Authors note: We'll here it is - I hope that you like it. I know that a
lot of people might not like the way I'm taking some of this, but I hope
that you'll stick around anyway. I also know that Kurt is the main focus
of this chapter, as opposed to Rogue, but don't worry, she'll have a better
part next time. If you think Kurt and Rogue are having it rough now - wait
till you read the next chapter! ^^
Phoenix - about the way I order my stories. I can see why you're confused
- it's a pretty sucky system. The Parts are like extended chapters -
several different chapters that I pull together under one theme. The first
three chapters were, for example, about Kurt and Rogue skipping classes, so
I grouped them together. Part two was about Kurt and Rogue going to the
movies, and what happened during that time. It's more to keep me on track
than anything else and as soon as I upload the next chapter, I'll change
the names so that it makes more sense - just regular chapter one, chapter
two, etc.
Hope that helps.
Rogue closed her eyes and let herself drift into darkness. It wasn't real. How could it be real? Any minute now she would wake up, and this would all be just a horrible nightmare. Irene would call her down for breakfast and they would laugh about it over bowl of cereal. Mystique, Kurt, the X Men, the Brotherhood ------ they were all just dreams, quickly forgotten and absurd in the comfort of Irene's kitchen.
But she didn't wake up, and Mystique's low spoken words sliced coldly through her brain.
"Its Rogue."
She was Kurt's sister.
"PROFESSOR!"
The scream echoed through the silent corridors, shattering the evening quiet. Kurt burst through the front doors and strode into the centre of the hall, pale eyes blazing as they darted quickly around. It was empty.
"PROFESSOR!" he yelled again. His voice sounded alien, even to his own ears. Hoarse and enraged - an animal howl.
His slender frame shook as he stepped forward towards the foot of the staircase. A dark snarl passed over his features. He didn't think, didn't stop to reason. All he knew was that there was a force inside of him - a cold fury - and he couldn't stop until he knew the truth.
Kitty suddenly appeared at the top of the landing. She was dressed in her X Men uniform. Evidently, he had interrupted a training session. Her pretty face was pulled into a look of confusion, one eyebrow raised questioningly.
"Kurt?" She began to walk down the stairs, hand trailing on the smooth wooden banister. "Kurt, what's wrong?"
It took the young boy a moment to realise who she was. His head was so cluttered ---- so confused ---- but this was Kitty. His friend, Kitty. She wasn't like the others. She wouldn't lie to him, would she? Kurt suddenly wasn't sure.
She paused a couple of steps away, watching him uncertainly. If he had enough presence of mind, he would have realised that he looked horrific. His eyes were wide and wild, body bent and trembling. He had a vague memory of running, running as fast as he could, as though he could somehow outrun the truth and leave it faraway behind him. It hadn't worked; the only result being that his raven coloured hair was now falling in heavy strands across his furred forehead.
There was a long moment of silence between the two X Men. Kitty shifted uncomfortably. He seemed to be looking through her, rather than at her --- it was frightening.
"The Professor," he mumbled finally "Where is the Professor?"
The girl pressed her glossy lips together, tugging at her ponytail. She wasn't certain that she wanted to tell him. "He's in his study with the rest of the Instructors. Why? What's going on?"
Kurt's mouth pulled into a hard line and he took a step towards the stairs, three fingered hands curled into fists. He let himself fall into his Rage, letting his mind drift elsewhere. It felt good to let go. Somewhere, he knew that he should stop for a minute and calm down, but anger made him push that aside. And he was angry. Very angry.
Kitty stood in front of him, blocking his path. "Kurt, you're starting to totally freak me out here." She reached out to touch his shoulder, "What's happened?"
The moment her fingers brushed against him, he recoiled instantly, glaring at her in horror. Their eyes met for a split second. It was a look that haunted Kitty for many nights to come.
A look of pain.
Then, in a flash of light, he was gone.
The distant growl of thunder rolled around the town of Bayville. A thick mantle of cloud covered the sky, obscuring the stars and moon. Inside the warm glow of the study, Ororo Monroe looked thoughtfully out of the closed window, gaze unfixed and pensive.
"It looks like there is a storm brewing," she remarked quietly, to no one in particular.
Hank rose from the armchair and crossed the room to stand beside her. In his giant hands he held two teacups, one of which he passed to the silver haired woman. He nodded in agreement. "Just as well, a heat wave's no joke when you're covered in fur."
His attempt to lighten the mood fell of deaf ears.
The X Men Instructors were gathered together - he, Ororo, Logan and Charles. Scott was supervising the Danger Room session for the evening, leaving the older mutants with time off. Hank was relatively new at the Institute, but he understood how its subtle hierarchy worked. They were the elders of their little tribe, the ones who Charles's relied on for advise and support. Their meetings together were usually pleasant times as they aired opinions and thoughts with the intimacy of old friends.
But not tonight. Something was wrong, and they could all feel it.
