Part 14 ^_^

If Amanda could pinpoint the moment everything went wrong, it had to
be the day that her father decided to pick her up from school, instead
of getting one of her older brothers to do it. Everything went sour from
the moment she spotted him.
They were laughing together about how his teammates always made sure
they were somewhere in the area around him. Sure, their protectiveness
was cute, but it was if they didn't believe he was capable of looking
after himself.
He had, after all, spent something like fourteen years of his life
doing so.
"Hhhhch," Amanda imitated the sound of a walkie-talkie hissing.
"Secret Agent Scott, you have been spotted. Your cover is blown. Repeat,
your cover is blown."
"Hhhhch. Negatory, negatory," Kurt sounded remarkably like Scott with
a German accent. "I can play natural. Look, I'm flirting with Taryn."
"More like trying to beat her off with a stick," observed Amanda.
"Look at him. If it wasn't for you, he'd run screaming."
They laughed again.
"Ah, liebling," Kurt sighed. "You make me want to kiss you."
"So why don't you?"
"You also make me smile too hard. Est ist difficult to pucker up, ja?"
Then someone was right up next to them. Amanda looked up to see her
father's disapproving glare raining down on them. "*This* is the 'Kurt'
you've been talking about? *I* was thinking he was *American*."
"Daddy..."
"Er. Guten Tag," Kurt smiled and waved a greeting. "You must be Herr
Sefton. The honour is mine." The little bow was a bit much, but it *did*
get him out of shaking hands. "You've raised a spectacularly beautiful
daughter."
Daddy pulled her away from him. "And I'll thank you to keep your
filthy hands off her, you stinking little Nazi."
"Daddy, *no*!"
It was like watching a Nun go on a killing spree. No, the *Pope* going
on a killing spree. Her personal epitome of kindness and gentleness
suddenly turned into this ferocious *thing*. His friends appeared out of
nowhere and held him back.
"Nazi?" Amanda could practically see the true him, underneath the
hologram, and he was frightening. "*NAZI*? Dreksau! Arshgesicht!
Hurensohn! Mein Opa had numbers on his wrist because of *bigots* like
*you*!" He fought to get free, but the living barrier of people holding
him back was one he couldn't wriggle out of.
"Who are you callin' a bigot, Nazi?"
"I'm calling you a bigot, du scheisse! Du Schwuchtl! Let me *GO*,
verdammt! One less bigot won't matter!"
Obviously, Daddy had pressed one of his buttons. Call him a freak and
he'd flinch. Insult his looks and it would glide off him like water off
a duck's back. Impugn his family, and he'd get snippy, sure; but Amanda
had never seen *this*...
"I don't see no star of David around your neck, boy. You're grandaddy
was *killing* Jews. He wasn't with them."
"Nein, he was in the other camp with the *rest* of the Romani, du
*Schwarzeschmutz*!"
Evan, hanging on to Kurt's left arm with all of his strength, winced.
"Yeah, and next you'll call me 'undermench'," said Daddy, forcibly
steering Amanda away. "It never takes long for a Nazi to revert to
type."
"I'm sorry Kurt," Amanda called back. "I'll try to talk some sense
into him, I promise..."
Kurt aimed all his hate at Daddy and screamed, "Sie wurden aus Esel
Ihr Mutter heraus getragen, du *Fotze*!"
Daddy gave him the finger, increased his grip on her arm and said, "If
I hear one more word about you and that Nazi boy, I'll ground you *so*
hard; your great-great-great *grandchildren* won't be able to go out on
Saturday nights."
"He was right, you know," said Amanda. "You *are* fucking bigot."
"*Amanda*!" Daddy fought a brief inner battle before he announced,
"I'll give you just *one* chance to explain that remark, young lady, and
then it's *on*."
"He's a Gypsy," she said. "His people were put in the camps, *and* the
ovens, *and* the laboratories. His people suffered the same atrocities
as the Jews, and they're *still* reviled and outcast."
"Yeah, well you can't tell me they don't deserve it. They'll steal
anything that ain't nailed down."
"*RRRR*!" Amanda felt the same rage filling her, and actually started
hitting him. Not that her punches had any effect. "God-damnit! I don't
care if you ground me for the rest of my *life*! You're a fucking dirty
*bigot*, you *fuck*!"
He bodily picked her up and forced her into the car. "It's *on*, young
lady. You'd better *believe* that it's on. You're grounded for two
months, and every time I hear about you seeing that Nazi Cracker, that's
two more. As of now, all privaleges are *cancelled*. And don't think I
won't tan your ass 'cause you're too old - you throw another tantrum and
your butt won't wanna know you."
"Did you even *look* at the people holding him back?" she asked.
"Not another word, Amanda," Daddy started the car. "I ain't in the
mood for it."

