It took us the better part of an hour to get him cleaned up and into my
bed. We stripped off the tattered remains of the leather clothing he'd been
wearing and tossed most of it. The boots he'd been wearing were still in
relatively good shape. Most of the towels I'd gotten from the linen closet
were in a pile off to the side, and we'd gone through three bowls of water
getting all the blood and slime off of him. He'd still need to take a
shower when he woke up. One thing confirmed, he was indeed furry all over.
Ryan had to help me carry him to the bedroom, I was just too worn out from carrying him up to my apartment, and then the healing. I even attempted to go back into the living room to scrub the blood out of my beige carpet, but Ryan had forbidden it. He'd sent me to the couch, and now I watched blearily as he scrubbed at my carpet with a bristle brush and a bucket of suds.
I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke it was to the sound of snoring. Ryan was sprawled out in my recliner, and the carpet brush he'd been using was on the floor underneath his hand. I surmised that he'd probably sat down to take a break, and fallen asleep himself.
The stain on the carpet was completely gone, as were the towels. I checked the dryer, and sure enough there they were. They too were unstained. I reminded myself to ask how he got the blood out. I myself was still wearing the bloody clothing from the previous night, and I was in desperate need of a shower. I felt like I was coated in about five different layers of grime, and I had blood under my fingernails.
First things first. I went into my bedroom to check on our patient. The sunlight was streaming in from the blinds, which were open just a crack. They made a long trail across my bedroom, up along the side of the bed, and across it. My bedroom wasn't much. Just the bed, two dressers, a closet, and lots of clothes everywhere. My nightstand was cluttered with books.
The mutant was sleeping soundly, one arm flung up over his head, the other resting on his stomach. His head was turned towards his arm, the curls of his hair tousled carelessly, some still matted with blood. The sheet had worked it's way down his body, exposing a lean expanse of washboard abs. His tail was hanging over the edge of the bed, tip moving slight from side to side in his sleep. One leg was cocked, knee out, foot tucked under the other knee.
I studied him for a moment. I was right. He was densely muscled, definitely an athlete's build. I was willing to bet this guy spent a lot of time in the gym. Long arms, long legs, very long tail. I took a few steps closer to examine his face. Rather high cheek bones, a long nose, strong chin and jaw. If it wasn't for the blue fur I could easily see how the average woman would find him handsome. Well, minus the tail and the odd hands and feet too.
I scrubbed a hand through my dark hair, and headed to the dresser. Only bad thing about this apartment was the bathroom was through the bedroom. It was convenient for when I was alone, but not very nice when I had company. I retrieved a clean pair of undies, as well as a bra, tank and a pair of old cut off shorts, then headed into the bathroom.
The hot water was beginning to run cold when I finally stepped out of the shower. The water had run pink for awhile before I had managed to scrub all the blood out of my skin, and I was feeling much more alert. I dried myself off, wrapping my hair up in a towel before dressing. I surveyed myself in the mirror for a moment.
Pale skin, dark brown eyes, dark brown hair. There was a smattering of freckles across my nose, which I thought was a nice touch. My face was round, with high cheekbones, and my nose was slightly upturned. Full lips, long lashes, and a good smile. I'd gone out of my way to make myself thoroughly average looking, though really, the bone structure was all mine.
I was far from athletic in build. There was a definite generosity to my curves that had little do with exersize and more to do with sitting in front of my computer. Not fat, but soft. Just for a moment, I let the illusion go, and surveyed myself in reality. My skin gleamed white, so bright it was almost glowing. I blinked, and the white and brown vanished from eyes, leaving only a deep, deep purple. I removed the towel from my hair, and let the black hair fall free. It cascaded halfway down my back in soft, wet curls, the color dulled slightly by the water. But I knew that when it was dry, my hair had highlights that shone in all sorts of different colors. The freckles vanished, but everything else remained the same. For a moment, I felt guilty. I had a much easier time of passing for human than the man in my bed did, yet most of my life I've felt horrible, like some sort of freak because I looked so different. My childhood had been nightmarish because of it, and when my gift had first manifested itself, I'd slapped the illusion on me so fast it had made my mother's eyes bug out.
