A Mother's Love

by anonymau5

When Toad's demented behavior results in serious injury to Kurt requiring a blood donation, Ororo must go to the most unlikely person: his mother. Sorry for the bad German phrases, and I make no claim at knowing anything about medical practice.

After the events leading up to the breaking of the dam and ultimately Jean Grey's death, Kurt Wagner had fled; simply ran from them without a second thought; out of pure fear; fear that he would be blamed because he did not teleport her out; fear that Sc

After the events leading up to the breaking of the dam and ultimately Jean Grey's death, Kurt Wagner had fled; simply ran from them without a second thought; out of pure fear; fear that he would be blamed because he did not teleport her out; fear that Scott Summers would lash out on him to relieve his anger. Kurt knew in a way he was being cruel, or at least rude. He had (although against his will) attacked their President, shouted at two of their women, and they offered him a chance to redeem himself. A second blessed chance. And he had refused it.
The only place Kurt knew of where nobody bothered him was the abandoned Catholic Church in Boston he had stayed in, and so he had headed there. The trek itself had been extremely hard; due to a lack of make-up or bulky jackets, he had traveled by night; slept during the day. And finally he had made it, and everything had been how he left it. His blankets, his posters; even the left-over medical supplies from when the women of the X-Men had healed him were scattered about the floor. The place was still abandoned.

Kurt sat down on the blanket-covered pew, giving a long yawn as he finished off a slice of bread. His life of fear had resumed and due to that he had to steal to eat; Heaven forbid he should have enough money to return to Germany. The bread itself was something he had retrieved easily; walked into a mini-mart, grabbed it, and teleported out. Not a very good image for any mutant right acts, but he had to eat.
The demonic man leaned back in the pew until he was stretched out on it like a bed, and his tail reached over and grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it over him as much as he could.
He wasn't sure how long his restless mind kept him up that night, but he simply laid there, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what would have happened if he had stayed. Kurt kept acting out different stories of that in his head:
iScott was yelling at Kurt, little flecks of spit flying from his mouth and spraying Kurt's fur. It was an endless torrent of rage as Scott almost mindlessly counted the reasons Kurt was the cause of Jean's death; how he could have teleported, crawled outside the ship, even attempted a probably suicide mission anyway. He continued to shout, saying he should have had better control over his power, that he should have been able to overcome Jean's power. Kurt glanced around uneasily. Fellow mutants gathered around him glared at him with hatred. The tall artist, giving him a look that said he would beat him up later; the young boy with the girlfriend he could not touch, both giving him disappointed, depressed looks; and Miss Ororo Munroe, simply gazing at him impassively, too angry at him to show any emotion other than ra-/i

"Kurt?"
The voice made him jump, yanking Kurt out of his horrible nightmare, and as he jumped he fell off the pew, clattering to the ground.
He sat up, ducking low so only his yellow eyes were visible above the pew. There was someone in the church, and he had been too engulfed in his daydream to even hear them enter.
The shock of white hair and dark skin gave it away all too easily as to who had invaded Kurt's pathetic home. As thrilled as he was to see Ororo, he was wary, and scampered along the pews where she wasn't, watching her with interest as she examined his home.

"Kurt?" She asked again, voice echoing in the bowels of the church as she glanced down at his meager food stock of a loaf of bread, crusty cheese and a pint of milk; over to the candles he had lit, to his rumpled bed. She followed with her eyes the blanket half-hanging off the pew, half-hanging on the ground, most of it dragged off somewhere along the pews, and as she followed the blanket Kurt realized he was still tangled up in it and fought to free himself. Maybe if he could get free and hide somewhere, she'd leave after awhile...
Kurt stopped mid-thrash with a gentle hand touched his shoulder.

"Kurt, what're you doing?"
Kurt looked up at Ororo with a sheepish expression as he managed to free a leg.

"I fell off 'ze pew," he murmured, freeing his legs and standing up. He picked up the blanket and with a flick of his tail sent it flying back to his makeshift bed.
Ororo cleared her throat. "Why are you hiding here?" She asked, glancing around the church. Kurt sat down on the pew he was nearest to.
"I'm not hiding," he protested firmly. "Zis is my home, vere I live." Kurt extended a blue hand around the building to prove his point.

