Chapter 53
In the end, Azazel slept for an entire day.
When he finally woke, he experienced that fleeting panic of 'where the hell am I?' before his memories of the last forty-eight hours came rushing back along with a sharp, stabbing pain as he tried to sit up. He groaned and sank back down, pulling the covers over his face.
"Hey, he's awake!"
Azazel folded down a corner of fabric only to find a very chipper Kurt perched over him. "We were beginning to worry about you!"
"Liebchen, step back. Give your father room to breathe." Margali suddenly appeared, her hand on Kurt's shoulder to gently guide him away.
"... Coffee?" Azazel mumbled before yawning and draping his arm over his eyes, attempting to block the far too bright sunlight. Margali spoke a few German words and he heard Kurt vanish. The brief quiet in the caravan was soon replaced by dishes clinking against the table, followed by a very alluring aroma of hot food. Azazel peeked out from under his arm to see Margali laying out a small breakfast.
"How long was I sleeping?" He asked when he eventually sat up (carefully, this time). He stretched, popping his back and cracking his neck; even his tail felt stiff and heavy from slumber.
"Long time," she answered without so much as glancing over. "My sleeping draught is powerful, but I suspect you just needed the rest. Most of your friends slept until very late yesterday, although you slept the longest. How do you feel?"
"Good," he grunted as he climbed out the bed. He did feel much better - his chest still ached but not as badly as before - although he still didn't think he could teleport far. Certainly not far enough to get back to Westchester, even on a solo trip. Margali gestured at the table as if to say, 'help yourself.' She didn't need to do so twice; Azazel happily took a plate and pulled up a chair.
"You snore, you know," she observed, wiping her hands on her apron as he piled food on his plate. "Loudly, too."
"Da, I know," he smirked, "Raven always teased me. I had nose broken when I was younger, and I do nyet think it healed right on inside."
"She will be in shortly, I suppose; I am sure by now Kurt has announced to everyone you are awake," the gypsy shook her head. "Anyways, I have things to be doing now, but you take your time. Kurt will return with coffee."
Azazel expressed gratitude as he dug into his breakfast. A few minutes later, the boy appeared clutching several mugs of coffee - one black, one with cream, one with sugar, one with both - and explained that since he didn't know how Azazel liked his coffee, he decided to make several different varieties just in case (why Kurt didn't just bring cream and sugar with one cup of coffee, Azazel wasn't entirely sure, but his son's eagerness to please made him smile). The red mutant motioned for him to take a seat, and the boy fell into the opposing chair, resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands as he watched Azazel. Kurt had already eaten - after all, it was late morning - and he was still bursting with questions and things he wanted to know. His excited chattering was cute, even if in a slightly annoying way. Azazel tried his best to remain cheerful, but he'd never been what one would call a 'morning person.' Neither was Clarice; the adopted siblings had an unspoken rule ever since she was a teenager about only communicating by pointing and grunting until after at least the second cup of coffee.
God I miss her, Azazel thought as he chewed and listened to Kurt prattle nonstop. He hoped they could arrange a way to return to America soon; he wouldn't be able to fully relax until he knew Little Sister was indeed alright.
The cloth door suddenly shifted and Raven appeared just behind Kurt. She was silhouetted by a pool of sunlight, but Azazel was pleased to see she was again wearing her natural colors and a simple white dress. Azazel smiled warmly, and she returned his greeting.
"Hi Mom!" Kurt grinned and waved, but Raven balked slightly when she realized he was there. Her body language didn't go unnoticed.
"Kurt, could give your mother and I give us a few moments alone, please?" The boy nodded and obediently disappeared. Azazel then motioned for Raven to take Kurt's vacated seat, but she declined, continuing to stand and looking rather pensive. She wants to talk about something, he realized as he sipped one of the coffees. How did I end up with both a wife and a son who want to talk first thing in the morning?
"Yes?" He raised an eyebrow and switched to Russian, both because Kurt was gone and it added a little more privacy. It seemed like no one in the camp liked to knock, and he could tell instantly that whatever she wanted to talk about, it was some degree of serious.
