Chapter 22

Lt's Over?

Kurt lay limply on the run down sofa and numbly watched the early news. Long ago, back in the lovely O'Hare airport, he'd sworn to himself to never stay up all night long again. Now he had gone against that personal oath and hadn't slept a wink since yesterday. On the TV screen, the news anchor droned on about the weather forecast for a while, before transitioning into a sports report. With a yawn, he flipped over onto his other side so that he faced the back of the couch instead of the television. He hated the news, he didn't even know why he'd turned it on in the first place.

As his eyes studied the faded pattern on the couch pillows, His mind drifted back to the events that led to his sleepless night…

When Kitty vanished from his sight, he ignored Amanda's nervous invitation for him to stay and set off after them. He pushed his way through the crowd, for once not caring if he accidentally brushed a furry part of himself against the bare skin of a stranger. The flashing lights tried to blind him and the loud music tried to deafen him, but he pressed on without thinking twice about it. But even with his speedy trek towards the door, he still had lost all sight of them by the time he reached it.

Moving on a sort of pseudo-autopilot, he slipped into the hallway, made sure no one was watching, and flicked off his hologram. These back hallways were poorly lighted, with the bulbs mounted on the walls instead of on the ceiling. Hanging from the ceiling was a mess of pipes that had no coverings and plenty of space all around. This made it much simpler for the maintenance people to do their jobs, but it also gave him the perfect way to travel unseen.

A hop, some twisting and squirming, and he found his way into the dark recess between the hanging pipes and the actual ceiling. Some small secondary mutation linked to his radical appearance made it possible for him to become almost totally invisible when he was in deep shadow. The only thing that even those with the sharpest eyes could ever see when he was hidden this way, was his eerie yellow eyes floating in a pool of blackness. So long as he made no noise, no one would ever see him.

He raced along the pipes down every hallway, doubling back when he hit dead-ends, until he caught up with the pair. It was very lucky for him that he located them when he did. Just as he fell in behind them, they went through a door that led outside. He darted between the pipes and just barely managed to scramble over the top of the doorway as the door was closing. He missed having his tail pinched by barely a quarter of a second.

The Nightcrawler clambered up the alley wall and perched on a fire escape he found. From this vantage point, he was invisible to the pair below but he could still hear what they said quite clearly. He listened in complete silence as they exchanged their words, making careful note of anything that seemed important. The information that Lance was also a Mutant was definitely something to take into consideration, as was what his power seemed to be. However, the mention of this 'Brotherhood' meant nothing to him, though Kitty appeared to be greatly bothered by it.

He watched with swiftly rising concern as the situation went from bad to worse. His heart just about stopped when Lance began to drag her away. The shadowed demon waited nervously, giving Kitty a chance to free and take care of things herself. She was supposed to be able to handle things all by herself and he had to let her try. When she started screaming his fur stood on end and when Lance hit her the first time he bristled. But when Lance drew her blood, it was the last straw.

Back when he was in training at the Facility, fighting meant very little to him. He did it simple because he had no choice. He never liked or looked forward to fight training, but he didn't hate or dread it either. It was just something that he had to do, an emotionless, meaningless task. But now it was different. Now he was angry, he wanted to fight, he wanted to cause another pain. Only his strict conditioning kept him from leaping off the wall and roaring like a wild beast before savagely killing the lousy bastard.

Instead, he rushed down the wall like a deadly shadow. He lunged at Lance's back and tore him roughly away from his victim. When Lance landed a few yards away on the cold pavement, Nightcrawler went after him again. This time he tackled the club bouncer and began pounding him into the ground. When the man tried to fight back, he jumped back, hit him with a few more blows, and finished things with a whip-crack of his tail to Lance's face. This last hit sent the bloodied man crumpling to the ground out cold.

With Lance neutralized, he dashed back for Kitty. The sounds of screaming and struggle would likely have gained the attention of outsiders and he had no desire to deal with them. He swept the stunned bloody girl into his arm and teleported back to the apartment. They rematerialized in the living room area and he finally took the time to really look at her. And then she suddenly broke down into hysterical tears.

Kurt found himself at a total loss as to what he was supposed to do. Feeling terribly awkward, he nervously hugged her to his chest, vainly trying to soothe her tears away. His clumsy effort did nothing to stem the tide of salty tears that soaked his shirt along with blood that continued to leak from her nose. Only time and exhaustion ended her sobs and then he'd tried to clean her up a bit before putting her to bed. Then he flopped down on the couch to recover his wits…

…And he was still there.

Shaking his head to clear the slowly forming cobwebs, he sat up with the intention of making himself some breakfast. He stumbled into the tiny kitchen and went for the usual, a pair of frozen waffles toasted in the toaster and a glass of fruit juice. He numbly devoured his food and drank his juice without really tasting it. His mind was more troubled with what he'd done and how he felt about.

He'd never hit anyone without being told to do it. He needed permission from a superior to engage in any violent, or potentially violent, course of action. In the past, he'd sometimes threatened, hinted at, or implied violence, but those were empty bluffs. He would never have gone through with those bluffs unless he was given the permission to do so. This time, he'd done it all on his own. He looked for no permission, he hadn't even thought about getting any. It was a big and terrible step for him.