"Kurt, you're sleeping on a bench with nothing but a pint of rotten milk, a candle and a holy feeling. This iisn't/i your home." Ororo sat down next to him and tugged at his shirt. "Why did you run away?"
"I /ididn'/it run avay. I left, vitout notice. You...X-Men didn't vant me, I could see zat. Ze vay 'zey looked at me, how 'zey stared, whispered behind my back. I saw ze vay Mister Summers looked at me ven I couldn't save Jean Grey. He blamed me, and he had a right to. I should have been able to save her." He looked down at his lap. "But I didn't."
Ororo's look softened. "Oh Kurt, none of those things were your fault. Jean did that to save our lives; if you'd have rescued her we'd probably have all drowned before we even left the ground."
Kurt looked up. "And ze vay ze children look at me? I'm a monster."
"Kurt, they stared at me too. And Scott, and Logan. You're different to them, inew/i, that's all. If they didn't want you with us they would have voiced their doubts." Ororo said. Kurt sniffed.
"Vy did you come looking for me? You didn't fly all ze vay down from Westchester just to 'be in 'ze neighborhood'." Kurt said.
Ororo smiled. "I came looking for you, yes, to ask you to come back. I want you, the Professor wants you too, to be apart of the X-Men. We need someone like you."
Kurt regarded Ororo warily and raised an eyebrow. "Vat do I 'ave to do, give you twenty years of my life or some'sing in return?"
She laughed lightly in response. "Nothing like that. Just...train with us and be apart of the team. We can help you fully develop your powers and in return you get free room and board."
"And zat's it?"
"Pretty much. And maybe become a school teacher at the Institute if you really want to. We could always use a drama teacher," Ororo mused. Kurt smiled faintly.
"No more running?"
"No more running," she assured him.

"No more hiding?"
"Taken care of."
"Noth'sing I don't vant to do?"
"Not a thing."
Kurt's tail twitched. "None of zem hate me? Even Scott Summers?"
Ororo shook her head. "None of them hate you, and Scott doesn't blame you." She reached out and took his hand suddenly, and Kurt felt butterflies flutter in his stomach. "C'mon, the jet's outside. If you want to come we can make it before dinner."
Kurt looked down at their joined hands. "You're not forcing me...?"
"It's your choice."
Kurt sighed. "A'ight," he finally said. Ororo looked delighted and waited as Kurt wrapped his Bible and a candle up in his single blanket and slung it over his shoulder, then led him out the huge wooden doors. Kurt looked behind him as he was drug out for one last glance back at his one-been home. And although it was a beautiful church, if this Institute turned out to be what Ororo had promised, Kurt hoped he would never have to come back.

The huge SR77 Blackbird, or X-Jet, was sitting in idle in front of the church, the engines humming quietly, and as they approached the gangplank it lowered by itself, and Kurt peered up into the interior of the plane. Rogue was sitting in the passenger seat, peering over it, hand hovering over the controls behind her. Bobby Drake was sitting in the chair behind her and engulfed in a comic book. When he heard the ramp lower, though, he tossed the comic book aside and swiveled the chair around to greet him.
"Hey Kurt," he said casually, as if he and the mutant mentioned were best friends. "I warmed up the seat for you." Bobby fetched his book and moved over to a seat against the wall, buckling himself in.
Kurt uneasily stepped into the jet and took a seat where Bobby had been, setting his bundle down carefully beside him and fumbling with the buckles and trying to figure out how to get them actually buckled. He appeared to be missing the strap on the right side, and peered over the edge of the metal chair with a puzzled air. It wasn't hanging over the side, either.
"You're sitting on it," the voice of Rogue said. Kurt looked up at her and then stood up. He felt around on the seat of the chair with his tail and sure enough, there it was. Silly little thing.
"Vielen dank," he thanked, prettily he thought, as he returned to his seat, though couldn't help but feel out of place among all the normal, overly-friendly people, who kept staring and smiling at him. He was sure Ororo had asked that if Bobby and Rogue insisted on staring, it at least be with a smile.

