------
Author's Note:
Greetings.
Read, REVIEW, and enjoy. ;) Pretty please. Comments on reviews are at the bottom again.
Cheers.
Jack
------
Kurt hadn't been kidding when he said he rented a box. I half- expected some guy in a black suit and microphone to loiter around outside. You know, 'Welcome to the theatre, Mr. Lincoln.' That sort of thing. Since this was a benefit concert, I had to assume that the balconies had been auctioned off for one charity or another. There was a ceiling on the student credit cards, so it was the only way Kurt could have afforded this display of opulence.
We all settled in, making ourselves comfortable. The concert wasn't set to start for another twenty minutes. By some miracle, we'd figured out how to squeeze my wheelchair in between a couple of richly-upholstered seats. Rahne sat to my left, still irked at me. Great. Kurt was on my other side with Amanda on his far side. I think he manipulated the seating arrangements into that particular lineup on purpose. Worked for me. The codeine was still giving me one heck of a buzz. Even with Rahne mad at me, I was determined to enjoy myself.
Amanda and Kurt were chatting about something or other that happened at school. The lack of conversation on the other end of the box was a bit uncomfortable. I decided to make an attempt to apologize to Rahne. It was an unusual decision for me, but I figured I'd give it a shot.
"Look, Rahne," I managed to get out before she rounded on me.
"If yer goin' t' say yer sorry, Pietro Maximoff, ye can take yer apology an' stow it!"
Well, that worked out well, didn't it? I opened my mouth to try again and was interrupted by a voice from behind.
"Pietro Maximoff? From the Xavier Institute?" Darn it all. I twisted around in my seat to get a look at the newcomer.
The first thing that struck me was the fact that he was wearing little round John Lennon-style glasses with darkened lenses. Indoors. Nice fashion statement, that. Then I saw the cane in his hand: a rather fancy polished black oak deal with a brass dragon head for the handgrip. He was looking at Rahne, sort of. Actually his gaze was fixed just above her and I knew he was blind. I guess the stereotypical white cane wasn't fancy enough for this concert. It certainly wouldn't have gone with his Armani suit. The only incongruous item was a gold tie-tack in the shape of a pitchfork. It looked odd and yet at the same time it felt like it belonged there. He'd definitely come dressed for this, unlike the four of us kids who were all staring at the guy.
I cleared my throat and I saw the man's ear flick before he swung his head in my direction. He was blind, right? So why did it seem like he was looking right at me?
"Who's asking?"
Kurt elbowed me in the ribs, managing to hit one of the more recent bruises. Ouchie.
The guy stepped into our box, letting the curtain fall back into place behind him. He walked around us to lean on the railing. I noticed that he didn't use the cane at all. It seemed to be more of a prop. Either he came to Carnegie Hall a lot or there was more to him than was obvious at a glance. Maybe he was mutant. That would certainly explain Xavier's interest in the man.
"Matt Murdock," he said. "Perhaps Professor Xavier has mentioned me. I'm on retainer for his organization." The name sounded familiar. Oh, right, right, right. This was that lawyer guy who torpedoed Duncan. That made him all right in my book. I flashed him a huge grin before realizing he couldn't see it.
"Hiya Mr. Murdock," I said, still grinning. "Thanks for handling Duncan." To my surprise, he responded with a smile of his own. Darn, he was good.
He 'looked' at each of the others. "Would you mind if I borrowed Mr. Maximoff for a moment or two?" he asked.
"Only if ye promise t' keep him," Rahne mumbled just loud enough for me to hear. Mr. Murdock's head cocked ever so slightly in her direction and I knew that he'd somehow heard her words. Right, I thought, so he's got supersensitive hearing. Maybe he does the whole echolocation thing like a sort of humanoid bat too.
"Fine vith me," Kurt said. "Do you vant help vith the vheelchair?" he asked, ignoring Amanda's dirty look.
"No thank you, Mr. Wagner." He hung the cane over his wrist and started pulling my chair away. I saw Kurt's jaw drop. Apparently the guy knew all of Xavier's students. He'd certainly done his homework. "I believe I can manage."
Mr. Murdock pushed me along the hallway toward the second-floor lobby. I had to admit I was impressed. We managed to make it to the large open area without running into a single piece of furniture. He sat down on a plush couch and leaned forward.
"Charles asked me to chat with you," he said. This was news. Xavier hadn't mentioned this to me at all.
"Is this about Duncan's attempt to paint the lockers with me?"
"Actually, no. He's concerned that you're not adapting very well to your change in mobility and thought you'd appreciate a chance to talk to someone outside the Institute about it." Oh, I see. Xavier was doing that whole 'looking out for my well-being' thing again. Man I hated when he did that. It really bugged me that he felt the need to interfere in my life more than necessary. I wasn't a vegetable, darn it.
"Jeez, doesn't he ever stop?" I grumbled.
Mr. Murdock laughed, sounding genuinely amused. "Not in my experience."
"Were you one of his students too?" The unspoken meaning, of course, was 'are you a mutant' but saying that out loud in public would likely cause trouble. I'd had enough of that to last a while.
