Kurt lay in bed, fading in and out of sleep. It did not seem to come easy
tonight. Perhaps too much had gone on.
The moments he would wake were like snapshots of the room, illuminated by the large red digital clock.
Each "Snapshot Memory" looked much like the one before, the most common exception being the steady advancement of the minutes or hours that crept by casting various shadows around the room.
It seemed a fairly odd thing that at two thirty seven the door should suddenly be open.
And closed again by quarter to three.
Were the shadows of the room shifting in between each waking moment? Was he having trouble sleeping, or was he hearing things that woke him?
Kurt took a deep breath and tried to shake away the cobwebs of sleep. Didn't he shower after his workout with Wolverine? What was that smell? Kurt went to lift his arm in an effort to eliminate himself as a suspect.
Something took him by the wrist and held his arm down. It was strong and forceful yet the touch was different than any Kurt had felt before. Certainly the skin was rough and thick like the hide of an animal, but this touch was somehow more natural and reassuring than any Kurt had ever known. It caused him only to stir from sleep and not to jolt awake.
Kurt felt the need to yawn and as he did he came fully awake and tried to sit up. Then the creature was on him. A rough hand pressed him down in to the mattress and pillows, covering his mouth, and threatening to break him under it's great weight as the creature rolled atop him.
The great evil face leveled its eyes in to Kurt's from just a few inches away.
"Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity-Jog!" The creature thought, letting the boy get his first real look at him.
And of course, the boy's blood ran cold. It wasn't just the twisted, broken horns that curled up and away from his temples, or the three smaller horns that grew up between them from the center of his forehead. Nor was it the reptilian skin that stretched over the face, skin the color or blue steel. It was not the great cloudy gray-white orbs or the snake-like fangs.
It was the undeniable fact that he knew this face. He brushed its teeth and hair on a daily basis and fed it junk food at every opportunity. It just looked like someone had run it over.
Kurt tried to scream but the creature was using its leverage to keep him from breathing properly.
When the creature saw he was trying to scream it showed him the knife.
And Kurt was paralyzed with fear. His body and mind were trying, on all engines, to teleport away, but it was not happening.
Then the creature indicated to it's own forehead. Kurt's eyes followed and he could see there was a red mark in the form of a diamond just between its eyes.
"H'm" The creature said, obviously not accustomed to speaking out loud.
Kurt's mind recoiled terror. He did not have enough information to even form opinions. Wouldn't it have hurt him by now if it had wanted?
And just then the knife flashed between them and Kurt felt a surge of warmth around his neck. He heart shifted in to a form of overdrive he had never used before as he struggled against the superior weight of his opponent.
In return, the creature simply stared, smiling greedily, deep in to Kurt's eyes.
Kurt sat up quickly. He was alone, in his bedroom, and it was morning.
Sun shone through his window and be blinked himself awake.
A brief chill ran through him. That was quite a dream. He had never had one like that before. He hoped to never have one like that again. He stood up, sore from his fight with Wolverine, and stretched.
He was smiling when he looked in to the mirror. But his humor did not last. Because, quite obviously, a patch of skin in the shape of a diamond had turned from blue to red, just above and between his eyes.
Kurt stuck his head out in to the hall once he was dressed. The hall seemed deserted, but he shoved his hat on all the same.
He wasn't really sure what to do next. He remembered when Beast taught them about psychosomatic illness and how a great shock could make a person's hair loose it's pigment. And the dream had in fact been just that; A huge shock. Maybe that was all it was. He knew that in most cases color returns with new hair growth. But until then it was a zit. Or so he told himself, not quite wanting to admit that having red skin made him somehow even more stereotypical of evil. Not wanting to say that it didn't matter if he wasn't red all over, that this way, everyone would see it but him. They would be reminded every time he looked at them, and because he couldn't see it, he might forget from time to time that it was there.
And he knew those moments of reminder would break his heart. He could just see it happening, peoples eyes reaching up when he would finish speaking, Seeing the dark man with the red skin. . .
He shivered to his core.
And he was suddenly overwhelmed. A tidal flood of memories surged forth. Memories that hadn't happened. Things he knew could not possibly be. Memories that only could have come from the future. From the creature in the night! But how could this be? What did it mean?
And the images flickered and spun, enclosing his senses in an ever-changing swirl of remembrance. Kurt went to swoon.
"Whoa there." Scott came up behind him and caught him, bringing him to his senses.
"Ven did chu git-bach?" Kurt recovered his balance and stood up.
"Last night. Too late for the big fight though." Scott snickered sadly, as thought it were a sight he would have treasured.
Kurt felt his skin flush.
"I'm jus sore." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I vas trying to tretch a cramp hout."
Scott nodded, dubious, at the possibility. And his attention was caught b something on Kurt's arm. He reached out and grabbed it, pulling his fur.
"OW!" Kurt pulled back reflexively, rubbing his arm, but trying to see what Scott had in his hand.
It appeared to be a Band-Aid and cotton-ball, which had been crushed in to the interior of his elbow. "Gross!" Kurt rubbed his arm with his Thumb. There was a sore spot, just at the spot the Band-Aid had covered. "Vot da?" He looked at Scott, his finger racing the spot.
"Who knows where you picked this up?" Scott threw it in to a near by trash can. "Once, I spent half a day with toilet paper stuck to my foot before Wolverine told me about it."
"I re-member." Kurt told him, holding his arm close and turning away.