"Everyone strapped in?" Kurt, realizing he was not, grabbed the buckles and strapped himself in. It was so odd, being in the jet again, though with no tension, no hostile situation, no life-saving choices to make.
"Aye aye, Cap'n," Bobby replied. "Everything's icool/i up here." He gave Ororo a thumb's up and Rogue groaned as the engines roared to life, and the jet began to rise from the ground.

"Is it legal to castrate someone against their will?" She asked Kurt, who smiled.

"I don't think so, lieber." He replied, as the G-forces pushed them back in their seats a bit.

Already Kurt had been shown most of the mansion; his new bedroom, the dorms, the kitchen, the offices which also served as classrooms and the lounge. Kurt wasn't entirely sure if this house even had an end to it.

Now Ororo was taking him to another part of the Institute. She said it was the training room.
Ororo pushed the door open and Kurt peered inside. The man he knew as Wolverine was working out in the room; there was even a set of iron rings and uneven bars in the corner. There were also two doors that led off from the training room; Kurt could only assume lockers.

As he studied the room, batting at the iron rings playfully, Ororo went over to a bench and picked up a pile of clothes; a white undershirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. Kurt ducked the iron rings swinging lazily as she handed him the clothes.

"Your workout clothes," Ororo told him. "The men's locker room is the door on the right. And that's pretty much the mansion. Oh! I also forgot; once you get settled in, the Professor asked that you, how did he put it...? 'Demonstrate Nightcrawler's unique talents', I think."
Kurt looked a little puzzled. "Vas?"

"He wants to see the full extent of your mutant powers, Kurt. Have a quick fight with Logan."
Kurt cast a sideways glance at Wolverine, who he now knew to be Logan, and then gazed down at the clothes in his arms. "Vell I'm in no hurry," He said. "It's not as zose I 'ave to unpack or any'sing. Vould right now be okay?"
Ororo shrugged. "I don't see why not. Logan! Are you up for a fight?" The man in question looked up from the bench where he was lifting weights. He sat up, and wiped his forehead on the back of his hand.
"When iain't/i I?" He replied in his gruff tone.
"The man speaks in riddles. Well, off you go then, I guess." Ororo shooed the blue elf off toward the men's locker room.
As soon as Kurt had disappeared through the door, Logan frowned and walked over to Ororo.
"You sure he's up for it, Ro'? I mean, the little monster's more 'save ye brother' than instant action, you know?"
Ororo socked him in the arm, a puny blow compared to Logan's muscles. "Stop it, Logan. If he hears you calling him that behind his back he'll just run away again. Kurt's no more a monster then you are. The man took out the entire Secret Service and still had enough in him to run to safety when he was shot. We need someone like him on our team, someone who's not just all brawn and no brain."
Logan squinted at her. "What're you tryin' to say?"
"'Ere I am!" Kurt trotted out of the locker room. The gray sweatpants had a hole in the back cut out just for Kurt's tail, which was swishing back and forth as he walked over. The shirt itself was sleeveless and cut low, displaying the swirling patterns on his chest. As he came over Logan cracked his knuckles and moved over near the gymnastics supplies were, where the floor was padded. Kurt followed him loyally and stood across from him. On Logan's signal, both men crouched low to the ground and Ororo took a seat next to the wall.

"How d'you wanna play this, Elf, clean or dirty?" Logan asked.
"Vichever vay allows me to fight properly," Kurt replied humbly.