Taking a sip from his tea, the blue furred man took a moment to look around him. Ororo was standing beside him, blue eyes staring out into the gathering darkness. Solemn and glacially beautiful, he couldn't help but watch her admiringly for a moment. She was attractive - it hadn't escaped his attention - but there was something else there as well. A kind of wisdom that went deeper than mere aesthetics. He could understand how people would worship her as a goddess.
Logan was sitting on the arm of the couch, staring sullenly into the unlit fireplace. He had been quiet all evening and Hank wondered briefly if he sensed that he was somehow being left out of something. He was the only one present who didn't know about Kurt and Rogue ----- it was a pretty big secret to be left out of. Still, he trusted Xavier's judgement. Charles had specifically told him that it was on a need to know basis, and Logan didn't need to know. Still ------ it was somewhat disconcerting.
And then there was Charles. He sat back in his wheelchair, eyelids closed and fingers steepled under his chin. He almost looked as though he was sleeping, but his brow furrowed in thought dismissed that notion.
As Hank watched, the frown deepened. Suddenly his brown eyes snapped open, head jerking back as though from an unexpected blow.
"Charles?" Ororo was instantly at his side, setting her tea down quickly and kneeling beside him. "Charles what is it?"
The Professor took a moment to regain his composure, taking a deep breath. His hand went to his forehead. "I-I don't know," he murmured.
Logan stood beside Ororo, one hand resting on the back of the wheelchair. He looked down in barely disguised concern.
"You okay, Chuck?" His customary growl was lowered considerately, one friend to another.
Charles paused before nodding. "Yes, I'm fine."
Hank took step forward, furred brow pulled together. A sudden dread twisted in his gut. "What did you see?"
Professor Xavier was silent, staring blankly into space, fixed and motionless, his mind a thousand miles away. "I don't know," he admitted quietly.
Ororo and Hank exchanged worried glances. Outside, the thunder grew closer.
A knock on the door made all of the Instructors look around.
The man in the wheelchair cleared his throat. "Yes, Kurt. Please come in."
The doors opened and a boy stepped in. But it wasn't Kurt. At least, it wasn't the Kurt that they knew.
He stood in the pooling of shadows by the doorway, ill defined and hazy against the dark. Without his holographic disguise, his posture was hunched over - animal-like - his pale eyes glowing ghostly. His face was a hardened mask - lacking the boyish vulnerability they were used to seeing.
This new presence seemed to surprise them all, with the possible exception of the Professor. He watched Kurt for a moment, eyebrows drawn together in a look of searching. He didn't ask what was wrong. Even were he not the greatest telepath alive, it wouldn't have taken him long to guess. He lowered his head, a weary sigh escaping his lips. There was a pregnant pause as the three standing adults glanced uneasily from one to the other. The first flashes of lightning lit the horizon.
Finally, it was Charles who broke the silence. "Logan, Hank, Ororo. Would you please leave us alone for a moment?" He didn't look up.
Apprehensively, the three made as if to move away, but Kurt stopped them. "No, don't go." He glared at Charles. "No secrets amongst friends ---- right Professor?"
If the seated man felt a twinge of guilt at that comment, he didn't show it. A well-experienced diplomat, he forced himself into calm, pushing his own feels of anxiety to the side. He nodded, gesturing to the empty chair opposite him. "As you wish. Please, take a seat."
Kurt swayed uncertainly on his feet and didn't move. "I prefer to stand," he told the telepath coldly.
Hank shifted his considerable weight uncomfortably. Suddenly, he would have given anything to be elsewhere at that moment. Whatever was going on here, it looked like it might turn ugly. Gaze fixed on the blue furred boy, he sensed rather than saw Ororo move to stand beside him. Only Logan remained standing beside the Professor, arms crossed over his wide chest.
"Somebody mind telling me what's going on here?" he growled quietly.
Kurt ignored him, his attention focused solely on the Professor. His icy eyes suddenly softened, a look of deep sorrow passing quickly over his features. He sagged a little.
"Why did you lie to me?" His voice, previously so full of malice, tremored.
Charles cupped his hands together in front of him. "She has told you then?"
"Mystique?" Kurt laughed, embittered. "Ja, she told me."
He frowned. "I hadn't meant for you to find out like that."
"You hadn't meant me to find out at all."
"That's not true, Kurt." He looked up at the boy with genuine concern. "When you were both ready, I would have told you all I knew. But please understand, this is a delicate situation for all of us. I didn't feel that either you or Rogue should be exposed to Mystique unless it could be proven for certain that she is what she claims to be. I couldn't risk either of you being hurt!"
Kurt trembled. "I could have made that decision for myself."
Charles shook his head. "You weren't ready for that kind of information."
"Its my life! I should know the truth!"
"This doesn't just affect you," he tilted his head "What about Rogue? She is as much involved in this as you are. How do you think that these revelations will affect her?"
Kurt paused, brows pulled together doubtfully. He took a step backwards, disappearing further into the shadows. "Rogue?"
------- Kurt, you have a sister ------ It's Rogue --------
His memory was a blur since he had heard those fateful words uttered. He remembered Mystique's voice low voice trying to sooth him, he remembered blind rage that the truth had been kept from him, he remembered running ---- --- but he hadn't gone to Rogue. He hadn't even looked at her. He had been so caught up in his own pain; he hadn't stopped to think about her. For all he knew, she could be out there still with Mystique.
