Thanks
to everybody who's reviewing this thing! I appreciate all of you! A few replies:
Wydinel: I have no idea if Kurt purrs on TV. I've
never heard it. That said, I *totally* like it in fanfic.
It's fun!
Kurt-Ling: Pleased to have you along for the ride! I read "UH-HUH"
and left a review, but I don't think it's showed up yet.
Sailor X, Min-kat, and Cyan Moon: Thankies,
guys! :D You rock!
wllw969: "Belly fur" is fun to type. And it's the most pet-able part
of Kurt, dontchaknow. :D
*clears throat* ANYWAY. I wanted to do something with Kurt and Rogue, and
"Under Lock and Key" provided the perfect jumping-off spot. This next
story takes place two weeks after that episode. I'm going by the show for this
universe, so Kurt is still wearing the image inducer in public.
Technically, this spoils "Shadowed Past" and a scene from
"UL&K," but the element it "ruins" is a pretty small
one in the end. So even if you find out "the big secret" from my
story, it's all good. No harm done. For anyone who's interested, the last line
is taken from the chorus of an old song.
A brief translation: "Ich sterbe!" = "I'm dying!"
As evidenced by that, this story is a bit more serious than the other two, but
it has plenty of Kurt being Kurt to cut the drama. Okay! I think that's it.
Without further ado, here's the latest addition to the Project. It's called,
"He Ain't Heavy."
Peace! :D
=== HE AIN'T HEAVY ===
The pain was getting worse. It had started right after lunch, and hadn't abated at all, which led Kurt to believe that perhaps Scott and Evan were right --- maybe the school pizza WAS toxic.
He had been in a bathroom stall when it started. It was sudden and sharp, like something was trying to inflate him from the inside out, and shoving all his internal organs into strange places to do it. Gritting his teeth, he held himself in check until everyone else had left the bathroom. The only way to get a lid on it, it seemed, was to tightly hold himself around the middle. It was okay as long as he held on. But the instant he let go . . .
The boys' restroom was empty by that point; no one heard the shriek.
He clamped his mouth shut, gripped himself until he could stand, limped out, and went to fifth period. He just sat in the back quietly, and didn't take notes. The teacher droned on and on, but he couldn't even concentrate on her voice --- the jackhammer drilling away in his head made it a little difficult. The bell rang and he hobbled out the door, the very last person to leave the room. The worst thing about being a mutant, he decided as he limped along, was that going to the school nurse was out of the question. As soon as she felt two furry fingers, he was doomed.
"Okay, dude. Come on. Just valk to PE," he muttered to himself.
In truth, the last thing he wanted to do was go to PE. He had no idea how he could play basketball and hold in the pressure at the same time. And, he thought sourly, it wasn't like anybody would care. After all, no one seemed to notice him, bent nearly double and holding his belly. Perhaps he'd become a bit too good at blending in.
The image inducer helped, of course. With it on, he looked like every other kid --- or at least a close approximation. Had it been really true-to-life, he would be deathly pale, with dark sweat stains spreading under his arms. But his holowatch just made a pretty picture. The only outward signs of his discomfort were the interesting faces he was making.
He never made it to 6th period.
The pain got so intense that he had to stop walking and lean against the wall. Students continued to rush by him in both directions, running to their classes, as though he was invisible. He thought he saw Evan move by him in the throng, and he called to him, but the world tilted slightly and his thrasher friend disappeared into the sea of people, with nary a look back.
He started to shake. His legs crumpled underneath him and he slid down the wall, hitting the floor with a bump. The landing jogged his ample tailbone and jolted his stomach, which was burbling, threatening to make him spew pizza all over the place. His arms were aching from holding himself around the middle. They gave out and fell to his sides. His head tipped to the left and bumped into the bank of lockers next to him with a quiet boom.
Nobody stopped.
The blood leeched away from his face. He felt ready to throw up. The floor was cold. The sun was shining in through the school windows, flooding his eyes with painful light. Then the crowd vanished, and the sixth period bell began to buzz obnoxiously.
The world shifted from color into shades of gray. His heart hammered away inside his chest. The pain in his belly was so overwhelming that it was hard to breathe.
"Mein Gott," he choked out. "Ich sterbe!"
