A/N: Anybody else notice the recent odd behaviour of the review function? As in, reviews given get listed, but never actually appear? Does anybody else have problems like this with their accounts, as it seems to be attacking several of my fics.
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Sixth Fragment ~ 'Shame'
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The figure fell through the door with a muffled grunt, knees hitting the stone flags hard. Other than that, there was no sound.
It hung there for several minutes, hands trailing over the overly-large handle and face turned to the floor. There was little perception of time anymore. It could well have been hours, sitting there. But what did it matter? Time was for the living. Not the dead.
Soft footsteps approached, accompanied by the swishing of fabric. A shadow fell across the figure at the door, and it looked up. Standing just inside the porch was an aged man in a tattered green habit. His hair - what little he had - was a stark white, and perfectly clean. His skin, too, was porcelain, and dotted here and there with wrinkles so deep they could grow potatoes. He wrung his hands, peering at the strange visitor.
"Can I help you?"
Sorrowful eyes stared back at him, and a mournful voice intoned; "Gone. All gone."
He blinked, unsure what to make of the cryptic reply. "Are you injured? Would you like to come inside?"
The visitor's head shook slowly from side to side, and the green eyes dropped. "All gone. All gone. All... gone."
_Shell-shocked,_ the man thought, and pursed his lips. "Child, you may come inside if you wish. This House of God is open to any passer-by."
The gaze refocused on him. "All gone?" It seemed to be the only thing the odd creature could say, and made itself clear by intonation alone.
"Yes, anybody. You look like you could use a good meal." He extended a hand to help the figure up, but instead of grasping it as he expected, the individual of interminable gender released the door-handle and backed away on its hands and knees, an expression of abject horror on its dirt-streaked face.
"All gone!" it hissed, tone made up of both fear and warning. "All *gone*!"
The minister retracted his hand, and gazed quizzically at his guest. It had been so long since any soul strayed down the path to his little church. He'd kept everything in order, lest some day other survivors came to seek solace in the Word of God as he'd done, but it had been months since the last visitor left.
The tiny village was deserted for the most part, harbour bereft of persons healthy or sick. A few grassy mounds represented what was left of the original population. Yet the minister had kept his vigil, refusing to abandon the church he'd come to regard as home when what was left decided to move on to pastures new after the virus. He was stubborn that way.
Softly, he spoke to the androgynous figure before him. "Yes, the other villagers *are* all gone. They left a very long time ago, either by road or boat. There's nobody here but myself... and you. Do you have a name?"
At the word 'boat', the visitor had sat up, and the minister finally got a good look at whom he was speaking to.
It was a girl, from what he could tell beneath the layers of dirt and dust. Dark eyes set in abnormally pale skin glinted at him, sparkling with something akin to madness. Her hair was odd; short, as if it had been cropped close to the skull not so long ago, but was now growing out. Most of it was dark, but a single tuft of white spurted above the centre of her forehead. She was painfully emaciated, cheekbones mere husps with skin drawn taut across them.
He watched as she opened and shut her mouth several times, struggling to form new words. Finally, she rasped out; "B-boats? The s-s-seeeea?"
"Why, yes, we are quite close to the sea."
She hacked a little, making gurgling noises deep in her throat. "Bay... ay-ay-ay... Bay-vi...ville?"
"Bayville?" he wrung his hands a little tighter at the mention of that place. Newspaper clippings of the time before the virus were still tacked to the church notice-board. Large, colour photographs of a demon, sighted in the city and laid bare for the world to see. The first mutant, and the spark that set off this whole terrible chain of events. "You mustn't go there, child. It's too dangerous. Bayville is a hovel of sin, now."
"All gone," she took up the old refrain as she hauled herself to her feet. "*All* gone. Bay...ville?" She spread her hands and shrugged, making her meaning more than clear.
The minister chewed his bottom lip, then sighed. "Take the road north," he pointed. "Just follow the stink of decay, for that's all that resides in Bayville anymore."
The girl stared at him, and looked as if she wanted to say more. Then, apparently thinking better of it, she turned and hobbled away. She wore no shoes, and he noted with some alarm that what he'd assumed was a uniform was in fact some sort of pyjamas. Percale, and of the sort favoured in old hospitals and the like.
Soon the strange figure was lost to the dust mist, but the minister stayed a moment longer at the heavy wooden doors of his church. Reaching up, he touched the cross nailed to the wall outside the entrance, and murmured; "God, have mercy upon her soul for what she shall find in that place." Then he drew it shut with a loud clang and returned to the altar to pray and retake his unrelenting vigil.
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Everyone was napping. Well, nearly everyone. Robyn found it hard to sleep for long stretches in this strange place. Lance, too, couldn't rest. He got up every twenty minutes to check on everyone.
Pie-Pie was fast asleep and muttering to his nightmares so quickly that no-one could understand what he said. Kurti was still out, but bandaged and dressed and free, they hoped, from infection.
Alvin was muttering prayers to himself, almost as unintelligible as Pie-Pie.
Dawn made the world a lighter shade of grey.
The occasional cat prowled on the streets. Beyond that, there was no more movement outside. The Pig Brothers had gone home.
"We're safe," Robyn said. "Daytime's for feeding pigs."
"What about the others?" asked Lance. "The Chains and the whatstheirnames?"
"The Vanguard." She shrugged. "I dunno. Kurti said they were far away. In the main part of the city. He doesn't like going there."
Lance screwed up his face, glancing around. Nobody was awake save for the small child, and he sighed, resigning himself to her conversation alone. "So what does this 'Vanguard' do?"
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"Ooooo*OOOOHHHH*hhh..." His head hurt. His butt hurt. His *fur* hurt. "Verdammt... Oh, *Gott*. *OW*!"
"Kurti!" {Whump!} He was leaped upon by a small child.
"*OW*! *Poppet*... Careful, ja? I'm very sore." He was never so glad to hold her, though. There'd been a point where he thought he'd never see her again. Kurt let her scent fill his mind, etching the moment into his memory. "That was close."
"Mm-hmm," said Robyn.
"Is everyone all right?"
"Yup. Alvin and Kitty and Baby Hope and Pie-Pie are resting. You scared Lance a bit when you woke up."
"Urh. Remind me to apologise, later. Ooh. Mein *head*. What did that man *give* me?" He spared one hand to nurse a temple. "Feels like I'm gonna explode..."
