Part 18 ^_^
Judging by the queue to the guy's bathroom, Kurt was hogging the hot
water, again. However, there was no jubilant singing from within, no
annoying seek-and-destroy mission with the high notes.
Kitty was almost glad. Almost.
Her jubilation was cut off when Kurt emerged, spilling steam all over
the ceiling. He looked bluer than his fur was.
Something was eating him.
Kitty resolved to find out what.
The Elf reeked of loss.
Logan was good with emotions and scent. A person's smell was unique -
moreso in the Elf's case - but emotions all smelled alike. Thus, he
followed the scent of loss and sorrow and clean, damp fur to his room,
where he was finishing up on getting dressed.
_Hm. Not a shiny as yesterday._ "What's up, Elf? Something happen in
the family?"
"Go away," he said.
"Not until I get an answer," he said. "I let you say nuthin' last
night, 'cause you were upset. I ain't gonna let you say nuthin' now.
Spill it, Elf. What's turned ya from manic to depressive?"
Sigh. "Jimaine." He gathered his things. "There. You have an answer.
Now, if you don't mind, I don't want to be late."
Logan let a growl escape his throat. Now, the kid was starting to
smell scared. In his opinion, the whole thing stank.
Stank *bad*.
Kurt was quiet the whole drive to school. Quiet and sullen. He missed
three open lines in as many minutes. Scott had to concentrate on
driving, but he had to know what was wrong.
_Hey, Jean,_ he thought. _You listening?_
Jean glared at him. _I'm not doing it._
_*What*? How did you--?_
_You're getting really easy to read, lately,_ Jean 'said'. _The
Professor's been getting better at telling when I 'head hop', and I'm in
enough trouble, right now. So forget it._
Scott sighed. Damn. He'd just have to do things the old-fashioned way.
Therefore, when they stopped in his parking space, he hung back and fell
into step with his friend and teammate.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," said Kurt.
"Hey," he said again. "You know; everyone's worried about you. What's
up?"
"Nothing you can help with, mein fruend. I made a promise I have to
keep. That's it."
"That's not *all* of it."
"You can relax. I don't plan on jumping off any buildings. Or taking
any pills, or anything like that."
"Sure?"
"Sure."
"You *can* talk, you know," Scott offered.
"Ja... but I don't want to drag you into my trouble."
"What *sort* of trouble, damnit?"
"A word of advice mein fruend - never cross a sorceress." And then he
went off to class.
_What the *hell*?_
Kitty was frankly shocked to see Ray Crisp hanging out at her locker.
Usually, he was content to hang out with the tougher crowd and give her
a wide berth. In fact, Kitty preferred it that way, too.
"Ray?" she asked. "What are you like, doing in the 'dweeb sector'?"
"Um. Er. Uh. Yeah. Um. I -umuh- I gotchasumthin'." And he bought out a
little box from behind his back. He tossed it at her and quickly left,
face turning red.
"Um. Like. Thanks, I think," Kitty managed, and opened the little box
to see what was inside. It was a metal ID bracelet with her name on it.
Bracelets. The non-relationship body decoration of choice.
_Waitasecond... He couldn't. He isn't. *OmyGod*!_
Ray *Crisp* had a crush on her.
Ray "I don't give a rat's bleep" Crisp.
It just didn't compute.
There was a note in her locker from Hubert Hughes. Well, more like an
advertising bill. There was a geeky Science Fiction party happening at
someone's place - BYO plate if you had special dietary needs - the
upcoming Friday afternoon. Hubert's scribbled note on the opposite side
read: "CU There?"
If she wasn't grounded, she'd have to think up an excuse not to go.
Maybe Ray... Or maybe not.
Hey, there was Kurt. And - someone new. She was a strawberry blonde
and had the air of someone with power. Kurt, arm linked with hers, kept
his eyes and head down.
All she needed was the handle of a leash that was tied to Kurt's neck.
_Whoa. Like, where did *that* image like, come from?_
They were talking to each other in another language. It wasn't German,
but it sounded a lot like it. Her voice was full of power. His was full
of appology.
Kurt looked *way* totally sad. Like he'd lost everything at once.
The bell rang for lunch, and Ms Wrick yelled out the pages of the
English assignment as excited teenagers headed for the door.