Logan glanced back at Ororo. "Oh, I'm startin' to like this guy-"
SMACK!
Kurt's fist connected squarely with the side of Logan's face. He grunted and staggered a bit at the unexpected sheer force of the blow, although already the bruise on his cheek was healing.
"Jeez, you li'l Elf," Logan grunted, looking at Kurt, who was still in the crouching position and hopping around the mat, his tail twitching back and forth. "Where the hell did ya learn something like that?"
"Self-defense," Kurt replied. "You pick up a few moves in 'ze circus."
"Man, I didn't even say 'go'!"
"I never said I vas playing fair." Kurt grinned like a maniac as he continued hopping around the mat like a flea. Logan narrowed his eyes as Kurt took another swing at him and grabbed his fist inches from slamming into his nose. Kurt winced as Logan twisted his wrist around.
"Fine then, we ain't playing fair," with a grunt Logan flung Kurt sideways across the room and the elf hit the wall. "We're playin' dirty."
Kurt staggered to his feet. "Vorks fine vit me." He cast a glance at Ororo, who waved lightly at him, and he vanished in a cloud of purple smoke. Logan blinked.

"Where the hell'd he go?" He asked, looking baffled. This was going to be harder than it looked. No wonder Stryker had picked Kurt as part of the Weapon X program.

"YAAAAARGH!" A blur of blue dropped down from the ceiling, landing on Logan's shoulders, who grabbed uselessly at him as Kurt clung on. He put his hands over Logan's eyes, who stumbled around stupidly. "Guess who!" Kurt laughed. Logan finally got a hold of his collar and ducked into a roll, trying to throw Kurt at the wall. Alas, Kurt's tail wrapped around Logan's meaty neck and took him with him, instead throwing him against the wall as Kurt ducked into his own roll and popped back up.
Logan cracked his neck. "A'ight kid, now you're just askin' for it," he growled, and with a isnikt!/i, the animal extended its claws. Kurt took a step back.
"Now Logan," Ororo warned. "Don't be stupid."
"I ain't bein' stupid, Ro'. The li'l bugger wants a fight iwith powers/i, he's gunna get it."
"Ugh," Ororo rolled her eyes.
With a roar Logan charged at Kurt, who stood terrified, locked in place. Ororo was sure this was the end of Kurt; those claws would go right through him, tearing his insides to shreds, pulping his shirt. However, the claws barely touched his shirt before Kurt was gone with another wisp of dark purple smoke. A split second later he re-appeared behind Logan and jammed his heel into the small of Logan's back, who grunted. Kurt was in front of him another split second later and Logan took his chance, slashing at the demon, who gave a cry and stumbled back, his shirt now sporting long, bloody tears. Kurt clutched his stomach in surprise. He seemed more surprised by the fact that he was bleeding then the fact that he was probably in pain. He spoke no curses at Logan, only fixed him with a merciless stare, and removed his hand, now stained with his own blood. The cuts themselves weren't very deep; merely flesh wounds.
The stare he gave Logan lasted a minute or two, and without a word rushed at him, who side-stepped cleverly. It didn't matter; Kurt teleported to the other side of Logan, wrapped his arms around the man's thick waist, and teleported again, taking Logan with him. Ororo looked around franticly for any sign of the two, and after a minute followed the sound of Logan's cry of pure surprise as he dropped from the ceiling and slammed into the mat. Ororo looked up. Kurt was clinging to the ceiling; he waved at her, and then dropped down from it, landing with a roll.
"First thing you learn how to do in 'ze circus is how to ifall/i," Kurt replied smugly. "I vould suggest you take a few lessons."

"Kurt wins." Ororo declared. "To the victor belong the spoils," she said as Logan got up and slouched away, shoulders slumped.

"Ja!" Kurt struck a pose right before Ororo planted a burning kiss to his cheek. Kurt blushed.

"Aw, 'ey, 'ey! Lookit that. Ain't you the guy that nearly killed the President?" A broad Yorkshire voice boomed out from the corner. "Aw, 'e's 'urt." Both mutants turned around rapidly, and who should they see but Mortimer Toynbee, A.K.A Toad, the man with a head of thick brown hair and a rather green complexion lounging by the window.

"Toad!" Ororo hissed. "I see you survived your fall."
Toad rolled his eyes. "No thanks to iyou/i, Weatherbitch." He muttered sourly, and turned to Kurt. "That 'ole hack right there threw me offa Lady Liberty, y'know, and alls I was tryin' to do was promote Mutant Liberation."
"If you call trying to turn most of the world leaders into mutants, ultimately leading to their ideaths/i, Mutant Liberation, then yeah, I threw him off Liberty for that. How the hell did you get in, Toad?"
Toad rolled his eyes again. "Tha' great Toad, can leap buildin's in a single bound, iduh/i. It ain't much to jump right ova' yer li'l homemade lasers." He said sarcastically.