I shrugged the illusion back into place, then headed out of the bathroom. There were still things I could doing, like feeding my hungry tummy, or waking up Ryan. I opened the bathroom door, and glanced in the direction of the bed.
I had only a moment to register that the mutant wasn't there when I felt a hand grab my right arm by the wrist. He turned it and wrenched it painfully behind my back at the same time his hand came over my mouth. Some thin and snakelike claimed my left hand, pulling it behind me as well. There was a surprising amount of strength in his tail, it held me firmly, but not tight enough to cut off the circulation to my hand.
"Wer sind Sie? Wo bin ich?" he hissed softly into my ear, and I shivered. Just my luck! He didn't speak English! I shook my head frantically, hoping he would get the message. For a moment, he didn't move, then he said "Who are you? Where am I?" He must of realized how foolish he was being, considering I couldn't answer any questions with his hand over my mouth. "I'm going to move my hand, please don't scream. I won't hurt you." He had a light accent that any other time I would have found pleasant. I nodded to indicate my willingness to cooperate.
Slowly he pulled his hand away. I took a moment for a deep breath before I answer him. "My name is Morgan. Your in my apartment. I found you dying, and brought you here. I'm not going to hurt you either." I finished.
I felt his grip loosen, and abruptly, he wavered, knees buckling. He regained his footing, but not before I'd managed to slip out of his arms. I immediately turned to face him. The mutant had wrapped the flat sheet around his waist as if it were some sort of weird kilt. He looked tired, ragged, his head drooping as he leaned heavily against the wall. His legs went again, and this time I was in position to catch him. I slid under his arm, pulling it over my shoulders, and helped him to the bed.
"You shouldn't be up yet." Ryan said from the doorway. He rubbed his eyes blearily. "Healing takes a lot out of the body. You need rest, and food, and no strenuous activity for a few days."
The mutant sat on the edge of the bed, and I could feel his body shaking. "What happened?" he asked. There was an edge of fear in his voice. I was starting to get the impression he didn't like being helpless.
"I found you in a dumpster. Someone dumped you there. You were dying." I said softly. I crouched down in front of him, I didn't want to loom and make him feel threatened. "I called my friend Ryan. He is, like, you a mutant. His gift is Healing. He healed you the best he could. We cleaned you up, and put you in my bed."
He nodded slowly. "How long have I been here?" he asked.
"Not long. Just since last night." Ryan said. "How do you feel?"
"Tired." He said. "And hungry." His stomach gave a loud gurgle, and I chuckled. "Pardon me." He said softly.
"No, don't worry about it. I'm starving too." I said. "What is your name?"
"Kurt." He said softly. "Kurt-" he paused, and his brow furrowed. "That's strange. I can not seem to remember my last name.."
I glanced at Ryan, and he shrugged. "It could be a side effect from the healing." He said softly.
"Well Kurt," I said. "Do you remember what happened to you?"
He frowned, crinkling his forehead even more. "Nein. No I can remember nothing. Why can't I remember?"
"Could be any number of reason. The healing, the amount of blood lost," Ryan suggest. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. I'm sure your memory will come in time."
I wasn't so sure. "Can you remember anything?"
"I remember," he said softly, "I remember my home. I remember Germany. But I do not remember where I live now." He looked at me, and I gasped. His eyes were a warm golden yellow, there were no whites to speak of. They were so like mine it caught me off guard. He must have mistaken my gasp for something else, because he abruptly looked away. "I remember conversations that I have had," he said softly, and I focused on his lips. His canines were slightly elongated. I put everything together, and realized something startling. If he were red, he could have passed for a classic version of a demon. I felt another pang of intense guilt over my self-pity. "I can remember them as if they happened yesterday! But I do not remember to whom I was speaking, or where they took place."