"It was just a leaf. It sent you to sleep."
"...and gave me a hangover. Liebe? Please get me some water? A lot of water..." Maybe if he soaked his head long enough, it would go away. _If he comes near me with that verdammt *leaf* again, I'm gonna murder the bastard._
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"Kya! Wah! Ey!"
Logan had to snort. Today, Daisy was Jackie Chan. He let her have her fun. If she was determined to stay Jackie Chan, he'd teach her a few things about martial arts. Hell, he'd teach her anyway. Kid like that needed to know how to fend for herself.
They both had full packs and no real need to go near towns and settlements but the whole "Goddess" thing had got his curiosity piqued. Time was when he'd *known* a Goddess. Or someone who was once claimed to be one, at least. Hell, he used to know a Demi-God[1]. _Wonder what happened to *her*?_ he mused.
No matter. If she was still around, she was far away from *this* mess.
He hoped.
Daisy had grabbed a broom handle and was waving it around.
Time for lesson one. "You're not holding it right," he said. "Yer elbow's too stiff." He quickly sliced himself a staff and demonstrated the correct grip. "Hold it like this, and nobody'll take it from ya."
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Kurt lightly touched the throbbing veins that seemed intent on crushing his skull, and winced. Where was Robyn with that water?
A shadow appeared in the doorway, framed by the sickly light of dawn.
"Liebchen," Kurt said happily, "That was fast - oh, it's you."
"Can I come in?" Lance asked coolly. Kurt narrowed his eyes at the older boy's tone, but nodded.
Lance took up a chair to the side of the bed and swung it around to sit with legs either side of the backing. He rested his chin on his arms and stared oddly at the incapacitated elf.
"You didn't tell me this place was Bayville."
"You didn't ask," Kurt replied, though a cold wave washed through him at the accusing edge to Lance's voice.
"Don't you think it was something I aughta have known?" Lance stayed deceptively quiet and calm, though Kurt noted the spark of anger burning in his eyes. "This place is Ground Zero, where it all started!"
"Don't you think I know that?" Kurt snapped, all traces of conviviality gone. "I've lived here for four whole years with the knowledge that this is where everything went wrong! Why do you think I've never left?"
Lance's eyes became mere slits. "What do you mean? Robyn said you didn't leave because of the hunters. Pietro," here he waved a careless hand at the insane teen, "Stuck around because he's... well, because he's nuts."
Kurt sighed. "Pietro, I can't really speak for, but Robyn... Robyn doesn't know the real reason we stayed. I told her it was because of the hunters because it was easier to explain. That... and I guess I couldn't face the truth."
"What're you talking about? What - " Suddenly, his eyes widened. He emitted a small gasp, and with a moment of sickening clarity, Kurt knew that he'd finally worked it out. "It was you, wasn't it? I knew I recognised you from somewhere. You were the mutant whose picture was in the papers. The one who let the world know that mutants *existed*." Again, the anger returned, but Kurt kept his eyes down.
"Ja, that was me. I used to wear an image inducer, because..." well, look at me," he gestured at his person, flipping his tail up into view to emphasise, "I couldn't go out in public without it. When I first came to America, I lived in a place called the Xavier Institute."
Lance nodded. "Yeah, I remember reading about that place. Haven for mutants, wasn't it?"
"Jawohl, Herr Xavier and the teachers there were helping us learn to control our powers. He gave me the technology to go out into the world looking like a normal person. For the first time in my life, I was normal. Well, ish, at any rate. People didn't stare at me and scream 'demon', anymore."
"So how the hell did a photographer snap you looking like *that*?" Lance asked pointedly, forgoing tact in the need for information.
A wry smile twitched the corners of Kurt's lips. "A fritz. A stupid, insignificant fritz that happened at the wrong time in the wrong place. I was in the mall, shopping with my friends from the Institute. There were only three of us there at the time, but Xavier hoped to recruit more someday. Some hope, huh? I was at the Taco-Bell, minding my own business and then suddenly 'poof', there was a demon on the loose. I couldn't 'port out - no energy, you see - and a good few hundred people feasted their eyes on yours truly. One of them was a photographer. It didn't take long from there for things to spiral."
"I remember," said Lance. "So what happened then? I read about you Institute being closed down. So why didn't you get outta this dump while you still could?"
"Well, for one, it wasn't quite so... dump-like back then," Kurt answered, flicking an invisible speck of dirt from the palm of one hand. "What you see now came after the virus and all that went with it. The Institute tried to stay together. Ororo, one of the teachers, brought her mutant nephew here so that his parents wouldn't be caught up in the anti-mutant hatred that was fast emerging everywhere. It didn't do either him or them much good, though." He paused, and Lance retained enough sense to leave him to his silence for a moment. "Pietro followed them. He and her nephew had a sort of rivalry going on. Probably would have been better staying in New York, both of them."
"You still haven't answered my question."
"What? Oh, ja. You really wanna know why I didn't just leave back then, when it all started? I'll tell you why. I killed them."
Lance blinked. "Huh?"
"My new family. Others at the Institute. I killed them." He sniffed, staring solidly at his tridactyl hands. "We were holed up after they closed us down. Went into hiding, effectively. But mutant hunters came. They snuck into our house. Shot Herr Xavier. Killed him. I walked in as he lay dying, and they chased me. And I ran away as fast as I could. Didn't even look back. I left my teammates alone. I could've warned them, but I panicked and just looked after my own skin. I came back later, ja, but by then it was too late. The hunters had done their work. They were all gone, either dead, or just... gone. I buried whom I could find, but it wasn't enough. It'll never be enough. If I'd stayed, warned them, they might still be alive today. But I didn't..." he tailed off, wiping his eyes. _Verdammt tears!_
Lance gaped openly at the other mutant. "That's why you stayed?" he breathed. "You felt... guilty about those you'd failed?"
"I wanted to find those who weren't dead. So I waited, and I tended the graves. Then I found Robyn. So now you know," he looked up, eyes wet. "That's why I never left Ground Zero, Herr Alvers. I was the cause for all this grief and pain. What right have I to leave here? I'm scum. This place is all I deserve."
Slowly, deliberately, Lance shook his head, his anger dissipating. "No... you're not. You're a nice guy. You helped me and Kitty, *and* that weirdo Alvin fellah, even though it meant risking yourself."