Shame made his anger grow.
"If you had told us the truth from the beginning, then none of this would have happened!" he spat. "Rogue and I can take care of ourselves!"
Charles sighed wearily and massaged his forehead with long, neat fingers. He could see that trying to explain his actions was, at this time, pointless. Kurt wasn't willing to listen. Right now, he was more concerned about Rogue. He tried reaching out to her with his thoughts, trying to find her, but it was hard to concentrate while Kurt was standing before him. She was safe, that much he was certain of.
He looked up at the blue furred boy. "How much did she tell you?"
"Enough."
Charles frowned. "That's not an answer."
Kurt glowered ruefully from the doorway, three fingered hands curled into fists. "She told me that Rogue was my sister," he swallowed, "Is it true?"
The Professor paused, then nodded. "Yes. I believe so."
Hearing the words spoken out loud, Kurt was visibly taken back. It was, of course, what he had been expecting, but to hear it said ------
Logan stared at Charles in disbelief. "Rogue is Mystique's daughter?"
Hank opened his mouth to say something but the Professor cut him of with a sharp look.
"We are ------ uncertain, as to how Rogue and Mystique are related," he lied. In reality, he had discovered the truth a couple of days previously - courtesy of Hank's blood test - but in the circumstances, he didn't think that Kurt was ready to receive any more revelations. "It may be that they are biologically mother and daughter, although theirs may also be an adoptive family tie. We are still investigating."
The word slipped out before had even noticed it. Kurt glanced up at him suddenly; tail flicking along the floor, the only sign of life in his motionless form. His sharpened teeth gritted together in a snarl. "We?"
Charles blinked, suddenly cursing his own stupidity. There was a heavy silence. It didn't take a telepath to feel Kurt's ever-growing rage.
He shifted uneasily. "I required help in my search. To that end I enlisted the help of Ororo and Mr McCoy," he watched Kurt, worried about how he would take this.
Again, Logan was caught by surprise. He took a step backwards, a growl rising in his throat. "Any particular reason why I didn't know about this?"
"I'm sorry Wolverine, but it was on a need to know basis."
Kurt shook. "I needed to know."
There was a guilty silence. The Professor looked away, not wanting to confront the boys hate filled glare. Even without seeing him, he could feel the animosity seeping from him. It was strange, sensing such hatred coming from a boy like Kurt. He knew that it was just pain and confusion that fuelled his rage, but still ----- it hurt.
He frowned slightly. A new presence filled had his mind.
Kurt drew him from his thoughts.
"She said that ---- that I was an experiment." He looked up, pale eyes fixed and unwavering. "Is it true? Did you know?"
Charles took a deep intake of breath. That had been an unexpected move, even for Mystique, and he was growing increasingly suspicious of some larger ploy at work here.
"I don't know the truth on that matter," he admitted, not wholly untruthfully. While it was true that Magneto had been conducting genetic experiments at the time of Kurt's birth, he had never found any conclusive evidence to link the two together. He had his own personal theories, but none that he would be willing to share at this particular moment in time.
Kurt stood silently, lithe body trembling. He swallowed, raining his chin.
"Is that all then?" he asked. His voice was quiet now, but the force behind his words was unmistakable.
Charles watched him kindly. "Kurt, you're tired, and it's been a long day for all of us. There will be time for this tomorrow, I promise. But for now I think that you need to rest and build your strength. We can talk in the morning."
Kurt cast his mind back a few months, to the night when he and Rogue had been sitting in this very room. He scowled bitterly - the truth had been kept from him then as well, and the Professor had made a similar promise --- ---
He knew better than to trust him now. The truth was, he couldn't trust anyone anymore.
He held the older mans eyes for a moment, suddenly feeling remote from him. For the past year, Professor Xavier had been his teacher and mentor and - perhaps more importantly - his friend. He had trusted him. But something had changes between them now, and Kurt knew that it could never be the same again. Too much had happened.
He blinked suddenly and broke his hold on him. Clenching his jaw, he uncurled his fists and took a deep breath. "Sure," he mumbled quietly, ill- disguised bitterness creeping into his voice, "I'll just hop along to bed like a good little X Man. No worries, right?"
"I didn't mean-" Charles began, but it was a waste of time. Kurt had already disappeared in a flash of light, a wisp of curling smoke the only evidence that he had ever been there. His trademark scent of brimstone filled the air.
With a sudden rumble of thunder, the storm had arrived in Bayville.
Rogue listened to the muffled *bamf* and knew that Kurt had teleported out of there.
She was curled up in the darkness behind the door, arms wrapped around her trembling knees. Her head leaned against the warm wood, listening to the sound of voices from within the study. She had been listening for almost ten minutes now, and had heard everything.
Kurt was her brother. Mystique was her mother. Kurt was her brother. Mystique was her mother.