"No, I wasn't and no, I'm not," he said, answering both questions. He beamed at me. "I'm just a guy who's had to overcome a physical handicap in order to live a normal life. He turned toward the auditorium and his ear twitched again. There was something he wasn't telling me, I was sure of it. "I guess we'd better get you back inside. They're setting up earlier than scheduled." I watched as he fished around inside his jacket. A moment later, he offered me a business card.
Matthew Murdock, Esq. Attorney at Law. An address I recognized as being down near Hell's Kitchen. Strange place for a law practice, but the rent was cheap compared to other places on the island. Even stranger was the fact that the back was covered in dots.
"Braille?" I asked.
"Of course," he said as we went back down the hall. "Give me a call tomorrow, please. I have the feeling that Charles was right."
The concert rocked. The opening act was a really sweet Indie band from Bremerhaven, which I found out later was a city in Germany. Kurt was excited for obvious reasons. His face lit up like a child at Christmas. I found myself wondering if this group had a CD out and if he already had it. CDs are usually a safe choice for gifts.
It was amazing just how much the music affected us. The song 'Affirmation' was a good example of this. By the end of the first line [1], Rahne had taken my hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. During the second verse [2], Kurt did the same with my other hand. If I'd had another appendage, Amanda could have gotten into the act. Well, maybe. Her reaction to our boyfriend's act was to lean in a little closer to him and flash a sidelong glare my way. Guess you can't please all the people all of the time.
"It's only twelve-thirty," Kurt said as we walked up Seventh Avenue. "Ve don't have to be back to the mansion for two hours. Anyvon up for food?" We all nodded or murmured our assent. I wasn't going to object, of course. It had been like six hours since I'd eaten and my stomach was already complaining. Why pass up the chance for a meal? Especially since I wasn't paying. No cash, remember?
"Anything in mind?" Amanda asked. The fur-ball was pushing me, so I couldn't see his face. When he didn't answer, though, I tipped my head back. He had that puzzled look on his face.
"You haven't been to New York much since you came over here, have you?" I asked.
"Nein. Just the airport."
"Which one?" Rahne asked. She'd been in the city numerous times, I'd learned, mostly on shopping trips. Xavier's Carte Blanche must have gotten a real workout. From what I heard, they especially liked Fifth Avenue.
"The big von."
I shared a look with Rahne and Amanda, who were walking on either side of me.
"Which one?" we all said in unison. The girls giggled. I could tell he didn't understand why, either.
"There are a few big airports around here," I said to him, trying not to smile. "If you're open to suggestions for a place to eat, there's a place on West 64th that's open all night."
"It's probably not very good," Amanda said.
I bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She sniffed. "Your tastes leave a lot to be desired."
"So does your attitude, lady."
"Um, could ye please not argue?" Rahne interjected. "Pietro used t' live here. He probably knows where t' go this time o' night." Thank you, Rahne, for giving us a shot of sanity. I'd have been happier had it worked.
"Stay out of this," Amanda said.
"Amanda..." I interrupted Kurt before he could begin. If she was going to be pissed at someone, might as well be me. It's not like we liked each other or anything.
"Don't bother, Kurt. I'll bet she's on the rag." Yeah, it was a crude statement. But it just sort of slipped out.
"Pietro!" Whoops. Forgot there was another girl with us. Rahne smacked me upside the back of the head. Somehow she'd managed to find the stitches, too, and it really hurt. What is it with people and that particular spot on my head?
"Ow! Sorry, Rahne."
"Oh, that was really manly of you," Amanda said. "I'll bet your ego is just all puffed up and feeling proud with those words of wisdom." She shook her head. "You know, after Duncan beat you I felt like crap because I'd told Mary Beth about our three-way relationship. Now I'm not so sure."
Something suspicious clicked in my mind. "Wait a minute. You told Mary Beth 'No Secret Is Safe With Me' Stevens about the three of us? The girl voted most likely to appear on a trashy talk show? The one who's been going out with Duncan Matthews since July 4th?!"
"Well, yeah. She's only my best friend," she snapped. "And my only regret is that he didn't do worse."
"Why you backstabbing bitch," I snarled. I couldn't believe what she'd just said.
"This from the guy who stole my boyfriend? Kiss my ass, you discolored freak of nature!"
The conversation went notably downhill from there.
"Did you also tell her about that streak of insane jealousy you've got?" I demanded.
Amanda snorted. "Jealousy? Try confusion."
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?
"Just what does he see in you anyway?"
"Hello," Kurt said to no one in particular. "I'm right here, guys."
I ignored him. "Maybe he likes that fact that I like him for him, not because I've got a fetish for mutants."
"I do not have a fetish!" she squealed.
"Yeah, that's what they all say. Witch."
"Pillow-biter." That was a new one.
"Tramp!"
"Scuzzbucket!"
The Tylenol-3 must have been wearing off, because my choice of language started to get a little extreme. To my surprise, she was able to keep up with rapid-fire insults of her own. At the end Kurt and Rahne had to step in to keep us from strangling one another. There was no doubt in my mind that I'd have done it, too. It was her fault I'd been squished like a bug two days before. I'd have to remember to send her a lump of coal for Christmas, the conniving witch. Among other petty revenges, of course.
"Stop it! Both of you!" Kurt snapped as he slid between us. I felt his tail swish angrily through the air in front of me. I couldn't see it, but it was there. Guess that answered that question.