"There's something we need to talk about," she answered back in Russian, crossing her arms.
"I can see this. What's going on?"
"Hang on a second," Raven ducked out of the caravan door. Azazel saw her wave to someone before she turned back and stepped into the room proper. She was definitely jumpy, which was very much unlike her. Azazel frowned and pushed back his plate. Her nervous energy was infections, and he suddenly didn't feel like eating anymore. Just when things couldn't get stranger, Moira MacTaggert appeared in the caravan doorway.
"When did you arrive?" He asked, surprised. Last he saw Moira, she was on a horse headed towards a hospital.
"Very late last night, and I didn't get much sleep." Unlike Raven, Moira didn't wait for an invitation; she immediately took the open chair and snatched the closest mug of coffee. "Do you mind if we switch to English? I don't think I have the energy to conjugate Russian anything right now."
"Of course." Azazel agreed; he could see dark circles under her eyes from across the table. "And the others? Is everyone...?"
"Everyone's fine, they're just still at the hospital. Peter's being officially discharged this afternoon." Moira took a long sip of coffee. "I came back to update everyone, but Charles wanted to stick around in case anything needs telepathic fixing. Peter's not going to be able to ride back; think you can make a short jump to transport four people a few miles?"
"I can manage that." Azazel nodded before eyeing both women suspiciously. "Now, will you both tell me what is so important? It cannot be that request for taxi service."
"When you found us at the military base, do you remember that I had a cut on my arm?" Raven extended her left arm, and there was a pale, sky blue line a few inches long on its underneath just above her wrist. Knowing her healing factor, that small scar would be gone soon enough; it was already so faint that Azazel had entirely forgotten about the injury until she called attention to it.
"Da, you used Peter's shirt as bandages."
"Yes, well it wasn't just a cut," Raven bit her lip, studying his face carefully. "All four of us abducted from Westchester had... tracking chips implanted in our arms, and..."
"You do nyet still have...?!" Azazel asked in alarm as he jumped up. The last thing anyone needed was for the military to track the mutants here and put Margali's people in danger.
"No, of course not! Hank cut them out immediately, and we destroyed them back at the base." Moira answered, waving for him to sit. "That's why we all had cuts on our arms and Peter no longer had a shirt by the time you found us."
"I still nyet understanding why you both need to tell me this?" At his words, Raven sighed and nodded to Moira. The agent leaned forward, watching Azazel carefully as she spoke.
"Raven told me that your apprentice Clarice has a scar on her left forearm, right about here." Moira rolled up her sleeve to show off her own small, healing cut in the same spot as Raven's and Clarice's. Azazel frowned; it was a rather odd coincidence all three women had similar wounds.
"Back in the mid-70s, the CIA used tracking chips to catch targets of high interest," Moira continued. "Basically, the CIA would catch someone shady, knock them out, secretly insert a chip into their arm and presto: they could now track this person anywhere in the world, looking for their real targets. Not the most ethical move, but the CIA used this tactic successful to catch mobsters, drug lords, and other high-profile criminals. All they had to do was follow the chipped person back to their hideout and bingo! They'd have their target and a newsworthy bust."
"And...?" Azazel took a deep breath as Moira's words started to sink in. He really didn't like where this was going.
"And I'm telling you this because I know for a fact the CIA stole both the tactic and technology from the Russians. More specifically, from the KGB, who'd been using tracking chips since the late '50s. The Americans didn't even have this technology until 1971."
Azazel's eyes darted from Moira to Raven. Her golden eyes were brimming with tears, but she gestured for Moira to continue. The agent spoke slowly, explaining everything in painful detail. At first Azazel frowned - she had to be mistaken, he couldn't believe this was true - but he knew Moira had no reason to lie to him, and he no longer distrusted her. By the time she finished speaking, all the dominoes fell neatly into place.
A numb rage began creeping over him, and the breakfast he'd eaten sat heavy in his stomach. Azazel felt like he was going to be sick.
