Disclaimer:: Don't own Kurt, don't claim to, don't sue me. :D
Jaganashi:: Thank you! I've penned a personal response to your review, but it really meant a lot to me! Check your e-mail!
Goddesschild:: If I told you who's corn flakes he so crudely violated, it wouldn't be a mystery, would it? Thanks for the review!
Kalika55:: I'm not sure how much more of Ryan we'll be seeing, but he may pop up again a time or two! Maybe his twin Ryanne will come home early.. who knows?
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Ryan had laid out a feast for us, which was rather surprising. Here I thought my cupboard was bare, but he'd managed to cobble together a full meal consisting of roast beef, small potatoes, peas with little pearl onions, salad, and bread. Not that pre sliced stuff but actual, baked from scratch bread.
I slipped into the chair with a look of wonder on my face. "Wow." I said. "I had no idea I had all of this."
"You didn't." Ryan said. "I slipped out while you were ha-" he stopped, and glanced at Kurt. "While you were working. It's from my place."
The delicious smells seemed connected directly to my stomach, and I attacked the food with a relish. I was surprised when Kurt folded his hands together and said a brief prayer before tucking in himself. I raised an eyebrow at him. "I wouldn't have thought you to be the religious type." I said conversationally.
"Why? Just because I am a mutant, I should not have faith?" He asked. He brought a forkful of roast beef to his mouth and ate it with relish.
"No." I said. "No, I just was thinking it would be hard for you to attend services. Do you mind if I ask what faith you are?"
"Ah well, I did attend services when I was young. But I watched from the rafters, in the shadows. Not the pews." He said. He chewed on a bit of potato. "I am catholic."
I couldn't help myself. I laughed. This time it was he who raised an eyebrow at me. "Is that funny?"
"Only to her." Ryan said, and made a face. "Her ex boyfriend was catholic. He kept trying to convert her from her heathen ways."
"Heathen?"
I shrugged. "I'm pagan." I said.
"Ah." Kurt said, and smiled. "Well, that is nothing. One tree, many roots. I have a friend who follows a Goddess," he paused, "at least, I think I do. It seems familiar."
That brought the conversation around to the things that he could remember, and the things that he could not. I was surprised to learn that he was raised in a circus, but not in the freak show. No, he'd been a star acrobat, a trapeze artist. I had no trouble believing he was perfectly capable of it. The more we spoke, the more I liked him. He was well spoken, affable, charming, and really rather funny. It didn't take long for me to feel like was chatting with an old friend, and when we finally pushed ourselves back from the table, the atmosphere in the apartment had relaxed considerably.
"Well, it should be safe enough for you to shower now Kurt." I said. "Please, feel free to use it." I glanced from him, to Ryan, comparing them size wise. "And if Ryan is feeling generous, I'm sure she has some clothing you can borrow."
"Absolutely." Ryan said. "I'll drop them off. I've got to work tonight, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you in Morry's hands. Don't worry, she's a great nurse. Though her bedside manner is horrible." He grinned. "Ah. I cooked. You clean up Morry!"
I sighed theatrically. "ugh. Cleaning. Oh, will no one save me from that dreaded beast!" I took my napkin and threw it at him. "You know my rules. You cook, I clean." I said.
Kurt had slipped away, and I heard water running in my bathroom. "You sure you'll be okay?" Ryan asked me. "He seems nice enough, but it could be just an act-the amnesia could be an act."
It would be a lie to say that hadn't already occurred to me, but I shrugged. "I'm a big girl Ryan. I'll be fine." I said. I rose and began to clear away the dishes. "I'm sure that my gift can keep him confused enough to keep me safe."
For a long moment he simply looked at me, and then he leaned and kissed me softly, his lips brushing against mine lightly. I stiffened in surprise, and he chuckled. "Be careful." Was all he said. He left, and returned a few moments later with a few articles of clothing he thought Kurt might need., then went to work.
