A/N: o_O. Woah... reviews... LOTS of reviews... Damn! At least now I know how to get reviews, I have to threaten people with rabid animals! (And here I had been trying to be *nice* all these years... huh, phfft on that!) :) Thanks, all of you! ((((reviewers)))) *hands out cookies to all*
And a few more specific replies...

Zaron of the Red Moon: Yep, Mom gave me the writer gene; she writes a lot, too. :) She's sort of my part-time beta reader, but is mostly just there for moral support.

SouthernersCanWrestle: I agree about Kurt's issues being slightly neglected in the movie -- of course, with so much plot and so many characters, I can understand why they needed to trim his role down to the bare minimum. I read a review of X2 somewhere (I don't remember where, unfortunately) that said something along the lines of, Nightcrawler's religious rantings got too much screen time, while Pyro's slip into the dark side' speech was skimped out on. This review, wherever it was, ticked me off so bad that I had to go and write some Kurt fanfic to get it out of my system. :) The blue elf *always* deserves more screen time. (And... since when did Pyro even *have* a speech? He seemed pretty monosyllabic to me. Besides the cool pyrotechnics, he was a pretty uninteresting character. To me, that is. No offense to the Pyro fans out there.)

Shian: You know, I realized why my cat is so evil -- he has a name longer than his own body, and it probably swelled his little ego as a kitten. Our monstrosity's name happens to be King Harvey Aurelius Alexander Jormungard. A name like that could turn anyone to a life of crime. ;p As for Jean and Storm -- the way I saw it, when Jean was tending the bullet graze on Kurt's arm, she seemed to be kind of marveling at his weird appearance; and Ororo hesitated slightly when approaching him in the jet. Might have been my imagination, but that's what I saw. The three people listed in the story itself were the only three people whom I distinctly noticed *did not care one whit* when they saw Kurt. They didn't even seem interested. Magneto's first in command is blue, after all; and Prof. X wouldn't care, he's very accepting of everyone, mutant and human alike, and besides, he can see the insides of people's minds, which never look terribly different, despite any outward appearances. And Mystique -- hey, she's already blue. This is *so* old hat to her. She'd probably be bored senseless by Kurt-angst.

Finally, on a more general topic -- I know precisely three words of German (ich, ach, and another that must be censored for the sake of any German-speaking minors in the audience, all of which I learned from watching Run, Lola, Run), so I have basically put my entire German-speaking reputation (such as it is) in the hands of Babel Fish, AltaVista's translator service. If Babel Fish messed up and put something totally bizarre in the story, then... it's not my fault! (It's funny to use BF, actually. Say I type in and do an English-to-German translation, and I get So I put in and go from G-to-E, and I get I do E-to-G on and I get bitten Sie. Now, I could keep going... but how am I supposed to know what word to use, anyway?)

I'll just shut up now and get on to the story...

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II. Choices

Ororo Munroe, also known as Storm, rapped lightly on Kurt Wagner's door. There was a muffled exclamation in German from the other side, followed by a loud thump. Ororo tested the door: it was unlocked, but she didn't open it.

Kurt? Are you all right? she asked through the solid wood.

Nichts, ich habe nur gerade... The door opened a fraction, and she found herself looking right into Kurt's almost-glowing yellow eyes. He looked down quickly. I am sorry, I forget myself. I slipped from the rail... never mind.

Storm smiled slightly at his abashed look. Are you hurt?

I think I will survive. He gave her one of his small, impish, fanged grins that had always scared the living daylights out of so many circus-goers. Come in, please...

Oh, actually, the Professor wants to see you.

Ach. Just a moment. He dodged out of sight for no more than three seconds, and when he opened the door and stepped into the hall, she saw that he had donned his dark overcoat.

We'll only be inside the mansion... she commented, trying to sound offhand.

It is more comfortable, but I thank you.



