NOTES:
1: This story is set after the fourth season opener, 'Impact' and to appreciate it you *need* to have either seen the episode or read a summery of it, as I have. No doubt the writers will do their own, far superior version of Kurt/Rouge making up or whatever later on, but this is what I think might happen. So neh. Similarly, this obviously contains spoilers for 'Impact'.
2: This plot bunny bit me, and bit me horrendously. I wrote it very quickly and I've not had time to hand it to a beta reader, so it might have a few spelling mistakes, especially in my German. For this I'm sorry, but I don't think it should be too bad. In the same vain, I learned of 'Impact' by reading an episode summery, if I get something wrong, I'm sorry. Just call it AU (:
3: I don't do accents. Just so you know.
PLEASE REVIEW!
Disclaimer: The characters and setting of this aren't mine, they Marvel's et al, plus there are probably one or two things borrowed from 'nutter verse here, but only in the very minor sense. All in all, I'm just using these for my melodramatics. Don't mind me…
Forgiveness
By Yma
Through his ruby-quartz visor, Scott Summers AKA Cyclops watched Kurt Wagner train. Even now, after over three years of living and working together, the blue German's agility and speed amazed him. His performance today in the Danger Room, however, was nothing short of astonishing.
He stood upon a plinth, a diving board high, high up in the air, as high as it could possibly go. Facing him was an obstacle course, a giant climbing frame of steel tubes, rope swings, iron hooks, and safety nets. In one, three fingered hand he held a small, oval object. An egg.
As Scott watched, Nightcrawler dropped the fragile object, and as it plummeted downwards, he span into action, porting towards the obstacle course.
His movements were poetry in motion, he dived, ducked, leaped, jumped, ported, swung, and danced through the complex maze. Every limb was utilized, every movement honed to perfection, every muscle under his fur working in perfect synchronicity. He moved with a speed that would have shocked Quicksilver, a dexterity which would turn Toad even greener, and a grace that none could ever hope to match.
Eventually he reached the end of the obstacle course, and with one last twist, he ported to below the platform, where the egg as still hurtling to the ground. He appeared just above it, stretching out with his three fingered hands to snatch it, inches away from the floor. His fingers closed on thin air. The egg shattered messily on the floor.
Landing neatly on all fours, the expression of rage on his face making him seem even more demonic than usual, Kurt let out a string of German words which Scott was positive weren't G rated.
After he'd finished ranting, Kurt turned back to the ladder leading up the diving board (not that he needed one, considering his powers) and slowly climbed up it, no doubt planning to repeat the performance with another egg.
That would be his sixth try, now.
Scott heard the observation booth door open, and turned to see Rouge enter.
Wordlessly she came to stand by him, and they watched together as Kurt repeated the performance.
'He's pushing himself,' murmured the Goth at last, and Scott nodded. It wasn't hard to tell, out of all the X-men Kurt tended to be most open in his body-language, when he wasn't actively trying to hide it, that is. They had seen Kurt train many times; mostly he did this kind of thing for fun. And that was what acrobatics was for Kurt, generally, good fun, a chance to show off, a chance to fly. Sometimes it was a chore, when Scott pushed them too hard. But now… his muscles all tense, his brow creased, his tail swishing behind him like a whip, it was obvious Kurt was being serious. Very, very serious.
'I'm never seen him work himself so hard,' remarked Scott.
'I'd have thought you'd like that,' said Rouge, 'you're usually all for pushing our limits.'
Scott sighed, 'there are two ways to do that. You can push your limits, or you can exceed them. The former is self constructive, the latter is self destructive. I think we're seeing a case of the latter here.'
Rouge remained silent, but didn't take her gaze off her brother.
'You should talk to him,' stated Scott at last.
'I'm about to,' responded Rouge.
Scott gave a curt nod, and turned away.
'Scott,' said Rouge suddenly, 'you… you know what I did was right? Yeah? I mean, maybe I did it for the wrong reasons but… but Mystique-'
'Mystique was a bitch from hell,' interrupted Scott, currently standing half in and half out of the room, 'and I'm not a bit sorry she's dead. She tried to kill me… all of us, more times than I can count. But…' he paused, and looked away from Rouge, 'but… I lost my parents when I was very young. And I'd give anything to see my mom again.'
Without waiting for her to respond, he slipped out and trudged down the corridor. Rouge remained in the booth a few more moments, watching her brother train and planning what she was going to say.
Eventually she left it, and made her way down to the Danger Room.
She entered just as Kurt was railing against another smashed egg. If it hadn't been for the look of rage and anguish on his face, his flailing limps and stamping feet would have seemed quite comical.
'Hi Kurt,' called Rouge softly, her soft, southern draw cutting off the stream of guttural, Germanic curses Kurt was spluttering.
He span round to face her, his movements fast, jumpy, he was on edge. But when he saw it was her he relaxed somewhat, or rather he was less obviously aggressive. His posture remained rigid, as if he was standing to attention.
'Rouge,' he replied, curtly, his tone formal, his voice expressionless.
He turned away from her, began to ascend the ladder once again.
'Kurt!' called Rouge again, determined not to be ignored, 'Kurt, I'm sorry.'
Kurt turned to her, and for a moment his face was expressionless.
Then a strange, almost manic grin spread across his blue features, 'well then,' he said, 'that's all alright then. That's fine! Absolutely fine! You say you're sorry and everything's all better! It doesn't matter that you've killed mein mutter, nein, because you say you're sorry! That makes everything verdammit great!'
Rouge winced at the bitter sarcasm in his voice. She was unused to hearing such emotion in Kurt's usually soft, playful, gentle tones.
'Please Kurt,' she said, 'you're not being fair.'
