Kitty stood admiring the dark water below. The moon's reflection shimmered
and danced before her. Kurt snored lightly.
How long had it been since he had awakened her? Since he had begun to over- think and analyze everything? And since he slowly wore away his own argument, as though it couldn't stand the light of her waking scrutiny. Had it been mere hours ago that he had surrendered himself, announcing that he didn't care how wrong it might be, and taken her again to his bed?
Had he stood in this same spot and had these same doubts?
And yet she knew that if she were to go and awaken him, they would dissolve and leave her helpless once again in his arms.
She turned away from the night sky and quietly slipped down the spiral stairs.
Closing all the appropriate doors to insure her silence, Kitty sat down at the communications display and dialed the mansion. Secretly she hoped that Jean or Hank might answer. In reality she wanted to talk to Wolverine but he rarely (if ever) answered the comm.
The image blinked to life. It was Cyclops.
"Scott, How are you?" Kitty held a calm pose but felt a knife twist inside her gut. If Scott was answering then he was probably brooding over a command decision. Small chores seem to help him forget he's working through his issues.
"Kitty." He seemed genuinely surprised. "I was just about to call you. How are you?"
"Fine Scott, really." She bit her lip "Why were you calling?"
"We have a situation over here Kitty. I believe it concerns you and Kurt." Scott looked suddenly uncomfortable beneath his poker face. "Storm is en route with the Blackbird. We dispatched her earlier when things looked a little grimmer. She will arrive in roughly twenty-eight minutes."
Roughly, right. "We're the only two here Scott, do you need us both?"
Scott grimaced but perhaps sensed something was amiss. "We can get by with just one of you for now." He seemed to narrow his eyes under his visor. "If that's best." He seemed to look for just the right words. "Kitty, we're not real sure about this situation yet, but if it turns out to be presenting itself at face value, it's not something either of you should miss."
This time it was Kitty's turn to pause. Something hung in the air between them but she was unable to put her finger on just what it was. "We'll both come if that's what you think is best." She said softly.
Scott nodded once affirmatively. "Cyclops out." He moved and keyed a switch, and his image vanished from the screen.
The last thing she wanted to do was to fall back under Kurt's spell in front of everyone they know. Not when they would all be so understanding and accepting. Not while she still had doubts.
She slid the door open and almost collided with Kurt as she stepped out. Kitty let out a stifled gasp and put her hand to her chest. She smiled at him and he smiled back.
"I didn't mean to ease-drop." He shrugged sheepishly. "But I vas tinking; Maybe you should go. It vould give us time to think." He smiled more fully. "Although I don't veel like I need any time to think right now."
He sauntered towards her, taking her by the arm and walking her back through the house. "It's up to you." He said, patting her arm and showering her with loving admiration.
"I don't feel like I have anything to think about either Kurt." She bit her lip. "I think I'm just insecure. Maybe because it's all so new." She laid a hand on his arm and stroked his velvet fur. "So I'm going, and I'm going to think my fill and figure out my doubts." She smiled up in to his eyes. "So that we can get beyond them together."
She split her fingers in a Vulcan salute and meshed her five fingers with his three. He raised his other hand, which she then took in the same fashion. She drew him in close, keeping her arms at her sides and kissed him.
"Come on." She said, leading him towards her room. "I need to shower and change."
Kurt grinned slyly and wickedly. Kitty pulled him in to the room and let go of his hand. She put her fists on her hips and stuck her face in his "You're packing me a uniform, the three pairs of black shoes in the bottom- front of my closet, two pair of jeans, two tee-shirts from my middle drawer, and the blouse I left hanging on the closet door."
With that she turned, took three steps in to the bathroom and closed the door between them.
Kurt smiled after her and pulled her small suitcase out from under her bed. After a moment he heard the shower curtain draw closed. "Yes dear." He thought mockingly.
The shower began to spray en force. He stopped packing and slipped up to the door. He turned the knob slowly and quietly.
As he eased the door open he could see that the mirror was already fogging over and the bathroom was filling with steam. He reached in quickly and snatched the only towel in the room up and off it's rack. Then he quietly closed the door as Kitty began to hum softly to herself, unaware of his intrusion.
