Summary: A one-shot set after "Impact."
Spoilers: Impact.
Category: Drama
Note: I wish I'd gotten this up faster. Thanks once again to everybody who's reviewing! Enjoy!
=== PUSH ===
Kurt lay in his bed and blinked up at the ceiling, dazed and tired. The last 24 hours had been, for lack of a better term, a "real humdinger." He laced his six long fingers behind his head and tried to get comfortable while he pondered the stage-floor trap-door situation that seemed to be his life, and watched his tail flick around under the covers, making lumps pop up and fade away into the fabric. He sighed. His tail, which he was convinced had a mind of its own, seemed to be okay. The rest of him was not.
After all, his sister had just killed his mother.
It was all very sad, in a classical Greek tragedy sort of way. He didn't know which bugged him more: the fact that Rogue had dumped Mystique off a cliff, or the fact that he felt so removed from the event. And so soon, too! This numbness was very unsettling. He wondered if it was just the calm before the storm. Perhaps when he went to sleep, he would feel something, maybe have a nightmare or two. But somehow, he knew that wasn't going to happen.
It was really weird. This woman, for all her faults (and she had a LOT of them), had brought him into the world. He had been the only one at the Institute who cared that she'd been turned to stone. He was the only one who felt he had a duty to help her. And he tried to. And now she was gone, smashed into pieces at the foot of a cliff, more than likely already out to sea. By all rights, he should have been wandering the halls, crying, tearing his hair out in grief. But he wasn't. He was here, snuggled quietly in his own bed, not making a peep. He scratched his head, cursing quietly in German. As distressing as it had been to lose his mother, his own reaction (or lack thereof) was distressing him even more.
"I did grieve," he muttered, if only to convince himself.
After Rogue decided to use Mystique for a shot-put, he had howled over the loss for about an hour, then teleported back to the house and collapsed on the common room couch in exhaustion. Someone had lain a blanket over him at some point, and he slept fitfully by the fire. But today, he took a shower, got dressed, ate breakfast, went to school, came home, had dinner with everybody else, and did his homework. It was business as usual. He hadn't said a word to Rogue; he didn't trust himself to speak to her. And now he was alone, appropriately tired, waiting for sleep to take him. Kurt knew from experience that it would be a long time coming.
A thought bubbled up to the surface of his mind and he said it aloud, just to hear if it made sense. "It's not zat I don't feel, but zat I don't feel enough."
That left him more depressed and confused than ever. He knew he didn't feel enough. But what was enough? How much of his heart could he really spare for a woman who used people like Kleenex? He sighed again and slipped his hands out from behind his head. It wasn't an easy question to ask, and he had no answer. He didn't even have an answer for a more basic query. Why did Rogue do it? Asking her point blank was suicide. She would probably just start yelling and carrying on, or maybe stomp away in a snit. And if she was really mad, there was always the "touch of death" option. He couldn't deal with either.
There was a knock.
"Hey, Kurt?" he heard from the other side of the wall. "Kin ah come in?"
Speak of the devil. Kurt blinked at his bedside clock. One in the morning. Well, that wasn't unusual. Rogue was a night-owl. He composed himself, and sat up in bed.
"Um, sure," he said.
The door opened and the hallway light spilled in. Kurt squinted. Rogue stumbled in, bleary-eyed and unsure of herself. Kurt noticed this immediately, but didn't say anything. He just watched her. She left the door slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of light to peek in, and turned to playing with the hem her white pajama shirt.
It seemed to take Rogue ages to get to his bed. By the time she'd sat down on the edge, Kurt was sitting cross-legged on top of the covers. His tail was going crazy. He grabbed it to keep it still, lest it get loose and flick his visitor onto the floor. He made sure to keep his face blank. The last thing he wanted to do was provoke her.
The moonlight coming in through the window caught all the wrong planes on Rogue's face and hands as she curled her legs underneath her, stared at the pattern on Kurt's comforter, and played with her shirt. She looked about a hundred and two.
There was a long pause. She let out a breath and licked her lips.
"Ah'm sorry."
Kurt blinked at her. "Vhat?"
"Ah'm sorry." Quieter, this time.
Kurt scratched his nose thoughtfully and said the first thing that came to mind. "Me too."
Rogue raised an eyebrow. "Whut? Whut tha hell are you sorry for?"
He shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant, searching for something to say. He'd really just pulled that out of nowhere.
"For being an idiot," he said. That sounded good. It was probably true, anyway.
Rogue rolled her eyes. "You stink at lyin', Kurt. Y'ain't sorry fer nuthin'. Yer probably mad as hell at me. And ah don't blame ya either way."
He panicked. "Vhat? Nein! I --- I --- No! I mean, I didn't …"
"Shh."
That noise was all it took. He shut up. They were both a little embarrassed. Rogue stared out the window and scratched at an itch under her chin. Kurt eyed her for a moment, and then turned his attention to a particularly fascinating bit of wall. She spoke, and it was like gravel. It was so quiet that he almost didn't hear her begin.
"You wanna know why ah pushed her?" Rogue asked.
Kurt gulped. "Not unless you vant to say."
"Hm." She pushed some hair out of her face. "Ah pushed her because … because she pushed you."
He shook his head, trying to make sense of that. He couldn't. "Huh?"