I finished clearing away the supper dishes, loading up the dishwasher and preparing to run it when Kurt got out of the shower. Then, I took the clothes Ryan had left for him into the bedroom and laid them out on the bed. I included a pair of scissors, mainly because it didn't seem that the jeans Ryan had left had a hole for a tail. I hoped he didn't mind that we were going to have mutilate those.
I went back into the living room, and collapsed onto the couch, grabbing the remote and turning it back on.
"-on the scene." The words blared, and I turned the volume down, wincing. A lady reporter with a bad dye job was standing in front of a police car. Beyond the car, were several others, as well as that tell-tale yellow tape, and a narrow, dark alleyway. In the background, I made out a rather large man in a brown trench coat despite the sweltering heat. He was wearing a battered dark brown fedora and was smoking a rather large cigar, and you could see little bits of red hair peeking out from under the hat. I grinned suddenly. My uncle Pat couldn't have looked like less of a cliché if he tried!
The news switched over, so I had no idea what the current report was about. Curious, I picked up the phone and dialed my uncle's cell phone number. He was a Detective, and it occurred to me that if anyone could solve the mystery of Kurt, it would be him.
It only rang once.
"Flannigan." A worn tenor answered.
"Uncle Pat!" I said, in my best little girl voice, and I heard him laugh.
"Morgan! Well well, to what do I owe this honor?" He said.
"Caught the tail end of the news and saw you on the boob tube." I said. "What's up."
"Hang on." He said. "Let me get somewhere I can talk." I heard the tone of the voices in the background change, and then a loud click and the sound was cut off. "In the car." He said.
"I figured. What's up?"
I heard him shift. "Well, near as I can figure. It's another victim of that serial killer we've got running around."
I felt my blood run cold. "I thought that the murders weren't connected." I said softly.
"They are. And they've been getting progressively worse. We've managed to keep most of the details from the press, thankfully."
"How bad is it?" I asked.
"Nine vic's so far." He said. "Ten, if we can find the body from this one. Whoever this guy is, he's decided to add to the game by hiding the body. There's a shit load of blood everywhere, but no sign of a corpse."
I paused. "I think I may have an answer for that." I said. "Can you come by my place tonight?"
"What do you mean?"
"Just, please Unc, come by. I'll show you what I mean when you get here." I said.
"Mor, it's near 9 p.m. already.." he said.
"Come by. I'll be up. You know I will."
He sighed. "I'll be there as soon as I can." I heard a click, and chuckled to myself. He never was one for good-byes.
"Who was that?"
I turned to see Kurt standing in the doorway. He was wearing a pair of Ryan's jeans, and they hung low on his hips. Rubbing a white towel across his still wet hair, he stood easily, hips cocked slightly to one side. His tail was swishing gently back and forth behind him. I had a sudden image of him as a sort of demonic poster boy for Calvin Kline or Ambercrombie and Fitch, he had that kind of look.
"My uncle." I said. I hung up the phone. "He's a cop. A detective. I thought he might be able to help you."
He gave me a dubious look. "Ja, well how does he feel about mutants?"
"Fine I hope. I come from a whole litter of them, so he really shouldn't have any room to complain." I said.
"You have a large family?" he asked. He squatted down nearby, as if getting ready to listen to a story.
"I do. Well, I come from a rather large, rather traditional irish family." I smiled.
"Are they catholic?" he asked, and I laughed.
"Oh yes. Well, my mother is. Hence the enormously large brood of children. I think after five, dad just gave up trying to talk her into getting on the pill."
"Five?" He asked, his golden yes wide and round.
"That's just the ones older than me." I said, grinning. "I was number six. Then there's five more after me."
"Eleven!" Kurt gaped at me in amazement. "Such a large family!"
"I have four sisters, and seven brothers." I said. "Nine of us are mutants, and three of us are not. My father is also a mutant, as is our grandfather."
"Your mother?" he asked.
"Human."