"It was all a set-up, Zaz." Raven spoke quietly, wiping her eyes as she voiced his worst fears. "Don't you see? I was the target. Those KGB assholes chipped Clarice and planted her for us to find. That's why we got that shitty assignment in Kyzyl that was way too easy for you. They sold out our cell trying to kill me, but when I escaped, they then blamed me for the entire raid. They made those false files claiming I was an American spy and they made sure you saw them. They made those fake autopsy photos not to protect you, but to stop me from going back for you."
Azazel nodded but remained silent, looking down at his hands on the table. His bosses never liked Raven - not from day one - and they'd never hid the fact they only tolerated her because Azazel was one of their best. He'd made a case repeatedly for them to accept her as his partner, but they labeled Raven a liability and a dangerous distraction. He knew he'd given the KGB a pretty big 'fuck you' by marrying Raven without their permission, but he thought he'd escaped the worst of their displeasure by getting stuck with a full year's worth of shitty assignments. It didn't matter to him how boring his work was as long as Raven was by his side.
And now... he looked again at Raven - his beautiful, lovely wife - and she was openly crying. All these years he had blamed her for the '67 raid, and now he knew he'd been played a fool. She hadn't betray him; the men and women who he'd worked for most of his life had. Never in his wildest dreams did he think the KGB would punish him for insubordination by turning him against his own family. Moira and Raven's revelation, along with everything he knew from the last seven months, all led to one conclusion:
Azazel would make every one of those monsters who took away his family pay with their lives.
"Good news!" The happiness in Kurt's voice practically stung Raven's ears. "Mama said I can do a special perform... um, what are you doing?"
She turned to see Kurt halfway though the caravan door, frozen in mid-step with complete confusion etched on his face. Moira left a few minutes ago and Raven had spent most of her time since begging Azazel to not teleport immediately to the East and go on a killing spree. So far he'd turned a deaf ear to her pleas and continued to arm himself with the few weapons he had remaining. Eventually Raven restored to physically hanging onto him to prevent him from leaving (there was no way he'd take her on his self-appointed vengeance mission). At present, Azazel was trying to pry her fingers off his arm, but he too paused when Kurt appeared. The boy gaped at his father, who anyone could see, was clearly getting ready to do some violence.
"Kurt, sweetheart..." Raven began, struggling to maintain her grip, "now's not really a good time..." Kurt ignored her and strode into the caravan.
"Nein, what's going on?" He demanded. He then pointed at the dagger strapped to Azazel's arm. "Why are you wearing your weapons? You're safe here. You don't need them."
"I will need them where I am going," Azazel growled as he finally twisted free from Raven's grasp. Undeterred, she quickly grabbed his tail (much to his annoyance).
"What? Where are you going?" Kurt frowned. "If you're going to pick up Peter and the others at the hospital, you won't need your swords to..."
"Nyet now, Kurt!" Azazel barked, and the teen shrank back.
"Mom, what's going on? Kurt's voice was little more than a frightened whisper, and it broke Raven's heart. She dropped Azazel's tail and went to her son, putting her arms around his shoulders. Azazel sighed in loud frustration and put his hand on his forehead, rubbing it vigorously. She knew he hadn't meant his words to be so harsh. Kurt present or not, she had to try to appeal once again to Azazel's sensibility.
"Zaz, listen to me: you know you can't just kill several high-ranking KGB bosses without serious repercussions..."
"What?!" Kurt practically yelled, his golden eyes widening in panic. "You're going to... what?!"
"Son, you would nyet understand..." Azazel tried to dismiss but Kurt held his ground.
"Try me!" He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, almost glaring at Azazel in challenge. Raven took the initiative and gave Kurt a very brief version of what she and Moira had just explained to Azazel. When she finished, Kurt frowned.
"You promised that part of your life was over," he said quietly. "Last night, you promised we'd all go back to Westchester and be a family."
"We will; I am nyet breaking that promise. This is different," Azazel started, "after this, we can be family and..."
"How is this different?" He demanded. "Killing people breaks your promise!"
"These people took your mother away from me!" Azazel snarled angrily.
"And they took you and mom away from me!" Kurt shot back just as fiercely. "If anyone has a right to be angry and want revenge, it's me!"