"She started it," I muttered.
"Und I'm finishing it, hörst du mich? [3]" Uh oh. His grasp of English was slipping; that wasn't a good sign. He took a deep breath, visibly willing himself under control. "I think ve vill go back to Bayville. I do not like it when you fight." His expression warned against arguing. This date hadn't turned out quite like he'd planned.
The van ride back to Bayville involved a lot of tension thick enough to walk on. No one said anything, but I imagine that all four of us were thinking that we'd rather stayed home. By the time Kurt pulled into Amanda's driveway, we weren't even looking at each other. It was like being in an elevator, now that I think about it. No eye contact, no speaking, just a lot of pretending the other people weren't there.
Amanda didn't wait for Kurt to open her door, but he got out of the van anyway to walk her up to the house. I watched them wander up the sidewalk, wishing the van had manual windows rather than automatic. Amanda was talking in a very animated fashion, with lots of hand gestures, but I couldn't hear her. Kurt's face kept falling lower and lower. I sighed. I'd have to tell him I was sorry when we got back to the Institute. He was having a crappy night and I had the feeling a lot of it was my fault. Mind you, I'd sooner eat my own liver than apologize to that...person...he was dating.
Of course, Amanda had dug her own grave with the revelation that Duncan had played Pin-the-Pietro-on-the-Locker because of her big mouth. That made me feel just a tiny bit better. Not much, but enough that a satisfied smirk came over me.
I looked over at Rahne, who was staring wide-eyed out the window.
"They're havin' qui' a row," she whispered. This seemed like a good time to try that apology again.
"Yeah. Hey, listen," I said. Rahne reluctantly looked away from the window. "I know tonight's been really screwed up and I'm sorry for not telling you about the whole thing earlier." I swallowed. "Any chance you'd care to go out with me another night?" Hey, it was worth a shot, right?
"I'd have t' think about i'," she said truthfully. Hey, at least she was honest. "Tomorrow, perhaps?"
I opened my mouth to reply and sighed again. I looked down at my lap instead, fiddling with my seatbelt in a nervous gesture. Tomorrow, tonight rather, Kurt had promised a more private date than tonight's unbelievable screw-up. My eyes flickered in Kurt's direction.
"Um, actually tomorrow's probably bad."
She touched my arm. I looked up to find her smiling faintly at me. She saw me looking again. Talk about being perceptive. "At least ye were honest about i' this time."
What could I say to that? Nothing, as it turned out. The door slammed as Kurt got back into the van and we both looked up front. He was avoiding our questioning eyes.
"Dare I ask what that was all about?" I asked him as the van roared to life.
"No." There was something in his voice which made my stomach knot.
"Kurt," I started.
"Later, Pietro. I do not vant to talk about it right now."
Oh, wonderful. Ever notice how couples start to pick up each other's character traits after a while? Usually it's little stuff; taste in music, television shows, that sort of thing. Not us, no. Kurt's rigid morality was starting to wear off on me. In return, he'd managed to pick up my penchant for being a moody son-of-a-gun. I wasn't entirely sure that was a fair trade, either. Why did he get to pick up all the fun habits?
I guess I assumed 'later' to mean when we got back to the mansion. Boy, was I wrong. We barely spoke on the way into the house. In fact I remember saying good night to Rahne before she headed off to the girl's wing, but that was about it.
Kurt remained silent as he helped me get ready for bed. I wondered how long his antisocial behavior would last. Life around this place had gotten a tiny bit easier since we'd discovered one another. I didn't want that to go away. Guess that means I had to say something, huh?
"I'm sorry," I said under my breath as he moved the sheets within my reach. He didn't respond immediately. I got as comfortable as possible and waited.
And waited.
And waited, and waited, and waited. I was beginning to wonder if he'd even heard me. Before it got under my skin, I tried again.
"I'm really, really sorry about tonight."
He shut off the light, throwing the room into darkness. I felt the bed shift as he climbed up on the other side. A moment later, the lamp on the nightstand came on. Kurt lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling with a sad expression on his face.
"It's not your fault," he said after a while.
"Well, not completely. That girl," I bit back a stronger word, "you're dating had a lot to do with it too, but I'm still sorry." I smirked. "Accept my apology, will you? I don't do this often. Might as well take it when you can get it."
He rolled over on his side to face me with that same puppy-dog look in his eyes. I had to resist the urge to make him roll over or play dead. Something told me that being a wise guy wasn't in my best interests. He scooped up a pillow and hugged it.
"Nein," he said with a heavy sigh. "It's all my fault."
"Care to explain that, buddy?" I asked carefully.
His tail started to twitch. "If I hadn't tried to play both sides of the street, this wouldn't have happened at all." Something bugged me about that phrase.
"Let me guess: that's what Amanda told you." I was pretty sure that was the case, so I didn't bother stating it as a question. Guess I'd never do well on Jeopardy.
Kurt laughed, but it was strained. His eyes were wide, staring through me as if I wasn't there. And here I thought I was the only high- strung person in the room. Silly me.
"Among other things, ja," he said.
"And what other things did your girlfriend tell you?"
"She's no longer my girlfriend."
Oh.