"So you are third generation!" Kurt said. "I didn't think that mutants went back that far. What kind of abilities do your family have?" he asked, then blushed. "I am sorry, that was inappropriate."
"Oh no, not at all." I said. "Your curious, and there is nothing wrong with that." I thought for a moment.
"They are all remarkably similar. All of them have something to do with appearance in some way. Lets see. I'm a true illusionist." I said, "I can spin images from thin air. Only problem is once you pass through my image, it comes apart, like smoke." I conjured a small red ball and it floated over my hand. It looked completely textured, real, as if I could bounce it off the walls. But then I passed my finger through it, and my finger left a trail of curling smoke through it, surrounding my finger and creeping down my hand. "That's the most basic I can do. But I can lay an illusion, so close to something, and make it move, that you would think it was really that person."
I was hit with a sudden impulse to show him me. I mean, what I really looked like. After all, who better could understand than he? It was an urge so strong, I actually had to stop speaking and concentrate on keeping it in place. Despite Kurt's appearance, a part of me was still convinced that he would denounce me, reject me, and I didn't want to go through that again. So I, throttled the urge down.
"Metamorphs and illusionists." I said. "In a nutshell."
"Ah." Kurt said.
There was an awkward silence for a moment, as we both searched for something to say. "Well," he said, "I hope that the rest of your family is as generous and kind as you."
I blushed, and was surprised at my reaction. "Ah, well, we just want to do right by people." I said.
There was a knock on the door, and I flew off the sofa. It couldn't be Uncle Pat, it had only been fifteen minutes since I called! I peeked through the hole, and sure enough, it was.
"Well," I said as I opened the door, "that was fast."
"Crime scene's only about ten minutes away." He said.
"Well, come on in. But brace yourself, you're in for a bit of a shock."
I heard a small puff of noise behind me, and when I turned around to look, there was a swirling cloud of black smoke where Kurt had been only a moment before. It smelled very strongly of sulfur, a brimstone stench. "Huh." Pat said. "Well that's not something you see every day."
"Kurt?" I called. "Where are you?" I walked back toward the bedroom, and in the darkness found a pair of glowing yellow eyes. "Why are you hiding? And how did you get back hear so fast?"
"It is a reflex." He said softly. "Teleportation at will, the reflex was to hide." He clarified. "I do not know how he will react to me-"
"He'll react fine." I said. "He's been around people like us all of his life."
"Nein." Kurt said. "he's been around normal looking mutants all of his life. I am always like this-"
It wrenched my heart to hear the pain in his voice. He was so afraid! And of one person! I turned the light on, and he flinched in the sudden brightness. It occurred to me then that he was built for shadow, for hiding, for stalking through the night, for devilish deeds. It did not suit the sweet seeming, light hearted personality. He would continue to be afraid, until given a reason to feel otherwise.
I sighed, and as I sighed, I let the illusion I used to protect myself wisp away. Like heavy smoke, it slid off of me, the colors pooling at me feet, swirling before vanishing completely. I saw his jaw drop, and his eyes widen in surprise. "He knows." I said simply.
Kurt's mouth worked soundless for a moment, and then he simply nodded. I took his hand, and led him reluctantly out into the living room.
Pat had folded himself into my recliner, and he made it look much smaller than it really was. His eyes widened when he saw me, and grew even more wide when they fell upon Kurt. I realized we must have made quite a pair, like light and darkness together. "Ah." He said. "Well. No wonder he's shy."
I felt Kurt's hand tighten in mine. "Well, when your as devilishly handsome as he is, you have to be careful. Or else you'll have all sorts of people throwing themselves at you!"
Pat laughed, and I felt the tension leak out of Kurt's hand. "Uncle Pat, might I introduce Kurt? Kurt, this is my Uncle Pat Flannigan."
"Just Kurt?" Pat asked, standing and offering his hand to Kurt.