The little rhyme repeated over and over again in her head, so ridiculous that under different circumstances, she probably would have laughed. But she didn't. She simply sat and listened, face ghostly white and expressionless.
Now that Kurt had departed from the scene, the four adults didn't seem to be in the mood for much talking. Logan's distinctive rumble caught her ears for a moment, but he was quickly subdued into silence. Charles said nothing.
Rogue wasn't an idiot. He could probably sense her presence even now - he wasn't about to divulge secret information while she was listening in. Still, for some reason she was hesitant to move.
Kurt had sounded angry ---- really angry. He didn't get like that very often, but she supposed that he had reason to be worked up. She remembered the look on his face when Mystique had said what she did. Shock. Disbelief. It was a look that had probably been mirrored on her own features. And then he had run. Run away, leaving her alone.
She swallowed and closed her grey eyes. She wished that she were angry. It would have made it easier to bear. But the truth was, she didn't feel anything. Nothing at all. No pain, no resentment ----- just a cold, dead nothing.
Dark emptiness where her heart should have been breaking.
Quietly, she stood, and began to walk towards her bedroom.
Kurt sat in darkness.
He liked the dark. The daylight could be harsh and unforgiving, exposing his weaknesses for the whole world to see. Not so with the night. It was his protector ----- his sanctuary. The darkness was the one thing that had never failed him.
He lowered his head respectfully and folded his three fingered hands in his lap. Prayer - the last resort of the damned. He sat in silence for a long time, not knowing what to say. The rain hammered relentlessly against his closed windows.
------ Ask and ye shall receive ------
How could you ask God for a whole new life?
He sighed and leaned forward further, until his forehead rested on his hands. Feeling the swell of blood to his head made him feel momentarily better. Somehow, he had always found it easier to think this way.
Closing his eyes, he imagined himself back in the church in his home village. The memory of that place eluded him for a moment; it had been so long since he had visited it. But then it all came back to him. The light from the tall gothic windows ----- the scent of the burning incense ---- the dry taste of the communion wafers ----- he let it flood over him, basking in its familiarity. Something tightened in his chest, the longing to be home so powerful that he almost couldn't breath.
In his mind, he was sitting in his old pew before the statue of the Madonna. She watched him, silent and benevolent, motionless in cold stone, as she had for the fifteen years before he moved to Bayville.
"Holy Mary," he whispered quietly - his body in Bayville, his soul in church. "Mother of Christ. I know that I haven't been a very good Christian for the past year or two. I never go to mass anymore, and I haven't spoken to God since I came to America." He paused, thinking about what he had said. It was all true, and it made him blush hot with shame. "But I've always tried to do my best for your honour. I've lived by Christ's teachings. I know that I screw up and get things wrong sometimes, but I truly repent, and hope that you'll forgive me for my sins."
A crash of lightning briefly illuminated Kurt's closed eyelids, and in his imagination, the church windows flashed silver.
"The truth is, I think I need some guidance right now. I'm so confused ---- - I don't understand what you want me to do." He pressed his folded hands into his soft forehead, the knuckles hard against his skull. "I know that God has made this happen for a reason, but I don't know what he expects from me. Am I supposed to forgive Mystique? Am I here to help Rogue ---- is that what you want? I'm just so lost. I've never felt further from home and I really need your help. So ---- please? If you're listening, please ---- just ----- please ---?"
He waited. Nothing. His only reply was the hammering of the rain outside.
"There are just so many questions that I need answering. Why didn't the Professor tell me the truth? I don't understand how he could betray me like that. And not just him. Storm, Beast ----- they were in on it too. I see these people every day ---- how could they keep something like that from me? I know that the spirit of Christianity is forgiveness, but Holy Mother, I don't think I can." He pressed his lips together in a thin line "I don't belong here anymore. I know that God led me to the X Men ----- and for a long time I thought that this was what He wanted me to do with my life. But now I see that the X Men don't exist. Not really. Its just a name, it doesn't mean anything. How can it if we don't trust each other?"
"I need to know how to make things right again. And not just for me. For Rogue too." He sighed heavily. "I ---- I really care about her. I've never had a friend like her before; I don't want to be the one that's causing her pain. I'd rather die than hurt her."
He paused and bit his lower lip uncertainly, imagining the Madonna's blank stone eyes staring down at him. There were no secrets before the Queen of Heaven.
"I ----- I'm in love with her."
There, he had said it. Until that moment, he hadn't been certain. It had been only suspicions ---- hints. But now, in all of the confusion and all of the chaos surrounding him, it was the one thing that rang true. He was in love with Rogue.
"I know what they said back there ---- that she could be my sister ---- and I know it sounds crazy but I can't help how I feel. I just know that it's right. She can't be my sister because that's not how I see her." He winced. "Please tell me I'm right? Please?" He swallowed hard, grief making his hands shake. "Please?"
Again, the imaginary Madonna remained silent, his prayer unanswered. But then, what had be been expecting? It gradually became clear to him - Santa Claus didn't exist, the Easter Bunny was a marketing scam, and prayers were never answered.
For the first time in his life, he was truly alone.
