Disclaimer: If I owned the X-Men, we all know Kurt woulda been in the movie. Therefore, as he (**grumble**) wasn't, I don't own the X-Men.

A/N: MUST READ!! Everyone reading? Comprehending? Good, 'cause if you aren't I'm not responsible for any trouble you get in. Graydon is a creepy person. Now, this chapter and mostly just this chapter, has him saying some very scary bloody-minded things that probably wouldn't make it into a PG movie. So my warning is this: there are several instances in this chapter that do not fit into the story's PG rating, and if that bothers you, don't read it.

A/NII: Also, this takes place before "Day of Reckoning", so for those of you who are confused by certain mentioned characters, everything will be explained if I ever write a sequel. If I know I'll never get enough of an idea to write a sequel and people are still confused, tell in your review and I'll mention it in the EpilogueII

Aside the Neva: Thanks for the advice, and here's hoping the next few chapters live up to it!

Dedication: Yay! I can finally dedicate a chapter of my fic to Birrirra for her take on Kurnda in her fic "Retribution" - she's on my favs list, check her out

Chapter XV

"Of all the times to wish I had taken a class," Amanda muttered. Having been backhanded into a metal door left Kurt unconscious with a large bump on his head but other than that Amanda couldn't see any other external damage. External damage was all she was good for, because she had no idea what to do about his head.

Warm. I have to keep him warm, that's a rule with people who are unconscious. And wet, and his fur is damp with sweat, which means it can't be insulating him. I remember that, at least, from health! Now, it's damn cold in this basement, and being on concrete doesn't help. So; look for anything to keep us off the floor.

She was concentrating on trying to keep Kurt in the land of the living, not on the reason why, not on why she was forced to, not on the dingy little cell. If she thought about anything else she would lose it, and neither of them could afford that. Graydon had already proved himself and his group ruthless by mobbing and beating Angel; she'd seen the bruises, the scars, some of them permanent. Not to Kurt, she prayed as she dragged him over to the only scant comfort offered: a dusty old mattress. He was surprisingly light for his size, but when she thought about it (and not about FOH), that wasn't strange. Kurt was incredibly lean; nothing but bone and muscle.

Pulling part of the mattress onto the wall, she used that as a backrest and curled around Kurt as best she could. Oh, please, Whoever's listening, not to Kurt. I can't let it. I won't let it . . .

Warm. Have to keep him warm . . .

*

"Tell us again, Gray-Gray, tell us again! How did you catch the demon?"

Wide, innocent eyes looked up at Graydon Creed with admiration. Five children, from four to seven years old, were the youngest members of FOH. As the story of Graydon the demon-catcher had circulated, the littlest had bravely sought him out and asked him to tell them how he did it. He was a knight in shining armor, their prince, a legendary person who saved Bayville from a monster.

They knew. They'd seen the demon.

Graydon was a hero.

"C'mon, Gray-Gray, pwease?" begged a pair of bright blue eyes from beneath a shock of white-blond hair. "We've only heard it once, and we've heard everything else hundreds of times!"

He rolled his eyes. "You've heard the story already!" he protested.

The six-year-old girl who'd already spoken stared up at him as if she didn't understand why that mattered. "So . . .?"

Creed laughed. "Later, little Illyana. Besides, I have to check up on my demon, so you'd better run off. I'm sure your brother is looking for you."

"Da, Gray-Gray. C'mon, let's go annoy Piotr!" Illyana shot off, dragging her cronies after her. Graydon chuckled a little. Piotr and Illyana Rasputin were Russian immigrants who'd very recently joined FOH, and Piotr was excessively overprotective of his little sister. The girl seemed to delight in annoying him.

"Passage-code?" a computerized voice asked when he reached the door of the monitoring room.

"Demon-slayer," Graydon replied. The door opened with a mechanized whoosh, to reveal a wall of monitor that looked down on FOH's unique prison. The only current occupants were the young mutant Leech and the two he was unconsciously 'guarding': Amanda Sefton and the Nightcrawler. Within Leech's sphere of influence no mutant powers could be used, regardless of whether or not they originated from outside his range. "How is this going? Has Xavier noticed yet?"