When Kurt threw a glance back, Cyclops and the trashcan were gone.
The moments he would wake were like snapshots of the room, illuminated by the large red digital clock.
Each "Snapshot Memory" looked much like the one before, the most common exception being the steady advancement of the minutes or hours that crept by casting various shadows around the room.
It seemed a fairly odd thing that at two thirty seven the door should suddenly be open.
And closed again by quarter to three.
Were the shadows of the room shifting in between each waking moment? Was he having trouble sleeping, or was he hearing things that woke him?
Kurt took a deep breath and tried to shake away the cobwebs of sleep. Didn't he shower after his workout with Wolverine? What was that smell? Kurt went to lift his arm in an effort to eliminate himself as a suspect.
Something took him by the wrist and held his arm down. It was strong and forceful yet the touch was different than any Kurt had felt before. Certainly the skin was rough and thick like the hide of an animal, but this touch was somehow more natural and reassuring than any Kurt had ever known. It caused him only to stir from sleep and not to jolt awake.
Kurt felt the need to yawn and as he did he came fully awake and tried to sit up. Then the creature was on him. A rough hand pressed him down in to the mattress and pillows, covering his mouth, and threatening to break him under it's great weight as the creature rolled atop him.
The great evil face leveled its eyes in to Kurt's from just a few inches away.
"Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity-Jog!" The creature thought, letting the boy get his first real look at him.
And of course, the boy's blood ran cold. It wasn't just the twisted, broken horns that curled up and away from his temples, or the three smaller horns that grew up between them from the center of his forehead. Nor was it the reptilian skin that stretched over the face, skin the color or blue steel. It was not the great cloudy gray-white orbs or the snake-like fangs.
It was the undeniable fact that he knew this face. He brushed its teeth and hair on a daily basis and fed it junk food at every opportunity. It just looked like someone had run it over.
Kurt tried to scream but the creature was using its leverage to keep him from breathing properly.
When the creature saw he was trying to scream it showed him the knife.
And Kurt was paralyzed with fear. His body and mind were trying, on all engines, to teleport away, but it was not happening.
Then the creature indicated to it's own forehead. Kurt's eyes followed and he could see there was a red mark in the form of a diamond just between its eyes.
"H'm" The creature said, obviously not accustomed to speaking out loud.
Kurt's mind recoiled terror. He did not have enough information to even form opinions. Wouldn't it have hurt him by now if it had wanted?
And just then the knife flashed between them and Kurt felt a surge of warmth around his neck. He heart shifted in to a form of overdrive he had never used before as he struggled against the superior weight of his opponent.
In return, the creature simply stared, smiling greedily, deep in to Kurt's eyes.
Kurt sat up quickly. He was alone, in his bedroom, and it was morning.
Sun shone through his window and be blinked himself awake.
A brief chill ran through him. That was quite a dream. He had never had one like that before. He hoped to never have one like that again. He stood up, sore from his fight with Wolverine, and stretched.
He was smiling when he looked in to the mirror. But his humor did not last. Because, quite obviously, a patch of skin in the shape of a diamond had turned from blue to red, just above and between his eyes.
Kurt stuck his head out in to the hall once he was dressed. The hall seemed deserted, but he shoved his hat on all the same.
He wasn't really sure what to do next. He remembered when Beast taught them about psychosomatic illness and how a great shock could make a person's hair loose it's pigment. And the dream had in fact been just that; A huge shock. Maybe that was all it was. He knew that in most cases color returns with new hair growth. But until then it was a zit. Or so he told himself, not quite wanting to admit that having red skin made him somehow even more stereotypical of evil. Not wanting to say that it didn't matter if he wasn't red all over, that this way, everyone would see it but him. They would be reminded every time he looked at them, and because he couldn't see it, he might forget from time to time that it was there.
And he knew those moments of reminder would break his heart. He could just see it happening, peoples eyes reaching up when he would finish speaking, Seeing the dark man with the red skin. . .
He shivered to his core.
And he was suddenly overwhelmed. A tidal flood of memories surged forth. Memories that hadn't happened. Things he knew could not possibly be. Memories that only could have come from the future. From the creature in the night! But how could this be? What did it mean?
And the images flickered and spun, enclosing his senses in an ever-changing swirl of remembrance. Kurt went to swoon.
"Whoa there." Scott came up behind him and caught him, bringing him to his senses.
"Ven did chu git-bach?" Kurt recovered his balance and stood up.
"Last night. Too late for the big fight though." Scott snickered sadly, as thought it were a sight he would have treasured.
Kurt felt his skin flush.
"I'm jus sore." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I vas trying to tretch a cramp hout."
Scott nodded, dubious, at the possibility. And his attention was caught b something on Kurt's arm. He reached out and grabbed it, pulling his fur.
"OW!" Kurt pulled back reflexively, rubbing his arm, but trying to see what Scott had in his hand.
It appeared to be a Band-Aid and cotton-ball, which had been crushed in to the interior of his elbow. "Gross!" Kurt rubbed his arm with his Thumb. There was a sore spot, just at the spot the Band-Aid had covered. "Vot da?" He looked at Scott, his finger racing the spot.
"Who knows where you picked this up?" Scott threw it in to a near by trash can. "Once, I spent half a day with toilet paper stuck to my foot before Wolverine told me about it."
"I re-member." Kurt told him, holding his arm close and turning away.
When Kurt threw a glance back, Cyclops and the trashcan were gone.