He finished her packing quickly and efficiently, even remembering to include socks, underwear, hair ties and a belt. He left the case open on the bed so that she could survey the contents and revise as needed.
Then the water stopped.
"Kurt!" She called out.
Kurt waited a moment and smiled to himself. He eyed the tinfoil package he had brought from the kitchen.
"Kurt! I need a towel!" She called again, perhaps more desperately this time, half imagining herself naked and screaming when Storm arrives.
Kurt opened the foil quickly and steam escaped around him. He unfolded the large towel he had heated in the oven and swept in to the bathroom with it.
And not a moment too soon. Kitty was beginning to tremble, even in the still warm room. He slung the towel around her, and the moment she felt it's dry warm embrace she melted in to it and allowed Kurt to hold her for a moment.
"I'm half afraid to let you leave like this." Kurt told her, showing his own doubt and insecurity.
"You're right. I should get dressed." She smiled at him. Her smile always seemed to comfort Kurt. As a young boy he thought it had shone like the sun. He said this as a boy who was afraid to stand in the sun. Afraid of the looks, the stares and the accusations behind the quiet smiles or gasps of passers by.
Kurt could not bring himself to worry in that vein another minute. He drank in her smile as he did his view every morning and he swelled with a warmth and love more mysterious and majestic than the sea. He felt himself smiling oddly as she pulled the belt out of her suitcase and threw it on the bed. She zipped up the bag and turned to face Kurt.
"If you vanted to surprise me ven you got back you could vear the black lace thing I put in the pocket ov your bag." He almost smirked as she registered the words. Too quickly for her to object, Kurt stepped in and wrapped his arms around her.
"Good-bye Kitty." Kurt kissed her deeply and passionately.
When they broke Kitty lay her hand on Kurt's chest. She could feel his heartbeat and the abnormal warmth of his thick skin.
"Good-bye Kurt." She bit her lip, then stood on tiptoe to kiss him softly on the cheek. "I'll call you to let you know when we get there, once I know what it's all about."
"Send for me if you must, but take your time on our personal matters." Kurt smiled wistfully.
A moment later the Blackbird was landing. Kitty took off on a run as it was coming down. As it touched down she leapt through the bulked. After a long moment of hesitation the plane rose in to the air again, although it was unclear if it was Ororo's piloting skills or her weather mastery that executed the maneuver.
Kurt turned and stalked back in to the lighthouse. It seemed vast and empty to him now. He understood that every team needs it's personal time. When everyone wanted to take a vacation he was more than willing to let everyone go about their business and find some personal relief and release. He was sure enough that he had found some, to be sure. Or maybe it had found him. It was hard to say.
Something nagged at him. Was there something he was supposed to do now that Kitty was gone?
That thought seemed for a moment to smother him like heavy blankets when you're young and sick.
Was there something he was supposed to do? He looked around the living area. It all looked appropriate. He passed through the kitchen. Dishes done, counter clean, food's put away, nothing out of place.
He stepped in to the next room and his eyes fell upon his sword. It was dusty and perhaps there were some faint signs of mold dotted about the scabbard.
"Ach." He thought as he looked at it.
He carried it to the kitchen and found a sponge and wood cleaner. He held the sponge over the sink and doused it with the cleanser. He then took to cleaning the scabbard and inspecting his work slowly, inch by inch. He remembered several of the more blatant scuffs along the bottom of the scabbard when he didn't quite stand tall enough to carry it properly.
The wood recovered quickly and in just a few moments it was a bright and shining beacon of the past. Kurt looked through the cabinets until he found some oil. He pulled the sword from its scabbard and examined the blade. It had been well protected. The two part metal cuff that held the sword closed when it was sheathed needed attention.
Kurt found a rag for the oil and wiped the fitting clean. For good measure he wiped down the blade re-sheathed it.
Kurt remembered the first time he had held that sword. When Wolverine took that three-day trip up in to Canada and on the very day he came back he told Kurt he was getting his sword out of storage to give to Kurt. And how Kurt had to wait until the next day to begin his training but Wolverine had given him the sword, taught him how to hold it properly, and told him to do so until it was second nature.