"Remember to do pages thirteen to twenty-seven by tomorrow, I will be
asking for your impressions and I do *not* mean Groucho Marx! Mr Wagner,
can I have a word?"
Kurt Wagner was uncharacteristically at the end of the hussle for the
door. Usually, he was out of there like a bullet. "Jawohl, Frau'?"
"Now, Kurt, I've noticed you've been a little - down, today," the more
apt word would have been 'demoralized', but she had to go carefully. "Is
something wrong? Something at home, maybe?"
"Just girl trouble," he dismissed. "I'll be fine."
The *last* time he'd said that, he'd nearly fainted from a supreme
bout of the 'flu. Ms Wrick's personal Danger-ometer went into the amber
zone, bordering on the red. "Sorry," she said, "I'm less inclined to
believe you when you say that. Something *is* wrong, isn't it?"
Kurt sighed. "Ja. I just can't talk about it."
"Why? Are you in trouble?"
"I don't want trouble, Frau'," he said.
"There you are," said the new German girl. What was her name? Jimi-
something? "Where have you been?"
"Right here, Geliebter," said Kurt. "Frau' Wrick had to have a word
with me."
Jimi glared at her as if she were sizing up a rival. "Are you done?"
she asked, voice full of honey and eyes full of venom. "Meine Kurti has
to show me where the lunch room ist."
"You two are a couple? How sweet," said Ms Wrick.
"Ja," said Kurt. "Sweet."
That was the voice of a teenager considering the unthinkable. Ms Wrick
went straight to Mr Kian, the school counsellor.
"Ms Wrick? Something's up."
"Yes," she confessed. "Do you know Kurt Wagner?"
"Yeah, the German boy. Has a thing about being touched. Otherwise,
he's pretty well-centred. What about him?"
"I think he's thinking about suicide."
Mr Kian whistled. "It's always the happy ones, isn't it? The popular
ones always think they're alone, the happy ones have hidden
depressions..." he sighed. "M'kay. I'll contact his guardian with your
concerns. It'd help if you told me what you noticed, too."
"Well, for starters, he couldn't look at me for the whole class..."
Kurt held his arms over the white-hot ball of pain under his ribs, and
fought to breathe. "Why?" he asked. "I did everything you said..." Dead
twin brother or not, she still knew how to hit. And her array of rings
acted just like a knuckleduster.
Jimaine patted him on the shoulder. "I just wanted to see you on your
knees before me. You can't say you don't deserve it."
He did. And he knew he did. It was all his fault. "No," he whispered.
"I can't."
"Good boy," she took his lips, almost drawing blood with her teeth.
"You're mine, Kurt Wagner. All mine. Body and soul."
_Just the body, 'lover',_ he thought at her as he recovered his feet.
_God has my soul._
He took her to the lunch room, bought her a meal at the cafeteria -
which happened to be the most expensive thing on the menu - and
something for himself to allay suspicions. Then he took her to the table
she selected. One that isolated him from his friends.
"Hmp," said Jimaine. "Didn't take the little Schwarzes Schlampe long
to hook up with a buck of her own kind."
Kurt knew she was sitting next to Evan. "You know," he said, "you're
awfully racist for a Gypsy..."
"She *is* black," said Jimaine. "Or at least, that's what they *call*
themselves, wouldn't you agree?"
_Dangerous turf..._ "Some of them call themselves black," he said,
picking at his lasagne.
Jimaine smirked.
"So what's he doing?" asked Amanda for the umptieth time.
"He's like, playing with his food," said Kitty. "This is like, *so*
dangerous."
"After he ordered the lasagne?" Evan said. "You *bet* it's dangerous.
K-man never lets a calorie escape his *sight*..."
"They're talking," said Scott. "Or she's talking and he's kind of
agreeing with her. It's not what *I'd* call happy-couple behaviour."
"As if *you'd* know," muttered Rogue, just below the volume necessary
to start a fight.
Not that Scott really wanted one.
"Coloured letters," Amanda murmured. "Coloured letters... What the
heck is that supposed to *mean*?"
"Leave it alone," said Kitty. "When Kurt gets cryptic, you can spend
like, *ages* with like, a thesaurus and junk to find out what he's like,
talking about."
"Now come *on*," said Scott. "His English isn't *that* bad... He just
uses that 'I don't know the English' act when he's trying to cover up
something. You know - avoid the issue?"