The red mutant took a step back, caught off guard by Kurt's raw conviction and anger. Raven had to admit she too was impressed; not many people could stand up so unflinchingly to Azazel. Kurt was right too; they'd all been hurt by the KGB's betrayal, but arguably none more so than him. Azazel lost Raven but hadn't known he'd lost a child too; Raven lost Azazel but chose to give up their son; meanwhile, Kurt had lost both of them without having a say in the matter at all.
"If you really mean it - if you really meant what you said last night about being a family - then it starts here and it starts now," Kurt stated firmly. Raven could see tears building in his eyes. "I know you are angry, but killing those people is not the answer. It's not going to give any of us back the time we lost. All it's going to do is put our family in danger. Please, Dad?"
Azazel took a deep breath and stared hard at Kurt. After a long moment, he scowled and looked away. He unbelted his dagger and threw it roughly to the floor.
"Thanks, Da..." Kurt smiled and reached out but Azazel vanished before he could finish. The indigo teen dropped his hand to his side.
"That's the closest to an apology you're gonna get," Raven gave Kurt's shoulder a gentle squeeze. He nodded, but when he looked back, she saw a few tears had already escaped. She pulled Kurt into her arms.
"What is all this yelling...?" Margali appeared in the doorway looking rather vexed, but her displeasure crumbled as soon as she saw Kurt crying. "Oh, Leibechen!" She strode forward, quickly folding her arms around both Kurt and Raven. "It is alright. Your mamas are here."
"Ah, there you are!"
Azazel frowned when he heard Margali's voice. He was sure he'd be alone here; he had been alone for the better part of two hours already. He looked down - about 10 meters down - to find her staring up at him with her hands on her hips.
"I really should have known," the gypsy called out as she hoisted herself onto the tree's lower branches. She began to climb towards his perch with admirable speed and accuracy. "Kurt always hid in trees a few kilometers from camp whenever he was in trouble. Like son, like father."
"I am nyet in trouble," Azazel clarified as he watched her scale the tree. When Margali finally reached him, he extended a hand to help her onto the thick branch upon which he sat.
"I will admit that I am impressed," he conceded as he curled his tail back around the branch to steady his position. It only took her a few minutes to climb to him, even wearing a dress.
"Impressed by what?" Margali asked as she folded her skirt underneath her legs. "That I climbed a tree or that I found you?"
"Both, actually."
"Well, the climbing part was easy," she smirked, "you do not raise two boys and live in a circus without learning a few tricks. And, as far as finding you, like I said: whenever Kurt was missing, all I had to do was look up."
They sat side-by-side for a few moments before Margali cleared her throat.
"So, are you going to tell me what you are hiding from, or must I drag it out of you?"
"How much do you already know?" Azazel sighed and glanced over.
"I know some things from Mystique and Kurt," she admitted, "and of course, half the camp heard you three yelling."
"I am so stupid," Azazel admitted a short while later, after filling her in on his family's little fight.
"Most men are," Margali smiled patted his shoulder. "You really should not take it so personally."
Her words at least got a small chuckle out of him. It felt good to laugh, after all the hurt and anger of his morning.
"You know," Margali soothed her skirt as she spoke, "when Mystique left Kurt, I was so angry at her for such a long time. How could a mother abandoned her child, her own flesh-and-blood, to a complete stranger? And I was a stranger. She spent only three days here before leaving Kurt, and did not really know me. I could have thrown her baby down a well for all she knew. But, sometimes the best things come from circumstances we do not anticipate. Lucky for all of us, I loved Kurt and I wanted to keep him, and my life has been better for it." She looked over at Azazel. "You have a little girl, Clarice? You mentioned her last night."
"Nyet my little girl; Clarice is Little Sister. And, she is now twenty-four," he smiled, "nyet so little anymore."
"Well, you would not have Clarice in your life if it had not been for that unfortunate situation in 1967. Yes, your employers unfairly took away your wife and a son who you did not know existed but, they unknowingly gave you a sister. So, the way I see it, it is not all bad, even if that is how it feels right now. My people have a saying, 'holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else, but you are the one who gets burned.'" Margali patted his knee. "Azazel, you have something not many people get: a choice. Choose to let of of this anger at those who have wronged you, and instead, be happy with your family. Perhaps that is the best revenge, since they wanted to take them away from you to begin with."