Kurt hesitated only a moment before taking his hand and shaking it. I could tell from Pat's reaction that he hadn't expected a three fingered grip, and then a look of respect at Kurt's grip. I think Kurt could tell too, because he began to stand up a bit straighter, his manner becoming slightly more confident. "Ja." Kurt said. "I'm afraid I can't remember much more."
"Why not?" Pat asked.
"It's a long story." I said. "you might wanna sit down." I said it to both of them. Kurt simply crouched on the floor again, tail curling around his legs, and Pat reclaimed my recliner.
I told the story as briefly as I could, and with as much detail as I could recall. Pat would stop me every so often, ask me questions, and I would answer them. I conjured little illusions, the van, the men, the dumpster, trying to make them as detailed as possible. I did not show an illusion of Kurt, I simply said that he was pretty banged up.
"Show me." Pat said, and I glanced at Kurt.
"Ja. I want to see." He said.
I sighed, and complied with their wishes. There was Kurt as I had found him, bloodied, beaten, his strange leather clothing in tatters. Even the bed sheets. Then, I dismissed the sheets, and rolled the illusion over.
Kurt gasped, eyes widening slightly. A look of horror past over his face, and he said something low in German that I didn't quite catch. "This is why I had to call Ryan." I said softly. "it took both of us together to get him healed up."
"Both?" Pat asked. "How?"
I shifted. "Well, Ryan had to tap me to get enough juice to heal Kurt."
"Define tap." Pat insisted.
I paused. "I can't." I said finally. "It's beyond me. Ryan could though."
My uncle shifted, unsatisfied with the answer.
"I lived through that?" Kurt asked. There was an edge of disbelief to his voice. "You would think I would remember something like that happening to me."
"I wouldn't want to remember it." I said, and dismissed it. "In fact, I still don't want to." I turned to Pat. "Well, does this help at all?"
For a long moment, he was silent. Then, he said "Yeah, actually. It does." With a great sigh, he fished a pack of cigarettes out of his trench coat pocket. "Listen close, I don't wanna have to repeat this any more than I have to."
Jaganashi:: Thank you! I've penned a personal response to your review, but it really meant a lot to me! Check your e-mail!
Goddesschild:: If I told you who's corn flakes he so crudely violated, it wouldn't be a mystery, would it? Thanks for the review!
Kalika55:: I'm not sure how much more of Ryan we'll be seeing, but he may pop up again a time or two! Maybe his twin Ryanne will come home early.. who knows?
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Ryan had laid out a feast for us, which was rather surprising. Here I thought my cupboard was bare, but he'd managed to cobble together a full meal consisting of roast beef, small potatoes, peas with little pearl onions, salad, and bread. Not that pre sliced stuff but actual, baked from scratch bread.
I slipped into the chair with a look of wonder on my face. "Wow." I said. "I had no idea I had all of this."
"You didn't." Ryan said. "I slipped out while you were ha-" he stopped, and glanced at Kurt. "While you were working. It's from my place."
The delicious smells seemed connected directly to my stomach, and I attacked the food with a relish. I was surprised when Kurt folded his hands together and said a brief prayer before tucking in himself. I raised an eyebrow at him. "I wouldn't have thought you to be the religious type." I said conversationally.
"Why? Just because I am a mutant, I should not have faith?" He asked. He brought a forkful of roast beef to his mouth and ate it with relish.
"No." I said. "No, I just was thinking it would be hard for you to attend services. Do you mind if I ask what faith you are?"
"Ah well, I did attend services when I was young. But I watched from the rafters, in the shadows. Not the pews." He said. He chewed on a bit of potato. "I am catholic."
I couldn't help myself. I laughed. This time it was he who raised an eyebrow at me. "Is that funny?"
"Only to her." Ryan said, and made a face. "Her ex boyfriend was catholic. He kept trying to convert her from her heathen ways."
"Heathen?"
I shrugged. "I'm pagan." I said.
