fast as I could!"
"You weren't even tempted to try just one?"
Kurt glared at him. "Are you *nuts*?"
Kian smiled. "I'll take that as a 'no', m'kay. A very wise choice for
someone your age. You see, 'cause drugs are bad, m'kay? Especially the
newer ones, because you never know what they put in them..."
Kurt sighed. He was obviously not going to get out of here without the
'drugs are bad' lecture. _Just nod and smile. Try not to space out.
Nod... and smile._
It was recess by the time he got out. Matthews was more-or-less
waiting for him.
"What'd you tell 'em?"
"The truth. Not that it has any *impact* around here. Congratulations,
you're enough of a jock to get away scott free."
"I *knew* you were cool!"
Kurt didn't even look at him as he muttered, "Mach es dir selber,
Arschloch." Further down the hallway, out of his hearing range, he
added, "Jerk."
Kitty was just around the corner. "So it's official, huh? The whole
school - minus like, the brainless sheep who are like, his fan club -
thinks Duncan Matthews is a jerk."
"I'm pretty sure the whole school *knows* it," said Kurt. "But he's
good for getting the school money, so nobody cares."
"Relax. He's like, one year away from being like, a freshman in
college."
"This ist supposed to cheer me up how?"
"Matthews like, *hates* freshmen. He thinks they're like, the scum of
the Earth."
Kurt grinned. Then he laughed. A very *evil* laugh. Jerks may have the
right of way, but time caught up with them. It always did.
~Fin~