German is *really* good for cussing in, and Kurt went on for some
time, not repeating himself once. Rogue, who'd absorbed some of the
language when she'd absorbed him, had long since gone bright red. Scott
figured that if there were any sailors around who understood German,
they'd be blushing, too.
He eventually wound down and fell to sobbing onto Rogue's shoulder.
"Hey. *Hey*... Shhh..." Rogue gently patted his shoulder. "He don't
matter. He just don't matter. Let it go, come on."
"*Yikes*," said Evan. "I never knew there was another N-word."
"Like, get *with* it, Evan," Kitty scoffed.
"Yeah," said Scott. "There's a whole cultural guilt thing going on
about that. Don't you study history?"
"Only when I gotta," he grinned.
"Germans are *ashamed* of the whole N-thing," said Jean. "Call 'em one
and you get their backs up. Like *that*," she snapped her fingers.
"Add to that the fact that Kurt's like, a Gypsy, and you've got like,
real *hatred* going on, you know?"
"Dude!" said Evan. "You never mentioned it..."
"I mention it all the time," said Kurt, standing on his own at last.
"What do you think Romani *means*, eh?"
Evan shrugged and voiced a grunt that could stand in place for the
phrase, "I dunno."
Kurt tisked and sighed. "Forget it. I'm going for a walk. I need to
cool down some."
Scott clapped him on the shoulder. "You do that. Try not to beat up on
anyone else, huh?"
Kurt actually smiled. "Hey. You know I'm a pacifist."
"Until somebody drops the N-word," muttered Evan.
"Shut up..." said Rogue through gritted teeth.

Stupid bigots. Why did they have to carry on existing when all the
*good* people - Mother Theresa, Princess Di, George Harrison and so
forth - had to perish from this Earth? What was it about evil that bred
in dark corners and spread out around the world, staining all those who
should have recognised it and spurned it?
Why did people have to be so consistently *stupid*?
Why did people have to hate?
Kurt kicked a rock. He'd heard what Herr Sefton had said about the
Romani and their suffering during the holocaust. No doubt he'd hate
mutants if they'd come into the open, too.
Nothing he was had a single speck of virtue to the man.
Rogue said he didn't matter. He was his beloved's *father*. Of
*course* he mattered.
The man who had raised beautiful, tolerant, colour-blind and gently
loving Amanda was a racist bigot of the worst order. He didn't even
notice when he uttered hate-speak.
Kurt sighed. There was nothing he could say or do to change the man's
mind.
He smirked. He'd just have to elope with Amanda when the time came.
Yes. A secret engagement. Love notes and whispered endearments - just
like Romeo and Juliette.
Except for the whole death thing. That was just bad.
"Ja, cheer up Kurt," he murmured to himself. "Love conquers all."
"[Exactly my thoughts, my dear,]" said someone behind him.
Kurt turned. _Oh no. Oh, *NO*..._
Jimaine Szardos smiled on one side of her mouth. She continued
speaking Romani, just for the impact. "[You look shocked to see me,
lover,]" she said. "[Did you think that running off to America would
spare you from me?]" Jimaine flicked her strawberry-blonde hair off one
shoulder, casually flaunting the signs she wore that notified the Romani
world that she was a sorceress.
Kurt was careful not to back away from her. "[Greetings, Lady,]" he
said. "[I see you've graduated from your mother's tutelage.
Congratulations.]"
"[So formal. And we spent so much time together.]"
He couldn't correct her; it wasn't good for the health to irritate a
sorceress. What they shared in Heirelgart was a few kisses and a cuddle
or two, mostly for appearances, and mainly because of his secret, held
over his head by the one witness. There was, as far as Kurt was
concerned, no love there.
She toured around him, taking in the look of his hologram in and
murmuring in delight. "[Is this why you come to America? To play at
being human?]"
_I *am* human,_ he thought, but said. "[Not quite. I come here to
learn. To be part of something bigger than I am. To train and grow my
abilities.]"
"[I've followed you, lover. I've watched you for quite a while. You
and that black girl. You musn't see her any more, you know. We have
promises together]"
"[Yes.]"
"[And you'd do well to remember them.]"
Kurt hung his head. Once again, he was on the edge of that cliff,
staring into the face of Death. Would it never go away? "[Yes.]"
Unbidden, tears spilled down his face.
"[It's not that bad, beloved,]" she cooed. "[All you have to do is
keep your promise.]"
"[I will,]" he said. "[Jimaine? May I at least give her a last date? A
- a nice goodbye?]"
Jimaine pondered and smiled. "[Yes. You may have one last date. But if
you kiss her? I'll make you piebald.]"
"[I understand,]" he said.
"[You understand, what?]"
Kurt sighed. "[I understand - lover.]"