"Ah." Kurt said, and smiled. "Well, that is nothing. One tree, many roots. I have a friend who follows a Goddess," he paused, "at least, I think I do. It seems familiar."
That brought the conversation around to the things that he could remember, and the things that he could not. I was surprised to learn that he was raised in a circus, but not in the freak show. No, he'd been a star acrobat, a trapeze artist. I had no trouble believing he was perfectly capable of it. The more we spoke, the more I liked him. He was well spoken, affable, charming, and really rather funny. It didn't take long for me to feel like was chatting with an old friend, and when we finally pushed ourselves back from the table, the atmosphere in the apartment had relaxed considerably.
"Well, it should be safe enough for you to shower now Kurt." I said. "Please, feel free to use it." I glanced from him, to Ryan, comparing them size wise. "And if Ryan is feeling generous, I'm sure she has some clothing you can borrow."
"Absolutely." Ryan said. "I'll drop them off. I've got to work tonight, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you in Morry's hands. Don't worry, she's a great nurse. Though her bedside manner is horrible." He grinned. "Ah. I cooked. You clean up Morry!"
I sighed theatrically. "ugh. Cleaning. Oh, will no one save me from that dreaded beast!" I took my napkin and threw it at him. "You know my rules. You cook, I clean." I said.
Kurt had slipped away, and I heard water running in my bathroom. "You sure you'll be okay?" Ryan asked me. "He seems nice enough, but it could be just an act-the amnesia could be an act."
It would be a lie to say that hadn't already occurred to me, but I shrugged. "I'm a big girl Ryan. I'll be fine." I said. I rose and began to clear away the dishes. "I'm sure that my gift can keep him confused enough to keep me safe."
For a long moment he simply looked at me, and then he leaned and kissed me softly, his lips brushing against mine lightly. I stiffened in surprise, and he chuckled. "Be careful." Was all he said. He left, and returned a few moments later with a few articles of clothing he thought Kurt might need., then went to work.
I finished clearing away the supper dishes, loading up the dishwasher and preparing to run it when Kurt got out of the shower. Then, I took the clothes Ryan had left for him into the bedroom and laid them out on the bed. I included a pair of scissors, mainly because it didn't seem that the jeans Ryan had left had a hole for a tail. I hoped he didn't mind that we were going to have mutilate those.
I went back into the living room, and collapsed onto the couch, grabbing the remote and turning it back on.
"-on the scene." The words blared, and I turned the volume down, wincing. A lady reporter with a bad dye job was standing in front of a police car. Beyond the car, were several others, as well as that tell-tale yellow tape, and a narrow, dark alleyway. In the background, I made out a rather large man in a brown trench coat despite the sweltering heat. He was wearing a battered dark brown fedora and was smoking a rather large cigar, and you could see little bits of red hair peeking out from under the hat. I grinned suddenly. My uncle Pat couldn't have looked like less of a cliché if he tried!
The news switched over, so I had no idea what the current report was about. Curious, I picked up the phone and dialed my uncle's cell phone number. He was a Detective, and it occurred to me that if anyone could solve the mystery of Kurt, it would be him.
It only rang once.
"Flannigan." A worn tenor answered.
"Uncle Pat!" I said, in my best little girl voice, and I heard him laugh.
"Morgan! Well well, to what do I owe this honor?" He said.
"Caught the tail end of the news and saw you on the boob tube." I said. "What's up."
"Hang on." He said. "Let me get somewhere I can talk." I heard the tone of the voices in the background change, and then a loud click and the sound was cut off. "In the car." He said.
"I figured. What's up?"
I heard him shift. "Well, near as I can figure. It's another victim of that serial killer we've got running around."
I felt my blood run cold. "I thought that the murders weren't connected." I said softly.
"They are. And they've been getting progressively worse. We've managed to keep most of the details from the press, thankfully."
"How bad is it?" I asked.
