Chapter four

Logan awoke to a muffled thump. Like there was a minor wrestling match going on in the next room. When he was awake enough to realize it was coming from the room that that punk kid Wagner had been assigned to. Pulling on a pair of jogging pants he growled in annoyance, slipping down the hall and knocked on Kurt's door.

"You're going to wake the whole house if you don't knock it off, Bucko."

The thumps continued, though lighter now, and Logan could hear the sound of harsh breathing through the door.

"I said, knock it off!"

There was another bump that was followed by the crash of something shattering on the floor.

"Damnit!" Logan turned the knob and peeked into the room. The moonlight that shone through the open drapes into the room lit it well enough for him to see that it was in shambles. He flipped on the light, the sudden glare making him squint a little as he stepped inside the room. He could just make out the dark form of Kurt, wrapped cocoon like in blankets, squashed into the corner between the dresser and the wall, golden eyes blinking rapidly as they adjusted to the sudden brightness.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Logan questioned as he approached the man. Kurt gave him a dazed look before lurching backward, muttering something incomprehensible.

"Hey! What, are you high? Snap out of it!"

Kurt regarded him fuzzily. "Logan?" He was already tightly bound, but he curled even tighter into himself if that was possible. "I can't get out of here. They won't let me go!" He struggled harder against the blankets wrapped around him.

Logan watched him bewildered for a minute, taking in Kurt's oddly detached appearance, before it suddenly dawned on him. "What did you take you idiot? I told you no God damn drugs!" He hauled Kurt up by grabbing a handful of the blankets wrapped around him, tossing him on the bed. That was all they needed – this stupid punk kid on drugs, when he was already emotionally unstable and could kill people by simply teleporting their heads off.

"Tell me what you took!"

Kurt looked away, either disinterested or reluctant to answer.

"Tell me!" Logan shouted, giving him a hard shake by the shoulders.

"Shrooms." He said it quickly, almost under his breath. The word was slurred but clear enough.

"Drugs! As if you weren't in enough God damned trouble, you go pull this shit. Smart move. Real smart move punk." Hoisting him from the bed, Logan dragged Kurt towards the small ensuite bathroom that adjoined his room. It was a tight fit with them both in there, but he bent Kurt over the sink without much trouble. "Now puke, or I'll make you do it."

Logan was pleased to note that the kid was with it enough to flip him his abbreviated form of the bird, before he slipped a finger down his throat and began to retch into the sink. He waited until Kurt was done empting his stomach and then popped the door to the small shower stall open and shoved the man in, blankets and all. With a small grin, he turned the cold on full blast, chuckling at Kurt as he yelped in outrage.

"That'll sober you up some. Teleport out of there, and I will skewer your ass." Logan held up a hand threateningly.

Kurt glowered at him, still a little frazzled around the edges, shivering as the water ran through his garish hair and down his body.

"I can't teleport high…I'd end up in a wall or something." He admitted.

"Well thank God for small mercies." Logan waited a few minutes until the man was thoroughly soaked before he twisted the tap off. "Ya got anything on under those blankets?"

Something else sparked in Kurt's eyes at that. "Nein…" He winked and raised a fine eyebrow at Logan and smiled invitingly.

Logan snorted at him. "Knock it off." Logan grabbed a plush towel off the rack and threw it at the shivering form. "Just leave the blankets in there the shower then and dry off. I'll grab you something to wear."

Leaving the bathroom, he rummaged through the kids drawers, coming up with a t-shirt and pair of sweats. Not bothering to look in the bathroom, he lobbed the clothes in the general direction of where he had left Kurt. Then he wandered back to sit on the edge of the mattress, listening to it groaning under his weight as he shifted.

Kurt emerged a few moments later, suitably clothed, still rubbing his damp hair with the towel. He stood by the door, obviously waiting for Logan to make the next move.

"So what was that about?" Logan said. He was grumpy, tired, and thoroughly disgruntled. This kind of mental health crap was Chuck's department, not his.

Logan narrowed his eyes. "Henry's been checking you consistently, so I know you haven't used since you got here. Why now?"

"I was never a junkie." Kurt twisted the damp towel in his hands uncomfortabally. "All I ever wanted was an occasional escape from life. And to have a little fun. I needed one tonight, that's all."

"Yeah – and that worked out great for you, huh? What was the blanket wrestling match about?"

Kurt folded his arms across his chest, letting the towel fall to the floor. "The blankets wouldn't let me go." He looked dead pan back at Logan.

"Wouldn't let you go. The blankets?" Logan looked incredulous.

"Ja. It was like they were a lover at first, soft, inviting and..." Kurt broke off at the glower on Logan's face. "But then they wouldn't let go, and wrapped all around me and were trying to strangle me."

He wandered over to the top end of his bed, and slid up on it, resting his head back on the wall behind it. "I don't usually have bad trips."

"So why are you hell bent in throwing away everything you have got here?" Logan noticed the man was still shivering slightly. Good. It should keep him in the here and now.

Kurt just stared unblinkingly at him for a moment. "Because I am not like you. I don't feel the need to fit in here. I don't even think that I can." He wrapped his arms around him. "I've listened to Xavier, and to his 'dream'. And I think it's all a big fucking acid trip, actually. Humans will never accept mutants. Just as the mutants here will never accept me for who I am."

Logan sighed heavily, watching Kurt raise a shaking hand to push a lock of wet hair from his eyes.

He grabbed Kurt by the arm, ignoring the young man's protests as he pulled him off the bed and dragged him towards the door. He wasn't sure of what the kid was capable of out of control like this, and he wasn't about to take any risks.

"Well I am not about to leave you alone like that, so I guess you are bunking on my floor, cause I sure ain't sleeping on yours."