Kurt remembered how he would rise 15 minutes early, when he was assured some privacy, just to practice the holding stance so that it became a part of him. He remembered thinking that he would carry it forever. And in a way he has. He still owns it. And barring some cataclysm he'll probably own it forever. It was a badge of honor and honesty that had been bestowed upon him at a trying time. It was also a symbol of self-control and skill, a reminder that he was mastering all the things he had feared.
"Feared?" He thought to himself. The word searched through his mind looking for something to connect with. Didn't his fear have something to do with what he was supposed to be doing? How could that be?
He paused briefly to consider. What had he been afraid of when he was young?
Discovery, most of all. He lived in disguise and a fear of discovery. He couldn't blend in like the others. He was exposed, all of the time.
"But later than that." He told himself "That fear died a long time ago."
And his mind stretched out again. "Evil." It told him. "You were afraid you were evil."
It was all too true. The thoughts flooded back to him. He had been hiding his prowess and his strength. He had been outdistancing the other students in secret while clowning his way through his daily activities. He became suspect of his own motives at the time. Was he afraid to appear dangerous, knowing he was wrapped in a stereotypically evil package? Or was he just as he appeared, evil and deceptive.
And so it was that he had challenged his instructor Wolverine to a danger room battle. And it was in that battle that Wolverine first saw Kurt's true potential. And he no longer feared that he was deceptive because the truth was now known.
He remembered how the mirror portrayed him as more and more honest over the years. How pushing his limits and overcoming them had the wonderful bonus of liking what you see in the mirror. In fact, Kurt now felt as far removed from demonic reference as he had ever felt. The world understands mutants and accepts them, mostly. England was good to him. Content of character was occasionally allowed to speak volumes. And elves are largely considered non- threatening.
Kurt dropped his eyes to the sword in his hands. Wasn't there something he was supposed to do?
He wracked his brain for a moment and shrugged. Surely it would come to him.
He quickly cleaned up the kitchen and picked up his sword.
Wasn't there something he was supposed to do with Wolverine's sword? Did that make any sense? How could it be? Kitty only found it by accident.
And he had done it. Found himself thinking of Kitty almost immediately after she left. He had promised himself that he was not going to dwell on what he couldn't affect at the moment.
And suddenly he pulled his sword out of the sheath and began to run his old workout routine; the one that Wolverine had taught him so many years ago. He was halfway through it when he noticed that he was chanting softly to himself with every slice or strike of the sword.
He had to listen to himself for a moment to determine what it was that he was saying.
Over and over again he heard himself sing: "Pretty, Kitty, Pretty, Kitty." And slowly he began to fade away in to the distance. He was no longer connected to his body; rather he swam in a sea of darkness, in the back of his own mind, where he was aware of nothing external.
The front of his mind was now however occupied by a frenzied and excited essence.
Once upon a time Kurt accepted the possibility of being evil. And that possibility haunted his dreams. It begged to know the limits and goals of an evil nature. Of course he never acted on it. But there had been nightmares where these concepts took center stage. They had been more intense, realistic and memorable than any of his other dreams had ever been.
They had been horrible.
Kurt had dreamed himself to be the actual historical basis for the entity known as the Devil.
He had seen himself gone mad with advanced age and the emotional damage of living beyond one's years.
It had been years since he had been afraid that he would cross the line from the good fight of defending the innocent and helpless to the evil of acts of punishing the guilty. Experience has always told him that he errs on the side of caution.
Years since his limits and boundaries had seemed threatening. But now those boundaries and limits were of no use to him. His doubt concerning his recent relationship with Kitty made room for the doubts of old to return.
Under any normal circumstance he would have brushed these thoughts aside, and certainly he never would have lost consciousness, were he not being manipulated by a scheme of Sinister origin.
"Pretty, Kitty, Pretty, Kitty, Oh so smart and oh so Witty. Please be my first, my number one, Kiss and Kill, Oh, so much fun!" And the mad impostor swung Kurt's sword above Kurt's head with Kurt's arm, and began laughing madly to himself until he could control it no longer and dropped the sword to hold himself as he rolled back and forth on the floor.
How could he forget what it was he had to do? And with such a clue as Wolverine's sword? How could he not know that he had to kill his friends?