Black despair swelled inside of him, deep and pitiless. The one thing that had kept him alive was taken from him. His faith. First his faith in the X Men, and now his faith in God. His hope flickered uncertainly, like a candle in the wind.
His slender shoulders heaved as he fought to suppress the sob that was growing in his throat. It didn't work. His face contorted in a look of utter despair, hot tears stung at the back of his eyes; salty streams slipping from between their closed lids.
Hugging his knees to his chest, Kurt began to cry.
Rogue closed her eyes and let herself drift into darkness. It wasn't real. How could it be real? Any minute now she would wake up, and this would all be just a horrible nightmare. Irene would call her down for breakfast and they would laugh about it over bowl of cereal. Mystique, Kurt, the X Men, the Brotherhood ------ they were all just dreams, quickly forgotten and absurd in the comfort of Irene's kitchen.
But she didn't wake up, and Mystique's low spoken words sliced coldly through her brain.
"Its Rogue."
She was Kurt's sister.
"PROFESSOR!"
The scream echoed through the silent corridors, shattering the evening quiet. Kurt burst through the front doors and strode into the centre of the hall, pale eyes blazing as they darted quickly around. It was empty.
"PROFESSOR!" he yelled again. His voice sounded alien, even to his own ears. Hoarse and enraged - an animal howl.
His slender frame shook as he stepped forward towards the foot of the staircase. A dark snarl passed over his features. He didn't think, didn't stop to reason. All he knew was that there was a force inside of him - a cold fury - and he couldn't stop until he knew the truth.
Kitty suddenly appeared at the top of the landing. She was dressed in her X Men uniform. Evidently, he had interrupted a training session. Her pretty face was pulled into a look of confusion, one eyebrow raised questioningly.
"Kurt?" She began to walk down the stairs, hand trailing on the smooth wooden banister. "Kurt, what's wrong?"
It took the young boy a moment to realise who she was. His head was so cluttered ---- so confused ---- but this was Kitty. His friend, Kitty. She wasn't like the others. She wouldn't lie to him, would she? Kurt suddenly wasn't sure.
She paused a couple of steps away, watching him uncertainly. If he had enough presence of mind, he would have realised that he looked horrific. His eyes were wide and wild, body bent and trembling. He had a vague memory of running, running as fast as he could, as though he could somehow outrun the truth and leave it faraway behind him. It hadn't worked; the only result being that his raven coloured hair was now falling in heavy strands across his furred forehead.
There was a long moment of silence between the two X Men. Kitty shifted uncomfortably. He seemed to be looking through her, rather than at her --- it was frightening.
"The Professor," he mumbled finally "Where is the Professor?"
The girl pressed her glossy lips together, tugging at her ponytail. She wasn't certain that she wanted to tell him. "He's in his study with the rest of the Instructors. Why? What's going on?"
Kurt's mouth pulled into a hard line and he took a step towards the stairs, three fingered hands curled into fists. He let himself fall into his Rage, letting his mind drift elsewhere. It felt good to let go. Somewhere, he knew that he should stop for a minute and calm down, but anger made him push that aside. And he was angry. Very angry.
Kitty stood in front of him, blocking his path. "Kurt, you're starting to totally freak me out here." She reached out to touch his shoulder, "What's happened?"
The moment her fingers brushed against him, he recoiled instantly, glaring at her in horror. Their eyes met for a split second. It was a look that haunted Kitty for many nights to come.
A look of pain.
Then, in a flash of light, he was gone.
The distant growl of thunder rolled around the town of Bayville. A thick mantle of cloud covered the sky, obscuring the stars and moon. Inside the warm glow of the study, Ororo Monroe looked thoughtfully out of the closed window, gaze unfixed and pensive.
"It looks like there is a storm brewing," she remarked quietly, to no one in particular.
Hank rose from the armchair and crossed the room to stand beside her. In his giant hands he held two teacups, one of which he passed to the silver haired woman. He nodded in agreement. "Just as well, a heat wave's no joke when you're covered in fur."
His attempt to lighten the mood fell of deaf ears.
The X Men Instructors were gathered together - he, Ororo, Logan and Charles. Scott was supervising the Danger Room session for the evening, leaving the older mutants with time off. Hank was relatively new at the Institute, but he understood how its subtle hierarchy worked. They were the elders of their little tribe, the ones who Charles's relied on for advise and support. Their meetings together were usually pleasant times as they aired opinions and thoughts with the intimacy of old friends.
But not tonight. Something was wrong, and they could all feel it.
Taking a sip from his tea, the blue furred man took a moment to look around him. Ororo was standing beside him, blue eyes staring out into the gathering darkness. Solemn and glacially beautiful, he couldn't help but watch her admiringly for a moment. She was attractive - it hadn't escaped his attention - but there was something else there as well. A kind of wisdom that went deeper than mere aesthetics. He could understand how people would worship her as a goddess.