Amanda snapped her fingers. "God, I'm so *dumb*..." she said. "He
meant *blackmail*! She's blackmailing him into this."
Evan screwed up his face. "But *what* could K-man be hiding that she
could hold over him like *that*?"
"And how do we like, find *out*?"
"Don't ask Jean," said Scott. "She's had a sudden attack of morals."
"HSSSH!" Amanda made a subtle keep-it-down motion with her hand.
"Incoming. School counsellor at one o'clock."
Kitty launched into babble mode. "So did I like, tell you guys about
whoserface? You like, *know* her... she's like, *so* totally youknow,
like, whack? I'm like, minding my own business in the bathroom, like,
washing my hands and she like, *walks* in and like, tries to throw me
like, *out*. I mean. Ew. I like, still had like *soap* on my hands and
she's like, "you'll stink anyway, Pryde" and I'm like, "you can tell
under like, *your* stench" and then she like, *hits* me for no reason? I
mean like, talk about *rude*..."
"Can I interrupt for a minute, M'kay?" said Mr Kian. He sat on an
empty corner of the table. "You guys are Kurt's friends, aren't you? You
hang out most of the time..."
"Yeah," said Rogue. "Is he in any trouble?"
"You see, that's what I'm worried about. I've been lead to believe
that Kurt may be going through a difficult time, M'kay? One of his
teachers has noticed a marked change in his attitude. I was wonding if
any of you knew what might be up with him, M'kay?"
"He hasn't said very much to us," said Amanda. "All I know is there's
this betrothal thing between her and Jimi Szardos... She's kinda taking
it *way* seriously and he had to break up with me because of it."
"Wow," said Mr Kian. "And Jimi would be the young lady he's sitting
with right now?"
"Yeah."
"Do you know if this is at all legal?"
"It might be for Heirelgart," Kitty shrugged. "I mean like, who knows,
right?"
"Mmmmm... 'Kay..." Mr Kian stood up. "I'm gonna have to talk to him to
find out. Keep your eyes and ears open for me, M'kay? We don't want this
to get too difficult for him, M'kay?"
Just about everyone around the table surrendered to temptation and
said, "M'kay."
Charles Xavier watched Kurt enter, and picked up the veritable cloud
of gloom that followed him like a dark aura. Under the depression, he
could sense fear steeped in guilt and shame.
He was almost sick with it.
"Kurt," the Professor began, "we're all worried about you and your
recent change in emotional outlook. Perhaps, you could share something
that could help us help you?"
A smattering of memories. Rain. Rope. A knife. A crying child. Fire.
Jimaine's smile. The sound of screams. A branch, and looking up into the
falling rain.
"Please, Professor," he begged. "Please don't get involved." A vision,
stark and accurate, the Professor lying in a pool of his own blood. "I
don't want you mixed up in this." The memory of pain, sharp and burning,
from his tail to his vertebrae.
Nothing made much sense to Charles. "Kurt, we just want to help you.
We can't fail but notice how quickly you've gone from top to bottom
since your breakup with Amanda..."
"That's ancient history, now," he said. "Dead and buried." A grave.
The feel of a broken heart. A name. Stefan.
"It was yesterday," said Xavier.
"That's why it's history." _A lot can happen in one day... A world can
change._ "Please. Just leave us alone. You shouldn't get involved."
"Us?" Charles quoted. "Who's in this with you?"
"I--" _Say it! Confess! Let it out! He already knows... Shut up._ "I
said the wrong word... mein Englisch ist schlecht."
"Kurt," he sighed. "You know you can't pull that act with me."
_He knows!_
"If you're willing to talk, I'm willing to listen. If necessary, I can
keep this strictly between us."
_He knows. He knows everything... He's just giving me a chance to
confess before I go..._ The rest of his thought trailed off into
whirlwind of possibilities and dreads. "Who decides?" Kurt asked.
"Pardon?"
"Who decides if it's necessary? How do I *know* you won't tell?"
_Give him the rope, Charles, not the straw,_ he told himself. _The
boy's obviously drowning..._ "You have my word that whatever you need to
say to me will not be repeated - by *any* means - to anyone else unless
*you* give me permission."
Kurt sat down and huddled up on himself. "It was murder, mein Herr.
Murder... and it was all my fault."