"Nine vic's so far." He said. "Ten, if we can find the body from this one. Whoever this guy is, he's decided to add to the game by hiding the body. There's a shit load of blood everywhere, but no sign of a corpse."
I paused. "I think I may have an answer for that." I said. "Can you come by my place tonight?"
"What do you mean?"
"Just, please Unc, come by. I'll show you what I mean when you get here." I said.
"Mor, it's near 9 p.m. already.." he said.
"Come by. I'll be up. You know I will."
He sighed. "I'll be there as soon as I can." I heard a click, and chuckled to myself. He never was one for good-byes.
"Who was that?"
I turned to see Kurt standing in the doorway. He was wearing a pair of Ryan's jeans, and they hung low on his hips. Rubbing a white towel across his still wet hair, he stood easily, hips cocked slightly to one side. His tail was swishing gently back and forth behind him. I had a sudden image of him as a sort of demonic poster boy for Calvin Kline or Ambercrombie and Fitch, he had that kind of look.
"My uncle." I said. I hung up the phone. "He's a cop. A detective. I thought he might be able to help you."
He gave me a dubious look. "Ja, well how does he feel about mutants?"
"Fine I hope. I come from a whole litter of them, so he really shouldn't have any room to complain." I said.
"You have a large family?" he asked. He squatted down nearby, as if getting ready to listen to a story.
"I do. Well, I come from a rather large, rather traditional irish family." I smiled.
"Are they catholic?" he asked, and I laughed.
"Oh yes. Well, my mother is. Hence the enormously large brood of children. I think after five, dad just gave up trying to talk her into getting on the pill."
"Five?" He asked, his golden yes wide and round.
"That's just the ones older than me." I said, grinning. "I was number six. Then there's five more after me."
"Eleven!" Kurt gaped at me in amazement. "Such a large family!"
"I have four sisters, and seven brothers." I said. "Nine of us are mutants, and three of us are not. My father is also a mutant, as is our grandfather."
"Your mother?" he asked.
"Human."
"So you are third generation!" Kurt said. "I didn't think that mutants went back that far. What kind of abilities do your family have?" he asked, then blushed. "I am sorry, that was inappropriate."
"Oh no, not at all." I said. "Your curious, and there is nothing wrong with that." I thought for a moment.
"They are all remarkably similar. All of them have something to do with appearance in some way. Lets see. I'm a true illusionist." I said, "I can spin images from thin air. Only problem is once you pass through my image, it comes apart, like smoke." I conjured a small red ball and it floated over my hand. It looked completely textured, real, as if I could bounce it off the walls. But then I passed my finger through it, and my finger left a trail of curling smoke through it, surrounding my finger and creeping down my hand. "That's the most basic I can do. But I can lay an illusion, so close to something, and make it move, that you would think it was really that person."
I was hit with a sudden impulse to show him me. I mean, what I really looked like. After all, who better could understand than he? It was an urge so strong, I actually had to stop speaking and concentrate on keeping it in place. Despite Kurt's appearance, a part of me was still convinced that he would denounce me, reject me, and I didn't want to go through that again. So I, throttled the urge down.
"Metamorphs and illusionists." I said. "In a nutshell."
"Ah." Kurt said.
There was an awkward silence for a moment, as we both searched for something to say. "Well," he said, "I hope that the rest of your family is as generous and kind as you."
I blushed, and was surprised at my reaction. "Ah, well, we just want to do right by people." I said.
There was a knock on the door, and I flew off the sofa. It couldn't be Uncle Pat, it had only been fifteen minutes since I called! I peeked through the hole, and sure enough, it was.
"Well," I said as I opened the door, "that was fast."
"Crime scene's only about ten minutes away." He said.
"Well, come on in. But brace yourself, you're in for a bit of a shock."
I heard a small puff of noise behind me, and when I turned around to look, there was a swirling cloud of black smoke where Kurt had been only a moment before. It smelled very strongly of sulfur, a brimstone stench. "Huh." Pat said. "Well that's not something you see every day."