Logan was sitting on the arm of the couch, staring sullenly into the unlit fireplace. He had been quiet all evening and Hank wondered briefly if he sensed that he was somehow being left out of something. He was the only one present who didn't know about Kurt and Rogue ----- it was a pretty big secret to be left out of. Still, he trusted Xavier's judgement. Charles had specifically told him that it was on a need to know basis, and Logan didn't need to know. Still ------ it was somewhat disconcerting.
And then there was Charles. He sat back in his wheelchair, eyelids closed and fingers steepled under his chin. He almost looked as though he was sleeping, but his brow furrowed in thought dismissed that notion.
As Hank watched, the frown deepened. Suddenly his brown eyes snapped open, head jerking back as though from an unexpected blow.
"Charles?" Ororo was instantly at his side, setting her tea down quickly and kneeling beside him. "Charles what is it?"
The Professor took a moment to regain his composure, taking a deep breath. His hand went to his forehead. "I-I don't know," he murmured.
Logan stood beside Ororo, one hand resting on the back of the wheelchair. He looked down in barely disguised concern.
"You okay, Chuck?" His customary growl was lowered considerately, one friend to another.
Charles paused before nodding. "Yes, I'm fine."
Hank took step forward, furred brow pulled together. A sudden dread twisted in his gut. "What did you see?"
Professor Xavier was silent, staring blankly into space, fixed and motionless, his mind a thousand miles away. "I don't know," he admitted quietly.
Ororo and Hank exchanged worried glances. Outside, the thunder grew closer.
A knock on the door made all of the Instructors look around.
The man in the wheelchair cleared his throat. "Yes, Kurt. Please come in."
The doors opened and a boy stepped in. But it wasn't Kurt. At least, it wasn't the Kurt that they knew.
He stood in the pooling of shadows by the doorway, ill defined and hazy against the dark. Without his holographic disguise, his posture was hunched over - animal-like - his pale eyes glowing ghostly. His face was a hardened mask - lacking the boyish vulnerability they were used to seeing.
This new presence seemed to surprise them all, with the possible exception of the Professor. He watched Kurt for a moment, eyebrows drawn together in a look of searching. He didn't ask what was wrong. Even were he not the greatest telepath alive, it wouldn't have taken him long to guess. He lowered his head, a weary sigh escaping his lips. There was a pregnant pause as the three standing adults glanced uneasily from one to the other. The first flashes of lightning lit the horizon.
Finally, it was Charles who broke the silence. "Logan, Hank, Ororo. Would you please leave us alone for a moment?" He didn't look up.
Apprehensively, the three made as if to move away, but Kurt stopped them. "No, don't go." He glared at Charles. "No secrets amongst friends ---- right Professor?"
If the seated man felt a twinge of guilt at that comment, he didn't show it. A well-experienced diplomat, he forced himself into calm, pushing his own feels of anxiety to the side. He nodded, gesturing to the empty chair opposite him. "As you wish. Please, take a seat."
Kurt swayed uncertainly on his feet and didn't move. "I prefer to stand," he told the telepath coldly.
Hank shifted his considerable weight uncomfortably. Suddenly, he would have given anything to be elsewhere at that moment. Whatever was going on here, it looked like it might turn ugly. Gaze fixed on the blue furred boy, he sensed rather than saw Ororo move to stand beside him. Only Logan remained standing beside the Professor, arms crossed over his wide chest.
"Somebody mind telling me what's going on here?" he growled quietly.
Kurt ignored him, his attention focused solely on the Professor. His icy eyes suddenly softened, a look of deep sorrow passing quickly over his features. He sagged a little.
"Why did you lie to me?" His voice, previously so full of malice, tremored.
Charles cupped his hands together in front of him. "She has told you then?"
"Mystique?" Kurt laughed, embittered. "Ja, she told me."
He frowned. "I hadn't meant for you to find out like that."
"You hadn't meant me to find out at all."
"That's not true, Kurt." He looked up at the boy with genuine concern. "When you were both ready, I would have told you all I knew. But please understand, this is a delicate situation for all of us. I didn't feel that either you or Rogue should be exposed to Mystique unless it could be proven for certain that she is what she claims to be. I couldn't risk either of you being hurt!"
Kurt trembled. "I could have made that decision for myself."
Charles shook his head. "You weren't ready for that kind of information."
"Its my life! I should know the truth!"
"This doesn't just affect you," he tilted his head "What about Rogue? She is as much involved in this as you are. How do you think that these revelations will affect her?"
Kurt paused, brows pulled together doubtfully. He took a step backwards, disappearing further into the shadows. "Rogue?"
------- Kurt, you have a sister ------ It's Rogue --------
His memory was a blur since he had heard those fateful words uttered. He remembered Mystique's voice low voice trying to sooth him, he remembered blind rage that the truth had been kept from him, he remembered running ---- --- but he hadn't gone to Rogue. He hadn't even looked at her. He had been so caught up in his own pain; he hadn't stopped to think about her. For all he knew, she could be out there still with Mystique.
Shame made his anger grow.
"If you had told us the truth from the beginning, then none of this would have happened!" he spat. "Rogue and I can take care of ourselves!"