Judging by the queue to the guy's bathroom, Kurt was hogging the hot
water, again. However, there was no jubilant singing from within, no
annoying seek-and-destroy mission with the high notes.
Kitty was almost glad. Almost.
Her jubilation was cut off when Kurt emerged, spilling steam all over
the ceiling. He looked bluer than his fur was.
Something was eating him.
Kitty resolved to find out what.
The Elf reeked of loss.
Logan was good with emotions and scent. A person's smell was unique -
moreso in the Elf's case - but emotions all smelled alike. Thus, he
followed the scent of loss and sorrow and clean, damp fur to his room,
where he was finishing up on getting dressed.
_Hm. Not a shiny as yesterday._ "What's up, Elf? Something happen in
the family?"
"Go away," he said.
"Not until I get an answer," he said. "I let you say nuthin' last
night, 'cause you were upset. I ain't gonna let you say nuthin' now.
Spill it, Elf. What's turned ya from manic to depressive?"
Sigh. "Jimaine." He gathered his things. "There. You have an answer.
Now, if you don't mind, I don't want to be late."
Logan let a growl escape his throat. Now, the kid was starting to
smell scared. In his opinion, the whole thing stank.
Stank *bad*.
Kurt was quiet the whole drive to school. Quiet and sullen. He missed
three open lines in as many minutes. Scott had to concentrate on
driving, but he had to know what was wrong.
_Hey, Jean,_ he thought. _You listening?_
Jean glared at him. _I'm not doing it._
_*What*? How did you--?_
_You're getting really easy to read, lately,_ Jean 'said'. _The
Professor's been getting better at telling when I 'head hop', and I'm in
enough trouble, right now. So forget it._
Scott sighed. Damn. He'd just have to do things the old-fashioned way.
Therefore, when they stopped in his parking space, he hung back and fell
into step with his friend and teammate.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," said Kurt.
"Hey," he said again. "You know; everyone's worried about you. What's
up?"
"Nothing you can help with, mein fruend. I made a promise I have to
keep. That's it."
"That's not *all* of it."
"You can relax. I don't plan on jumping off any buildings. Or taking
any pills, or anything like that."
"Sure?"
"Sure."
"You *can* talk, you know," Scott offered.
"Ja... but I don't want to drag you into my trouble."
"What *sort* of trouble, damnit?"
"A word of advice mein fruend - never cross a sorceress." And then he
went off to class.
_What the *hell*?_
Kitty was frankly shocked to see Ray Crisp hanging out at her locker.
Usually, he was content to hang out with the tougher crowd and give her
a wide berth. In fact, Kitty preferred it that way, too.
"Ray?" she asked. "What are you like, doing in the 'dweeb sector'?"
"Um. Er. Uh. Yeah. Um. I -umuh- I gotchasumthin'." And he bought out a
little box from behind his back. He tossed it at her and quickly left,
face turning red.
"Um. Like. Thanks, I think," Kitty managed, and opened the little box
to see what was inside. It was a metal ID bracelet with her name on it.
Bracelets. The non-relationship body decoration of choice.
_Waitasecond... He couldn't. He isn't. *OmyGod*!_
Ray *Crisp* had a crush on her.
Ray "I don't give a rat's bleep" Crisp.
It just didn't compute.
There was a note in her locker from Hubert Hughes. Well, more like an
advertising bill. There was a geeky Science Fiction party happening at
someone's place - BYO plate if you had special dietary needs - the
upcoming Friday afternoon. Hubert's scribbled note on the opposite side
read: "CU There?"
If she wasn't grounded, she'd have to think up an excuse not to go.
Maybe Ray... Or maybe not.
Hey, there was Kurt. And - someone new. She was a strawberry blonde
and had the air of someone with power. Kurt, arm linked with hers, kept
his eyes and head down.
All she needed was the handle of a leash that was tied to Kurt's neck.
_Whoa. Like, where did *that* image like, come from?_
They were talking to each other in another language. It wasn't German,
but it sounded a lot like it. Her voice was full of power. His was full
of appology.
Kurt looked *way* totally sad. Like he'd lost everything at once.
The bell rang for lunch, and Ms Wrick yelled out the pages of the
English assignment as excited teenagers headed for the door.