Azazel thought about her words. It was true that he wouldn't have Clarice if he and Raven hadn't been set-up; he'd never really thought about it that way. Yes he lost one family member but gained another, even if unintentional. And, as Raven had pointed out, killing several high-ranking KGB bosses wouldn't exactly go unnoticed. He could probably kill them all easily enough, but then Azazel be hunted for the rest of his life. He wouldn't be able settle down in Westchester, and if the surviving KGB located Raven or Clarice or found out about Kurt, it would put their lives at risk. The KGB had taken away his family, but doing the right thing meant turning the other cheek and not seeking retribution for this grievous wrong.
For someone who's career was built on revenge for hire, it all just seemed so momentously unfair.
"Give me your hand," Margali requested, holding out her own.
"Why?" He asked skeptically.
"Because I am going to read your palm." She cocked her head slightly and smiled. "Did Kurt not tell you? I am 'Margali Szardos, Clairvoyant Extraordinaire'!"
He looked at her blankly as he tried to puzzle out what the word 'clairvoyant' meant.
"I am a fortune teller," she rolled her eyes, "and a pretty damn good one, too. Now, give me your hand."
"I do nyet believe in that stuff," Azazel said but held out his hand to be polite. The woman did climb a tree for him, after all.
"Ja, well seventeen years ago I did not believe in blue women or vanishing men," Margali snickered, "but here we are, in a tree."
Azazel smiled and shook his head as she took his hand in her own, spreading his fingers apart and gently tracing the lines across his palm.
"That's interesting," she surmised after a few seconds.
"What?" Azazel pursed his lips and looked down at his hand. He didn't see anything unusual; just his normal deep red skin and callouses. She looked up, her green eyes glittering.
"Here, on your Heart Line," she traced the faint curving line that lead up to his middle finger. "It tells me you've faced much hardship..."
"Oh, really?" Azazel smirked as he waved his free hand round his face. "You think so?"
"Maybe if you shaved you would not look so much like the devil. Have you ever considered this?"
"Maybe I do nyet like shape of my chin so much," he admitted almost sheepishly as he looked away.
"Naja, let me continue." She turned back to his palm. "Ah, here! On your Fate Line," she leaned in close, seeming to measure the line with her finger. "I see death in your future..."
"Fantastika," he growled quietly and yanked his hand away. Margali snatched it as he withdrew it, slapping his knuckles lightly.
"Stop it. 'Death' only means change, not necessarily physical death. There is much change on the horizon for you, and you are only now starting to experience it."
"I do nyet need fortune read to tell me that," Azazel rolled his eyes. "You know this already from our talk last night."
"Ok Herr Smartypants," Margali teased, "how about this, then? On your Life Line, I see... goats and deep blue mountain skies. I can see a woman, she's dancing, and wearing in a colorful skirt..." She paused, frowning slightly. "I see you as a young child, taken from this woman's arms. There are chains around your neck. You are hurt, and crying for her. She whispers something, like a name... Ivarr?"
Azazel got really quiet really fast after that. When Margali finished her reading, the two sat in silence for a long time.
"I am very sorry those things happened to you," she said quietly, wiping a tear from her eye. "No child should be taken from their family like that." Azazel reached out and put his hand over hers.
"I am glad Kurt found his way to you," he acknowledged. "If we could nyet have him, I am glad you could. You gave him a good life. I can nyet thank you enough for this."
"Now it is your turn take over," Margali smiled and squeezed his hand. "Come back with me and let us go talk to our son."
Kurt tugged hard on the sequined fabric of his shirt. It felt shorter than he remembered; he must have grown since he last wore this particular show costume. He stood backstage, waiting for the cue. He peeled back the thick stage curtain by a few inches to secretly peek into the main arena. Hans and Franz - the circus's twin jugglers - were in full swing, spinning fiery batons and eliciting cheers from the rather large crowd. The tent's lights somehow seemed brighter than Kurt remembered, and the noise much louder. His tail twitched behind him, and he flexed his toes; he tugged on his collar with trembling fingers and counted backwards from ten for the thousandth time.