"Oh, shove it," Kurt replied harshly. He turned over, and faced away from the other teen. "You have your answers, now. This is Bayville. I'm the Bayville Demon. Now go away." The reopening of old wounds made his tongue sharp, and he squeezed his eyes shut again, feigning sleep.
Lance stayed for a moment longer, then rose and left. Outside he came across Robyn, tottering along the corridor with a Styrofoam cup of water in her hands. She looked up, then past him into the room.
"Don't think you should go in, just yet, kid," Lance advised, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to the mound that was Kurt.
Robyn said nothing, but entered anyway. She knew Kurti better than these strangers. If he was hurting - and it was obvious from the way he lay that he was - then she knew how to make him feel better.
Lance watched her go and shook his head. Going back to the waiting room, he took a moment to bend over Hope's crib and gently stroke her single tuft of dark hair.
"Kids," he murmured to himself. "Don't ever grow into one, Hope. Stay just the way you are."
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Kurti was having a Sad Time. Robyn could tell by the way he was huddled up on the bed.
"I brought some water?"
Kurti relaxed a little. "Ah. Danke." He turned so he could take it, and swallowed it all in one go. "Ooooohhhh... I needed that..."
Robyn smiled. "Is it bad?"
"I'm getting better, liebe," he smiled. "I heal fast. I just won't be able to sit for a while."
"I meant the Sad Time."
Kurti appeared shocked. "You have a name for it?"
Robyn shrugged. "You *do* have a lot of them."
Kurti pulled her in for a hug. "I'm sorry, liebe. I'm so sorry."
Robyn felt like she wanted to cry. She couldn't do anything for him when he got like this. Nothing more than hold him and love him. "It's gonna be okay, Kurti," she said. "The people are coming back. Maybe? Maybe we can fix things?"
Kurti gasped, then started to cry into her shoulder, clinging to her with all his strength.
_Uh oh... this is *bad*..._ She hadn't seen him like this since two winters ago. He'd found someone he knew - dead, of course - but didn't say anything else about the whole thing. He'd just cried. All night.
Robyn petted his hair and back and hummed the lullaby he'd taught her. It was all she could think to do.
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Pietro snorted as he jolted awake, blinking blearily across the waiting room. His brow was slicked with sweat, and he ran a hand through his hair that came back soaking.
He'd been dreaming, and in his dreams faces from the past had come back to haunt him. Familiar people, as well as those he'd only seen in passing some days at school before things went rotten. They'd called to him, as they used to do when he buried them, wondering why he'd survived the X-Virus whilst they had not. He was a mutant, wasn't he? The virus was meant for his kind, not normal folk. How was it they were dead, and he still walked the earth?
Swinging his legs around, he sat with his head in his hands. It was a good question. How the heck *had* he and other mutants like fuzz-boy and Robyn escaped the disease? He didn't believe in God, as a rule; but before, when he'd been all alone he'd thought he'd been left alive just to take care of the dead. Give them proper ceremonies and stuff. Then he found those two, and things changed.
_Why us?_ he cogitated, _Why, out of everybody, did *we* survive?_
"You OK?"
The question startled him, and he nearly fell off the leather seat. Raising his head, he saw the blind girl - Kitty - sitting on the other couch. Because of her glasses he'd assumed she was still asleep, she sat so motionless. Baby Hope was quiet in her crib, and Alvin too was snoring softly. There was no sign of either Lance or Robyn.
"Lance went to check around the place," Kitty explained, pre-empting his question, "He was real fidgety after he came back from talking to Kurt. Robyn's in with the poor guy now." She jerked a thumb down the corridor that led to the elf's room. "I think he woke up about a half-hour ago. Started moaning about a headache. I have real good hearing."
Pietro nodded, then realised what a futile action it was. "Uh... Yeah."
"You're upset about something," she said matter-of-factly, in a tone that brooked no argument. "I can tell. Like I said, *really* good hearing." She paused for a moment, chewing her bottom lip. Finally, she asked, "Do you... wanna, like, talk about it?"
"Not really." He didn't mean to be blunt, but he wasn't used to dealing with people after nightmares. Usually he'd have time alone to sort himself out, push the images to back of his mind where they'd be fuel his insanity, but not bother him too much.
"Oh."
Silence stretched between the two of them for several minutes. Hope rubbed her nose and sighed, twisting her head. Someone had found an oversized romper suit in a cupboard, and it swamped her totally as she moved. The sound was small, but it caught both their attentions, making them look - or at least *appear* to look - at her.
"I have nightmares too," Kitty said suddenly.
Pietro jumped. "How did you - wait, really good hearing, right?"
She bobbed her head. "Although, the way you talk makes it kinda hard to figure out what you were dreaming, exactly."
"Just be glad you couldn't. I wouldn't want anybody else seeing what I see. Knowing what I know."
"I always find it helps to talk about them. Lance isn't interested most of the time, but it feels good to get things out into the open. Get them off my chest."
"Psycho-analysing me?" A small smile twitched his lips, and he tapped the side of his skull. "Believe me, girl, you really *don't* want to know what goes on inside the head of a madman. Especially not in his subconscious."
"So let's talk about something else," she said. "Where do you come from? Did you live in this place before the virus?"
"Nu-uh. My stomping ground is good old New York City," he answered, patting his chest. "I only moved here because someone I used to know did too."
"A friend?"
"Um... kinda. More of a rival, really."
"Oh. Is he still - "
"No," Pietro said sharply, then immediately softened his voice at her startled expression. "No, he... he died. Quite recently. Hunters got him, the poor schmuck."
"I'm sorry," Kitty said, and meant it.
Pietro waved a careless hand at hand at her. "Meh. It happens. When you come across death every day the way I do, you learn to deal." He tried to sound nonchalant, but there was a catch to his voice. "It was no biggie. Dig a grave, put him in, cover him up, and it's over. Time to get on with life again. Busy, busy, busy. Work, work, work. No rest for the wicked, y'know?"
"That kind of life must be very lonely," she said sadly.
There was a beat before he answered. "Yeah. It was. Used to be times when I wondered if I was the only person left on the planet."
