-:-
But I don't know how to fight. All I know how to do is stay alive.
-Alice Walker.

Good Vibrations-:-

There are hidden dangers on the field of battle. Not like mud that can mire down an entire French army during the Crusades or nerve gas hidden away during what is supposed to be a truce; not for mutants. Hidden dangers come in not recognizing friend or foe when a use of one power affects another and it can't be taken back once a target is hit. Those sorts of dangers are the worst of all, because by the time someone recognizes a mistake, the culprit won't know or care if the assumptions of guilt upon them are right or wrong.

"Oh, c'mon yah blue gecko; show what you've got!"

"I believe I just did, slime ball!"

If a fight takes place between two rival factions among mutants, it's good to set boundaries to make sure the strong can take their own hits and the week can avoid those much more terrifying and harmful evils.

Wanda waved a hand, slick and perfect and precise and Cyclops, unable to close his eyes, was left to whirl in a perfect circle and then through the air; flashes of his red energy bursting every which way and nothing he could do about it. Jean attempted to give Wanda a little start through her system, and it appeared, to the observations of Avalanche, Quicksilver, The Blob and some of the X-men in the midst of battle with their opponents (two were too busy doing acrobatic feats and tossing themselves bodily at each other to care or notice; focused entirely on their sparring partner), that it worked. A little flicker of energy made its way from Scott's visor before he could close his eyes, but it was small—a flash of bird wings or a third of a lightning bolt—so he didn't pay any attention to it.

If boundaries aren't set, the damage can be irreparable.

Two toed feet, agile and strong (though not as strong as the pair that had been making their way to thin torso and furry face), pressed upwards and bounced Toad off into the air, a little flare of pain riding along the smaller mutant's thin and slick neck before he even hit the ground. There was blood in his nose and mouth, panic setting into him as he knew that Nightcrawler didn't carry sharp weapons. Instinct took over and Todd Tolansky clutched at his neck and bounded away with the rest of the retreating Brotherhood. Kurt Wagner grinned with clean and sharp canines, proud of himself as he bounded over to the rest of his victorious friends; nobody noticing the dark blottings of dark red in the grass as the night was dark and the moon hanging above them had only begun to move out of its cycle from newness (nothing more than a sliver of light in total darkness).

It had been a month since the battle between the X-Men and Brotherhood over something involving a mining shaft out near Arrowrose and for some reason or another that the students of Xavier couldn't explain, most of the Brotherhood had seemed brighter than usual. Wanda especially had been seen in school with an extra swagger in her step (a statement to the world that she could take on anything and everything and without the headaches and lack of control she'd had in previous months) and a less angry expression on her face.

But, most of the Brotherhood, did not mean, in Kurt's opinion as he stared across the span of the gym, running in a circle with everyone else and sweating buckets under his fur and hologram because of the furnace turned up for winter blasting eighty degrees with very few breaks, all of the Brotherhood. Toad had been rather…less annoying and less like himself since coming back from his three day absence after the mining fiasco. He looked thinner than he normally did, eyes sinking into his head and upper bother bundled up for the first time since Kurt had ever met him with long sleeved turtlenecks and hoodies that were too bid for him and most certainly must have been gotten through thrift shops if not simply stolen.

In fact, Kurt blinked, eyes still on Todd as he jogged with the rest of the class with a little shuffle and shaking along his entire frame (winter, it seemed, was a very big deal even with the heat the school provided); Kurt hadn't heard him make a joke among the Brotherhood, trash talk the X-Men, speak up in class or even make a sound during the lunch period. Not for a month…

'Did something happen with him and the others, or is he just being veirder than usual?'

Despite himself, Kurt resolved to keep a timid eye and ear open and on Todd when, after gym and during lunch, he snuck off without eating anything or even making an effort to go near the rest of the Brotherhood. He just wandered out of the gym and out the back door of the school; passing by Wanda without looking at her and the Scarlet Witch noticing him but not making an attempt to actually acknowledge him. It was unsettling to the fuzzy dude.

It had been Wanda's fault. Cyclops would have been easy to blame, but even if he was the gun, Wanda was the one that pulled and then held the trigger until her chosen weapon had emptied and had been forced out her control. Todd didn't want to blame her, but after weeks and weeks of him being silent and everyone seeming all the more happy for it, it was impossible to ignore.

Plus, the pain was getting worse and being without the ability to complain, Todd was getting more cranky and likely to be far more spiteful than he ever thought he would be after all the crap the universe had unloaded onto him in loads.

Stepping out of the school (it hurt his back to walk, even slowly, but if he hopped anywhere anymore he got lightheaded and then wound up vomiting dry heaves for about an hour; walking was the best he could do after gym class with all of his muscles screaming bloody murder at him) Todd made his way towards the bleachers on the track field. It was snowing and snow was bad for him in so many ways, but it also soothed the burning ache that had been along the outer and inner lining if his throat for a while. If he sat out there long enough, there was a small chance it might even bring down the fever that had been building in his system like yellow pus for over a week.