Just when I thought I couldn't feel any lower, I was wrong. I was slime. I'd managed to drive a fatal wedge in their relationship and it bothered me. I mean, really bothered me. That was unusual. The guy was opening doors I thought I'd locked years and years ago and I won't deny that it was a little scary. I was pretty sure I didn't ever want to be so close to someone that their emotions mattered that much to me. But there was an inkling of doubt in that thought. Crap.
See, the problem I have with relationships is that sooner or later, one of the participants gets hurt. Badly. I've never had any trouble in that regard, but then I've had nothing but shallow relationships for the past several years, either. It's my way of keeping my distance from those around me. If I keep it superficial I can't get hurt, right?
I suppose it all goes back to the royally screwed-up relationship I've got with my father. Freud would probably blame my mother, but I couldn't really remember her at all. What did he know, anyway? Dad had raised my sister and myself to be the perfect little children - from the Victorian Era. You know: seen but not heard. For as long as I can recall, he'd never wanted much to do with either of us other than to make sure we both were the strongest, most self-sufficient little people we could be. Sort of like prepubescent Green Berets.
It was enough to drive my sister bonkers when her powers started to manifest. I guess that's why he had her institutionalized. Obviously, she was still pissed about that. I don't blame her. I didn't like our parent much as a result, either. Almost right after he put her in the tank, I was sent to the first of several foster homes. The only constant person in my life, other than our godfather, had just cut me off.
How was I not supposed to come out of this unscarred?
So now, years later, I found myself getting close to someone and they'd ended up getting hurt just like I'd figured. Kurt was upset and Amanda had gone ballistic. All because I couldn't keep myself isolated. Or didn't want to keep myself isolated. Was that it? Did Kurt really mean that much to me that I'd set aside everything I'd built up? I looked over at the guy in question. Kurt was asleep again.
My heart melted. Yeah. Yeah, he did mean that much.
I grabbed a hold of the sheet between us and tugged, pulling him across the bed. Slipping my arm around him, I closed my eyes and smiled. I could worry about Amanda tomorrow. For now, I'd just be content. His tail hugged me close and I knew the feeling was mutual.
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To Be Continued.
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[1]: "I believe the sun should never set upon an argument."
[2]: "I believe that trust is more important than monogamy."
[3]: "...do you hear me?"
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To My Reviewers:
Mayday: Welcome to my twisted take on Evo. Please check your expectations at the door. I do recommend reading 'Speed Limits.' It gives a fairly reasonable back-story for the events in this fic. Obviously I've referred to it more than once, so if your interest is sufficiently piqued, have a look. I think you'll enjoy it. See below for my answer to the writing comment. I get tired of seeing outlandish fics left and right. People forget that the Evo world is populated by teenaged heroes who, as every fantasy writer will tell you, are ripe targets for problems ranging from zits to defeating Big Bad Guys. Between BBGs and the endless parade of angsty pairing fics (no offense people!) there's a bit of a black hole when it comes to seeing the kids deal with just plain growing up. I'm filling that void in my own way: by humanizing Pietro to some small degree. Hopefully I'm successful. If you wish to chat more about your life story, drop me an e-mail at ejm@dridus.com. :) I look forward to hearing from you. Wanda is coming up soon. Cheers, dear. :)
Storm-Pietro: There will be more Rahne. Have no fear.
Sailor X1: Real life can bite sometimes. Why should we get all the fun? Let the Evo cast deal with some of it. :) I giggled insanely when I wrote the hubba-hubba thing. That actually happened to someone in a car with me and he turned bright flaming red after it happened. I knew I had to write it down somewhere. Wanda is coming up soon. Magneto is on the slate for the chapter after next, though, so she may have to wait.
Ultramatt17: People are always telling me I should have been a comedian. I can't figure out why. See above for my reaction to the old lady incident. Was the leak who you thought it was? Much more Murdock is scheduled for the next chapter. The kids I had in mind were Rahne (for obvious reasons), Kitty because she's a sensitive soul who's confused about her feelings about Pietro (he did save Kurt, after all, and she's fur-ball's best friend), Doug because he didn't know Pietro from 'before' and genuinely likes the guy, and Jamie, who's basically a sweet kid who cries at the end of sad movies. Evan was an interesting guess, but I imagine his reaction was more along the lines of dark snickering and furtive cheering-on of Duncan. I don't like the character of Evan for some reason.
For those who have been wondering: my writing style is primarily based on two groups of sources: the Big Three of fantasy writing (David Eddings, Raymond E. Feist, and Katherine Kurtz - the last of which is the finest writer on the planet) and the unlikely trilogy of Jim Butcher, Janet Evanovitch, and Laurell K. Hamilton. From the fantasy trio I've learned how to write detailed stories without detracting from the plot more than necessary. A great example is pretty much anything by Eddings or Kurtz. Feist taught me to write interesting characters that leap off the page. Butcher, Evanovitch and Hamilton are my mentors in the art of first-person storytelling. Without their wonderful books, I wouldn't have gotten so interested in this style. It comes naturally to me, especially with a 'hero' I can relate to. Pietro and I have a lot in common in terms of personality, so I guess there's a little bit of myself in him. Hope that answers any questions on where I learned how to doodle effectively. If you want titles, I'd be happy to supply them.