At this, Kitty smiled, understanding. "I know what you mean. It used to get like that on the road. After we left Connecticut it was just Lance and I against everything. We could go for weeks at a time without seeing anybody else, and sometimes I thought we were the only ones left. I don't know what I would've done if I hadn't had him with me."
"Probably gone nutso, like yours truly," Pietro quipped, then laughed at his own joke. "Things aren't so bad now. Not since I found Nightcrawler, at least."
"Nightcrawler? Oh, you mean Kurt? Strange nickname, but each to their own, I suppose."
Pietro chose not to comment on that, instead only grunting; "Uh-huh."
Kitty folded her hands in her lap, playing with the fabric of her newly loosened maternity clothes. "I think it's nice, what you two have. Lance cares about me, I know, but sometimes I wonder if things would've been different if we hadn't been the only two mutants in, like, the whole of our old school. Perhaps I wouldn't have hooked up with him at all, let alone had his child. I guess circumstance kinda dictated our situation, though."
Pietro looked up sharply. "Hang on a second - what're you insinuating? You think Kurt and I are a couple?"
Kitty looked confused, and maybe a little embarrassed. "Aren't you? I thought... well, y'know, the way you were so worried about him with the Pig Brothers last night, running outside and risking your life for him - and the rapport you two have. It sounded like you really cared about each other. I guess I just assumed..." she trailed off.
Pietro laughed again - quietly, so as not to wake Hope. "What, me and Fuzzy? Nu-uh! No way!" he said flippantly. "No offence to the dude, but he's just not my type."
"Oh?" Kitty shuffled - more than a little abashed. "Sorry. Didn't mean to... I mean... that is to say... aw, jeez," she babbled. Then, for want of something better to say, asked; "So what *is* your type?"
"At one time, any girl who said 'yes'," he muttered inaudibly. Then, a little louder; "I dunno. Don't think I even have one, anymore. Years on your lonesome don't exactly make for good social skills. Howza 'bout you? Or shouldn't I ask that?"
"No, you can ask. I just don't have to answer," Kitty shot back, not unkindly.
Pietro smiled. For someone not that used to a two-way conversation, he wasn't doing so badly.
However, their small-talk was interrupted by heavy footsteps coming back down the corridor. Lance hove into view, and stopped at the mouth of the waiting room. He eyed the younger boy suspiciously, then moved to sit down next to Kitty and slid an arm around her shoulder.
Pietro fought the urge to laugh again. What, was it suddenly the 'in' thing to pair him up with people? "No need to worry about me, man. We were just talking. Perfectly innocent." To emphasise, he held up his hands, palms outwards in the universal gesture of surrender.
Lance only grunted, but his expression switched to one of acceptance. Kitty leaned her head onto his shoulder and sighed.
"Find anything?"
"Nah," he replied. "Just some old equipment and papers in the offices. Spotted a mean-looking cat outside, though. Have to make sure it doesn't get in. They can suffocate babies by sitting on their faces, y'know."
"Lance, *I* was the one who told you that."
"Surprised the hunters haven't got it yet," Pietro said idly, scratching the back of his neck and yawning. His eye fell on Alvin, sleeping as blissfully as the baby. "How does that guy do it? Musta had a pretty cushy life not to have any nightmares like the rest of us."
"I think it's nice," said Kitty. "Not everyone should have to suffer."
"I'm not begrudging the guy his rest," the white-haired boy defended himself. "I just wonder where he's from that he could be so... well, innocent. You saw him with those Pig Brothers last night. Talk about trusting." He shook his head.
"What *I* wanna know," Lance put in, "Is how come he keeps spouting all that crap about prophecies and Goddesses? I mean, what *is* that? Some kind of cult?"
"It might be his religion," Kitty said, shrugging her thin shoulders. "Although, I have to admit, he creeps me out more than a little.
"Well, all I'm saying," Lance stroked his stubbly chin, trying to remember if he'd packed a razor in their emergency box, "Is that, when he wakes up, I got a few questions to ask him about where he comes from."
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"My son." The words, barely a whisper, nonetheless echoed throughout the wastelands, brushing at Raven until she shivered. She had found him. And he was alive and he was going to continue to live.
She shivered again. How long had she mourned? How many times had she passed him, only to once again seek solitude in this... this... did it even qualify as an existence?
"Oh, my son," she whispered again, this time in mourning for times past, opportunities lost. Company. Love. If such things could exist again...
She reached out a blue hand into the dark and ran the lightest touch over his velvet cheek, tracing pointed ears. He stirred painfully, and she backed a step, watching silently as he curled closer to the small form beside him. A child--his child?--wrapped her tail around Kurt's wrist as if she would never, not even in sleep, let go. Kurt clung to her. A lifeline.
It was obvious he had cried himself to sleep.
She had told him once, who she was to him. The Institute had only just closed down, and it had seemed like the perfect opportunity to enfold him in her own team, make him part of the Brotherhood. She had thought that by telling him she was his mother, he would run into her arms and she would never have to be partedfrom him again.
But life is rarely so simple. Nor so gracious. He'd chosen to remain with what was left of Xavier's dream, until that flight of fancy died. She'd thought her child dead also, and mourned him.
But here he was. Alive. How was it possible she'd not seen him before?
She hadn't been there for him. But now...
_For now... for now there is one thing I can do. Later..._ Raven paused. Later would come. Despite everything, later would come, as it always did.
Shifting, she settled in. Another warm body; a slightly more peaceful sleep.
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Robyn woke slowly. She could tell Kurti was asleep by his breathing - hitched but even - and she didn't want to wake him. He had been crying and if he woke, the Sad Times might start again... and she couldn't do that to him.
She sat up stiffly and, with a little yawn, rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Her tail was curled around his wrist, his tail around her waist. The third tail...
Third tail?
Robyn squealed in delight and then clapped a hand over her mouth. Kurti stirred and the third fuzzy creature stared with luminous eyes.
"Was?" Kurti asked, grimacing with every slight movement.
Robyn ran a hand over the small creature, carefully going with the grain and not touching the tail. The creature purred happily, rubbing against her hand, and Robyn laughed. "I'm sorry I woke you, Kurti...but look!"
Kurti twisted slightly, trying to look. He blinked a few times, trying in vain to wake up. "Where'd the Kätzchen come from?" he asked stupidly.
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To Be Continued...