The world was merciful. He blacked out, falling over onto his side, and knew no more.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Rogue was on her way to sixth period Chemistry, backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder. She was late. Not that she cared --- Chemistry was boring, and anyway, she was preoccupied with thinking about possible outfits for that evening's rock concert. So she strolled along, alone. The halls were practically deserted.
"Yeah! Only another hour, an' it's the weekend!" she said, to no one in particular.
She was feeling so uncharacteristically good, so happy about going to the concert, that she even started whistling. The opening notes of "Grey skies are gonna clear up" rang and echoed in the empty hallway. Her boots clicked and clomped on the marble tile. She looked around, to see if she was really alone. She was. Gleefully, she dropped her backpack and turned a cartwheel right past a bank of lockers… and gasped.
She almost fell. In that brief moment when she'd been upside-down, she'd caught a glimpse of a pile of clothes, dark hair, and a bony, pale arm. She pounded across the tile over to the clothes and her eyes went wide.
"Oh mah god," she muttered, turning Kurt over on his back.
She didn't know what had happened to him, only that he was unconscious and limp. She shut off the hologram. Kurt's big eyes were closed. His sweaty fur was plastered to him. But most terrifying, blood was dribbling out of his mouth.
"Hell!"
She pulled out her cell phone and dialed the mansion.
"Go ahead, Rogue."
Rogue ignored the professor's annoying habit of knowing callers before they announced themselves, and just started babbling.
"Professor, Kurt's down. Ah thank he collapsed. Ah'm in the hallway, at school, and he's unconscious. There's blood on his lips --- Ah - Ah don't know what happened! Is he dyin'? Ah thank he's dyin'! Whuddo ah do?"
She was openly panicking now, her smoky voice shooting for the rafters.
"First of all, calm down," the professor replied. "I'm sending Logan. He'll meet you out front. Can you get Kurt that far?"
She tried to get a hold of herself. "Yeah," she said, finally.
"I'll get the medical bay set up and call in a friend of mine. Just get Kurt to the school entrance, and we'll handle the rest. Okay, Rogue?"
"Ah'm on it."
It was only when she turned off the cell phone that she realized her hands were shaking like crazy. She threw the phone in her bag, tossed it over her shoulder again, and tried to lift Kurt, who was not cooperating at all. His limbs were hanging and sagging all over the place. Rogue got his arms and legs at his sides, curled his drooping tail up and over his belly and picked him up with a grunt.
Then the adrenaline kicked in. She put on her warrior face, hefted him up a little further, and took off at a dead run.
XXXXXXXXXXX
It was 6 o'clock. Rogue was waiting on a bench outside the medical bay, caught somewhere between complete exhaustion and twitchy nervousness. She'd run Kurt out of the building, clear across the gigantic quad, and through the administration building, just in time to meet up with Logan at the front gate. He drove like a maniac all the way home.
The concert was set to start in two hours, but she couldn't even think about getting ready for it. She couldn't even imagine going --- there was no way she could have fun when she was this worried. Most of the team had stopped by, wandering in and out of the waiting area and asking if she needed anything: coffee, tea, a blanket, etc. She just shook her head "no" every time. All she needed was news.
Scratching at an itch on her shoulder, her mind wandered back to a couple of weeks ago, when she'd been stuck in here recovering from what she'd referred to as her bout of the "psychic stomach flu." ("I swear, Professor, it was like mah head kept barfin' up everythang it ever knew!")
Kurt had showed up with food, trying to get her to eat some bean enchiladas with "Kitty's special sauce." (Gross!) She refused, not too politely, then asked where Logan was.
"He and Storm are out trying to track down our 'loving muzzer.' Ant ze uzzers have jetted off to London. So Kitty and I are your caregivers. Have a bite!"
"Go away."
"Hnph! Is zat any vay to treat your little brother?"
"We're not related."
"Oh, now zat's just denial talking."
"Mystique may have given birth to you, but she only adopted me."
"Either way, sis, ve're in ziss togezzer! ... I mean it, Rogue. Vhatever you're going through, I'm here for you, okay? Now sit tight. I'll have Kitty make you an anchovie jalapeño pizza instead." BAMF
Afraid that he was serious, she was enormously relieved when he popped back in a few minutes later, with dry toast and weak tea. He sat with her while she ate and didn't say a thing, waiting patiently until she was ready to talk.
That was what she liked about Kurt. For all his fooling around, he was really considerate. He just seemed to have a sixth sense about when folks needed their space.