"Partial amnesia then." Ryan said. "You did suffer head trauma. Rest. Eat. It will come back." He said.
Kurt nodded morosely. I waited for Ryan to leave the room, before I said. "It must be hard for you."
"Was?" he asked, and I assumed he meant what.
"Not remembering." I said. I rose slowly, hoping to catch his eyes. I did, and his eyes flickered to mine. I met them unflinching. "I do not know if I'd be able to handle it." I said. "I would probably be hysterical by now."
He shrugged. "It's not helpful." He said it as if it answered everything.
We were silent for a moment, and then he asked "Do you think I could borrow your shower?"
I laughed, and nodded. "That's not a problem. But you may want to wait for the hot water to heat up a bit more. And it would probably be wiser for you to take a bath."
"I don't relish the idea of sitting in the scum that's sure to wash off of me." He said, and I nodded.
"Get some sleep." I said. "I'll wake you when it's time to eat. Then we'll see how you are feeling."
Kurt sighed, and shifted, laying on his side in my bed. His tailed twitched, then curled itself around his leg. "I can't begin to thank you enough for everything that you have done." He said softly. "Not many would take in such a monster-"
"You are not a monster." I said, interrupting him. "You are different. That's all. I am different. Ryan is different too." I sighed. "Get some sleep Kurt. We can talk more later."
I left him then, and went into my living room. Ryan had put away the cleaning supplies, and was moving around in the kitchen. I smelled coffee, and my mouth watered. Despite the sweltering heat, I still need a good cuppa to wake me up.
Ryan was busy behind the stove. He was still wearing only his pajama bottoms, and his blond hair was thoroughly tousled from sleeping in my recliner. He was boy-next-door good looking, and had a smile that could charm the pants off of just about any girl. It's what had made him a lousy boyfriend, because he'd charmed the pants off of many a girl while we were together. We definitely made better friends, then we had lovers.
"What are you making?" I asked, the delicious smells coming from his direction making my tummy grumble. Cooking was one of his hidden passions. He could come into my incredibly bare larder, and make a feast from what little I had here.
"It's a surprise." He said. "Get your coffee and get out of the kitchen."
"It's my kitchen!" I argued.
"Out!" he said, and swatted me with a spatula. I laughed, and let him chase me out of the kitchen. I went instead back into the living room, and to the large Amoir that was standing in a corner. I opened the doors, and pulled a nearby winged back chair directly in front of it.
My livelihood was contained in this cabinet. A nineteen inch flat screen computer monitor sat on a desktop that was littered with papers, pens, post its and paperclips. It was a Liquid Crystal Display, or LCD, and it was one of my prize possessions. In a large bay to the left of my legs was my computer itself, a laptop model that was docked into a larger piece of equipment that let me use it as if it were not a portable model. I booted it up and sipped my coffee. "C'mon baby. Momma's gotta earn her paycheck." I said softly.
The first thing I did was check my e-mail. There were a few notes for legitimate projects I was working on, and an e-mail from someone I didn't recognize. The subject, however, was "Green cheese on mars lander?"
I opened it without hesitation. It was a simple missive that gave explicit details about what the sender wanted me to do, as well as a bank account number. I recognized the number, it's one that a user had sent to me in the past. Repeat business was a good thing. I verified the account and that the funds were there. After the job, I'd get the password.
It only took me a half an hour to hack the file he'd requested, and steal the information he required. I sent it off to him encrypted, and about fifteen minutes later got the password, along with another email from a hotmail account.
The subject read "help me!"
Curious, I opened it up.
"Hello. I don't know who you are, but I got your e-mail address from a friend. My name is molly. My big sister Heather is special. She's so special, she scares people! My daddy says not be scared though, cause that's just how she is, and it doesn't make her anything other than Heather. My mommy disagrees though. She asked a man over the other night, and I heard them talking. I see on the news all the time about mutant registration, and how it's supposed to be this good thing, but I'm not so sure. Mommy registered Heather though, and now I'm scared! Please, please help my sister! Can you take her name off the records? Please?"