And then there were his feelings concerning the fight. His tail lashed jerkily as he recalled the emotions that had filled him at the time. He'd been enraged beyond description at Lance's cruel treatment of a girl who had adored him the previous day. He'd been infuriated by the man's arrogance and incensed by his thoughtless resort to violence. And worst of all, the sight and scent of blood, her blood, had sparked something primal in him. If he'd had the time, he would've beaten Lance much worse, and enjoyed every strike.

With a shudder of revulsion at his near ferality, he finished off his breakfast and took care of his used dishes. It was about then that he realized that he was still wearing that bloodstained shirt. Feeling vaguely ill at the sight of the dried blood, he quickly peeled it off, balled it up, and tossed it in the trash. He had no particular attachment to it and didn't care to take the effort needed to salvage it. Now shirtless, he made his way back to the couch, wrapping himself up in the blanket that lay in a heap on the floor. He flopped back down on the couch and went back to half-watching the TV.

I hope she'll be okay...

Kitty felt like crap. She couldn't decide which morning was worse, yesterday or today. Yesterday she'd been suffering a hangover; today it was a beating. As far as she could tell, the emotional trauma was about equal, the only thing she was trying to decide was what physically hurt more.

She lightly traced the few bruises she picked up overnight. There were a few on her face from being smacked and twice as many on her back from being slammed into the wall. After checking her lips, she decided that it had been her nose that had been doing all the bleeding. Stiffly she sat up to discover that she was in bed. Kitty frowned, she didn't remember getting in bed. In fact, she didn't remember much of anything once she reappeared back in the apartment.

With a shrug and a sigh, she gathered up a change of clothes and headed off to take a shower. Kurt was nowhere in sight, but the sounds of silverware scraping against a plate told her that he was in the kitchen eating breakfast. On quiet feet, she crept into the bathroom and gratefully climbed into a steamy hot shower. She would've liked to spend all day in there just letting the warm water pour over her body, but if she did Kurt would eventually come looking for her. The thought of what he might do when he stumbled across her in the shower made her giggle a bit.

After a bit longer, she turned off the water, dried off, and dressed herself. Kitty dried her hair and put it up in its customary ponytail before really taking a good look in the mirror. She winced at the actual sight of the bruises and dug up her concealer to at least reduce, if not complete hide, the damage. It took longer than she thought it would, but she made herself presentable. She made a quick stop in the kitchen for some breakfast before seeking Kurt out.

For once she was glad that the apartment was so small. It took less than two seconds for her to find the boy she sought. He was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, and half-asleep. She air-walked (one of her favorite phasing tricks) over and sat beside him without saying a word or giving any sort of warning. Perhaps she was unusually stealthy today, or maybe he was just really tired, but whatever the reason, it took him over five minutes to realize that she was there.

"Kitty?" He asked slowly as if he didn't quite believe that she was really sitting there.

"Yes?" She asked in reply.

"When did you get up?" He mumbled.

"Maybe an hour ago, I didn't really check the time." She answered, trying to get under the blanket with him. This seemed to bring him to full wakefulness and he seemed very nervous.

"Did you get any breakfast?" He asked.

"Yep, now stop hogging the blanket." She commanded. He mutely shook his head. "Kurt, be a good boy and share." He tried to hold out, but a few more seconds of serious staring and he caved. "Thank you!" She chirped sweetly, snuggling up close to him so she could get maximum blanket coverage. This close cuddling also led her to the source Kurt's nervous embarrassment, he was clearly missing a shirt. And this knowledge led to her giggling.

"W-what's so funny?" He demanded.

"You, you're so silly!" She giggled.

"Hey," he mumbled, sounding slightly insulted.

"It's not a crime for guys to go around without a shirt on. Well, except for in restaurants, they get a little mad if you want food but don't have a shirt on when you order." Kitty snickered.

"So?" Kurt challenged childishly. Kitty only sighed and shook her head. He's so very silly sometimes.

"Hey, did you take a shower yet?" She asked after thinking for a little while.

"Uh, no." He replied.

"Well then, go do it." She ordered, releasing her grip on him and poking him in the side to hurry him on his way.

"Okay," he sighed and nervously scampered off.

Kitty lounged on the couch, taking sole possession of the blanket and Kurt's leftover body heat. As the news transitioned into a daytime talk show, she began to think. Was Kurt ashamed of his appearance? It certainly seemed that way when he flipped out when she caught him lacking in the shirt department. Or maybe he was just shy. In the end, Kitty decided that the reason for his behavior didn't really matter that much.

What did matter, was that he was a decent guy. Sure, he had a metric ton of quirks and eccentricities, but she'd learned to cope with most, if not all of them. He was cuddly, sweet, and cute in his own little way. And if she could have her way, she'd drag him off to the Institute and ask the Professor if she could keep him. It was a nice thought, but quite impossible. She smiled and started to drift into a nap filled with happy little thoughts.