In short, he was a nervous wreck.
Kurt couldn't remember the last time he'd been this nervous before a show. He'd been performing in front of audiences since he was ten as both an acrobat and trapeze artist. He'd always been so excited to preform, but now... he scanned the crowd again, looking for familiar faces, when suddenly, something brushed against his arm. Instinctively, Kurt yelped and vanished. He appeared upside down on the ceiling, hanging onto a tent pole by his tail.
"Kurt, it's just me," Jimaine giggled in German, her hand covering her mouth. Kurt looked up (or, down? I really need to figure these directions out) at his adoptive sister. She wore a matching outfit to his and her blue eyes sparkled in mirth at his reaction. "Don't tell me you're scared? We've done this act a million times!"
"Yeah, I know but this is the first time I'm preforming for my friends," Kurt answered back in their native tongue as he appeared next to Jimaine and thumbed towards the audience. Somewhere in the crowd sat Scott, Jean, Ororo, Ms. MacTaggert and his mother (in her pretty blonde disguise, of course). He wasn't sure if Warren or Dr. McCoy found a way watch without being seen, and he hadn't seen his father since their argument earlier that day. Kurt was bummed that Azazel would miss his show. Everyone was here really, except for...
"Looking for your girlfriend?" Stefan appeared suddenly from around the corner, startling both Kurt and Jimaine (although this time, at least Kurt didn't teleport). He sang the word 'girlfriend' while making kissing faces and snickering. "She's a real fox, Kurty Boy. Nice work!"
"What?!" The indigo teen was now truly alarmed. "What are you talking about? When did you even get here?"
"Just a little while ago. We dropped off Peter and Mr. Lensherr back at camp - that kid's still too doped up to keep his mouth shut during the show - but once I told Wanda you were guest preforming, there was no way she was staying behind. So, we brought her and Mr. Xavier to watch the show. Front row seats and all!"
"Oh God," Kurt sat down, putting his head in his hands. Performing in front of Wanda brought him to a whole new level of nervous. What if I miss my cue? Or the pants of my costume rip? Or I drop Jimaine?
"How did you all get here so fast?" Jimaine arched her eyebrow at Stefan.
"Mr. Azazel picked everyone up," he said casually as he shrugged off his shirt and quickly donned his show apparel. Stefan had long been the announcer for Kurt and Jimaine's trapeze act.
"Wait, my dad's here?" Kurt's eyes lit up excitedly. He didn't think Azazel would come, not after earlier. Stefan smiled warmly and draped his arm around Kurt's shoulders, steering him towards the secret slit in the curtain.
"Look, see that area up top blocked by the black screen?" Stefan pointed to a concealed space near the top of the bleachers. "Mama and a few of the guys rigged it before the show so Mr. McCoy, Mr. Azazel, and Warren could appear inside it and watch the show without being seen."
"It's still so crazy you accidentally found both your birth parents!" Jimaine shook her head and laughed. "You know, Mama suggested we all spend time together before you leave so we can get to know one other, since we're all family now."
Kurt stared at the black screen concealing his family and friends, a smile growing on his face as he thought about what his adopted sister just said. He never dreamed in a million years that he'd actually find his birth parents, let alone that he'd find an extended family in his aunt and uncle. And now, his adopted family was not only supportive of this, but they wanted to be a part of his biological family's lives as well as his. All of a sudden, Kurt felt so loved that he wanted to cry.
"Kurt, you got this," Jimaine patted his back affectionately. He turned and smiled at her, letting the curtain fall back into place. Then he felt another hand on his shoulder.
"And we got you, little brother," Stefan chimed in, his green eyes smiling. "Isn't that what families for? Now come on you two, it's showtime!"
In the end, it was one of Kurt and Jimaine's best performances, and they even got a standing ovation.
A/N: Ok, so for real I never planned for Kurt's Munich family to make anything more than a minor appearance, but now I kinda love all of them. Up next: Westchester! Happy reading!