'Why? Because you think that if I forgave Mystique then I can forgive you? Oh, I'm sorry if I fall short of your high standards, but after what you did I think I deserve a bit of unforgiveness!*'
'Kurt,' spat Rogue, a little harsher than the meant to, 'look, I know you don't approve of what I did, but it had to be done. Mystique was a monster.'
'She was our mother!'
'She was a villain! A… a… murderer! She didn't care for us, Kurt, she just cared for herself. She didn't give a damn about me; she didn't give a damn about you. She would have let us die, Kurt. She might have even killed us herself if she had to. I know this is tough, I know you want to see the best in everyone, but trust me, you don't know her like I do!'
'That's right,' snapped Kurt, the anger in his voice cutting, his tail swishing angrily behind him, 'I don't! You know why? Because she never tried. She adopted you, Rouge; she enlisted you in her brotherhood. Ach, she even made a persona to be your friend, Risty. What did she do for me? She made Pietro give me a note, and just reeled off that she was mein mutter. A single, tiny meeting that was interrupted half way though. That was all she gave to me, Rouge. ALL! And now that's all she ever will give me.'
'I'm… I'm sorry…'
'The thing is…' whispered Kurt, seeming to ignore Rouge, 'the thing is… I forgave her that… I was brought up to believe that only God can judge, to give everyone a chance, to believe in my own blood, my own family. Now… now I don't even have that. I would have forgiven her, Rouge, I would have listened and tried not to judge. Because she is… was my mother, the woman who gave me life. And after that… the least she deserved was a chance at life in return. Even she deserved that. I've wondered my entire life about my family, my real family. But it seems that, no sooner do I find them, I lose them.'
'Y… You've got me, Kurt,' said Rouge, almost desperately.
Kurt turned to her, and she saw a terrible, aching sadness in his saffron eyes, 'Rouge,' he murmured, his voice as soft as the velvet fur that covered him, but hard, like the iron muscles underneath, 'after what you did to Mystique… I know that no daughter would do that to her own mother. And if you're not fit to be Mystique's daughter, then I'm sure I don't want you as my sister. Mein Gott… Rouge, I'm not even sure I want you as a friend any more.'
He turned away from her as he said this, turning as if he meant to leave.
'Kurt,' gasped Rouge, reaching out one gloved hand, seeking to touch his shoulder, to spin him round to face her, to make him listen, 'Kurt, please!'
'Don't touch me!' shrieked the elf suddenly, as he swatted away her hand.
For a moment Rouge said nothing, she just looked at him, her eyes wide, holding her repulsed hand as if it had been stung. Kurt loved being touched; he was a tactile kind of person. She knew from some of the memories she had absorbed that he missed being touched; that it hurt him that so few people did touch him voluntarily, due to his inducer, or his appearance. It was one of the things they had in common, one of the things that had allowed her to empathise with him.
'Kurt,' she whispered again, 'why…? I'm still Rouge, I'm still me. I'm sorry for what I did, maybe it was wrong, but why are you doing this? Why do you hate me? Why are you punishing me for… for what was a mistake. I… when I pushed Mystique off the edge I… I wasn't thinking properly, it was as if I saw red. It was a mistake, as stupid, angry mistake. Please, Kurt, please, don't hate me for one stupid action; don't hate me because I slipped up!'
Her husky voice was breaking; her eyes had become moist with tears.
'Was it?' asked Kurt in return, his voice not angry, not sad, but dull, dead, as if all the life had been sucked out of it. 'I know you, Rouge, and you heard what I said before. Ever since I met you, ever since you drained me, I saw a girl… a woman, walking a dark path. You're so angry, so bitter, and it's taking you over, Rouge. As it took you over on the cliff. I've seen people who walk that path, and I don't just mean Mystique…'
At this he had to stop a moment and close his eyes, as a sudden vision of another sibling, Stephan, his foster brother, came to him. Stephan, who had been driven mad by his own inner power. Stephan, full of rage and fury. Stephan, holding a knife over him, shrieking that he should die. Stephan, lying dead himself, his neck snapped cleanly, his once merry eyes devoid of all sparkle. Stephan, now resting in a cold, lonely grave.
'I've seen it destroy people,' Kurt continued again, hoarsely, when the image abated, 'and I hoped you wouldn't walk far down that path, I hoped I could help you, I hoped I wouldn't lose my Rouge to that. I warned you of it, I warned you before you destroyed Mystique, but you wouldn't listen. You killed her, even if it was in a flash of anger, you killed her. Now… now I think you've walked so far down that path I can't help you any more. And for that *I'm* sorry.'
It was then Rouge truly realized that she was losing him. The pain was immense, and under it all some strange, calm part of her thought how odd it was, that she should feel the loss of someone who had once annoyed her so. Odd how she had never realized how much she loved his strange, caring, playful nature, for all she had riled against it. Odd she should deny their relationship at first, then seek to snatch it back as soon as he withdrew it.
'Please…' she sobbed, her shoulders heaving now, 'please, I'm SORRY! Please, forgive me! What can I do to make you forgive me!?'
'It's not about me forgiving you,' replied Kurt calmly, 'it's about you forgiving Mystique, and then forgiving yourself for what you did to her. If you can do those things… then we'll see.'
'Kurt…'
'Bye Rouge.'
With a puff of smoke, a 'Bamf!' and the smell of rotten eggs, he was gone.
Rouge was left on her own in the Danger room, her tears made black by her mascara. She fell to the ground, clutching her chest and crying alone by a pile of shattered eggs.
THE END.
*Yep, I know it's not a real word but A: English isn't Kurt's main language, I can picture him making a mistake like that and B: It's a good word and, damn it, it should be real!
Humm, that either went really well, or really badly… I don't quite know which. RnR to let me know! I will love and cherish each of your comments, promise!e's H