They talked little walking down the long halls. Ororo found herself captivated, as she almost always was, by the way Kurt moved, all his unconscious mannerisms. He never stood up straight -- his most comfortable position was a low crouch, and even now, walking in a perfectly straight line, he slumped his shoulders, slouched forward, and bent his knees a little farther than was necessary. He also had a tendency to rub the back of his neck when he was nervous, which he did now. She wondered if he had ever done that before the experiments conducted on him by Stryker, which had left a small round scar at the base of his neck. Her brow furrowed at the thought of Stryker and his kind... those sorts of people, more than anything else, were the reason she was so deeply angry at the human race. How Kurt could have been mistreated so badly and still respect humans, Ororo simply could not understand.

She sighed slightly and thought back to the Professor's request instead. He'd asked her to bring Kurt to him -- her specifically, because she had made a more immediate connection with him than any of the others -- in order to take some measurements. Storm wasn't exactly sure what he'd meant, but Professor X almost never asked anything of his students without an explanation unless he had a very good reason.

After a few minutes they came to the Professor's office door. Ororo smiled at Kurt, who lifted a hand to his neck again and tried not to look anxious. She knocked quietly, in case someone else was inside.

Come in, came a voice from inside. As Storm opened the door she heard the familiar low hum of the Professor's wheelchair. He was just moving away from a bookshelf, having replaced one of the volumes. he said, smiling as usual, Ororo, Kurt. I know I didn't explain myself to either of you, and I apologize. Kurt, I may have some good news for you.

He looked up quickly, blinking fast. I wouldn't ask anything of you, sir.

I know you wouldn't, he replied. Please, have a seat, both of you. He maneuvered himself behind his desk, folded his hands on the oft-polished yet still worn surface, and continued.

said the Professor, getting straight to business, I had a notion, Kurt, of something that it might be possible to create for you -- a projector of sorts. An image inducer, shall we call it. It may not be possible, so I beg of you not to get your hopes up about it. But if it could be built -- it would have to be small, something you could conceal -- then we could program it to project an image around your person, an image of a human. It could make you look normal,' or what is generally accepted as normal. The Professor looked carefully at Kurt, who had frozen stock-still and was gripping the arms of the chair tightly, and said, I only want you to think about it. If you would like me to attempt to build this... image inducer, then I will gladly try. I understand how hard your appearance must be for you sometimes -- hard to be accepted by anyone, even other mutants. It was only a thought.

Ororo, herself intrigued at the news, glanced quickly at Kurt. He was sitting very still, staring unblinkingly at his feet. His breath was slow and shallow.

Ororo ventured. The Professor raised a hand to silence her.

Think about it, Kurt, he said gently, his chair humming as he pulled out from behind his desk. If you want me to try, come see me again. I don't mind being interrupted.

Kurt nodded slowly, hesitantly, as if his mind was somewhere else completely. He felt Ororo's hand on his shoulder, so he stood up; when she said goodbye to the Professor, he muttered an absent Auf Wiedersehen and shook the Professor's offered hand, despite the fact that he was usually hesitant about shaking hands, since most people didn't want to touch his three-fingered, almost hoof-like appendages.

Stepping out in the the hall with Ororo guiding him gently, he felt himself being led back to his room. Walking down the hall, Ororo couldn't help but think about what an enormous burden had just been dropped on Kurt's mind; he had probably never even thought about being anything but blue-skinned and hated for the rest of his life.

she said, prying his tightly-gripping hand off her own, this is your room.

he muttered, and opened the door without particularly looking at it.

she said quickly, before she lost her nerve, you know the Professor only wants to help you. There's nothing... wrong with the way you look. Just -- a little disconcerting. I'm sure the kids here wouldn't really mind at all, if they got to know you.

He snapped out of his daze long enough to look at her clearly and muster a small, unfelt smile. Sie sind zu freundlich... sorry. I mean to say, your... your words are too kind, but ich danke... ah, I thank you for them. I'm sorry, I cannot think in two languages now. I need some time... bitte. Please.

Ororo nodded quickly. Of course, I understand. But you know, you're welcome anywhere in the mansion, anytime. Come by my classroom when school's out one day, I'll introduce you to some of the kids... and I swear to you, they won't care one bit what you look like.

Kurt shifted his weight from one foot to the other, repeated one last time, smiled again at Ororo, and waited for her to turn away before he closed the door.