Author's Note:
Greetings.
Read, REVIEW, and enjoy. ;) Pretty please. Comments on reviews are at the bottom again.
Cheers.
Jack
------
Kurt hadn't been kidding when he said he rented a box. I half- expected some guy in a black suit and microphone to loiter around outside. You know, 'Welcome to the theatre, Mr. Lincoln.' That sort of thing. Since this was a benefit concert, I had to assume that the balconies had been auctioned off for one charity or another. There was a ceiling on the student credit cards, so it was the only way Kurt could have afforded this display of opulence.
We all settled in, making ourselves comfortable. The concert wasn't set to start for another twenty minutes. By some miracle, we'd figured out how to squeeze my wheelchair in between a couple of richly-upholstered seats. Rahne sat to my left, still irked at me. Great. Kurt was on my other side with Amanda on his far side. I think he manipulated the seating arrangements into that particular lineup on purpose. Worked for me. The codeine was still giving me one heck of a buzz. Even with Rahne mad at me, I was determined to enjoy myself.
Amanda and Kurt were chatting about something or other that happened at school. The lack of conversation on the other end of the box was a bit uncomfortable. I decided to make an attempt to apologize to Rahne. It was an unusual decision for me, but I figured I'd give it a shot.
"Look, Rahne," I managed to get out before she rounded on me.
"If yer goin' t' say yer sorry, Pietro Maximoff, ye can take yer apology an' stow it!"
Well, that worked out well, didn't it? I opened my mouth to try again and was interrupted by a voice from behind.
"Pietro Maximoff? From the Xavier Institute?" Darn it all. I twisted around in my seat to get a look at the newcomer.
The first thing that struck me was the fact that he was wearing little round John Lennon-style glasses with darkened lenses. Indoors. Nice fashion statement, that. Then I saw the cane in his hand: a rather fancy polished black oak deal with a brass dragon head for the handgrip. He was looking at Rahne, sort of. Actually his gaze was fixed just above her and I knew he was blind. I guess the stereotypical white cane wasn't fancy enough for this concert. It certainly wouldn't have gone with his Armani suit. The only incongruous item was a gold tie-tack in the shape of a pitchfork. It looked odd and yet at the same time it felt like it belonged there. He'd definitely come dressed for this, unlike the four of us kids who were all staring at the guy.
I cleared my throat and I saw the man's ear flick before he swung his head in my direction. He was blind, right? So why did it seem like he was looking right at me?
"Who's asking?"
Kurt elbowed me in the ribs, managing to hit one of the more recent bruises. Ouchie.
The guy stepped into our box, letting the curtain fall back into place behind him. He walked around us to lean on the railing. I noticed that he didn't use the cane at all. It seemed to be more of a prop. Either he came to Carnegie Hall a lot or there was more to him than was obvious at a glance. Maybe he was mutant. That would certainly explain Xavier's interest in the man.
"Matt Murdock," he said. "Perhaps Professor Xavier has mentioned me. I'm on retainer for his organization." The name sounded familiar. Oh, right, right, right. This was that lawyer guy who torpedoed Duncan. That made him all right in my book. I flashed him a huge grin before realizing he couldn't see it.
"Hiya Mr. Murdock," I said, still grinning. "Thanks for handling Duncan." To my surprise, he responded with a smile of his own. Darn, he was good.
He 'looked' at each of the others. "Would you mind if I borrowed Mr. Maximoff for a moment or two?" he asked.
"Only if ye promise t' keep him," Rahne mumbled just loud enough for me to hear. Mr. Murdock's head cocked ever so slightly in her direction and I knew that he'd somehow heard her words. Right, I thought, so he's got supersensitive hearing. Maybe he does the whole echolocation thing like a sort of humanoid bat too.
"Fine vith me," Kurt said. "Do you vant help vith the vheelchair?" he asked, ignoring Amanda's dirty look.
"No thank you, Mr. Wagner." He hung the cane over his wrist and started pulling my chair away. I saw Kurt's jaw drop. Apparently the guy knew all of Xavier's students. He'd certainly done his homework. "I believe I can manage."
Mr. Murdock pushed me along the hallway toward the second-floor lobby. I had to admit I was impressed. We managed to make it to the large open area without running into a single piece of furniture. He sat down on a plush couch and leaned forward.
"Charles asked me to chat with you," he said. This was news. Xavier hadn't mentioned this to me at all.
"Is this about Duncan's attempt to paint the lockers with me?"
"Actually, no. He's concerned that you're not adapting very well to your change in mobility and thought you'd appreciate a chance to talk to someone outside the Institute about it." Oh, I see. Xavier was doing that whole 'looking out for my well-being' thing again. Man I hated when he did that. It really bugged me that he felt the need to interfere in my life more than necessary. I wasn't a vegetable, darn it.
"Jeez, doesn't he ever stop?" I grumbled.
Mr. Murdock laughed, sounding genuinely amused. "Not in my experience."
"Were you one of his students too?" The unspoken meaning, of course, was 'are you a mutant' but saying that out loud in public would likely cause trouble. I'd had enough of that to last a while.