Kurt, looking confused, finally piped up. "Vant do you vant?" He hissed.

"'Ey, 'ey, I come on peaceful terms 'ere. No fightin' for Mortimer Toynbee, no siree. Afta' yer girlfriend 'ere dumped me offa Lady Liberty, them bloody sods tha' call themselves Magneto an' his cronies right out an' ditched me. Can you believe it?" Toad wailed. "So's I figure, 'eh, I don't need 'em! I'll start up me own Brotherhood, wif' members loyal to the Terrible Toad King.'" He beamed proudly. "An' lookin' for members, I sees yer story pop up in the news, iNightcrawlah/i. 'Blue demon takes out White House security, nearly kills President in an act of illegal mutant liberation! Mutant barely escapes wif' life!' I figure this guy's got it in pretty good; hell-bent on vengance wif' the Goverment, took out the 'ole Secret Service, and lookit this, 'ere I am!" He spread his arms wide around the room to prove his point. "Ya' nearly creamed Wolverine ova' there, didn't ya? I was watchin'."
"Ugh, go away, Toad." Ororo groaned. "Otherwise I'll get Hank and Logan on your ass. Kurt, don't listen to what he says."

"'Ey, Kurt is it? Well listen up, boyo! You stay in this dump," Toad said, "and yer gunna be livin' out yer life under a coatin' of make-up. The Sentinels are gunna come an' blow this place up if you stay wif' 'em. You come wif' ime/i, and afta' we get more members the Brotherhood's gunna team up wif' Magneto again. No more hidin', no more 'tryin' to be accepted'. No more peoples tryin' to kill ya arse, and it'll 'appen soon. The humans will realize they're out-numbered an' give in, and you'll be treated like a bloody iGod/i. Not some misfit hidin' in a big 'ole house." He made strange hand motions.

Kurt seemed to be seriously considering this, rubbing his chin in thought. "I don't know..."
"Kurt, idon't listen!/i That's never going to happen because they'll inever/i stop fighting. We have to be accepted, not worshipped. We're just as human as them," Ororo said. "And we have to protect them, even if they hate us."
"Blah blah blah," Toad muttered, straightening up. "Protect, serve, whateva'. They'll just gang up on ya'! Come wif' me, I'll take ya to a mutant paradise. No more long training, developing powers you already got, just livin' the good life. And soon, you'll be a iGod/i." He offered.

Kurt frowned. "But...I don't ivant/i to be worshipped; just liked." He said.

"There. You have it, Toad? Scram or I'll sick my Elf on you. Actually, why don't you stay so Kurt can beat the shit out of you? I'll help." Ororo said with a smile.

"Yeah, Weatherbitch, an' set the 'ole buildin' on fire wif' your powers," Toad laughed.

"Stop calling her zat!" Kurt launched himself at Toad, who screamed.

"Bloody 'ell!" He shouted as Kurt tackled him. Toad's long green tongue lashed out and smacked Kurt across the face, who stumbled back out of pure disgust.

"Eww," Kurt groaned, wiping Toad-spit from his face. "Who is zis guy and vy does he vant to ieat/i me?!"

"Kurt, look out! Toad's sorta got-..."
SHMACK!
There was a wet slapping sound as Toad smacked Kurt in the face with his tongue again.

"-...a killer tongue."

"I can take care of zat."
Toad hopped across the floor in a huge bound, his tongue wrapped around Kurt's arm. With a jerk of his head Toad sent Kurt flying across the room and he landd amongst the rafters. Kurt gave a pained grunt as he struggled to pull himself up, failed, and fell off the rafters.