His adoptive father sat at the controls. "Everything's fine, son. Our alley cat and the demon have fallen asleep."

Graydon peered at once of the monitors. "Why is that in there? They don't deserve the comfort," he sneered at the mattress.

Brent glared up at him. "Because it's easier for us to watch them when they're asleep; they can't plan anything. Besides, the longer the Nightcrawler sleeps the less likely it is to wake up."

"I supposed you're right," Graydon shrugged. "You're sure they'll come? If the X-Men can't find us they're of little use alive. They'd make more of a statement dead."

"So don't feed them. If they haven't been rescued by the time they die of thirst, we put them both on the steps of the Institute. That ought to send a message, especially because they failed to come after them."

The younger man grinned. "True. An emancipated body is a ghastly sight, even an animals'. I do hope they try to get us, though. Driving home a point would be much more effective the more bodies we can pile up. Dropping the X-Mens' corpses through the Brotherhoods' roof would be very fun."

"Bloody-minded tonight, Graydon?"

"It's my counter to being called 'Gray-Gray'."

Brent chuckled. "So Illyana managed to get the others to start calling you that?"

"It's as if they've forgotten they ever called me anything else," Graydon rolled his eyes at the indignity of having a nickname. "Where did we dredge up that sprite and her colossal brother?"

"Russia, apparently. Ahh, Ken," Brent heaved himself out of the monitor's seat, muttering to himself as his spine cracked. "I'm getting too old for this. Well, as Ken is here to relieve me, let's go home."

Graydon waited until they were in the elevator before breaching the silence. "Dad - what the Nightcrawler said - you don't think . . ."

His father pursed his lips. "We've known for a long time that your birth-mother was a shape-shifter whose true form you never saw. We know Mystique is the Nightcrawlers' mother; the fangs, eyes, and blue give her away. The Nightcrawler knows you're adopted, but why use 'mein bruder' as a war-cry unless it was true?" Brent thought about this as he got in, feeling the car rumble to life beneath him as his son started it. "We can't let everyone else know. They'll hold it against you, even though you're next in line to head FOH. Then again," he cocked his head, considering an idea. "This whole demon-catcher reputation you have now may make the difference. You weren't at the Angel fiasco, you were Huston when we caught Leech, and now you've practically single-handedly handed us a mutant sympathizer and the Nightcrawler. You even caught her betrayal when she fooled the rest of us."

Graydon nodded. "You're right, as usual. Even with Mystique as a parent, tonights' efforts leap all boundaries," Graydon smiled. "Round one to the Friends of Humanity!"

*

Kurt's muffled groan woke her. Shaking herself out of an uncomfortable sleep, Amanda studied Kurt. He did just groan, didn't he? Oh, please --

A single fang appeared over his bottom lip, as if he were trying to stifle the slight noise he was making.

"Kurt!" she exclaimed.

Yellow eyes cracked open. "I was trying to not wake you."

"Oh, thank God you're alive!" she hugged him, and he winced as the movement jarred his skull. "I'm sorry! Did I-"

"Nien," he replied, trying to sit by himself and not succeeding.

"Down, fuzzy."

Kurt fell back into Amanda, who wrapped her arms around him again and rested her head on his shoulder. "Ach. Just my own stupidity. Logan's going to lecture me."

"Even with that lump on your head?" she wondered, skeptical.

"Even with the lump. Verdammt thing," he complained.

Amanda stifled a laugh. "I, personally, don't think Logan will bother lecturing you just yet. He'll wait until he's sure you'll remember it."

"Aww, you're right!" Kurt let the uninjured side of his head rest against hers. With her black-brown eyes so close he could read the mischief written in them. "How are you managing this?"

"Non sequitur?"

"You're trapped in the very cold prison of a hate group after your boyfriends' blood, you've been forced through the ringer on a spy mission, been buying time for hours, thrown in here with me unconscious and have a not-quite-coherent elf laying on you. Yet you can still laugh."

"It's all your fault."

"Huh?"

Amanda grinned at his confusion. "If you ask Candy, Lee or Colleen, I was shy to the nth degree before you juggled, cart wheeled, flipped and BAMFed your way into my life."