Charles sighed wearily and massaged his forehead with long, neat fingers. He could see that trying to explain his actions was, at this time, pointless. Kurt wasn't willing to listen. Right now, he was more concerned about Rogue. He tried reaching out to her with his thoughts, trying to find her, but it was hard to concentrate while Kurt was standing before him. She was safe, that much he was certain of.
He looked up at the blue furred boy. "How much did she tell you?"
"Enough."
Charles frowned. "That's not an answer."
Kurt glowered ruefully from the doorway, three fingered hands curled into fists. "She told me that Rogue was my sister," he swallowed, "Is it true?"
The Professor paused, then nodded. "Yes. I believe so."
Hearing the words spoken out loud, Kurt was visibly taken back. It was, of course, what he had been expecting, but to hear it said ------
Logan stared at Charles in disbelief. "Rogue is Mystique's daughter?"
Hank opened his mouth to say something but the Professor cut him of with a sharp look.
"We are ------ uncertain, as to how Rogue and Mystique are related," he lied. In reality, he had discovered the truth a couple of days previously - courtesy of Hank's blood test - but in the circumstances, he didn't think that Kurt was ready to receive any more revelations. "It may be that they are biologically mother and daughter, although theirs may also be an adoptive family tie. We are still investigating."
The word slipped out before had even noticed it. Kurt glanced up at him suddenly; tail flicking along the floor, the only sign of life in his motionless form. His sharpened teeth gritted together in a snarl. "We?"
Charles blinked, suddenly cursing his own stupidity. There was a heavy silence. It didn't take a telepath to feel Kurt's ever-growing rage.
He shifted uneasily. "I required help in my search. To that end I enlisted the help of Ororo and Mr McCoy," he watched Kurt, worried about how he would take this.
Again, Logan was caught by surprise. He took a step backwards, a growl rising in his throat. "Any particular reason why I didn't know about this?"
"I'm sorry Wolverine, but it was on a need to know basis."
Kurt shook. "I needed to know."
There was a guilty silence. The Professor looked away, not wanting to confront the boys hate filled glare. Even without seeing him, he could feel the animosity seeping from him. It was strange, sensing such hatred coming from a boy like Kurt. He knew that it was just pain and confusion that fuelled his rage, but still ----- it hurt.
He frowned slightly. A new presence filled had his mind.
Kurt drew him from his thoughts.
"She said that ---- that I was an experiment." He looked up, pale eyes fixed and unwavering. "Is it true? Did you know?"
Charles took a deep intake of breath. That had been an unexpected move, even for Mystique, and he was growing increasingly suspicious of some larger ploy at work here.
"I don't know the truth on that matter," he admitted, not wholly untruthfully. While it was true that Magneto had been conducting genetic experiments at the time of Kurt's birth, he had never found any conclusive evidence to link the two together. He had his own personal theories, but none that he would be willing to share at this particular moment in time.
Kurt stood silently, lithe body trembling. He swallowed, raining his chin.
"Is that all then?" he asked. His voice was quiet now, but the force behind his words was unmistakable.
Charles watched him kindly. "Kurt, you're tired, and it's been a long day for all of us. There will be time for this tomorrow, I promise. But for now I think that you need to rest and build your strength. We can talk in the morning."
Kurt cast his mind back a few months, to the night when he and Rogue had been sitting in this very room. He scowled bitterly - the truth had been kept from him then as well, and the Professor had made a similar promise --- ---
He knew better than to trust him now. The truth was, he couldn't trust anyone anymore.
He held the older mans eyes for a moment, suddenly feeling remote from him. For the past year, Professor Xavier had been his teacher and mentor and - perhaps more importantly - his friend. He had trusted him. But something had changes between them now, and Kurt knew that it could never be the same again. Too much had happened.
He blinked suddenly and broke his hold on him. Clenching his jaw, he uncurled his fists and took a deep breath. "Sure," he mumbled quietly, ill- disguised bitterness creeping into his voice, "I'll just hop along to bed like a good little X Man. No worries, right?"
"I didn't mean-" Charles began, but it was a waste of time. Kurt had already disappeared in a flash of light, a wisp of curling smoke the only evidence that he had ever been there. His trademark scent of brimstone filled the air.
With a sudden rumble of thunder, the storm had arrived in Bayville.
Rogue listened to the muffled *bamf* and knew that Kurt had teleported out of there.
She was curled up in the darkness behind the door, arms wrapped around her trembling knees. Her head leaned against the warm wood, listening to the sound of voices from within the study. She had been listening for almost ten minutes now, and had heard everything.
Kurt was her brother. Mystique was her mother. Kurt was her brother. Mystique was her mother.
The little rhyme repeated over and over again in her head, so ridiculous that under different circumstances, she probably would have laughed. But she didn't. She simply sat and listened, face ghostly white and expressionless.
Now that Kurt had departed from the scene, the four adults didn't seem to be in the mood for much talking. Logan's distinctive rumble caught her ears for a moment, but he was quickly subdued into silence. Charles said nothing.
Rogue wasn't an idiot. He could probably sense her presence even now - he wasn't about to divulge secret information while she was listening in. Still, for some reason she was hesitant to move.