Kitty was almost asleep when a familiar and dreaded 'SHNIKT' sound reached her ears. In an instant, she was on her feet and skidding towards the bathroom. There she saw Logan holding a terrified Kurt by his throat with a set of adamantium claws dangerously close to some vital organs. Poor Kurt had probably been dragged right out of the bathroom since he was in nothing but a towel. She blinked slowly as her brain tried to make sense of this truly bizarre scene.

"Logan, what are you doing?" She demanded flatly.

"Nothing important." Logan growled.

"Really? Then why have you dragged poor little Kurt out of the bathroom without his clothes?" Kitty asked, walking right up to the Canadian.

"I said that it's nothing." Logan snarled. Kitty frowned and decided to intervene more directly. She grabbed Logan's shoulder and phased him, allowing Kurt the chance to escape unharmed. After Kurt had made a barely decent mad dash into their bedroom and shut the door, she released a very irate Logan.

"Now explain yourself." Kitty commanded before the older Mutant could explode at her.

"I was about to ask you the same question." Logan grumbled. Kitty only crossed her arms over her chest and waited for her answer. "I was finding out how your blood ended up on his shirt." Logan admitted finally.

"And you didn't think to ask me first?" Kitty sighed as her mind raced, trying to figure out what the heck Logan was talking about. Logan grumbled something that she couldn't make out, but said nothing further to her on the subject.

"Start packing your bags Half-Pint." He grunted instead.

"What? Why?" Kitty asked, caught off guard by the rapid and random change of subject.

"I got those last few names I needed. We're done here. He leaves tomorrow afternoon, and you head to your parents the day after." Logan replied, and walked into his own room before Kitty could find her voice to protest.

Trapped in a sort of daze, Kitty wandered into her room phasing through the closed door. Kurt wasn't immediately in sight so she collapsed onto her bed and tried to get her mind in order. So Logan had found the last bits of information that they needed to get this group of criminals taken down. Kitty felt bad that she didn't really contribute anything, all she'd done was have fun and get in trouble with a boy. But her lack of proper participation didn't change the fact that it was over. It's all over...

Kurt cowered under his sheets hugging his pillow to his chest. He remained embarrassed by words. Kitty had seen him practically naked. True, a towel had concealed his important parts, but he'd still felt totally naked under her eyes. And now, even though he was very well covered, the awkward sensation persisted. His face was hot, his chest was tight, his stomach churned, his body trembled, and his tail was tying itself into frantic knots. Basically, he felt awful.

Then it got worse. A hand grabbed the edge of his sheets and yanked them off, leaving him staring into a pair of familiar blue eyes. Now his heart raced inside his constricted chest and his mouth went dry. He felt paralyzed by her gaze and he held his breath so long that he started to feel light-headed. If something didn't happen soon, he was sure that he was going to pass out.

"What were you doing under there?" Kitty asked finally.

"N-n-nothing," he stuttered, his accent so thick he wasn't sure that she could understand him.

"You're still embarrassed over me seeing you in nothing but a towel, aren't you?" Kitty sighed. Kurt could only sit mute and blush. "Well get over it, I didn't see anything important so there's nothing for you to worry about."

"So?" Kurt grunted, still not at all comfortable with her proximity to him.

"Whatever," Kitty sighed after a long tense pause. It was then that Kurt really got a good look at her expression. She looked very sad and worn out, nothing like her usual bright cheery self.

"Hey, are you alright?" He asked hesitantly.

"Hmm? Oh, I'll be fine. Eventually." Kitty mumbled, repositioning herself on his bed so that she was resting her back against his side.

"What do you mean by that?" He wondered warily.

"Exactly what it sounds like." She replied.

"That's not really an answer," he complained. "Now what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong; it's just that I'll have to help you pack your bags in a few hours." Kitty replied finally.

"Pack my bags?" He repeated slowly, not really comprehending what she had told him. Then it hit him, he was being sent away. He immediately tied this into Mr. Logan's attack and came to a conclusion. "How was I bad? What did I do wrong?" He asked, his voice high and strained with rising panic.

"You weren't bad and you didn't do anything wrong. It's just that, it's over, there's nothing left to do." She said softly and calmly, though she remained facing away from him.

"I-I don't understand." He half-whimpered. Somehow, he doubted that Mr. Logan would've come after him when he was naked unless he'd done something terrible.

"Logan found all the information he required, he didn't really need us to do any investigating of our own. Now the mission is done and you have to go back. Your flight is sometime tomorrow." She explained in a dull, empty voice.

Kurt blinked, bewildered by her seemingly odd statements. Logan found all the information he required? We weren't needed? It's over? For a long minute, he failed to understand. Then it all sunk in and made more sense to him. The mission was completed and now he was being sent back. Now he really felt sick. His eyes stung and his vision was blurry as his trembling arms curled around Kitty's waist. He buried his face into her back and struggled to breathe normally. For some unknown reason, his breath kept catching on its way in and out of him. But he really didn't focus on what was going on with his body, his thoughts centered around one sentence.

But I don't want it to be over, I don't want to go back...