"Remember to do pages thirteen to twenty-seven by tomorrow, I will be
asking for your impressions and I do *not* mean Groucho Marx! Mr Wagner,
can I have a word?"
Kurt Wagner was uncharacteristically at the end of the hussle for the
door. Usually, he was out of there like a bullet. "Jawohl, Frau'?"
"Now, Kurt, I've noticed you've been a little - down, today," the more
apt word would have been 'demoralized', but she had to go carefully. "Is
something wrong? Something at home, maybe?"
"Just girl trouble," he dismissed. "I'll be fine."
The *last* time he'd said that, he'd nearly fainted from a supreme
bout of the 'flu. Ms Wrick's personal Danger-ometer went into the amber
zone, bordering on the red. "Sorry," she said, "I'm less inclined to
believe you when you say that. Something *is* wrong, isn't it?"
Kurt sighed. "Ja. I just can't talk about it."
"Why? Are you in trouble?"
"I don't want trouble, Frau'," he said.
"There you are," said the new German girl. What was her name? Jimi-
something? "Where have you been?"
"Right here, Geliebter," said Kurt. "Frau' Wrick had to have a word
with me."
Jimi glared at her as if she were sizing up a rival. "Are you done?"
she asked, voice full of honey and eyes full of venom. "Meine Kurti has
to show me where the lunch room ist."
"You two are a couple? How sweet," said Ms Wrick.
"Ja," said Kurt. "Sweet."
That was the voice of a teenager considering the unthinkable. Ms Wrick
went straight to Mr Kian, the school counsellor.
"Ms Wrick? Something's up."
"Yes," she confessed. "Do you know Kurt Wagner?"
"Yeah, the German boy. Has a thing about being touched. Otherwise,
he's pretty well-centred. What about him?"
"I think he's thinking about suicide."
Mr Kian whistled. "It's always the happy ones, isn't it? The popular
ones always think they're alone, the happy ones have hidden
depressions..." he sighed. "M'kay. I'll contact his guardian with your
concerns. It'd help if you told me what you noticed, too."
"Well, for starters, he couldn't look at me for the whole class..."
Kurt held his arms over the white-hot ball of pain under his ribs, and
fought to breathe. "Why?" he asked. "I did everything you said..." Dead
twin brother or not, she still knew how to hit. And her array of rings
acted just like a knuckleduster.
Jimaine patted him on the shoulder. "I just wanted to see you on your
knees before me. You can't say you don't deserve it."
He did. And he knew he did. It was all his fault. "No," he whispered.
"I can't."
"Good boy," she took his lips, almost drawing blood with her teeth.
"You're mine, Kurt Wagner. All mine. Body and soul."
_Just the body, 'lover',_ he thought at her as he recovered his feet.
_God has my soul._
He took her to the lunch room, bought her a meal at the cafeteria -
which happened to be the most expensive thing on the menu - and
something for himself to allay suspicions. Then he took her to the table
she selected. One that isolated him from his friends.
"Hmp," said Jimaine. "Didn't take the little Schwarzes Schlampe long
to hook up with a buck of her own kind."
Kurt knew she was sitting next to Evan. "You know," he said, "you're
awfully racist for a Gypsy..."
"She *is* black," said Jimaine. "Or at least, that's what they *call*
themselves, wouldn't you agree?"
_Dangerous turf..._ "Some of them call themselves black," he said,
picking at his lasagne.
Jimaine smirked.
"So what's he doing?" asked Amanda for the umptieth time.
"He's like, playing with his food," said Kitty. "This is like, *so*
dangerous."
"After he ordered the lasagne?" Evan said. "You *bet* it's dangerous.
K-man never lets a calorie escape his *sight*..."
"They're talking," said Scott. "Or she's talking and he's kind of
agreeing with her. It's not what *I'd* call happy-couple behaviour."
"As if *you'd* know," muttered Rogue, just below the volume necessary
to start a fight.
Not that Scott really wanted one.
"Coloured letters," Amanda murmured. "Coloured letters... What the
heck is that supposed to *mean*?"
"Leave it alone," said Kitty. "When Kurt gets cryptic, you can spend
like, *ages* with like, a thesaurus and junk to find out what he's like,
talking about."
"Now come *on*," said Scott. "His English isn't *that* bad... He just
uses that 'I don't know the English' act when he's trying to cover up
something. You know - avoid the issue?"