Sighing through his nose (not his mouth; he'd only open that now if he had to and, seeing as very few people even talked to him, that wasn't a problem), the dusty brown haired teen brought a hand up gently to the collar of his black turtleneck and ran his pointer finger along the edge. Less than a second and he brought the webbed appendage away, a hot and painful jolt running across him that he didn't want prolonged. He pulled the shirt's collar a little higher and then tucked his hands away to protect them from the snow as he took a seat in the front row of the bleachers and mentally went over possibilities of medical treatment for what felt like the millionth time in over twenty days. His yellow eyes that not even he could find attractive tracing the outlines in the clouds and glazed over as more snow began to fall, some going so far as to settle in his hair without melting.

'Hm, maybe if I go begging to the X-Men I'll at least be able to eat solid food again…'

Thinking about his current condition was certainly better than thinking about its affect. He didn't want to think anymore about how Wanda was a lot happier now that he still did her favors (opening doors for her, making her meals, cleaning the house now that pranks were too difficult without help and joking couldn't move past his lips without him choking on his own tongue, buying her flowers just the week before but not giving them to her outright and just leaving them in a vase in the kitchen that she admired but didn't ask where they'd come from) without taking credit in crowing and pet names. He didn't want to think of how Freddy was growing somehow more social without Todd hanging off of him (he'd gotten Tabby to go out with him two weeks ago because of not having Todd voice his opinion on the matter) like a limpet on his shoulder. He didn't like to think that Pietro was getting away with a lot of stuff that Todd had never noticed before and did now that he had much more time on his hands. Todd didn't want to think on how Lance had assumed this was Todd trying to be more mature to impress Mystique and Magneto and was giving him space to do just that (a proud look in his eye that was there for all the wrong reasons).

His shoulders twitched and his frame shook for reasons that had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with emotion that didn't have an outlet. He would have started crying, tears running without sobs, but the bell rang out over the field and he was feeling stiff along all of his joints.

Reaching a hand up, he brushed snow off of the top of his head and wiped water from the edges of his eyes, stepping down from the bleachers and walking across the field in the veins of the exact steps he'd taken to get to his contemplation. Numb feeling welled up in him and his head felt like cotton when he stepped back through the school doors with his stiff joints and his fever building up along the outlines of his forehead and the curves of his ears that an unobservant viewer would mistake for embarrassment.

The conjoined feelings prevented him from immediately noticing that with the halls filling up with students trying to get to class, he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings and had bodily bumped a wiry arm into thick muscle that made up most of a large football star with blonde hair and a poor attitude towards anyone perceived as weaker and much easier to win a fight against.

He did hear a pair of books hit the floor (just thick and leafy enough to be for history of the Crusades and possibly having notes stuffed into the break between one page to another) immediately before a hand that had much practice in catch and release found his shoulder and a booming voice (booming being an operative word as volume had become a lot more defined with the wet cotton in Todd's head weaving together) asked, "Now, why is it that you can never watch where you're going, Tolansky?"

Todd closed his eyes when he was flung back to look at who was very likely about to beat him up simply for the reason of accidental body contact and the fact that in his not being able to answer the question, the situation would escalate much faster than it normally could.

'Fuck, yo.'

The circle of students goading and cheering and waiting for bloodshed had been forming before Kurt even turned the corner to get to his next class and if he had been in a better state of mind, he might have gone to get a teacher. Or, maybe Jean as she had some leverage over Duncan and some previous experience with talking him down and out of stupid choices. Or maybe he would have just kept moving to avoid making things worse.

Such as it was, he did no such thing when he saw Duncan lift an emaciated body over his head and started asking for suggestions from the crowd. The teen in the jock's grasp wasn't moving much, and Kurt had sped up his pace in time to see the resigned look of an animal when it's about to be struck and can do nothing but go limp and hope that whatever happens next is brief and less painful than times before.

'Toad, vhat the—'

Kurt didn't get to finish the thought as Duncan took a suggestion from one of the older looking teens circling like buzzards (he was wearing a Letterman jacket and probably held some authority over Duncan in football; perhaps he was another quarterback or a receiver) and changed his grip on Todd. He brought one hand to grip Todd's knees and then roughly tried to grip at Todd's throat. An adult would recognize it as the way to throw a small child into a swimming pool so they could be sent up in the air head first and then land in the pool with their feet curved so they didn't splash; a maneuver that, when done on dry land or in the halls of the school would be extremely painful on impact.

Panic set in as he sped into a run, not really aware he was speaking until the words were out of his mouth, "Matthews, don't you dare, you—!"

When Duncan's hand found Todd's throat, the Brotherhood boy's eyes widened so much that it seemed most horrible, arms finally flailing, but too late as Matthews swung his arms to the left and then rammed Todd's body forward and into the air, thumb nail digging into Todd's skin on release. Todd's mouth widened but no sound came when he moved up and forward into the air, most probably to impact his head with the ceiling and then break his legs on the floor.