"You know, it'z like Evan says," he said, collecting her dinner tray. "You need anysing, don't be tripping! You mah voman!"
Rogue could barely get out an "okay" through her laughter. He just smiled.
"Vell, anyvay, you know vhat I mean," he finished. "I'll see you later, okay, Rogue?"
"Rogue?" came a far away voice.
"Rogue!"
"Huh?"
"Wow, you were like, totally zoning," Kitty said, leaning into Rogue's field of view with a bit of a grin. "We can see him now."
"Oh. Good," she said, hefting herself off the bench.
"Ya know, he's really lucky you were there for him."
"Well, he's always there for me. Jest returnin' the favor."
XXXXXXXXXXX
For a place to recuperate, the medical bay was awfully noisy. A cardiac monitor was beeping somewhere. The air conditioning was on, as was a radio. The professor, Mr. McCoy, and a third person that neither of the girls could see, were having a loud conversation near a lit x-ray board.
Rogue and Kitty walked up to them, and the professor and Hank McCoy turned around. Kitty had told Rogue that Dr. Silverman was the surgeon who'd operated on Kurt. Then he showed them exactly *why* he'd been brought in to do it. He went from nothing, to a white chalk outline against the air, to an actual man, with short brown hair and a square jaw. After all, who better to operate on a mutant than a mutant? He stepped forward with a smile, and put out his hand to shake.
Rogue shook it, unfazed by his display. "How's he doin'?"
"Just fine," the doctor said kindly. "He came though like a champ."
"Whut was it?"
"Appendicitis, of all things. Mr. McCoy and I got the offending organ out just in time --- it was very close to bursting. And the blood on his lips was nothing serious --- he just bit his tongue. Not surprising, considering those canines!"
He scribbled something on a pad, tore off a piece of paper, and handed it to Hank.
"Anyway, he'll have to stay in bed for a few days. He needs to take all the antibiotics I prescribed, and have his bandages changed regularly. And if it becomes necessary, I just wrote a scrip for some pain medication."
Rogue smiled in relief. "That sounds good. Professor, kin ah…?"
"Of course," Professor Xavier said. He pointed at the doorway beyond them.
The adjoining room was a little more private, and a lot quieter. Rogue and Kitty went over and leaned on the rails of Kurt's hospital bed, which was laid out flat. He was lying on his back, propped up slightly with a few pillows. Somebody had stuffed another one under his knees. The thick covers came up under his blue, fuzzy, muscular arms, which were resting at his sides. He wore no gown, so both girls could make out the faint line of his collarbone. An IV was dripping into the port on his left hand.
Kitty looked down at him with unabashed glee. Not only was he all right, but someone had cleaned him up and dried him off after the surgery. His fur was irresistible; he was tantalizingly soft and shiny. He was also in la-la land. She could pet him all she liked without having to explain herself to him. And that was exactly what she did.
Rogue simply stared. She'd just noticed his eyelashes. It was only up close that she saw how long and full they were, how utterly innocent he looked when he was asleep. His tail was wiggling crazily under the covers. She watched, amused, as it escaped and curled itself around her wrist. Kitty smiled.
Rogue gently uncurled Kurt's tail from her wrist and shooed it back under the blankets. It seemed reluctant to go at first, but finally wiggled away.
"So," Kitty said, breaking the silence. "I heard you, like, carried him all the way across the quad and into the van."
Rogue was about to reply, but Kurt picked that moment to snore. It was a bizarre noise, somewhere between a tiny chainsaw and a huge mosquito.
"Uh, yeah, I did," Rogue said, and suddenly felt embarrassed. She turned defensive. "So whut?"
Kurt snored again, this time sounding remarkably like a small earthquake. Kitty clamped down a laugh and started to fuss over him, getting his arms under the bedclothes and the blankets up to his neck.
"Well, I'm just saying, that was pretty incredible," she said as she tucked Kurt in. "I mean, come on! With all those burgers he eats, he must have been pretty heavy!"
Rogue was silent for a bit. Then she smiled, the skin crinkling around her tired eyes, and tenderly brushed some of Kurt's hair out of his face. Her hand settled on his shoulder.
"He ain't heavy. An' even if he was, ah woulda carried him anyhow," she murmured, looking down at him fondly. "He's mah brother."
THE END