"Aw, ickle Nighty 'urt 'imself?" Toad laughed. "'Ere, lemme 'elp." With a "ibleeeeeh/i" Toad stuck his tongue out again. This time, the odd muscle wrapped not around Kurt's arm but around his bleeding waist, and hauled him upward, squeezing him like some sort of demented snake. Kurt let out a cry of pain and tried to wiggle out of Toad's grip; teleporting would only mean taking Toad with him, with how hard the frog-man was holding on.

Outside, lightning had begun to crackle. "Put him idown/i, Toad, or I'll fry you right here." Ororo threatened.

"'Ell no. 'E's the only thing keepin' me alive. You shock me, you only shock yer elf as well." Toad lisped around his tongue, tightening his grip on Kurt, who winced.
"Ah, well, I have other options." The windows burst up, followed with a deafening roar of wind that swept Toad off his feet. The invader slammed brutally into the wall and released Kurt, who dropped to the ground. Kurt staggered to his feet as Toad clung to the wall. The wind died down slowly but surely and Toad grunted, pulling himself upward.

"A mad house, a bloody mad house!" He babbled.

"Sit a spell, won't you? Why don't you stay iright here/i until Logan shows up? Someone's bound to turn up with all the noise you've been making, Toad." Ororo said, keeping a hand up threateningly. "Kurt, you alright? C'mere."
"Aw, like 'ell I'm stayin' 'ere! Screw this!" Toad shouted, pulling a gun out of his pocket. Ororo wasn't an expert at guns but she'd take a stab at 9mm. A last resort of sorts. "I'm outta here!" He fired off two mind-numbing shots in their general direction. Instinctively, Ororo ducked down and watched with dismay as Toad hopped out the window and disappeared across the lawn. She straightened up.

"Well that was pointless." Ororo muttered. "Never a boring day here Kurt, huh? Kurt?" The blue mutant in question had his back turned to Ororo. His hands were in front of him, that was all she could see, and he was looking down at the ground. Panic rose thick in Ororo's throat as she saw him shaking. "Kurt? Kurt, what's wrong?" She grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. She gasped.

Kurt was clutching at the bloody hole in his stomach, blood dripping down his shirt. He was staring in a bizarre, confused manner at the blood dribbling down onto the floor, as if in disbelief. Finally he looked up at Ororo, his body shaking, in disbelief, just like he had looked at his stomach. He gave a noiseless cough, and fell over.

Ororo bit her lip, slouching in a chair in the corner of the medical lab. Kurt was sprawled out on a bed, blankets stripped off it until only the sheets remained. It didn't help either with the fact that he was nearly naked except for his boxers, but Hank needed to be able to access the wound at once with nothing blocking it, no risk of any type of lint or something getting into it. According to him, stomach wounds took the longest to kill, but they were also the most painful. On the plus side it was a good thing; Kurt had a decent chance at surviving. It didn't look like that for Ororo, however. Even with the wound wrapped in stiff bandages around Kurt's stomach, the bullet removed, he still hadn't stirred, and each breath was extremely shallow.

She looked up as Doctor Henry McCoy, Hank to his friends, approached, and got up from her seat. He handed her a tiny plastic bag. Ororo held it up; inside it contained a single bullet.

"Sorta a bad first impression of the Institute, huh?" Hank said. "That's the bullet I took from Kurt. I just got done washing it off."
"Oh, great." Storm muttered in bitter sarcasm. "What's his chance of living, Hank?"

Hank ran a hand through his bushy fur. "Well, I don't know yet, I'm afraid. But we got to him quickly, so that's good." He reached over and consulted his charts. "The bullet didn't go far; it didn't hit any organs either. But he lost a lot of blood between the training room and here. Now, don't look at me like that. If he gets enough rest, his body will just make more blood. If he's lost too much that his body can't produce enough before...well I could just get a donation from another mutant."

"But...the blood cells, the X-Gene...wouldn't it just screw up his mutation if he got someone else's blood?" Ororo asked. Hank scratched his chin.

"Yes, that's what I'm afraid of, but I think I have a solution to that, don't worry." He assured her.

"Well what is it?" demanded Ororo.

