Behind Glass, part 2

Two days ago, she had caught sight of Kurt helping Regis outside.  As wonderful as he was with the students, he was even more so with Regis.  He had taken the young teleporter under his wing like a long lost brother, and Regis positively worshipped him.  It wasn't surprising.  Regis was the only other teleporter in the school; a rare power with unique problems, only solvable by personal trial and error.  Kurt had done so much of that already.  He was a wealth of experience.  And, by Kurt's experience, the safest way to teleport often included appearing near the ceiling, so he was molding Regis into a tumbler and acrobat as well. 

Ororo stood at the French doors and watched those two in particular out of the plethora of students on the grounds.  Regis had already gotten more confident under Kurt's mentorship.  If things progressed just as well in the future, Regis would grow from an awkward pre-teen with horn-rimmed glasses to a strong, muscular young man.

Kurt seemed to wince and turn his head, a hand to his ear.  She couldn't hear what they were saying at this distance, but training was clearly over, and Kurt was heading for the mansion. 

"What's the matter?" she asked as he drew near.

"My ear is hurting," he muttered.

He did not look in her eyes as he spoke.  Apparently, this was a source of embarrassment.

"Have you seen Hank about it?" she asked, following him indoors.

"I am going to him now," he replied.  "I haven't had an ear hurt since I was six."

"Earache."

"Was?"

"In English, we call that an earache.  It's all one word.  You've been taking the antibiotics, haven't you?"

He rolled his eyes and smiled.  "Yes, mother.  I've been a good boy."

"I'm just concerned, that's all."  She followed him into the elevator as well.  "If you've been taking the antibiotics, this shouldn't have happened."

"One pill does not work for everything.  I'm sure all Hank will have to do is switch to something else."

:

It didn't take long for Hank to make his diagnosis.  One of Kurt's ears was healing nicely, the other was infected.

"The good news is that you won't have to take the pills anymore," Hank said.  He then turned about and produced a hypodermic.  "The bad news is that now you get to take shots instead."

Kurt, sitting on the side of the bed, eyed the needle warily.  "And which arm does it go into?"

"Arm?" Hank asked back, batting his eyes innocently.

Kurt mumbled something in German that sounded suspiciously obscene.  Ororo tried very hard not to smile.  She knew it wasn't funny, yet it was hard to keep her lips from twisting.  Kurt sighed and looked up at her.

"This is embarrassing enough," he said.  "The least you could do is turn around."

"Oh, no need for that," Hank chimed.

He whipped a curtain around the two of them and the bed, leaving Ororo on the outside.

After a silent moment, she heard Kurt warn, "You'd better not think of trying that glove thing, Hank."

Ororo burst into giggles.

"You're a great help, woman," Kurt called over the divider.

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Ororo knelt in front of Kurt and pulled his arm away from his face.  As she did so, the rosary slipped from his fingers to the floor.  He did not make an attempt to retrieve it, nor even make a sound.  His eyes were closed, his skin sticky with sweat.

"Kurt, look at me," she ordered.  "Open your eyes."

He did so, but his gaze was unfocused.  It wasn't life and energy that shone in his eyes, but fever.

"Tell me how you feel."

He closed his eyes again.  His lips barely moved as he spoke.  "Tired.  Very tired."

"That's not all of it, Kurt.  You're in pain.  I can see it.  Tell me where it hurts."

"In the dark... it's not so bad...."

He wasn't going to tell her.  Damn it, this was no time for being stoic and brave.  If he had what she thought he did, every second counted. 

"Kurt, I need you to do something for me," she said, holding his clammy hand in both of hers.  "You once told me you haven't had an earache since you were six.  I want you to be six, again.  I want you to complain about every little thing that's wrong.  I want you to whine about how much it hurts, and where it hurts, and how bad you feel.  I want you to do that for me.  Please?"

He grimaced, a shudder running through his body.  For a few seconds he said nothing.  Then he grimaced again, and she could see his eyes water even though they were closed.

"It hurts," he whispered.  "It hurts badly."

She held onto his hand with one of her own.  With her other hand, she stroked his arm.  "Where?"

"My head is pressure.  It pushes behind my eyes to make tears.  My neck is hurting like it is broken.  I cannot move it."

The door opened and Henry McCoy entered the room, Regis right behind him.  Ororo spun on bended knee.

"I think it's meningitis," she whispered.

TBC…..