How long had it been since he had awakened her? Since he had begun to over- think and analyze everything? And since he slowly wore away his own argument, as though it couldn't stand the light of her waking scrutiny. Had it been mere hours ago that he had surrendered himself, announcing that he didn't care how wrong it might be, and taken her again to his bed?
Had he stood in this same spot and had these same doubts?
And yet she knew that if she were to go and awaken him, they would dissolve and leave her helpless once again in his arms.
She turned away from the night sky and quietly slipped down the spiral stairs.
Closing all the appropriate doors to insure her silence, Kitty sat down at the communications display and dialed the mansion. Secretly she hoped that Jean or Hank might answer. In reality she wanted to talk to Wolverine but he rarely (if ever) answered the comm.
The image blinked to life. It was Cyclops.
"Scott, How are you?" Kitty held a calm pose but felt a knife twist inside her gut. If Scott was answering then he was probably brooding over a command decision. Small chores seem to help him forget he's working through his issues.
"Kitty." He seemed genuinely surprised. "I was just about to call you. How are you?"
"Fine Scott, really." She bit her lip "Why were you calling?"
"We have a situation over here Kitty. I believe it concerns you and Kurt." Scott looked suddenly uncomfortable beneath his poker face. "Storm is en route with the Blackbird. We dispatched her earlier when things looked a little grimmer. She will arrive in roughly twenty-eight minutes."
Roughly, right. "We're the only two here Scott, do you need us both?"
Scott grimaced but perhaps sensed something was amiss. "We can get by with just one of you for now." He seemed to narrow his eyes under his visor. "If that's best." He seemed to look for just the right words. "Kitty, we're not real sure about this situation yet, but if it turns out to be presenting itself at face value, it's not something either of you should miss."
This time it was Kitty's turn to pause. Something hung in the air between them but she was unable to put her finger on just what it was. "We'll both come if that's what you think is best." She said softly.
Scott nodded once affirmatively. "Cyclops out." He moved and keyed a switch, and his image vanished from the screen.
The last thing she wanted to do was to fall back under Kurt's spell in front of everyone they know. Not when they would all be so understanding and accepting. Not while she still had doubts.
She slid the door open and almost collided with Kurt as she stepped out. Kitty let out a stifled gasp and put her hand to her chest. She smiled at him and he smiled back.
"I didn't mean to ease-drop." He shrugged sheepishly. "But I vas tinking; Maybe you should go. It vould give us time to think." He smiled more fully. "Although I don't veel like I need any time to think right now."
He sauntered towards her, taking her by the arm and walking her back through the house. "It's up to you." He said, patting her arm and showering her with loving admiration.
"I don't feel like I have anything to think about either Kurt." She bit her lip. "I think I'm just insecure. Maybe because it's all so new." She laid a hand on his arm and stroked his velvet fur. "So I'm going, and I'm going to think my fill and figure out my doubts." She smiled up in to his eyes. "So that we can get beyond them together."
She split her fingers in a Vulcan salute and meshed her five fingers with his three. He raised his other hand, which she then took in the same fashion. She drew him in close, keeping her arms at her sides and kissed him.
"Come on." She said, leading him towards her room. "I need to shower and change."
Kurt grinned slyly and wickedly. Kitty pulled him in to the room and let go of his hand. She put her fists on her hips and stuck her face in his "You're packing me a uniform, the three pairs of black shoes in the bottom- front of my closet, two pair of jeans, two tee-shirts from my middle drawer, and the blouse I left hanging on the closet door."
With that she turned, took three steps in to the bathroom and closed the door between them.
Kurt smiled after her and pulled her small suitcase out from under her bed. After a moment he heard the shower curtain draw closed. "Yes dear." He thought mockingly.
The shower began to spray en force. He stopped packing and slipped up to the door. He turned the knob slowly and quietly.
As he eased the door open he could see that the mirror was already fogging over and the bathroom was filling with steam. He reached in quickly and snatched the only towel in the room up and off it's rack. Then he quietly closed the door as Kitty began to hum softly to herself, unaware of his intrusion.