Hank waved her away. "When the time comes, my dear, iif/i it comes, and let's pray that it doesn't."

No amount of prayer could have prevented what happened to Kurt after that. As his body attempted to re-boot itself, he was left in a near-coma deep sleep, not responding to the world around him. He had lost, like Hank said, massive amounts of blood in the time it took for Ororo to find someone strong enough to help carry Kurt to the medical lab, and while Hank tried all he could, a day and a half passed with no progress. Kurt's body hadn't shut down, but it wasn't working either. He was too weak to even wake up, and because of that his body was too weak to produce any more blood. He hadn't eaten, hadn't had a drink of water for nearly two days. Hank had to result to injecting vitamins into Kurt's thin blood stream to keep him stable.

"This is it, isn't it?" Ororo asked on the evening of the second day. "He's getting thinner and thinner, his body isn't doing a thing...Kurt never even got a chance to ilive/i as an X-Man, all because of stupid selfish Toad..."

Hank patted Ororo's shoulder comfortingly. "Oh dear, it's alright." He sooth-sayed. "This isn't how it's going to end, I promise you. Kurt'll go down fighting." Hank drew up a chair next to Ororo, who was sitting at Kurt's bedside. "Remember that last resort we spoke of? Getting a blood donation?"

"Yeah..." Ororo confirmed warily.

"I've done some thinking, and well if we got the donation from someone within his family, someone close to him by blood relation whose genes and hopefully X-Genes are close enough to his, and then I don't think it'll do anything to his mutation. And it'd have to be his blood type too, of course."

"But...Kurt's dad, we don't even know who..." The answer hit Ororo like a ton of bricks. "Hank, you're joking, right?" She asked mouth dry.

Hank shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Ororo. If her blood is the same type as Kurt's it's his only chance of surviving, unless you fancy putting him into a coma. Just a few pints of her blood is a reasonable donation to save her son's life.

"But...getting iMystique/i to donate blood to a son she probably thinks is idead?/i Hank, how're you ever going to do that?"

"I'm not, dear, iyou/i are."

The streetlights flickered on as Ororo stood in front of iHarry's Pub/i, peering up at the sign through the on-coming darkness. According to a bit of quick mind-intruding via Xavier, this was one of Raven Darkholm's many haunts. Ororo swallowed, and pushed open the heavy wooden door. It creaked open and she nearly gagged at the sudden assault of bitter smoke on her lungs, coughing and spluttering as she staggered into the bar, past the wooden chairs and drunken old men, the cheap TVs and the basses hanging from the walls. The lights dimmed, she looked around until she spotted her target; the attractive young woman with the flowing black hair sitting at the bar, holding a martini lightly.

Ororo strolled over to the bar as casually as she could muster and sat down next to the woman. Once she had placed an order for simply a glass of water, the woman next to her snorted.

"I could spot one of you from a mile away, nonetheless from what you iorder/i. No idiot comes into a bar for a glass of water." She turned in her seat. "I wish your dear Professor wouldn't invade my mind just so I could speak to a little brat like you. It's rather stressing when you're minding your own business and you hear iXavier's/i voice in your head. But enough of me," she took a sip of her martini. "Why are iyou/i here? What's so important you're willing to cross into my land?" Mystique (Ororo didn't know who she was currently) sipped lightly at her martini.

"It's about your son."
She choked on her drink. Mystique slammed the fragile glass onto the counter top. "You bitch." She hissed, fierce anger rising in her voice. "He's idead/i."