Amanda snapped her fingers. "God, I'm so *dumb*..." she said. "He
meant *blackmail*! She's blackmailing him into this."
Evan screwed up his face. "But *what* could K-man be hiding that she
could hold over him like *that*?"
"And how do we like, find *out*?"
"Don't ask Jean," said Scott. "She's had a sudden attack of morals."
"HSSSH!" Amanda made a subtle keep-it-down motion with her hand.
"Incoming. School counsellor at one o'clock."
Kitty launched into babble mode. "So did I like, tell you guys about
whoserface? You like, *know* her... she's like, *so* totally youknow,
like, whack? I'm like, minding my own business in the bathroom, like,
washing my hands and she like, *walks* in and like, tries to throw me
like, *out*. I mean. Ew. I like, still had like *soap* on my hands and
she's like, "you'll stink anyway, Pryde" and I'm like, "you can tell
under like, *your* stench" and then she like, *hits* me for no reason? I
mean like, talk about *rude*..."
"Can I interrupt for a minute, M'kay?" said Mr Kian. He sat on an
empty corner of the table. "You guys are Kurt's friends, aren't you? You
hang out most of the time..."
"Yeah," said Rogue. "Is he in any trouble?"
"You see, that's what I'm worried about. I've been lead to believe
that Kurt may be going through a difficult time, M'kay? One of his
teachers has noticed a marked change in his attitude. I was wonding if
any of you knew what might be up with him, M'kay?"
"He hasn't said very much to us," said Amanda. "All I know is there's
this betrothal thing between her and Jimi Szardos... She's kinda taking
it *way* seriously and he had to break up with me because of it."
"Wow," said Mr Kian. "And Jimi would be the young lady he's sitting
with right now?"
"Yeah."
"Do you know if this is at all legal?"
"It might be for Heirelgart," Kitty shrugged. "I mean like, who knows,
right?"
"Mmmmm... 'Kay..." Mr Kian stood up. "I'm gonna have to talk to him to
find out. Keep your eyes and ears open for me, M'kay? We don't want this
to get too difficult for him, M'kay?"
Just about everyone around the table surrendered to temptation and
said, "M'kay."
Charles Xavier watched Kurt enter, and picked up the veritable cloud
of gloom that followed him like a dark aura. Under the depression, he
could sense fear steeped in guilt and shame.
He was almost sick with it.
"Kurt," the Professor began, "we're all worried about you and your
recent change in emotional outlook. Perhaps, you could share something
that could help us help you?"
A smattering of memories. Rain. Rope. A knife. A crying child. Fire.
Jimaine's smile. The sound of screams. A branch, and looking up into the
falling rain.
"Please, Professor," he begged. "Please don't get involved." A vision,
stark and accurate, the Professor lying in a pool of his own blood. "I
don't want you mixed up in this." The memory of pain, sharp and burning,
from his tail to his vertebrae.
Nothing made much sense to Charles. "Kurt, we just want to help you.
We can't fail but notice how quickly you've gone from top to bottom
since your breakup with Amanda..."
"That's ancient history, now," he said. "Dead and buried." A grave.
The feel of a broken heart. A name. Stefan.
"It was yesterday," said Xavier.
"That's why it's history." _A lot can happen in one day... A world can
change._ "Please. Just leave us alone. You shouldn't get involved."
"Us?" Charles quoted. "Who's in this with you?"
"I--" _Say it! Confess! Let it out! He already knows... Shut up._ "I
said the wrong word... mein Englisch ist schlecht."
"Kurt," he sighed. "You know you can't pull that act with me."
_He knows!_
"If you're willing to talk, I'm willing to listen. If necessary, I can
keep this strictly between us."
_He knows. He knows everything... He's just giving me a chance to
confess before I go..._ The rest of his thought trailed off into
whirlwind of possibilities and dreads. "Who decides?" Kurt asked.
"Pardon?"
"Who decides if it's necessary? How do I *know* you won't tell?"
_Give him the rope, Charles, not the straw,_ he told himself. _The
boy's obviously drowning..._ "You have my word that whatever you need to
say to me will not be repeated - by *any* means - to anyone else unless
*you* give me permission."
Kurt sat down and huddled up on himself. "It was murder, mein Herr.
Murder... and it was all my fault."