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[1] Alpha Flight used to have one in their roll-call. I think her name was 'Snowbird' or something.
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Sixth Fragment ~ 'Shame'
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The figure fell through the door with a muffled grunt, knees hitting the stone flags hard. Other than that, there was no sound.
It hung there for several minutes, hands trailing over the overly-large handle and face turned to the floor. There was little perception of time anymore. It could well have been hours, sitting there. But what did it matter? Time was for the living. Not the dead.
Soft footsteps approached, accompanied by the swishing of fabric. A shadow fell across the figure at the door, and it looked up. Standing just inside the porch was an aged man in a tattered green habit. His hair - what little he had - was a stark white, and perfectly clean. His skin, too, was porcelain, and dotted here and there with wrinkles so deep they could grow potatoes. He wrung his hands, peering at the strange visitor.
"Can I help you?"
Sorrowful eyes stared back at him, and a mournful voice intoned; "Gone. All gone."
He blinked, unsure what to make of the cryptic reply. "Are you injured? Would you like to come inside?"
The visitor's head shook slowly from side to side, and the green eyes dropped. "All gone. All gone. All... gone."
_Shell-shocked,_ the man thought, and pursed his lips. "Child, you may come inside if you wish. This House of God is open to any passer-by."
The gaze refocused on him. "All gone?" It seemed to be the only thing the odd creature could say, and made itself clear by intonation alone.
"Yes, anybody. You look like you could use a good meal." He extended a hand to help the figure up, but instead of grasping it as he expected, the individual of interminable gender released the door-handle and backed away on its hands and knees, an expression of abject horror on its dirt-streaked face.
"All gone!" it hissed, tone made up of both fear and warning. "All *gone*!"
The minister retracted his hand, and gazed quizzically at his guest. It had been so long since any soul strayed down the path to his little church. He'd kept everything in order, lest some day other survivors came to seek solace in the Word of God as he'd done, but it had been months since the last visitor left.
The tiny village was deserted for the most part, harbour bereft of persons healthy or sick. A few grassy mounds represented what was left of the original population. Yet the minister had kept his vigil, refusing to abandon the church he'd come to regard as home when what was left decided to move on to pastures new after the virus. He was stubborn that way.
Softly, he spoke to the androgynous figure before him. "Yes, the other villagers *are* all gone. They left a very long time ago, either by road or boat. There's nobody here but myself... and you. Do you have a name?"
At the word 'boat', the visitor had sat up, and the minister finally got a good look at whom he was speaking to.
It was a girl, from what he could tell beneath the layers of dirt and dust. Dark eyes set in abnormally pale skin glinted at him, sparkling with something akin to madness. Her hair was odd; short, as if it had been cropped close to the skull not so long ago, but was now growing out. Most of it was dark, but a single tuft of white spurted above the centre of her forehead. She was painfully emaciated, cheekbones mere husps with skin drawn taut across them.
He watched as she opened and shut her mouth several times, struggling to form new words. Finally, she rasped out; "B-boats? The s-s-seeeea?"
"Why, yes, we are quite close to the sea."
She hacked a little, making gurgling noises deep in her throat. "Bay... ay-ay-ay... Bay-vi...ville?"
"Bayville?" he wrung his hands a little tighter at the mention of that place. Newspaper clippings of the time before the virus were still tacked to the church notice-board. Large, colour photographs of a demon, sighted in the city and laid bare for the world to see. The first mutant, and the spark that set off this whole terrible chain of events. "You mustn't go there, child. It's too dangerous. Bayville is a hovel of sin, now."
"All gone," she took up the old refrain as she hauled herself to her feet. "*All* gone. Bay...ville?" She spread her hands and shrugged, making her meaning more than clear.
The minister chewed his bottom lip, then sighed. "Take the road north," he pointed. "Just follow the stink of decay, for that's all that resides in Bayville anymore."
The girl stared at him, and looked as if she wanted to say more. Then, apparently thinking better of it, she turned and hobbled away. She wore no shoes, and he noted with some alarm that what he'd assumed was a uniform was in fact some sort of pyjamas. Percale, and of the sort favoured in old hospitals and the like.
Soon the strange figure was lost to the dust mist, but the minister stayed a moment longer at the heavy wooden doors of his church. Reaching up, he touched the cross nailed to the wall outside the entrance, and murmured; "God, have mercy upon her soul for what she shall find in that place." Then he drew it shut with a loud clang and returned to the altar to pray and retake his unrelenting vigil.
*******************
Everyone was napping. Well, nearly everyone. Robyn found it hard to sleep for long stretches in this strange place. Lance, too, couldn't rest. He got up every twenty minutes to check on everyone.
Pie-Pie was fast asleep and muttering to his nightmares so quickly that no-one could understand what he said. Kurti was still out, but bandaged and dressed and free, they hoped, from infection.
Alvin was muttering prayers to himself, almost as unintelligible as Pie-Pie.
Dawn made the world a lighter shade of grey.
The occasional cat prowled on the streets. Beyond that, there was no more movement outside. The Pig Brothers had gone home.
"We're safe," Robyn said. "Daytime's for feeding pigs."
"What about the others?" asked Lance. "The Chains and the whatstheirnames?"
"The Vanguard." She shrugged. "I dunno. Kurti said they were far away. In the main part of the city. He doesn't like going there."
Lance screwed up his face, glancing around. Nobody was awake save for the small child, and he sighed, resigning himself to her conversation alone. "So what does this 'Vanguard' do?"
*******************
"Ooooo*OOOOHHHH*hhh..." His head hurt. His butt hurt. His *fur* hurt. "Verdammt... Oh, *Gott*. *OW*!"
"Kurti!" {Whump!} He was leaped upon by a small child.
"*OW*! *Poppet*... Careful, ja? I'm very sore." He was never so glad to hold her, though. There'd been a point where he thought he'd never see her again. Kurt let her scent fill his mind, etching the moment into his memory. "That was close."
"Mm-hmm," said Robyn.
"Is everyone all right?"
"Yup. Alvin and Kitty and Baby Hope and Pie-Pie are resting. You scared Lance a bit when you woke up."
"Urh. Remind me to apologise, later. Ooh. Mein *head*. What did that man *give* me?" He spared one hand to nurse a temple. "Feels like I'm gonna explode..."
"It was just a leaf. It sent you to sleep."