"Oh, look, frogs can fly," Duncan chuckled as Kurt spun from where he was running and over towards where Todd had the highest probability of falling; a scuffed piece of floor three feet from the lockers on the left, "Not too long until pigs can, too." And then the blonde walked away before he could see the rest of his handiwork; watching Tolansky crack his head like an egg wouldn't be worth the detention he would be handed if a teacher caught him—he had a game come Friday and wasn't going to miss it.

Todd did the smart thing when he saw the ceiling headed towards him and ducked his head just enough so that the curve of his back hit the ceiling and skinned the flesh under his shirt on impact. Other than that, he couldn't remember much as it had irritated the injuries he already had and the pain was too horrible and he lost consciousness as a form of protection.

That didn't quite explain why he woke up in the mansion of the X-Men, in their medical ward, with Fuzzy sitting in a chair—wringing Todd's turtleneck between his hands—next to the cot Todd had been placed on, but he was sure it would be explained to him once his eyes swiveled over to the blue mutant and looked expectantly at fretful amber eyes. It was almost funny when Kurt gave a little squeak, finally noticing Todd being conscious when he had not been five seconds before, but Todd pushed the impulse to laugh away when his mind picked up on that, if Kurt had Todd's sweater, that meant nothing was covering him but his pants.

Todd's webbed hand came up to his throat (not the throbbing skin patched up with gauze and animal friendly medicated salve) and his free hand clenched when he found gauze around the semi-open tear that had been far too close to his vocal chords for his liking over the last month. The skin around it was numb, so he had probably given one hell of a sedative to deal with the pain that flared up whenever he even grazed the scabby injury, but Todd really didn't care.

His hand fell back onto his caught and he looked expectantly at Kurt, a semi-pissed off expression crossing his face, even though Todd knew Kurt hadn't even done anything. He was in a bad mood; he deserved to feel irrationally spiteful.

"Uh," Kurt coughed, setting Todd's shirt over the back of the chair as he stood up (holograph off and showing his regular blue self) and looked at most anywhere but at the other mutant before he spoke, a look of determination and anger on his face, "You had a pretty nasty infection. The Professor says that you getting beaten up vas probably the best thing that could have happened othervise you might have died from the fever caused by your neck injury. Vhich, by the vay, I vas vondering how you could have had, seeing as you live vith four other people who should have noticed and taken you to the hospital!"

The volume of the German's voice didn't help as it echoed everywhere in the infirmary and Todd flinched, closing his eyes and waving one hand in a motion to put in this fact to the panicked blue boy; sitting up and folding one leg under the other so he wouldn't slip off the cot and hurt himself more.

Kurt didn't pay attention and clutched Todd's shoulders, teeth looking very sharp in the bright light the room had, "Vhat, did you think that they vould think any less of you than they already do? You got injured in battle, so vhat?! Hiding the fact that you got hurt by accident isn't vorth dying from infection!"

Both of Todd's legs—still very in shape compared to the rest of his body and very likely to stay that way until his died—flung outwards and jostled Kurt in the stomach to make him let go.

Kurt let out a mouthful of air before being hurled back into the chair he'd been sitting in as Todd set himself in a crouch on the cot, battle ready and looking angry in a feeble sort of way. If he could, he would have been yelling at Kurt, asking him how the German expected anyone in the Brotherhood to give a rat's ass about him even if he did try and tell them. How did Kurt think he felt when he woke up the day after the battle to find himself unable to speak and couldn't tell anyone that because he had tried, damnit, and they just shooed him off to tend to their own injuries? Even after they had healed up, how could he tell them when Mystique had come back for a week to drill them and train them harder and the fact that he couldn't say anything made it easier for everyone because no mouthing off meant no punishment from the boss lady? Todd would have loved to ask the rhetorical questions and let out the hurt and ice cold numbness he'd been holding like marbles in his mind as Kurt fizzled and reared up at him—he even went as far as opening his mouth and contracting the damaged chords in his throat to shout…

"F—!"

But that one try at a word, a curse, and then he was down on the floor and writhing in 'Hot-hot-pain-stopstopstop-please…'

He didn't really notice the wet, uncomfortable, salty tears had finally come until he found Kurt crouching next to him and trying to pull Todd's hands away from the gauze at his throat before he ripped the fresh stitches underneath.

And then the fuzzy elf was hugging him and shushing him and Todd was gripping Kurt's shoulders instead of his throat and sobbing without hum or resonance…how glad he was at that because it would have been so much worse with ugly hiccups that hurt so bad and whimpers that scorched more than drinking proofed and expensive vodka and his own accent drowning out soft German and the feeling of dry lips at the roots of his country dust colored hair. Todd buried his head in Kurt's chest and heard the rhythm of a heartbeat as the rest of him shook in time with party drums and sad music that existed only in the way of phantoms and things that didn't happen but were remembered perfectly.

…If boundaries aren't set and damage is done, sometimes it can be fixed. Sometimes damage can be a good thing and in fixing there can be made a thing that is better than what stood before. With a little help…