"So says she of the infamous sugar high incident."

She glared at him before continuing. "Anyway, having a blue elf and his cronies waltz into your world will either a) turn you into Creed or b) make you a lot more willing to accept, deal, and make the best of things. I seen no reason to be morbid. Especially not when you're with me."

Kurt cupped her cheek in his hand as they kissed.

"That, and I haven't quite convinced myself that this is really happening. I mean, I'm sixteen. I cannot possibly have been taken prisoner by a hate-group against a rare genetic anomaly!" she considered. "Of course, the other side of that is that without that anomaly, I wouldn't have you. So I guess this is an equal trade. Fee for dating an elf: occasional kidnapping by various villains."

"So am I worth getting kidnapped?" Kurt asked, cocking an eyebrow cheekily up at Amanda.

"Would I be here if you weren't?"

"Nien," he said conceded. "On that train of thought . . . any ideas on getting out of here?"

Amanda moved her head, and one of her hoop earrings snagged Kurts' hair and pulled some out. "- Well, I was going to say no, but instead, how about Maybe. If we could get out of the cell, can you walk?"

"Ah - no. Not yet," Kurt grimaced. "What's the lock like?"

"I'll find out," Amanda slid out from underneath Kurt, trying not to jar him, and went to the front of their cell. "It must be computerized; there isn't a lock on the door and they have the wall built out farther than the door. I can't see anything but what's right in front of us, said being Leech's cell."

Kurt considered. "Who is Leech? Is he why I can't teleport?"

"Yup. He's a young mutant who keeps other mutants in his range from using their powers. Which is also, I'm afraid, preventing Professor Xavier from finding us."

"Wunderbar. Any bad news?"

"I also think we're being watched."

Kurt made a vexed gesture. "And here I thought we were all alone. For once."

"Well, the good news is that they probably can't hear us."

"Why would you assume that?" Kurt knew he should be able to follow her logic. After all, he was the one who'd been taught by Wolverine. Amanda had had a short lesson on intrigue, but nothing on what to do if captured.

"Because if they could hear us, they'd realize we're people, same as they are, and I don't think Graydon or his father would risk that," she pointed out.

"'Manda . . . Are you just pulling this out of thin air, or did you take some lessons with Logan behind my back?" he asked.

Amanda sighed. "It's logical. That and I read too much."

"What do you read?!"

"Fantasy," she grinned at the confused look on his face as she settled in next to him. "You can get away with anything from murder to time travel in fantasy."

"I'll take your word for it," Kurt replied. "You're making my head hurt even more. I know I should be able to do this, should be able to think of something, a way out, but there is a lump on my head that seems to be letting all my ideas out the instant they form!" he growled. "I don't like this. This thing is so neat - they had everything ready! It's as if - "

"As if FOH knew your plans ahead of time? They did. They know about the Institute, and the identities of every mutant in Bayville. They even know Mystique's your mother. That's why we're here. Or rather, why you're here."

Realization dawned on Kurt. "I'm a hostage for both sides because I'm Mystique's son. Verdammt, this is going to - waitaminute!"

"What?"

"Mystique! She knows I'm in here; she gave me a map of the ventilation systems!" yellow eyes brightened. "We may get out of this after all!"

"We're depending on a mother who threw you over a waterfall as an infant?"

"Graydon is," Kurt observed.

Amanda rolled her eyes. "Great. Now we're following in the footsteps of a fanatic."

"I consider myself a fanatic of getting out of here with my fur intact!" Kurt told her. He was so worked up he tried sitting up again and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood so as to keep from screaming when he moved too much too quickly. Amanda caught him. When he was leaning against her again, he let out the breath left from the would-be scream. "Unless someone comes to get us, we're not getting out of here any time soon."

Amanda sighed. "Then you, at least, should probably go back to sleep. Your body heals faster in sleep, you know."

Kurt hesitated. "Ah -- Ja. Just -- keep me warm? If I start to chatter I could tear my tongue and lips to shreds."

"A pleasant idea, elf," she remarked sarcastically. "I'll keep you warm."

Yellow eyes fluttered closed. A sleepy "Wake me if anything happens."

"Of course."