"...and gave me a hangover. Liebe? Please get me some water? A lot of water..." Maybe if he soaked his head long enough, it would go away. _If he comes near me with that verdammt *leaf* again, I'm gonna murder the bastard._
*******************
"Kya! Wah! Ey!"
Logan had to snort. Today, Daisy was Jackie Chan. He let her have her fun. If she was determined to stay Jackie Chan, he'd teach her a few things about martial arts. Hell, he'd teach her anyway. Kid like that needed to know how to fend for herself.
They both had full packs and no real need to go near towns and settlements but the whole "Goddess" thing had got his curiosity piqued. Time was when he'd *known* a Goddess. Or someone who was once claimed to be one, at least. Hell, he used to know a Demi-God[1]. _Wonder what happened to *her*?_ he mused.
No matter. If she was still around, she was far away from *this* mess.
He hoped.
Daisy had grabbed a broom handle and was waving it around.
Time for lesson one. "You're not holding it right," he said. "Yer elbow's too stiff." He quickly sliced himself a staff and demonstrated the correct grip. "Hold it like this, and nobody'll take it from ya."
*******************
Kurt lightly touched the throbbing veins that seemed intent on crushing his skull, and winced. Where was Robyn with that water?
A shadow appeared in the doorway, framed by the sickly light of dawn.
"Liebchen," Kurt said happily, "That was fast - oh, it's you."
"Can I come in?" Lance asked coolly. Kurt narrowed his eyes at the older boy's tone, but nodded.
Lance took up a chair to the side of the bed and swung it around to sit with legs either side of the backing. He rested his chin on his arms and stared oddly at the incapacitated elf.
"You didn't tell me this place was Bayville."
"You didn't ask," Kurt replied, though a cold wave washed through him at the accusing edge to Lance's voice.
"Don't you think it was something I aughta have known?" Lance stayed deceptively quiet and calm, though Kurt noted the spark of anger burning in his eyes. "This place is Ground Zero, where it all started!"
"Don't you think I know that?" Kurt snapped, all traces of conviviality gone. "I've lived here for four whole years with the knowledge that this is where everything went wrong! Why do you think I've never left?"
Lance's eyes became mere slits. "What do you mean? Robyn said you didn't leave because of the hunters. Pietro," here he waved a careless hand at the insane teen, "Stuck around because he's... well, because he's nuts."
Kurt sighed. "Pietro, I can't really speak for, but Robyn... Robyn doesn't know the real reason we stayed. I told her it was because of the hunters because it was easier to explain. That... and I guess I couldn't face the truth."
"What're you talking about? What - " Suddenly, his eyes widened. He emitted a small gasp, and with a moment of sickening clarity, Kurt knew that he'd finally worked it out. "It was you, wasn't it? I knew I recognised you from somewhere. You were the mutant whose picture was in the papers. The one who let the world know that mutants *existed*." Again, the anger returned, but Kurt kept his eyes down.
"Ja, that was me. I used to wear an image inducer, because..." well, look at me," he gestured at his person, flipping his tail up into view to emphasise, "I couldn't go out in public without it. When I first came to America, I lived in a place called the Xavier Institute."
Lance nodded. "Yeah, I remember reading about that place. Haven for mutants, wasn't it?"
"Jawohl, Herr Xavier and the teachers there were helping us learn to control our powers. He gave me the technology to go out into the world looking like a normal person. For the first time in my life, I was normal. Well, ish, at any rate. People didn't stare at me and scream 'demon', anymore."
"So how the hell did a photographer snap you looking like *that*?" Lance asked pointedly, forgoing tact in the need for information.
A wry smile twitched the corners of Kurt's lips. "A fritz. A stupid, insignificant fritz that happened at the wrong time in the wrong place. I was in the mall, shopping with my friends from the Institute. There were only three of us there at the time, but Xavier hoped to recruit more someday. Some hope, huh? I was at the Taco-Bell, minding my own business and then suddenly 'poof', there was a demon on the loose. I couldn't 'port out - no energy, you see - and a good few hundred people feasted their eyes on yours truly. One of them was a photographer. It didn't take long from there for things to spiral."
"I remember," said Lance. "So what happened then? I read about you Institute being closed down. So why didn't you get outta this dump while you still could?"
"Well, for one, it wasn't quite so... dump-like back then," Kurt answered, flicking an invisible speck of dirt from the palm of one hand. "What you see now came after the virus and all that went with it. The Institute tried to stay together. Ororo, one of the teachers, brought her mutant nephew here so that his parents wouldn't be caught up in the anti-mutant hatred that was fast emerging everywhere. It didn't do either him or them much good, though." He paused, and Lance retained enough sense to leave him to his silence for a moment. "Pietro followed them. He and her nephew had a sort of rivalry going on. Probably would have been better staying in New York, both of them."
"You still haven't answered my question."
"What? Oh, ja. You really wanna know why I didn't just leave back then, when it all started? I'll tell you why. I killed them."
Lance blinked. "Huh?"
"My new family. Others at the Institute. I killed them." He sniffed, staring solidly at his tridactyl hands. "We were holed up after they closed us down. Went into hiding, effectively. But mutant hunters came. They snuck into our house. Shot Herr Xavier. Killed him. I walked in as he lay dying, and they chased me. And I ran away as fast as I could. Didn't even look back. I left my teammates alone. I could've warned them, but I panicked and just looked after my own skin. I came back later, ja, but by then it was too late. The hunters had done their work. They were all gone, either dead, or just... gone. I buried whom I could find, but it wasn't enough. It'll never be enough. If I'd stayed, warned them, they might still be alive today. But I didn't..." he tailed off, wiping his eyes. _Verdammt tears!_
Lance gaped openly at the other mutant. "That's why you stayed?" he breathed. "You felt... guilty about those you'd failed?"
"I wanted to find those who weren't dead. So I waited, and I tended the graves. Then I found Robyn. So now you know," he looked up, eyes wet. "That's why I never left Ground Zero, Herr Alvers. I was the cause for all this grief and pain. What right have I to leave here? I'm scum. This place is all I deserve."
Slowly, deliberately, Lance shook his head, his anger dissipating. "No... you're not. You're a nice guy. You helped me and Kitty, *and* that weirdo Alvin fellah, even though it meant risking yourself."