"Kurt?" I called. "Where are you?" I walked back toward the bedroom, and in the darkness found a pair of glowing yellow eyes. "Why are you hiding? And how did you get back hear so fast?"
"It is a reflex." He said softly. "Teleportation at will, the reflex was to hide." He clarified. "I do not know how he will react to me-"
"He'll react fine." I said. "He's been around people like us all of his life."
"Nein." Kurt said. "he's been around normal looking mutants all of his life. I am always like this-"
It wrenched my heart to hear the pain in his voice. He was so afraid! And of one person! I turned the light on, and he flinched in the sudden brightness. It occurred to me then that he was built for shadow, for hiding, for stalking through the night, for devilish deeds. It did not suit the sweet seeming, light hearted personality. He would continue to be afraid, until given a reason to feel otherwise.
I sighed, and as I sighed, I let the illusion I used to protect myself wisp away. Like heavy smoke, it slid off of me, the colors pooling at me feet, swirling before vanishing completely. I saw his jaw drop, and his eyes widen in surprise. "He knows." I said simply.
Kurt's mouth worked soundless for a moment, and then he simply nodded. I took his hand, and led him reluctantly out into the living room.
Pat had folded himself into my recliner, and he made it look much smaller than it really was. His eyes widened when he saw me, and grew even more wide when they fell upon Kurt. I realized we must have made quite a pair, like light and darkness together. "Ah." He said. "Well. No wonder he's shy."
I felt Kurt's hand tighten in mine. "Well, when your as devilishly handsome as he is, you have to be careful. Or else you'll have all sorts of people throwing themselves at you!"
Pat laughed, and I felt the tension leak out of Kurt's hand. "Uncle Pat, might I introduce Kurt? Kurt, this is my Uncle Pat Flannigan."
"Just Kurt?" Pat asked, standing and offering his hand to Kurt.
Kurt hesitated only a moment before taking his hand and shaking it. I could tell from Pat's reaction that he hadn't expected a three fingered grip, and then a look of respect at Kurt's grip. I think Kurt could tell too, because he began to stand up a bit straighter, his manner becoming slightly more confident. "Ja." Kurt said. "I'm afraid I can't remember much more."
"Why not?" Pat asked.
"It's a long story." I said. "you might wanna sit down." I said it to both of them. Kurt simply crouched on the floor again, tail curling around his legs, and Pat reclaimed my recliner.
I told the story as briefly as I could, and with as much detail as I could recall. Pat would stop me every so often, ask me questions, and I would answer them. I conjured little illusions, the van, the men, the dumpster, trying to make them as detailed as possible. I did not show an illusion of Kurt, I simply said that he was pretty banged up.
"Show me." Pat said, and I glanced at Kurt.
"Ja. I want to see." He said.
I sighed, and complied with their wishes. There was Kurt as I had found him, bloodied, beaten, his strange leather clothing in tatters. Even the bed sheets. Then, I dismissed the sheets, and rolled the illusion over.
Kurt gasped, eyes widening slightly. A look of horror past over his face, and he said something low in German that I didn't quite catch. "This is why I had to call Ryan." I said softly. "it took both of us together to get him healed up."
"Both?" Pat asked. "How?"
I shifted. "Well, Ryan had to tap me to get enough juice to heal Kurt."
"Define tap." Pat insisted.
I paused. "I can't." I said finally. "It's beyond me. Ryan could though."
My uncle shifted, unsatisfied with the answer.
"I lived through that?" Kurt asked. There was an edge of disbelief to his voice. "You would think I would remember something like that happening to me."
"I wouldn't want to remember it." I said, and dismissed it. "In fact, I still don't want to." I turned to Pat. "Well, does this help at all?"
For a long moment, he was silent. Then, he said "Yeah, actually. It does." With a great sigh, he fished a pack of cigarettes out of his trench coat pocket. "Listen close, I don't wanna have to repeat this any more than I have to."