"No, I wasn't and no, I'm not," he said, answering both questions. He beamed at me. "I'm just a guy who's had to overcome a physical handicap in order to live a normal life. He turned toward the auditorium and his ear twitched again. There was something he wasn't telling me, I was sure of it. "I guess we'd better get you back inside. They're setting up earlier than scheduled." I watched as he fished around inside his jacket. A moment later, he offered me a business card.
Matthew Murdock, Esq. Attorney at Law. An address I recognized as being down near Hell's Kitchen. Strange place for a law practice, but the rent was cheap compared to other places on the island. Even stranger was the fact that the back was covered in dots.
"Braille?" I asked.
"Of course," he said as we went back down the hall. "Give me a call tomorrow, please. I have the feeling that Charles was right."
The concert rocked. The opening act was a really sweet Indie band from Bremerhaven, which I found out later was a city in Germany. Kurt was excited for obvious reasons. His face lit up like a child at Christmas. I found myself wondering if this group had a CD out and if he already had it. CDs are usually a safe choice for gifts.
It was amazing just how much the music affected us. The song 'Affirmation' was a good example of this. By the end of the first line [1], Rahne had taken my hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. During the second verse [2], Kurt did the same with my other hand. If I'd had another appendage, Amanda could have gotten into the act. Well, maybe. Her reaction to our boyfriend's act was to lean in a little closer to him and flash a sidelong glare my way. Guess you can't please all the people all of the time.
"It's only twelve-thirty," Kurt said as we walked up Seventh Avenue. "Ve don't have to be back to the mansion for two hours. Anyvon up for food?" We all nodded or murmured our assent. I wasn't going to object, of course. It had been like six hours since I'd eaten and my stomach was already complaining. Why pass up the chance for a meal? Especially since I wasn't paying. No cash, remember?
"Anything in mind?" Amanda asked. The fur-ball was pushing me, so I couldn't see his face. When he didn't answer, though, I tipped my head back. He had that puzzled look on his face.
"You haven't been to New York much since you came over here, have you?" I asked.
"Nein. Just the airport."
"Which one?" Rahne asked. She'd been in the city numerous times, I'd learned, mostly on shopping trips. Xavier's Carte Blanche must have gotten a real workout. From what I heard, they especially liked Fifth Avenue.
"The big von."
I shared a look with Rahne and Amanda, who were walking on either side of me.
"Which one?" we all said in unison. The girls giggled. I could tell he didn't understand why, either.
"There are a few big airports around here," I said to him, trying not to smile. "If you're open to suggestions for a place to eat, there's a place on West 64th that's open all night."
"It's probably not very good," Amanda said.
I bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She sniffed. "Your tastes leave a lot to be desired."
"So does your attitude, lady."
"Um, could ye please not argue?" Rahne interjected. "Pietro used t' live here. He probably knows where t' go this time o' night." Thank you, Rahne, for giving us a shot of sanity. I'd have been happier had it worked.
"Stay out of this," Amanda said.
"Amanda..." I interrupted Kurt before he could begin. If she was going to be pissed at someone, might as well be me. It's not like we liked each other or anything.
"Don't bother, Kurt. I'll bet she's on the rag." Yeah, it was a crude statement. But it just sort of slipped out.
"Pietro!" Whoops. Forgot there was another girl with us. Rahne smacked me upside the back of the head. Somehow she'd managed to find the stitches, too, and it really hurt. What is it with people and that particular spot on my head?
"Ow! Sorry, Rahne."
"Oh, that was really manly of you," Amanda said. "I'll bet your ego is just all puffed up and feeling proud with those words of wisdom." She shook her head. "You know, after Duncan beat you I felt like crap because I'd told Mary Beth about our three-way relationship. Now I'm not so sure."
Something suspicious clicked in my mind. "Wait a minute. You told Mary Beth 'No Secret Is Safe With Me' Stevens about the three of us? The girl voted most likely to appear on a trashy talk show? The one who's been going out with Duncan Matthews since July 4th?!"
"Well, yeah. She's only my best friend," she snapped. "And my only regret is that he didn't do worse."
"Why you backstabbing bitch," I snarled. I couldn't believe what she'd just said.
"This from the guy who stole my boyfriend? Kiss my ass, you discolored freak of nature!"
The conversation went notably downhill from there.
"Did you also tell her about that streak of insane jealousy you've got?" I demanded.
Amanda snorted. "Jealousy? Try confusion."
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?
"Just what does he see in you anyway?"
"Hello," Kurt said to no one in particular. "I'm right here, guys."
I ignored him. "Maybe he likes that fact that I like him for him, not because I've got a fetish for mutants."
"I do not have a fetish!" she squealed.
"Yeah, that's what they all say. Witch."
"Pillow-biter." That was a new one.
"Tramp!"
"Scuzzbucket!"
The Tylenol-3 must have been wearing off, because my choice of language started to get a little extreme. To my surprise, she was able to keep up with rapid-fire insults of her own. At the end Kurt and Rahne had to step in to keep us from strangling one another. There was no doubt in my mind that I'd have done it, too. It was her fault I'd been squished like a bug two days before. I'd have to remember to send her a lump of coal for Christmas, the conniving witch. Among other petty revenges, of course.
"Stop it! Both of you!" Kurt snapped as he slid between us. I felt his tail swish angrily through the air in front of me. I couldn't see it, but it was there. Guess that answered that question.