He teleported across the room in his agitation, bamfing into existence next to the window. Fumbling open a latch built for a five-fingered hand, he threw open the shutters and glass panes. The open air felt better on his dark skin than the air in his room, which now seemed warm and stuffy; he sprang onto the windowsill and crouched low there, gripping the frame tightly with his opposable toes. He lashed his tail wildly, feeling no need to still its motion this time. Calm reflection all but forgotten, Kurt could do nothing more than put his head in his three-fingered hands and wait out the furious maelstrom of thoughts and emotions that his mind had become.

To look human -- to be average, normal, accepted -- while in doing so defying his own real nature, which, though he was not proud of it, was still the basic essence of himself. But... to look like other people, even like the other mutants, with their white skin and five fingers and normal, shod feet... His father's hair had been brown, he knew, he remembered (such a faint, distant memory)... not this thick, coarse black that was almost like fur. But -- his tattoos -- surely no normal human would have such markings. But they were sacred to him, he cherished them -- he had inflicted them on himself, cutting and cauterizing delicately, knowing that he only had the one skin of his own to mar, that if he made a mistake on the first try, there would be no subsequent attempts. He couldn't hide those symbols as if they were things to be ashamed of, for they weren't; they weren't images to be covered up and ignored, like the fangs, the tail, the pointed ears.

How could the Professor ask such a decision of him? Xavier was much too intelligent and insightful not to realize what an inner turmoil the question would cause Kurt. He had to have known it would be this hard before he even asked... after all, Kurt thought ruefully, he was psychic.

Gott, hilf mir, he whispered to himself, cradling his head in his arms and giving in to the utter confusion pervading his mind.

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Xavier was just in the middle of reading Rahne Sinclair's physics paper when there was a very slight, almost inaudible knock on his office door. Sighing, he glanced,' as it were, at the caller behind the door -- and smiled. He had been expecting Kurt to come back, sooner or later.

Come in, he called. He didn't call people in by name, even though he knew who they were before they opened the door; it tended to unnerve them.

The shadowy man slipped inside Xavier's office without making the slightest sound. He seemed to be hiding behind his high-collared overcoat, and his posture was even more slouched than usual. He stood just inside the door, making no move to come any further. Xavier didn't have to be psychic to know that he was afraid of what he was about to ask.

Xavier said amiably, greeting rather than questioning.

Kurt took a deep breath, composing himself as well as he could. It would be a lie to say that I have never dreamed of looking like a normal human, he said without preamble, being careful not to revert to speaking in German, as he often did under stress. That this dream of mine could be made real is unsettling, to say the least. But I will not deny who I really am, and I know it would not be your way to ask me to do so. So, I come for more information before I make a decision.

Xavier nodded understandingly, although Kurt was projecting his thoughts so strongly at the moment that he needn't have even spoken.

How will this... image inducer work? Permanently?

Oh no, it would be very simple to turn on and off. It could be programmed to project any image at all, of course, but would most likely have a default setting of your choosing.

It would not interfere with my teleporting?

I can't say that for certain yet, the Professor replied honestly. I won't be able to begin work on the device until I have more detailed data about your powers. A few scans, some measurements... and I will have to take some readings while you teleport. But beyond that, you need have no hand in the project.

Kurt nodded and sighed slowly. He was silent for a long moment; but finally he said, I would be forever indebted to you, Professor, if you would attempt to create this thing for me. I can but ask...

I'm perfectly glad to help you in any way I can, Kurt, Xavier said, smiling. I can't sit and grade physics papers all day, anyway.

Kurt ventured an upward glance at the Professor, and found himself looking directly into light blue eyes. Instantly self-conscious of his own yellow ones, he quickly looked away. The movement was not lost on Xavier, who kept it stored away in his mind as another sign to watch out for.

Well, then, said Xavier, gliding out from behind his desk. Follow me to the lower levels, if you will, and I'll take the measurements I need.
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Translations (big thanks to starfish for sorting me out here):
Nichts, ich habe nur gerade... = Nothing, I just...
Auf Wiedersehen =
Sie sind zu freundlich = Your words are kind
Gott, hilf mir = God help me