He finished her packing quickly and efficiently, even remembering to include socks, underwear, hair ties and a belt. He left the case open on the bed so that she could survey the contents and revise as needed.
Then the water stopped.
"Kurt!" She called out.
Kurt waited a moment and smiled to himself. He eyed the tinfoil package he had brought from the kitchen.
"Kurt! I need a towel!" She called again, perhaps more desperately this time, half imagining herself naked and screaming when Storm arrives.
Kurt opened the foil quickly and steam escaped around him. He unfolded the large towel he had heated in the oven and swept in to the bathroom with it.
And not a moment too soon. Kitty was beginning to tremble, even in the still warm room. He slung the towel around her, and the moment she felt it's dry warm embrace she melted in to it and allowed Kurt to hold her for a moment.
"I'm half afraid to let you leave like this." Kurt told her, showing his own doubt and insecurity.
"You're right. I should get dressed." She smiled at him. Her smile always seemed to comfort Kurt. As a young boy he thought it had shone like the sun. He said this as a boy who was afraid to stand in the sun. Afraid of the looks, the stares and the accusations behind the quiet smiles or gasps of passers by.
Kurt could not bring himself to worry in that vein another minute. He drank in her smile as he did his view every morning and he swelled with a warmth and love more mysterious and majestic than the sea. He felt himself smiling oddly as she pulled the belt out of her suitcase and threw it on the bed. She zipped up the bag and turned to face Kurt.
"If you vanted to surprise me ven you got back you could vear the black lace thing I put in the pocket ov your bag." He almost smirked as she registered the words. Too quickly for her to object, Kurt stepped in and wrapped his arms around her.
"Good-bye Kitty." Kurt kissed her deeply and passionately.
When they broke Kitty lay her hand on Kurt's chest. She could feel his heartbeat and the abnormal warmth of his thick skin.
"Good-bye Kurt." She bit her lip, then stood on tiptoe to kiss him softly on the cheek. "I'll call you to let you know when we get there, once I know what it's all about."
"Send for me if you must, but take your time on our personal matters." Kurt smiled wistfully.
A moment later the Blackbird was landing. Kitty took off on a run as it was coming down. As it touched down she leapt through the bulked. After a long moment of hesitation the plane rose in to the air again, although it was unclear if it was Ororo's piloting skills or her weather mastery that executed the maneuver.
Kurt turned and stalked back in to the lighthouse. It seemed vast and empty to him now. He understood that every team needs it's personal time. When everyone wanted to take a vacation he was more than willing to let everyone go about their business and find some personal relief and release. He was sure enough that he had found some, to be sure. Or maybe it had found him. It was hard to say.
Something nagged at him. Was there something he was supposed to do now that Kitty was gone?
That thought seemed for a moment to smother him like heavy blankets when you're young and sick.
Was there something he was supposed to do? He looked around the living area. It all looked appropriate. He passed through the kitchen. Dishes done, counter clean, food's put away, nothing out of place.
He stepped in to the next room and his eyes fell upon his sword. It was dusty and perhaps there were some faint signs of mold dotted about the scabbard.
"Ach." He thought as he looked at it.
He carried it to the kitchen and found a sponge and wood cleaner. He held the sponge over the sink and doused it with the cleanser. He then took to cleaning the scabbard and inspecting his work slowly, inch by inch. He remembered several of the more blatant scuffs along the bottom of the scabbard when he didn't quite stand tall enough to carry it properly.
The wood recovered quickly and in just a few moments it was a bright and shining beacon of the past. Kurt looked through the cabinets until he found some oil. He pulled the sword from its scabbard and examined the blade. It had been well protected. The two part metal cuff that held the sword closed when it was sheathed needed attention.
Kurt found a rag for the oil and wiped the fitting clean. For good measure he wiped down the blade re-sheathed it.
Kurt remembered the first time he had held that sword. When Wolverine took that three-day trip up in to Canada and on the very day he came back he told Kurt he was getting his sword out of storage to give to Kurt. And how Kurt had to wait until the next day to begin his training but Wolverine had given him the sword, taught him how to hold it properly, and told him to do so until it was second nature.