It was signed 'Molly.' I didn't even have to think about it. Ten minutes later I found myself up to my ears in the Mutant Registry, trying to avoid their detectors and snares. I'd gone through so many firewalls I'd lost count, and was extremely grateful that my signal was being bounced around between fifteen different satellites, nine countries, and about 30 states. After a forty five minute struggle, I found the file containing Heather's information, and deleted it. I wiped it from the registry as if it never existed.
I sent an email back to Molly. It was one simple word. "Done."
"Your good deed for the day?" Ryan asked. He leaned over me, and waved a forkful of potatoes in my face. "Come, eat, be merry." He said. My stomach grumbled loudly, and I made a grab for the fork. "Nope. Go wake up our guest first. Then you can eat."
"Our guest?" I chuckled. "Since when do you live here?" I pushed my chair back, and went into the bedroom.
Kurt was sleeping still. I sat on the edge of the bed, and he didn't stir a bit. My fingers twitched, and I had a sudden urge to run my hands down the fur on his chest. I even let my hand start drifting in that direction before I realized what I as doing. I turned the motion into a gentle touch on his shoulder.
His hand came up, and I found myself felt on my stomach on the floor, his weight pressing down on me. As fast as he'd done it, he was gone. "Mein Gott!" he exclaimed. "Morgan! I am so sorry! Reflex-" he said.
I laid on the floor for a moment, then rolled onto my back. He was all the way on the other side of the bed, fumbling the sheet around his waist. There was a dark flush to his skin, and I realized he was blushing. "Reflex?" I asked. I wasn't mad. No, why would I have been? It did answer something though. Kurt was used to living on his guard. I should have known that, and known to keep my distance. "Don't apologize. I shouldn't have done that. I just wanted to tell you that dinner's ready."
His stomach grumbled so loudly I heard it from where I was. "Dinner?" he grinned, and I laughed. "I trust that bed sheet is appropriate attire?"
I laughed again. "It's come as you are." I said. "Dinner, then we can get you a shower, how's that sound?"
"Wunderbar!" He exclaimed. He came around to my side of the bed, and he seemed to be doing even better than earlier. "lead on Fräulein." He said. "And I shall follow."
Ryan had to help me carry him to the bedroom, I was just too worn out from carrying him up to my apartment, and then the healing. I even attempted to go back into the living room to scrub the blood out of my beige carpet, but Ryan had forbidden it. He'd sent me to the couch, and now I watched blearily as he scrubbed at my carpet with a bristle brush and a bucket of suds.
I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke it was to the sound of snoring. Ryan was sprawled out in my recliner, and the carpet brush he'd been using was on the floor underneath his hand. I surmised that he'd probably sat down to take a break, and fallen asleep himself.
The stain on the carpet was completely gone, as were the towels. I checked the dryer, and sure enough there they were. They too were unstained. I reminded myself to ask how he got the blood out. I myself was still wearing the bloody clothing from the previous night, and I was in desperate need of a shower. I felt like I was coated in about five different layers of grime, and I had blood under my fingernails.
First things first. I went into my bedroom to check on our patient. The sunlight was streaming in from the blinds, which were open just a crack. They made a long trail across my bedroom, up along the side of the bed, and across it. My bedroom wasn't much. Just the bed, two dressers, a closet, and lots of clothes everywhere. My nightstand was cluttered with books.
The mutant was sleeping soundly, one arm flung up over his head, the other resting on his stomach. His head was turned towards his arm, the curls of his hair tousled carelessly, some still matted with blood. The sheet had worked it's way down his body, exposing a lean expanse of washboard abs. His tail was hanging over the edge of the bed, tip moving slight from side to side in his sleep. One leg was cocked, knee out, foot tucked under the other knee.
I studied him for a moment. I was right. He was densely muscled, definitely an athlete's build. I was willing to bet this guy spent a lot of time in the gym. Long arms, long legs, very long tail. I took a few steps closer to examine his face. Rather high cheek bones, a long nose, strong chin and jaw. If it wasn't for the blue fur I could easily see how the average woman would find him handsome. Well, minus the tail and the odd hands and feet too.