Rogue snorted. "Kurt, thank about it. That woman never did nuthin' fer ya in yer whole time in this worl', save bringin' ya into it. She dropped ya off that bridge. But if she was any kinda mother, she woulda picked ya up again. Hell, if she was any kinda mother, she woulda tol' me she was mine, 'stead a lettin' me find out by touchin' her."
She stopped for a second, and Kurt looked down in defeat. Everything Rogue said was right. He didn't have a good rebuttal.
"Hey."
He looked up. "Ja?"
"That ain't everything."
"Oh? Vhat else is there?" There was a bitterness in his voice that he couldn't hide.
Rogue ignored it and continued quietly. "The things ah saw in her head. Ah been her, Kurt. She's crazy. Some of the things she done, some of the things ah 'remembered' … Lord. She hurt lotsa people. She hurt you, and she hurt me, and she was ready to hurt all of us here at the school. Again. Worse than before. Ah don't know if she was alive in there, or if she was dead, but either way, ah wasn't gonna … gonna let her hurt nobody ah love."
Her voice was cracking all over the place. Kurt had been staring at the bed during her tale, fearing that if he looked at her, she would stop talking and he would never know the story. But when she sniffed, he looked up. Her hair was flopping into her face. Tears were hanging on her cheekbones like dew.
"When ah pushed her, and she smashed inta pieces, and ah saw you down there, weepin' and yellin' and cursin' tha universe an' all that, ah got so damn mad. Ah said to myself, ah said, 'Son of a bitch. That horrible woman's gettin' her revenge from ba'ond the grave. She's makin' mah brother cry.'"
Rogue couldn't go on. The tears kept coming, silently, plopping down the front of her shirt. Kurt's golden eyes were wide with shock. It was only when he swiped his hand across his cheek and felt his fur matted and damp, that he realized he was crying, too.
He did the only thing he could. He ripped one of his pillowcases free, threw it over Rogue's head so as to not accidentally touch her face, and drew her in for a hug. She was fully covered, and he was wearing pajamas, so that took care of the rest. He held her and she shook and sobbed and hugged him back.
"Sha, sha," he whispered, rocking her. "It's okay. It's not like she vas my mamma."
"Yeah, but she was yer mother," came the muffled reply, accompanied by a sniff.
Silence. Kurt thought about this for a moment.
"Considering vhat you told me, and vhat I know about her, if I had to choose between knowing mein muzzer and mein schwester, I vould pick you in a heartbeat. You haff to know zat."
He would have said more, but his throat was closing up.
More silence. A hitching breath.
"Thanks."
He coughed. "Vas dat you viss the blanket last night?"
Fabric shifted against his cheek as she nodded.
"Ah," he murmured, and rocked her again, felt her squeeze him a little.
They stayed that way for a long time.
When he started to feel his neck cricking, he looked over her shoulder towards the door. It was now fully ajar. Professor Xavier was sitting outside in his pajamas, looking rather embarrassed.
~ Uh oh, ~ Kurt heard in his head. ~ I'm afraid I've been 'busted,' I think is the term. Kurt, is she all right? ~
The professor was actually blushing.
~ I sink she'll be fine. ~
~ And you? ~
It was almost 2 am. Rogue was slumped against him in exhaustion, barely keeping up her end of the hug. Kurt looked down at the square of light penetrating his room. The edge of it just caught his sister's bare toes, leaving the rest of her, and all of him, in the quiet dark.
He was safe, and she was safe, mostly because Mystique was gone. And that was when it happened. The simple elegance of Rogue's decision on the cliff struck him, like the blinding flash of looking right at the sun. She had done it to protect him. Well now, he would protect her. With everything he had.
Suddenly it occurred to him that the professor was still there, now looking quizzical, and expecting an answer.
~ I haff seen za light, ~ he transmitted, with a smile. ~ If I had been in her shoes, and she in mine, I vould haff done za same sing. She is my sister. ~
There was a pause as the professor took all that in. He nodded.
~ Well, I'm glad you two talked this out. However, I would recommend not talking any more tonight, and getting some sleep. You both have school tomorrow. ~
"Aye Cap'n," Kurt said aloud. He immediately realized his mistake, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with the professor.
"Huh?" Rogue asked, snapping out of it. "Kurt, who the heck are ya talkin' to?"
"Uh … myself," he stalled. Professor X made his escape.
By the time Rogue got the pillowcase off her head and turned toward the door, he was gone.
Kurt breathed a sigh of relief that she didn't see, and then yawned hugely.
"Vell, I sink some sleep is in order."
"Yeah, yer probably right. Lord knows whut you'd look like without yer beauty rest," she teased.
Kurt bumped her with his tail, and she smiled. She got off the bed and hurried to the door. Kurt followed her. They stood there for a second in uncomfortable silence.
"Well, g'night," she said, finally.
"Good night."
She bit her lip and walked a few steps down the hallway. Then she stopped. Kurt was still behind her, leaning out of his door. She turned around.
"Ya know, whut you said about pickin'?" she said suddenly.
"Uh huh?"
"I'd a' picked you, too."
It was all the affection she could afford out in the open, where someone might hear. She left quickly. He had no chance to think, or even reply.
Kurt finally shut the door and staggered back to bed. He burrowed under the covers and stared out the window, following the moon's arc across the sky with his luminous eyes and thinking about his sister. He didn't fall asleep for a long time.
THE END