Kurt had sounded angry ---- really angry. He didn't get like that very often, but she supposed that he had reason to be worked up. She remembered the look on his face when Mystique had said what she did. Shock. Disbelief. It was a look that had probably been mirrored on her own features. And then he had run. Run away, leaving her alone.
She swallowed and closed her grey eyes. She wished that she were angry. It would have made it easier to bear. But the truth was, she didn't feel anything. Nothing at all. No pain, no resentment ----- just a cold, dead nothing.
Dark emptiness where her heart should have been breaking.
Quietly, she stood, and began to walk towards her bedroom.
Kurt sat in darkness.
He liked the dark. The daylight could be harsh and unforgiving, exposing his weaknesses for the whole world to see. Not so with the night. It was his protector ----- his sanctuary. The darkness was the one thing that had never failed him.
He lowered his head respectfully and folded his three fingered hands in his lap. Prayer - the last resort of the damned. He sat in silence for a long time, not knowing what to say. The rain hammered relentlessly against his closed windows.
------ Ask and ye shall receive ------
How could you ask God for a whole new life?
He sighed and leaned forward further, until his forehead rested on his hands. Feeling the swell of blood to his head made him feel momentarily better. Somehow, he had always found it easier to think this way.
Closing his eyes, he imagined himself back in the church in his home village. The memory of that place eluded him for a moment; it had been so long since he had visited it. But then it all came back to him. The light from the tall gothic windows ----- the scent of the burning incense ---- the dry taste of the communion wafers ----- he let it flood over him, basking in its familiarity. Something tightened in his chest, the longing to be home so powerful that he almost couldn't breath.
In his mind, he was sitting in his old pew before the statue of the Madonna. She watched him, silent and benevolent, motionless in cold stone, as she had for the fifteen years before he moved to Bayville.
"Holy Mary," he whispered quietly - his body in Bayville, his soul in church. "Mother of Christ. I know that I haven't been a very good Christian for the past year or two. I never go to mass anymore, and I haven't spoken to God since I came to America." He paused, thinking about what he had said. It was all true, and it made him blush hot with shame. "But I've always tried to do my best for your honour. I've lived by Christ's teachings. I know that I screw up and get things wrong sometimes, but I truly repent, and hope that you'll forgive me for my sins."
A crash of lightning briefly illuminated Kurt's closed eyelids, and in his imagination, the church windows flashed silver.
"The truth is, I think I need some guidance right now. I'm so confused ---- - I don't understand what you want me to do." He pressed his folded hands into his soft forehead, the knuckles hard against his skull. "I know that God has made this happen for a reason, but I don't know what he expects from me. Am I supposed to forgive Mystique? Am I here to help Rogue ---- is that what you want? I'm just so lost. I've never felt further from home and I really need your help. So ---- please? If you're listening, please ---- just ----- please ---?"
He waited. Nothing. His only reply was the hammering of the rain outside.
"There are just so many questions that I need answering. Why didn't the Professor tell me the truth? I don't understand how he could betray me like that. And not just him. Storm, Beast ----- they were in on it too. I see these people every day ---- how could they keep something like that from me? I know that the spirit of Christianity is forgiveness, but Holy Mother, I don't think I can." He pressed his lips together in a thin line "I don't belong here anymore. I know that God led me to the X Men ----- and for a long time I thought that this was what He wanted me to do with my life. But now I see that the X Men don't exist. Not really. Its just a name, it doesn't mean anything. How can it if we don't trust each other?"
"I need to know how to make things right again. And not just for me. For Rogue too." He sighed heavily. "I ---- I really care about her. I've never had a friend like her before; I don't want to be the one that's causing her pain. I'd rather die than hurt her."
He paused and bit his lower lip uncertainly, imagining the Madonna's blank stone eyes staring down at him. There were no secrets before the Queen of Heaven.
"I ----- I'm in love with her."
There, he had said it. Until that moment, he hadn't been certain. It had been only suspicions ---- hints. But now, in all of the confusion and all of the chaos surrounding him, it was the one thing that rang true. He was in love with Rogue.
"I know what they said back there ---- that she could be my sister ---- and I know it sounds crazy but I can't help how I feel. I just know that it's right. She can't be my sister because that's not how I see her." He winced. "Please tell me I'm right? Please?" He swallowed hard, grief making his hands shake. "Please?"
Again, the imaginary Madonna remained silent, his prayer unanswered. But then, what had be been expecting? It gradually became clear to him - Santa Claus didn't exist, the Easter Bunny was a marketing scam, and prayers were never answered.
For the first time in his life, he was truly alone.
Black despair swelled inside of him, deep and pitiless. The one thing that had kept him alive was taken from him. His faith. First his faith in the X Men, and now his faith in God. His hope flickered uncertainly, like a candle in the wind.
His slender shoulders heaved as he fought to suppress the sob that was growing in his throat. It didn't work. His face contorted in a look of utter despair, hot tears stung at the back of his eyes; salty streams slipping from between their closed lids.
Hugging his knees to his chest, Kurt began to cry.