"Oh, shove it," Kurt replied harshly. He turned over, and faced away from the other teen. "You have your answers, now. This is Bayville. I'm the Bayville Demon. Now go away." The reopening of old wounds made his tongue sharp, and he squeezed his eyes shut again, feigning sleep.
Lance stayed for a moment longer, then rose and left. Outside he came across Robyn, tottering along the corridor with a Styrofoam cup of water in her hands. She looked up, then past him into the room.
"Don't think you should go in, just yet, kid," Lance advised, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to the mound that was Kurt.
Robyn said nothing, but entered anyway. She knew Kurti better than these strangers. If he was hurting - and it was obvious from the way he lay that he was - then she knew how to make him feel better.
Lance watched her go and shook his head. Going back to the waiting room, he took a moment to bend over Hope's crib and gently stroke her single tuft of dark hair.
"Kids," he murmured to himself. "Don't ever grow into one, Hope. Stay just the way you are."
*******************
Kurti was having a Sad Time. Robyn could tell by the way he was huddled up on the bed.
"I brought some water?"
Kurti relaxed a little. "Ah. Danke." He turned so he could take it, and swallowed it all in one go. "Ooooohhhh... I needed that..."
Robyn smiled. "Is it bad?"
"I'm getting better, liebe," he smiled. "I heal fast. I just won't be able to sit for a while."
"I meant the Sad Time."
Kurti appeared shocked. "You have a name for it?"
Robyn shrugged. "You *do* have a lot of them."
Kurti pulled her in for a hug. "I'm sorry, liebe. I'm so sorry."
Robyn felt like she wanted to cry. She couldn't do anything for him when he got like this. Nothing more than hold him and love him. "It's gonna be okay, Kurti," she said. "The people are coming back. Maybe? Maybe we can fix things?"
Kurti gasped, then started to cry into her shoulder, clinging to her with all his strength.
_Uh oh... this is *bad*..._ She hadn't seen him like this since two winters ago. He'd found someone he knew - dead, of course - but didn't say anything else about the whole thing. He'd just cried. All night.
Robyn petted his hair and back and hummed the lullaby he'd taught her. It was all she could think to do.
*******************
Pietro snorted as he jolted awake, blinking blearily across the waiting room. His brow was slicked with sweat, and he ran a hand through his hair that came back soaking.
He'd been dreaming, and in his dreams faces from the past had come back to haunt him. Familiar people, as well as those he'd only seen in passing some days at school before things went rotten. They'd called to him, as they used to do when he buried them, wondering why he'd survived the X-Virus whilst they had not. He was a mutant, wasn't he? The virus was meant for his kind, not normal folk. How was it they were dead, and he still walked the earth?
Swinging his legs around, he sat with his head in his hands. It was a good question. How the heck *had* he and other mutants like fuzz-boy and Robyn escaped the disease? He didn't believe in God, as a rule; but before, when he'd been all alone he'd thought he'd been left alive just to take care of the dead. Give them proper ceremonies and stuff. Then he found those two, and things changed.
_Why us?_ he cogitated, _Why, out of everybody, did *we* survive?_
"You OK?"
The question startled him, and he nearly fell off the leather seat. Raising his head, he saw the blind girl - Kitty - sitting on the other couch. Because of her glasses he'd assumed she was still asleep, she sat so motionless. Baby Hope was quiet in her crib, and Alvin too was snoring softly. There was no sign of either Lance or Robyn.
"Lance went to check around the place," Kitty explained, pre-empting his question, "He was real fidgety after he came back from talking to Kurt. Robyn's in with the poor guy now." She jerked a thumb down the corridor that led to the elf's room. "I think he woke up about a half-hour ago. Started moaning about a headache. I have real good hearing."
Pietro nodded, then realised what a futile action it was. "Uh... Yeah."
"You're upset about something," she said matter-of-factly, in a tone that brooked no argument. "I can tell. Like I said, *really* good hearing." She paused for a moment, chewing her bottom lip. Finally, she asked, "Do you... wanna, like, talk about it?"
"Not really." He didn't mean to be blunt, but he wasn't used to dealing with people after nightmares. Usually he'd have time alone to sort himself out, push the images to back of his mind where they'd be fuel his insanity, but not bother him too much.
"Oh."
Silence stretched between the two of them for several minutes. Hope rubbed her nose and sighed, twisting her head. Someone had found an oversized romper suit in a cupboard, and it swamped her totally as she moved. The sound was small, but it caught both their attentions, making them look - or at least *appear* to look - at her.
"I have nightmares too," Kitty said suddenly.
Pietro jumped. "How did you - wait, really good hearing, right?"
She bobbed her head. "Although, the way you talk makes it kinda hard to figure out what you were dreaming, exactly."
"Just be glad you couldn't. I wouldn't want anybody else seeing what I see. Knowing what I know."
"I always find it helps to talk about them. Lance isn't interested most of the time, but it feels good to get things out into the open. Get them off my chest."
"Psycho-analysing me?" A small smile twitched his lips, and he tapped the side of his skull. "Believe me, girl, you really *don't* want to know what goes on inside the head of a madman. Especially not in his subconscious."
"So let's talk about something else," she said. "Where do you come from? Did you live in this place before the virus?"
"Nu-uh. My stomping ground is good old New York City," he answered, patting his chest. "I only moved here because someone I used to know did too."
"A friend?"
"Um... kinda. More of a rival, really."
"Oh. Is he still - "
"No," Pietro said sharply, then immediately softened his voice at her startled expression. "No, he... he died. Quite recently. Hunters got him, the poor schmuck."
"I'm sorry," Kitty said, and meant it.
Pietro waved a careless hand at hand at her. "Meh. It happens. When you come across death every day the way I do, you learn to deal." He tried to sound nonchalant, but there was a catch to his voice. "It was no biggie. Dig a grave, put him in, cover him up, and it's over. Time to get on with life again. Busy, busy, busy. Work, work, work. No rest for the wicked, y'know?"
"That kind of life must be very lonely," she said sadly.
There was a beat before he answered. "Yeah. It was. Used to be times when I wondered if I was the only person left on the planet."
At this, Kitty smiled, understanding. "I know what you mean. It used to get like that on the road. After we left Connecticut it was just Lance and I against everything. We could go for weeks at a time without seeing anybody else, and sometimes I thought we were the only ones left. I don't know what I would've done if I hadn't had him with me."