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kurt was sitting in the small room by himself, sitting on his bed in the corner and picking at the grayish green paint that was flaking off of the cinder block wall with one fingernail. He could hear the sounds of the other children playing a game in the other room and sighed sadly. He knew the sounds of all their games but none of their rules because he had never played them. At least if they were busy having fun, the chances were better that he'd be left in peace.

He looked down at his hands, examining a tiny spot of blood where a larger paint chip had slipped under the nail and lifted it up. Kurt squeezed at the base of the digit, watching the drop of crimson grow, strangely pleased by the small amount of pain it brought with it. It was good to focus on that, real physical pain that he could see and smell rather than the pain that was constantly inside of him that ate at him worse than anything on the outside could.

The door swung open with a slam, startling him and he quickly tucked his hand behind him, grimacing at the smear of blood that it left as he accidentally brushed it against his pants. The headmistress was going to give him all sorts of hell for that. Those were the rules. No yelling, no fighting, and don't make a mess of your clothes. And no matter how hard he tried, it seemed that he always broke the rules.

A group of three boys strode into the room. They looked confident and happy poking each other and giggling amongst themselves over some private joke. Kurt drew his legs up, wrapping his arms around them trying to become as small as possible. This was just what he didn't need. To be found in a quiet out of the way place where they could beat him to a pulp with no one the wiser. Alaric was a few years older than him, and had been the 'top dog' of the orphanage since Kurt could remember. Alaric and his "gang", running things almost as strictly as the headmistress did, a tyranny of fear meted out with punches and kicks, stolen meals, and name calling. Kurt's tail swished uncertainly behind him, but he forced himself to still it, not wanting to draw any more attention to his differences than necessary.

"Hey Teufel…" Alaric's lip was lifted in a curl, his voice taunting as his clipped German accent echoed in the small room. "What you doing in here all by yourself?"

Kurt shivered a little. Alaric was obviously in a mood today, good or bad it all meant the same thing. Maybe if he just kept quiet, ignored their teasing words, they'd get bored and leave him alone.

"Bet you didn't hear that I'm leaving tomorrow, hey Teufel?" Alaric sneered at him and gave Kurt a jab in the shoulder when he didn't appear to be paying attention. Kurt continued to stare pointedly at the opposite wall, refusing to meet Alaric's eyes.

"Yep – I'm getting out of here – I'm going to have a real home now. But of course I have you to thank for that Teufel. Nothing like a little freak like you to make the rest of us look good."

The boys behind him laughed dutifully, their eyes hard on at Kurt as he curled tighter into himself.

"That's nice." Kurt managed. His eyes stung with restrained tears, but it wouldn't do to let this bunch see him cry.

"Bet you are wondering if you'll ever have a family, hey Teufel? But who would want a thing like you? Even the adults around here don't like you, demon-spawn." Alaric pushed his face closer to Kurt's. Kurt gritted his teeth, trying to keep silent. He had to remember that he should be glad Alaric was leaving. Maybe now he'd find some peace.

"Bet you wish that you'd died at the bottom of that waterfall, don't you Teufel? Even your momma knew you shouldn't live."

Something in Kurt snapped. Everyone knew that story, and took every opportunity to throw it in his face. But he just couldn't take it anymore, not when jerks like Alaric could find someone to love him. He sprung forward with a yell, hands curling around the older boy's throat, tackling him down to the floor. He shook the boy, forcing his short cropped blonde head against the worn linoleum over and over again, gratified by the thunk it made each time it hit.

He cried over and over. "Don't call me that! Don't call me that!" Kurt couldn't stop the tears streaming from his eyes.

But almost as soon as it had begun, he felt the other boys grabbing a hold of his arms, dragging him off Alaric. Kurt bucked and fought against them silently, realizing now that to shout would only bring the attention of one of the caretakers and he'd undoubtedly be the one punished. He was always the one they punished. Alaric slowly stood, and put a hand to the back of his head. Seeing the blood on his fingertips he glared murderously at Kurt.

"Oh, you are going to pay for that, Teufel. You are going to pay."

The first fist took him square in the stomach, and he knocked the air out of him. After that blows the blows rained steadily upon him, but it was the names that they called him that cut the deepest.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Logan rolled over to look at the clock. 4:00 in the god damned morning. It had been 1:30ish by the time he'd half drug, half carried Kurt back into his room, and the he'd tossed and turned so much on the floor that it had been impossible to fall asleep for even longer than that. Now what was wrong he thought grumpily as he heard the whimpers coming from the swaddled form on the floor.

Reluctantly Logan slid out of his warm bed and prodded the dark form with a toe.

"What now Kurt, are the god damned blankets strangling you again?"

Kurt's eyes sprung open as he gasped in surprise. He blinked confusedly back at Logan for a minute, before the tension in his body started to ease a little. He looked around, slightly embarrassed. "It's nothing – just a dream," he said.

Logan nodded at him and went back to bed.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kurt stood by the front door, back pack slung over one shoulder. He looked kind of wistful underneath all of the determined bravado.

"Sure you want to go? No one's kicking you out."

Kurt smiled at him. "Ja. It's better this way." He reached for the door knob before hesitating and turning back to him. "Logan. I…just wanted to say thank you. You were a good friend to me.

"You too, Kurt. You know that you are welcome back anytime." Logan shook the proffered two fingered hand and watched as Kurt turned and swung open the heavy front door, stepping halfway through before he stopped again, to smile back at Logan over his shoulder.

"And Logan?"

"Yah?"

"Nice ass." Kurt winked at him and strode down the steps. Logan chuckled and watched till was out of view, stepping back inside and shutting the door.

"Damn punk."