"She started it," I muttered.
"Und I'm finishing it, hörst du mich? [3]" Uh oh. His grasp of English was slipping; that wasn't a good sign. He took a deep breath, visibly willing himself under control. "I think ve vill go back to Bayville. I do not like it when you fight." His expression warned against arguing. This date hadn't turned out quite like he'd planned.
The van ride back to Bayville involved a lot of tension thick enough to walk on. No one said anything, but I imagine that all four of us were thinking that we'd rather stayed home. By the time Kurt pulled into Amanda's driveway, we weren't even looking at each other. It was like being in an elevator, now that I think about it. No eye contact, no speaking, just a lot of pretending the other people weren't there.
Amanda didn't wait for Kurt to open her door, but he got out of the van anyway to walk her up to the house. I watched them wander up the sidewalk, wishing the van had manual windows rather than automatic. Amanda was talking in a very animated fashion, with lots of hand gestures, but I couldn't hear her. Kurt's face kept falling lower and lower. I sighed. I'd have to tell him I was sorry when we got back to the Institute. He was having a crappy night and I had the feeling a lot of it was my fault. Mind you, I'd sooner eat my own liver than apologize to that...person...he was dating.
Of course, Amanda had dug her own grave with the revelation that Duncan had played Pin-the-Pietro-on-the-Locker because of her big mouth. That made me feel just a tiny bit better. Not much, but enough that a satisfied smirk came over me.
I looked over at Rahne, who was staring wide-eyed out the window.
"They're havin' qui' a row," she whispered. This seemed like a good time to try that apology again.
"Yeah. Hey, listen," I said. Rahne reluctantly looked away from the window. "I know tonight's been really screwed up and I'm sorry for not telling you about the whole thing earlier." I swallowed. "Any chance you'd care to go out with me another night?" Hey, it was worth a shot, right?
"I'd have t' think about i'," she said truthfully. Hey, at least she was honest. "Tomorrow, perhaps?"
I opened my mouth to reply and sighed again. I looked down at my lap instead, fiddling with my seatbelt in a nervous gesture. Tomorrow, tonight rather, Kurt had promised a more private date than tonight's unbelievable screw-up. My eyes flickered in Kurt's direction.
"Um, actually tomorrow's probably bad."
She touched my arm. I looked up to find her smiling faintly at me. She saw me looking again. Talk about being perceptive. "At least ye were honest about i' this time."
What could I say to that? Nothing, as it turned out. The door slammed as Kurt got back into the van and we both looked up front. He was avoiding our questioning eyes.
"Dare I ask what that was all about?" I asked him as the van roared to life.
"No." There was something in his voice which made my stomach knot.
"Kurt," I started.
"Later, Pietro. I do not vant to talk about it right now."
Oh, wonderful. Ever notice how couples start to pick up each other's character traits after a while? Usually it's little stuff; taste in music, television shows, that sort of thing. Not us, no. Kurt's rigid morality was starting to wear off on me. In return, he'd managed to pick up my penchant for being a moody son-of-a-gun. I wasn't entirely sure that was a fair trade, either. Why did he get to pick up all the fun habits?
I guess I assumed 'later' to mean when we got back to the mansion. Boy, was I wrong. We barely spoke on the way into the house. In fact I remember saying good night to Rahne before she headed off to the girl's wing, but that was about it.
Kurt remained silent as he helped me get ready for bed. I wondered how long his antisocial behavior would last. Life around this place had gotten a tiny bit easier since we'd discovered one another. I didn't want that to go away. Guess that means I had to say something, huh?
"I'm sorry," I said under my breath as he moved the sheets within my reach. He didn't respond immediately. I got as comfortable as possible and waited.
And waited.
And waited, and waited, and waited. I was beginning to wonder if he'd even heard me. Before it got under my skin, I tried again.
"I'm really, really sorry about tonight."
He shut off the light, throwing the room into darkness. I felt the bed shift as he climbed up on the other side. A moment later, the lamp on the nightstand came on. Kurt lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling with a sad expression on his face.
"It's not your fault," he said after a while.
"Well, not completely. That girl," I bit back a stronger word, "you're dating had a lot to do with it too, but I'm still sorry." I smirked. "Accept my apology, will you? I don't do this often. Might as well take it when you can get it."
He rolled over on his side to face me with that same puppy-dog look in his eyes. I had to resist the urge to make him roll over or play dead. Something told me that being a wise guy wasn't in my best interests. He scooped up a pillow and hugged it.
"Nein," he said with a heavy sigh. "It's all my fault."
"Care to explain that, buddy?" I asked carefully.
His tail started to twitch. "If I hadn't tried to play both sides of the street, this wouldn't have happened at all." Something bugged me about that phrase.
"Let me guess: that's what Amanda told you." I was pretty sure that was the case, so I didn't bother stating it as a question. Guess I'd never do well on Jeopardy.
Kurt laughed, but it was strained. His eyes were wide, staring through me as if I wasn't there. And here I thought I was the only high- strung person in the room. Silly me.
"Among other things, ja," he said.
"And what other things did your girlfriend tell you?"
"She's no longer my girlfriend."
Oh.