"Probably gone nutso, like yours truly," Pietro quipped, then laughed at his own joke. "Things aren't so bad now. Not since I found Nightcrawler, at least."
"Nightcrawler? Oh, you mean Kurt? Strange nickname, but each to their own, I suppose."
Pietro chose not to comment on that, instead only grunting; "Uh-huh."
Kitty folded her hands in her lap, playing with the fabric of her newly loosened maternity clothes. "I think it's nice, what you two have. Lance cares about me, I know, but sometimes I wonder if things would've been different if we hadn't been the only two mutants in, like, the whole of our old school. Perhaps I wouldn't have hooked up with him at all, let alone had his child. I guess circumstance kinda dictated our situation, though."
Pietro looked up sharply. "Hang on a second - what're you insinuating? You think Kurt and I are a couple?"
Kitty looked confused, and maybe a little embarrassed. "Aren't you? I thought... well, y'know, the way you were so worried about him with the Pig Brothers last night, running outside and risking your life for him - and the rapport you two have. It sounded like you really cared about each other. I guess I just assumed..." she trailed off.
Pietro laughed again - quietly, so as not to wake Hope. "What, me and Fuzzy? Nu-uh! No way!" he said flippantly. "No offence to the dude, but he's just not my type."
"Oh?" Kitty shuffled - more than a little abashed. "Sorry. Didn't mean to... I mean... that is to say... aw, jeez," she babbled. Then, for want of something better to say, asked; "So what *is* your type?"
"At one time, any girl who said 'yes'," he muttered inaudibly. Then, a little louder; "I dunno. Don't think I even have one, anymore. Years on your lonesome don't exactly make for good social skills. Howza 'bout you? Or shouldn't I ask that?"
"No, you can ask. I just don't have to answer," Kitty shot back, not unkindly.
Pietro smiled. For someone not that used to a two-way conversation, he wasn't doing so badly.
However, their small-talk was interrupted by heavy footsteps coming back down the corridor. Lance hove into view, and stopped at the mouth of the waiting room. He eyed the younger boy suspiciously, then moved to sit down next to Kitty and slid an arm around her shoulder.
Pietro fought the urge to laugh again. What, was it suddenly the 'in' thing to pair him up with people? "No need to worry about me, man. We were just talking. Perfectly innocent." To emphasise, he held up his hands, palms outwards in the universal gesture of surrender.
Lance only grunted, but his expression switched to one of acceptance. Kitty leaned her head onto his shoulder and sighed.
"Find anything?"
"Nah," he replied. "Just some old equipment and papers in the offices. Spotted a mean-looking cat outside, though. Have to make sure it doesn't get in. They can suffocate babies by sitting on their faces, y'know."
"Lance, *I* was the one who told you that."
"Surprised the hunters haven't got it yet," Pietro said idly, scratching the back of his neck and yawning. His eye fell on Alvin, sleeping as blissfully as the baby. "How does that guy do it? Musta had a pretty cushy life not to have any nightmares like the rest of us."
"I think it's nice," said Kitty. "Not everyone should have to suffer."
"I'm not begrudging the guy his rest," the white-haired boy defended himself. "I just wonder where he's from that he could be so... well, innocent. You saw him with those Pig Brothers last night. Talk about trusting." He shook his head.
"What *I* wanna know," Lance put in, "Is how come he keeps spouting all that crap about prophecies and Goddesses? I mean, what *is* that? Some kind of cult?"
"It might be his religion," Kitty said, shrugging her thin shoulders. "Although, I have to admit, he creeps me out more than a little.
"Well, all I'm saying," Lance stroked his stubbly chin, trying to remember if he'd packed a razor in their emergency box, "Is that, when he wakes up, I got a few questions to ask him about where he comes from."
*******************
"My son." The words, barely a whisper, nonetheless echoed throughout the wastelands, brushing at Raven until she shivered. She had found him. And he was alive and he was going to continue to live.
She shivered again. How long had she mourned? How many times had she passed him, only to once again seek solitude in this... this... did it even qualify as an existence?
"Oh, my son," she whispered again, this time in mourning for times past, opportunities lost. Company. Love. If such things could exist again...
She reached out a blue hand into the dark and ran the lightest touch over his velvet cheek, tracing pointed ears. He stirred painfully, and she backed a step, watching silently as he curled closer to the small form beside him. A child--his child?--wrapped her tail around Kurt's wrist as if she would never, not even in sleep, let go. Kurt clung to her. A lifeline.
It was obvious he had cried himself to sleep.
She had told him once, who she was to him. The Institute had only just closed down, and it had seemed like the perfect opportunity to enfold him in her own team, make him part of the Brotherhood. She had thought that by telling him she was his mother, he would run into her arms and she would never have to be partedfrom him again.
But life is rarely so simple. Nor so gracious. He'd chosen to remain with what was left of Xavier's dream, until that flight of fancy died. She'd thought her child dead also, and mourned him.
But here he was. Alive. How was it possible she'd not seen him before?
She hadn't been there for him. But now...
_For now... for now there is one thing I can do. Later..._ Raven paused. Later would come. Despite everything, later would come, as it always did.
Shifting, she settled in. Another warm body; a slightly more peaceful sleep.
*******************
Robyn woke slowly. She could tell Kurti was asleep by his breathing - hitched but even - and she didn't want to wake him. He had been crying and if he woke, the Sad Times might start again... and she couldn't do that to him.
She sat up stiffly and, with a little yawn, rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Her tail was curled around his wrist, his tail around her waist. The third tail...
Third tail?
Robyn squealed in delight and then clapped a hand over her mouth. Kurti stirred and the third fuzzy creature stared with luminous eyes.
"Was?" Kurti asked, grimacing with every slight movement.
Robyn ran a hand over the small creature, carefully going with the grain and not touching the tail. The creature purred happily, rubbing against her hand, and Robyn laughed. "I'm sorry I woke you, Kurti...but look!"
Kurti twisted slightly, trying to look. He blinked a few times, trying in vain to wake up. "Where'd the Kätzchen come from?" he asked stupidly.
*******************
To Be Continued...
*******************
[1] Alpha Flight used to have one in their roll-call. I think her name was 'Snowbird' or something.