I scrubbed a hand through my dark hair, and headed to the dresser. Only bad thing about this apartment was the bathroom was through the bedroom. It was convenient for when I was alone, but not very nice when I had company. I retrieved a clean pair of undies, as well as a bra, tank and a pair of old cut off shorts, then headed into the bathroom.
The hot water was beginning to run cold when I finally stepped out of the shower. The water had run pink for awhile before I had managed to scrub all the blood out of my skin, and I was feeling much more alert. I dried myself off, wrapping my hair up in a towel before dressing. I surveyed myself in the mirror for a moment.
Pale skin, dark brown eyes, dark brown hair. There was a smattering of freckles across my nose, which I thought was a nice touch. My face was round, with high cheekbones, and my nose was slightly upturned. Full lips, long lashes, and a good smile. I'd gone out of my way to make myself thoroughly average looking, though really, the bone structure was all mine.
I was far from athletic in build. There was a definite generosity to my curves that had little do with exersize and more to do with sitting in front of my computer. Not fat, but soft. Just for a moment, I let the illusion go, and surveyed myself in reality. My skin gleamed white, so bright it was almost glowing. I blinked, and the white and brown vanished from eyes, leaving only a deep, deep purple. I removed the towel from my hair, and let the black hair fall free. It cascaded halfway down my back in soft, wet curls, the color dulled slightly by the water. But I knew that when it was dry, my hair had highlights that shone in all sorts of different colors. The freckles vanished, but everything else remained the same. For a moment, I felt guilty. I had a much easier time of passing for human than the man in my bed did, yet most of my life I've felt horrible, like some sort of freak because I looked so different. My childhood had been nightmarish because of it, and when my gift had first manifested itself, I'd slapped the illusion on me so fast it had made my mother's eyes bug out.
I shrugged the illusion back into place, then headed out of the bathroom. There were still things I could doing, like feeding my hungry tummy, or waking up Ryan. I opened the bathroom door, and glanced in the direction of the bed.
I had only a moment to register that the mutant wasn't there when I felt a hand grab my right arm by the wrist. He turned it and wrenched it painfully behind my back at the same time his hand came over my mouth. Some thin and snakelike claimed my left hand, pulling it behind me as well. There was a surprising amount of strength in his tail, it held me firmly, but not tight enough to cut off the circulation to my hand.
"Wer sind Sie? Wo bin ich?" he hissed softly into my ear, and I shivered. Just my luck! He didn't speak English! I shook my head frantically, hoping he would get the message. For a moment, he didn't move, then he said "Who are you? Where am I?" He must of realized how foolish he was being, considering I couldn't answer any questions with his hand over my mouth. "I'm going to move my hand, please don't scream. I won't hurt you." He had a light accent that any other time I would have found pleasant. I nodded to indicate my willingness to cooperate.
Slowly he pulled his hand away. I took a moment for a deep breath before I answer him. "My name is Morgan. Your in my apartment. I found you dying, and brought you here. I'm not going to hurt you either." I finished.
I felt his grip loosen, and abruptly, he wavered, knees buckling. He regained his footing, but not before I'd managed to slip out of his arms. I immediately turned to face him. The mutant had wrapped the flat sheet around his waist as if it were some sort of weird kilt. He looked tired, ragged, his head drooping as he leaned heavily against the wall. His legs went again, and this time I was in position to catch him. I slid under his arm, pulling it over my shoulders, and helped him to the bed.
"You shouldn't be up yet." Ryan said from the doorway. He rubbed his eyes blearily. "Healing takes a lot out of the body. You need rest, and food, and no strenuous activity for a few days."
The mutant sat on the edge of the bed, and I could feel his body shaking. "What happened?" he asked. There was an edge of fear in his voice. I was starting to get the impression he didn't like being helpless.