Just when I thought I couldn't feel any lower, I was wrong. I was slime. I'd managed to drive a fatal wedge in their relationship and it bothered me. I mean, really bothered me. That was unusual. The guy was opening doors I thought I'd locked years and years ago and I won't deny that it was a little scary. I was pretty sure I didn't ever want to be so close to someone that their emotions mattered that much to me. But there was an inkling of doubt in that thought. Crap.
See, the problem I have with relationships is that sooner or later, one of the participants gets hurt. Badly. I've never had any trouble in that regard, but then I've had nothing but shallow relationships for the past several years, either. It's my way of keeping my distance from those around me. If I keep it superficial I can't get hurt, right?
I suppose it all goes back to the royally screwed-up relationship I've got with my father. Freud would probably blame my mother, but I couldn't really remember her at all. What did he know, anyway? Dad had raised my sister and myself to be the perfect little children - from the Victorian Era. You know: seen but not heard. For as long as I can recall, he'd never wanted much to do with either of us other than to make sure we both were the strongest, most self-sufficient little people we could be. Sort of like prepubescent Green Berets.
It was enough to drive my sister bonkers when her powers started to manifest. I guess that's why he had her institutionalized. Obviously, she was still pissed about that. I don't blame her. I didn't like our parent much as a result, either. Almost right after he put her in the tank, I was sent to the first of several foster homes. The only constant person in my life, other than our godfather, had just cut me off.
How was I not supposed to come out of this unscarred?
So now, years later, I found myself getting close to someone and they'd ended up getting hurt just like I'd figured. Kurt was upset and Amanda had gone ballistic. All because I couldn't keep myself isolated. Or didn't want to keep myself isolated. Was that it? Did Kurt really mean that much to me that I'd set aside everything I'd built up? I looked over at the guy in question. Kurt was asleep again.
My heart melted. Yeah. Yeah, he did mean that much.
I grabbed a hold of the sheet between us and tugged, pulling him across the bed. Slipping my arm around him, I closed my eyes and smiled. I could worry about Amanda tomorrow. For now, I'd just be content. His tail hugged me close and I knew the feeling was mutual.
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To Be Continued.
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[1]: "I believe the sun should never set upon an argument."
[2]: "I believe that trust is more important than monogamy."
[3]: "...do you hear me?"
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To My Reviewers:
Mayday: Welcome to my twisted take on Evo. Please check your expectations at the door. I do recommend reading 'Speed Limits.' It gives a fairly reasonable back-story for the events in this fic. Obviously I've referred to it more than once, so if your interest is sufficiently piqued, have a look. I think you'll enjoy it. See below for my answer to the writing comment. I get tired of seeing outlandish fics left and right. People forget that the Evo world is populated by teenaged heroes who, as every fantasy writer will tell you, are ripe targets for problems ranging from zits to defeating Big Bad Guys. Between BBGs and the endless parade of angsty pairing fics (no offense people!) there's a bit of a black hole when it comes to seeing the kids deal with just plain growing up. I'm filling that void in my own way: by humanizing Pietro to some small degree. Hopefully I'm successful. If you wish to chat more about your life story, drop me an e-mail at ejm@dridus.com. :) I look forward to hearing from you. Wanda is coming up soon. Cheers, dear. :)
Storm-Pietro: There will be more Rahne. Have no fear.
Sailor X1: Real life can bite sometimes. Why should we get all the fun? Let the Evo cast deal with some of it. :) I giggled insanely when I wrote the hubba-hubba thing. That actually happened to someone in a car with me and he turned bright flaming red after it happened. I knew I had to write it down somewhere. Wanda is coming up soon. Magneto is on the slate for the chapter after next, though, so she may have to wait.
Ultramatt17: People are always telling me I should have been a comedian. I can't figure out why. See above for my reaction to the old lady incident. Was the leak who you thought it was? Much more Murdock is scheduled for the next chapter. The kids I had in mind were Rahne (for obvious reasons), Kitty because she's a sensitive soul who's confused about her feelings about Pietro (he did save Kurt, after all, and she's fur-ball's best friend), Doug because he didn't know Pietro from 'before' and genuinely likes the guy, and Jamie, who's basically a sweet kid who cries at the end of sad movies. Evan was an interesting guess, but I imagine his reaction was more along the lines of dark snickering and furtive cheering-on of Duncan. I don't like the character of Evan for some reason.
For those who have been wondering: my writing style is primarily based on two groups of sources: the Big Three of fantasy writing (David Eddings, Raymond E. Feist, and Katherine Kurtz - the last of which is the finest writer on the planet) and the unlikely trilogy of Jim Butcher, Janet Evanovitch, and Laurell K. Hamilton. From the fantasy trio I've learned how to write detailed stories without detracting from the plot more than necessary. A great example is pretty much anything by Eddings or Kurtz. Feist taught me to write interesting characters that leap off the page. Butcher, Evanovitch and Hamilton are my mentors in the art of first-person storytelling. Without their wonderful books, I wouldn't have gotten so interested in this style. It comes naturally to me, especially with a 'hero' I can relate to. Pietro and I have a lot in common in terms of personality, so I guess there's a little bit of myself in him. Hope that answers any questions on where I learned how to doodle effectively. If you want titles, I'd be happy to supply them.