Ororo accepted her glass of water with a nod of thanks. "He's not." She replied. "Your only son? The one you threw in the river? He lives, Mystique."
"You lying little whore," Mystique snapped. "You have your horrid cripple invade my head, drag me down here and now feed me lies that my son is ialive?/i I would rather see him dead than what those fucking villagers might have done to him."
Ororo took a swig of water. "They didn't touch him. He got away, raised by parents who would actually love him. And now if you don't help he iwill/i die."
Mystique still didn't look convinced, her grip tightening on her martini glass. Ororo feared it would soon break. "Who is he then, who is my son?" She demanded. "Some freak sweeping streets somewhere?"
"He turned out to be Nightcrawler, ithe/i Nightcrawler. Your bouncing baby boy became a famous acrobat. Maybe you know him from the news? He was part of Stryker's mind-controlled groupies." Ororo said firmly. "He was the one that nearly attacked the President. Kurt Wagner, your son, was the young man you spoke to in the forest. The young iblue-/i"
"ENOUGH!" Mystique exploded, the glass in her hand cracking slightly under the pressure. "You HORRIBLE little bitch-"
"You didn't notice the family resemblance? The skin,-"
"-coming in here to lie to me-"
"-the eyes, he's got your eyes Mystique,-"

"-just to FUCKING excite me-"

"He even has your ivoice/i if you listen. Put the pieces together."

Mystique paused. Her grip relaxed as realization overtook her and she leaned heavily against the bar. "My...my voice...eyes...oh god..." Mystique shed a single tear. "Kurt...I spoke to him...he's alive?"

Ororo nodded. "And if you still love him, you'll help us."

Concern swept over her face. "Why? What's wrong with him?"

"Your friend Toad emptied his gun on Kurt. His body's not responding and we need a blood donation to save him. Hank sa-"
"Hank...Henry McCoy?" Mystique's voice hardened. "My son, the amazing Nightcrawler, is an iX-Man?/i One of you pathetic losers?" She snapped. "He's not my son if he's joined iyour/i ranks. I'd never help you!" She was completely appalled.

"Please, Mystique-"
"Why should I help him if it's just going to help the people I hate? Why should I help iyou?/i" Mystique demanded.

Ororo swallowed. "Because...because Kurt's a great man." She said. "Because he believes in what's right. He was shot trying to protect ime./i Through all the things he's been through, all the people that have hated and feared him, who have tried to kill him, he still forgives them. He believes that humanity should be given a second chance. That's why."

Mystique considered this. "And?"
"And...I...I ilike/i him. I've hardly known Kurt for more then maybe a week at most but I know he's polite and sensitive and funny and I ilove/i him. I couldn't stand to lose him. The entire Institute can't stand to lose him. And I know you can't stand to lose him. You love him too. How could you deal with yourself knowing that you killed him because of your own selfishness?"

Mystique stared deep into the confines of her martini. "Mother's Day is coming up." She said absently, her finger tracing the rim of the glass. She lapsed into silence, and after what seemed like way too long she looked up again. "What do I have to do?"

The days following Mystique's blood donation actually had progress attached to them. Kurt's vital signs went up. The day after the injection he could actually stay awake long enough to take a sip of water. Hank said that his theory had been correct, and Kurt's mutation had been left completely alone. The bleeding of his wound even slowed, and after a while nearly stopped, and it was all due to a mother's love.

The next day Ororo was sitting next to Kurt's bed, watching him breathe normally, when his chest gave a spasmodic heave. She jumped at Kurt's sudden intake of air and looked around. Hank was nowhere to be seen. Ororo leaned over the bed to look at Kurt. His eyes fluttered open briefly, and then opened slowly. His yellow gaze fixed on Ororo and he smiled faintly.

"Hey," he said weakly, his voice scratchy and quiet. Ororo felt like jumping for joy.

"Hey," she replied back. "How do you feel?"

Kurt's eyes closed for a second, and Ororo was afraid he had gone back to sleep before he opened them again. "Horrible." He said. "Vat...how long vas I...out?" Kurt wanted to know. Ororo counted in her head the days that had gone by since that terrible incident, and was surprised by the result.

"It's Mother's Day."

Kurt frowned. "What 'appened?"
"You lost a lot of blood...we needed a blood donor to keep you alive...you sure you're okay?" Ororo asked.

"Ja...just a little...just a little woozy."

"Good." She was sure Kurt was more then surprised when she kissed him. "I was convinced you weren't going to make it."

"Vould it be selfish...to say I thought 'ze same? So...? Vat 'appened?"
Ororo leaned back in her chair. "Well, let's just say today got a new meaning. Happy Mother's Day, Kurt Wagner."