"I found you in a dumpster. Someone dumped you there. You were dying." I said softly. I crouched down in front of him, I didn't want to loom and make him feel threatened. "I called my friend Ryan. He is, like, you a mutant. His gift is Healing. He healed you the best he could. We cleaned you up, and put you in my bed."
He nodded slowly. "How long have I been here?" he asked.
"Not long. Just since last night." Ryan said. "How do you feel?"
"Tired." He said. "And hungry." His stomach gave a loud gurgle, and I chuckled. "Pardon me." He said softly.
"No, don't worry about it. I'm starving too." I said. "What is your name?"
"Kurt." He said softly. "Kurt-" he paused, and his brow furrowed. "That's strange. I can not seem to remember my last name.."
I glanced at Ryan, and he shrugged. "It could be a side effect from the healing." He said softly.
"Well Kurt," I said. "Do you remember what happened to you?"
He frowned, crinkling his forehead even more. "Nein. No I can remember nothing. Why can't I remember?"
"Could be any number of reason. The healing, the amount of blood lost," Ryan suggest. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. I'm sure your memory will come in time."
I wasn't so sure. "Can you remember anything?"
"I remember," he said softly, "I remember my home. I remember Germany. But I do not remember where I live now." He looked at me, and I gasped. His eyes were a warm golden yellow, there were no whites to speak of. They were so like mine it caught me off guard. He must have mistaken my gasp for something else, because he abruptly looked away. "I remember conversations that I have had," he said softly, and I focused on his lips. His canines were slightly elongated. I put everything together, and realized something startling. If he were red, he could have passed for a classic version of a demon. I felt another pang of intense guilt over my self-pity. "I can remember them as if they happened yesterday! But I do not remember to whom I was speaking, or where they took place."
"Partial amnesia then." Ryan said. "You did suffer head trauma. Rest. Eat. It will come back." He said.
Kurt nodded morosely. I waited for Ryan to leave the room, before I said. "It must be hard for you."
"Was?" he asked, and I assumed he meant what.
"Not remembering." I said. I rose slowly, hoping to catch his eyes. I did, and his eyes flickered to mine. I met them unflinching. "I do not know if I'd be able to handle it." I said. "I would probably be hysterical by now."
He shrugged. "It's not helpful." He said it as if it answered everything.
We were silent for a moment, and then he asked "Do you think I could borrow your shower?"
I laughed, and nodded. "That's not a problem. But you may want to wait for the hot water to heat up a bit more. And it would probably be wiser for you to take a bath."
"I don't relish the idea of sitting in the scum that's sure to wash off of me." He said, and I nodded.
"Get some sleep." I said. "I'll wake you when it's time to eat. Then we'll see how you are feeling."
Kurt sighed, and shifted, laying on his side in my bed. His tailed twitched, then curled itself around his leg. "I can't begin to thank you enough for everything that you have done." He said softly. "Not many would take in such a monster-"
"You are not a monster." I said, interrupting him. "You are different. That's all. I am different. Ryan is different too." I sighed. "Get some sleep Kurt. We can talk more later."
I left him then, and went into my living room. Ryan had put away the cleaning supplies, and was moving around in the kitchen. I smelled coffee, and my mouth watered. Despite the sweltering heat, I still need a good cuppa to wake me up.
Ryan was busy behind the stove. He was still wearing only his pajama bottoms, and his blond hair was thoroughly tousled from sleeping in my recliner. He was boy-next-door good looking, and had a smile that could charm the pants off of just about any girl. It's what had made him a lousy boyfriend, because he'd charmed the pants off of many a girl while we were together. We definitely made better friends, then we had lovers.
"What are you making?" I asked, the delicious smells coming from his direction making my tummy grumble. Cooking was one of his hidden passions. He could come into my incredibly bare larder, and make a feast from what little I had here.
"It's a surprise." He said. "Get your coffee and get out of the kitchen."
"It's my kitchen!" I argued.