Kurt remembered how he would rise 15 minutes early, when he was assured some privacy, just to practice the holding stance so that it became a part of him. He remembered thinking that he would carry it forever. And in a way he has. He still owns it. And barring some cataclysm he'll probably own it forever. It was a badge of honor and honesty that had been bestowed upon him at a trying time. It was also a symbol of self-control and skill, a reminder that he was mastering all the things he had feared.
"Feared?" He thought to himself. The word searched through his mind looking for something to connect with. Didn't his fear have something to do with what he was supposed to be doing? How could that be?
He paused briefly to consider. What had he been afraid of when he was young?
Discovery, most of all. He lived in disguise and a fear of discovery. He couldn't blend in like the others. He was exposed, all of the time.
"But later than that." He told himself "That fear died a long time ago."
And his mind stretched out again. "Evil." It told him. "You were afraid you were evil."
It was all too true. The thoughts flooded back to him. He had been hiding his prowess and his strength. He had been outdistancing the other students in secret while clowning his way through his daily activities. He became suspect of his own motives at the time. Was he afraid to appear dangerous, knowing he was wrapped in a stereotypically evil package? Or was he just as he appeared, evil and deceptive.
And so it was that he had challenged his instructor Wolverine to a danger room battle. And it was in that battle that Wolverine first saw Kurt's true potential. And he no longer feared that he was deceptive because the truth was now known.
He remembered how the mirror portrayed him as more and more honest over the years. How pushing his limits and overcoming them had the wonderful bonus of liking what you see in the mirror. In fact, Kurt now felt as far removed from demonic reference as he had ever felt. The world understands mutants and accepts them, mostly. England was good to him. Content of character was occasionally allowed to speak volumes. And elves are largely considered non- threatening.
Kurt dropped his eyes to the sword in his hands. Wasn't there something he was supposed to do?
He wracked his brain for a moment and shrugged. Surely it would come to him.
He quickly cleaned up the kitchen and picked up his sword.
Wasn't there something he was supposed to do with Wolverine's sword? Did that make any sense? How could it be? Kitty only found it by accident.
And he had done it. Found himself thinking of Kitty almost immediately after she left. He had promised himself that he was not going to dwell on what he couldn't affect at the moment.
And suddenly he pulled his sword out of the sheath and began to run his old workout routine; the one that Wolverine had taught him so many years ago. He was halfway through it when he noticed that he was chanting softly to himself with every slice or strike of the sword.
He had to listen to himself for a moment to determine what it was that he was saying.
Over and over again he heard himself sing: "Pretty, Kitty, Pretty, Kitty." And slowly he began to fade away in to the distance. He was no longer connected to his body; rather he swam in a sea of darkness, in the back of his own mind, where he was aware of nothing external.
The front of his mind was now however occupied by a frenzied and excited essence.
Once upon a time Kurt accepted the possibility of being evil. And that possibility haunted his dreams. It begged to know the limits and goals of an evil nature. Of course he never acted on it. But there had been nightmares where these concepts took center stage. They had been more intense, realistic and memorable than any of his other dreams had ever been.
They had been horrible.
Kurt had dreamed himself to be the actual historical basis for the entity known as the Devil.
He had seen himself gone mad with advanced age and the emotional damage of living beyond one's years.
It had been years since he had been afraid that he would cross the line from the good fight of defending the innocent and helpless to the evil of acts of punishing the guilty. Experience has always told him that he errs on the side of caution.
Years since his limits and boundaries had seemed threatening. But now those boundaries and limits were of no use to him. His doubt concerning his recent relationship with Kitty made room for the doubts of old to return.
Under any normal circumstance he would have brushed these thoughts aside, and certainly he never would have lost consciousness, were he not being manipulated by a scheme of Sinister origin.
"Pretty, Kitty, Pretty, Kitty, Oh so smart and oh so Witty. Please be my first, my number one, Kiss and Kill, Oh, so much fun!" And the mad impostor swung Kurt's sword above Kurt's head with Kurt's arm, and began laughing madly to himself until he could control it no longer and dropped the sword to hold himself as he rolled back and forth on the floor.
How could he forget what it was he had to do? And with such a clue as Wolverine's sword? How could he not know that he had to kill his friends?
