A/N: Hey guys! I've decided to put The Chemist on hold for a while so I can write this. It's basically to help you understand why Kurt will make the decisions he makes and why he acts like he does. So, I hope you enjoy!
A young man paces in a medical ward; his skin is fair, hair is black, his eyes blue in colour.
"Is she okay?" He asks the nurse.
"She'll be fine, Mister Shepard." She assures him.
He stops pacing. "I want to see her." He demands.
The woman sighs. "You can't rush childbirth, Mister Shepard. Just sit down."
He reluctantly walks over to his seat. He focuses his attention to his hands and begins to twaddle his thumbs nervously.
The woman shakes her head. "Thinking about it isn't going to help."
"What else am I supposed to do? That's my son being born in there!" He pauses. "My son."
The woman shakes her head. "I'll go see how she's doing if it'll make you feel better."
He smiles. "I'd appreciate it Miss."
The woman walks into the sterile white lab, leaving the man alone.
My son. My SON. My child's being born in there. What if he's sick? What if he didn't develop properly?
His mind raced with these thoughts; each one worrying him more than the last. The thoughts seemed to have gone on for endless hours before the nurse arrived.
"Mister Shepard... I think you'll want to see this." Her tone was warm.
His eyes widened.
Could it really be?
He almost sprinted through the doors. His expression softened as soon as he saw. In the center of the white room sat his wife, holding their child.
She smiled at him. "Say hello to your son, Malcolm."
A loving smile spread across his face. "Hey little guy." He lightly pressed a finger to the small nose. "And what do we call you?"
The baby cooed, reaching for it's mother. The couple laughed softly.
The mother's expression turned curious. "I was thinking... Kurt?"
Their eyes met. "I think that's perfect, Hannah." He reached to pick up his son. "Kurt Shepard..." He held him close to his chest. "Welcome to the family, kiddo."
3 years later.
"Come on, little man! Daddy's gonna teach you how to play catch." Malcolm called out, but he was mostly ignored. Kurt was busy digging in the sand. "What? Too cool for your old man?"
"I think you already know the answer." Hannah was walking down the back steps.
"Aww, you're so mean to me, babe." He pulled her in. "And I like it." He whispered huskily.
"There'll be time for that later, Malcolm. Or are you looking to scar Kurt earlier than normal?" She folded her arms.
"He's busy playing with the sand, no harm done." Malcolm walked over to the sand box. "Hey Kurt."
Kurt turned his head to his dad and babbled a few words of gibberish.
Malcolm shook his head. "Still hasn't learned to say anything."
Hannah knelt down in the sand beside her son. "Kurt, say 'Mommy'."
Kurt stared at her in confusion.
"Mom-my. Come on, say it." She smiled at him.
Kurt laughed and babbled a bit more.
"Okay, copy me. Mom. Me. Mommy. Come on..." She slowly mouthed the words and enunciated the important sounds. Kurt reached out to grab her fingers. "Maybe we'll try later?" She stood to her feet.
Malcolm shrugged. "Well, if we can't get him to speak, we can at least try to get him to walk." He took a few steps toward the back door. "Come on little man; walk to daddy."
Kurt awkwardly stumbled to his feet, struggling to keep his balance. He quietly cried out in nervousness.
"No, you're doing great little man! Now, bring me your pail." Malcolm pointed towards the bright red plastic pail that sat roughly two feet away from his son. "Bring daddy the pail."
Kurt raised his arm outwards, aimed at the pail. He stood still for a good few minutes, his eyes closed and his palm out. His parents sat confused until they saw it; a bright flash of blue erupted around the pail, bringing it slowly floating towards the toddler. He grabbed it and let out a loud sigh, before slowly waddling toward his parents.
"Malcolm..." Hannah whispered.
"I saw." He whispered back.
"Our son is a biotic." Her voice quavered. "A BIOTIC!"
"Shh, calm dow-"
"Calm down? Our son is a freak of nature, Malcolm!" She gripped his shoulder tightly. "I have friends whose children DIED from Eezo exposure! What will they think if they see we have a biotic child?" Tears welled up in her eyes.
"Is friendship really more important than your child?" Malcolm almost screamed.
"If our child were normal, then no. But Kurt isn't normal! He's a damn freak!" Her voice shook heavily. "Either Kurt leaves, or I do. That's that."
Malcolm's eyes widened. "Five minutes ago he was the most important thing in your life! In our life! Now you want to get rid of him because he's different?"
She turned away from him. "It's me or him Malcolm; you can't have us both. If you think you can handle raising a biotic child on your own, then go ahead. But if you still love me, you'll get rid of that thing."
Malcolm's heart ached at the word. "That thing is still our son."
"Not anymore." She stated coldly.
Malcolm lowered his head. "I'll get rid of him tonight." His heart sank as he finished his sentence.
Hannah turned to him. "You know it's the right thing to do."
Malcolm pushed her away. It wasn't.
May 6, 2157; 09:21 PM
Malcolm pulled the car over next to an alleyway. He turned to sleeping child in the back seat behind him and just stared at him for a moment: Chocolate coloured hair, fair skin, bright brown eyes, he had his father's facial construct, but his mother's hair and eyes.
"I'm sorry little buddy," He whispered to himself. There was no amount of words that could make up for what he was going to do; it was not justifiable by any means. "I'd rather you hate the both of us than to grow up without a mother."
He opened the car doors and slowly lifted Kurt's sleeping body out of the back seat. He stepped into the alleyway and set the child down inside a large cardboard box.
Tears welled up in his eyes. "My heart will always be with you, Kurt."
He reluctantly walked back into his car and sped off down the road; the sound of the engines roaring loudly and causing Kurt to wake.
He sat up, observing his surroundings; he wasn't at home, no, home was clean and warm. This place is cold and dirty. He stumbled to his feet, poking his head outside the box to see where he was.
Home wasn't anywhere; just more boxes and concrete. He waddled outside his box, mustering a few coos and grunts. He managed to walk on to the sidewalk, where he saw many adults passing by. He reached for them, but none were Mom or Dad. How will they know who he is? At that moment, his memory flashed back to earlier in the day:
"Kurt, say 'Mommy'."
"Moomm-my." he spoke slowly, getting a feel for the word. Confident, he tried again. "Mommy."
That wasn't the only word he remembered: "Daddy!"
He stood where he was, calling out the words to the adults passing by, but none seemed to stop. As he continued, he cries became more anguished, sad. He desperately wanted to find his parents.
"Mommy! Daddy!" He cried into the crowd of oncoming strangers. All seemed to ignore him, each too preoccupied with their own duties to help a small child.
Defeated, Kurt waddled his way back to the box. He collapsed as tears streamed down his cheeks.
"Mommy gone."