"Out!" he said, and swatted me with a spatula. I laughed, and let him chase me out of the kitchen. I went instead back into the living room, and to the large Amoir that was standing in a corner. I opened the doors, and pulled a nearby winged back chair directly in front of it.
My livelihood was contained in this cabinet. A nineteen inch flat screen computer monitor sat on a desktop that was littered with papers, pens, post its and paperclips. It was a Liquid Crystal Display, or LCD, and it was one of my prize possessions. In a large bay to the left of my legs was my computer itself, a laptop model that was docked into a larger piece of equipment that let me use it as if it were not a portable model. I booted it up and sipped my coffee. "C'mon baby. Momma's gotta earn her paycheck." I said softly.
The first thing I did was check my e-mail. There were a few notes for legitimate projects I was working on, and an e-mail from someone I didn't recognize. The subject, however, was "Green cheese on mars lander?"
I opened it without hesitation. It was a simple missive that gave explicit details about what the sender wanted me to do, as well as a bank account number. I recognized the number, it's one that a user had sent to me in the past. Repeat business was a good thing. I verified the account and that the funds were there. After the job, I'd get the password.
It only took me a half an hour to hack the file he'd requested, and steal the information he required. I sent it off to him encrypted, and about fifteen minutes later got the password, along with another email from a hotmail account.
The subject read "help me!"
Curious, I opened it up.
"Hello. I don't know who you are, but I got your e-mail address from a friend. My name is molly. My big sister Heather is special. She's so special, she scares people! My daddy says not be scared though, cause that's just how she is, and it doesn't make her anything other than Heather. My mommy disagrees though. She asked a man over the other night, and I heard them talking. I see on the news all the time about mutant registration, and how it's supposed to be this good thing, but I'm not so sure. Mommy registered Heather though, and now I'm scared! Please, please help my sister! Can you take her name off the records? Please?"
It was signed 'Molly.' I didn't even have to think about it. Ten minutes later I found myself up to my ears in the Mutant Registry, trying to avoid their detectors and snares. I'd gone through so many firewalls I'd lost count, and was extremely grateful that my signal was being bounced around between fifteen different satellites, nine countries, and about 30 states. After a forty five minute struggle, I found the file containing Heather's information, and deleted it. I wiped it from the registry as if it never existed.
I sent an email back to Molly. It was one simple word. "Done."
"Your good deed for the day?" Ryan asked. He leaned over me, and waved a forkful of potatoes in my face. "Come, eat, be merry." He said. My stomach grumbled loudly, and I made a grab for the fork. "Nope. Go wake up our guest first. Then you can eat."
"Our guest?" I chuckled. "Since when do you live here?" I pushed my chair back, and went into the bedroom.
Kurt was sleeping still. I sat on the edge of the bed, and he didn't stir a bit. My fingers twitched, and I had a sudden urge to run my hands down the fur on his chest. I even let my hand start drifting in that direction before I realized what I as doing. I turned the motion into a gentle touch on his shoulder.
His hand came up, and I found myself felt on my stomach on the floor, his weight pressing down on me. As fast as he'd done it, he was gone. "Mein Gott!" he exclaimed. "Morgan! I am so sorry! Reflex-" he said.
I laid on the floor for a moment, then rolled onto my back. He was all the way on the other side of the bed, fumbling the sheet around his waist. There was a dark flush to his skin, and I realized he was blushing. "Reflex?" I asked. I wasn't mad. No, why would I have been? It did answer something though. Kurt was used to living on his guard. I should have known that, and known to keep my distance. "Don't apologize. I shouldn't have done that. I just wanted to tell you that dinner's ready."
His stomach grumbled so loudly I heard it from where I was. "Dinner?" he grinned, and I laughed. "I trust that bed sheet is appropriate attire?"
I laughed again. "It's come as you are." I said. "Dinner, then we can get you a shower, how's that sound?"
"Wunderbar!" He exclaimed. He came around to my side of the bed, and he seemed to be doing even better than earlier. "lead on Fräulein." He said. "And I shall follow."