Chapter 9: Traumatic Incident Number Two
"But how? How can a person go from one place to another in the blink of an eye"
Kurt was beginning to see why they called lust one of the seven deadly sins. If it hadn't been for lust, his lust unfortunately, he wouldn't be in this situation. He climbed a few branches higher and looked down. Surely they couldn't see him up here. A moment later he heard voices and the barking of a large dog, which stopped under his tree. Kurt held his breath but the dog looked up and started barking anyway.
"Shhh." He put his finger to his lips, but the dog kept up its baying. Kurt shut his eyes, leaning against the tree trunk, trying to blend in as much as possible.
The girl's name had been Lola, at least that's what she said her name was. Now that Kurt thought about it, he couldn't imagine anyone really being named Lola, especially not in rural France. She was about 15 with auburn hair that fell around her shoulders in soft ringlets. She had come to see the circus; he'd spotted her in the audience the first night. She was dressed provocatively, not to the point where she looked sleazy, but in a way that gave Kurt ideas.
He couldn't help but notice her again in the audience the night after that. On the third night she stayed after the performance was over and gave him a rose. At the time he'd been both surprised and pleased, but Lars had teased him about it so mercilessly that he pretended he didn't care. He'd left the dressing area, still carrying the rose when Lola stepped out of the shadows.
"Don't you ever take your costume off?" She'd asked.
For the first time in his life Kurt was speechless. "Um. Yeah. Most of it." He'd managed after a moment of stammering.
Lola gave a coy smile, showing straight white teeth offset by pink lipstick. "That's okay. I like that."
It hadn't taken very long for her to convince Kurt that they should find a private spot where he could take the rest of his costume off. Thinking back on it, he supposed that something about her made him ignore the part of his brain that was telling him he couldn't take the rest of his costume off no matter who was asking.
They'd kissed under a large poplar tree and it had been wonderful. Unfortunately it was interrupted by the discovery that his ears didn't come off. This was immediately followed by the realization that his tail was permanently attached. It wasn't long before Kurt was sitting alone under the tree wondering how he would ever get a girlfriend even if it was for only one evening. He certainly hadn't expected her father to show up the next day.
He hadn't shown up alone either; he had friends with him and a large dog straining against its leash. The three men, each with a shotgun under their arm had marched into their camp. It was one of the rare moments when nobody was there but Kurt. It was threatening rain so everyone was sitting under the tent. Kurt was only there because he'd wanted to grab something to eat from their van.
Kurt had been chased before. He sometimes even made a game of it though if Margali had caught him she would have skinned him. Usually people who caught a glimpse of him simply wanted to chase him away, not catch him. And on the occasion that someone did get it into their head to capture him, he kept the game up until he was tired of it and then hid in the shadows until his pursuers got bored and went away. No one had ever chased him with a gun.
"We've got him. He's up there."
Kurt looked down in dismay. The three men milled around beneath the tree. The dog was still barking but they couldn't see him. Lola's father brought the shotgun to his shoulder and aimed up into the branches.
"This will show the little creep was happens to freaks who take advantage of my daughter." He fired the gun into the tree, much too close for Kurt's comfort. He shielded his face against a shower of shattered branches. This was getting to be too much. He inched out on to the branch as far as he could and leapt into the closest tree.
He caught the tip of a branch, which bent crazily for a moment until he scrambled up to where it was thick enough to support his weight. He crossed around the tree trunk and ran out onto another branch until he was close enough to leap to the next tree. The noise alerted the dog and the three men followed, firing their shotguns up into the trees as he went. None of their shots came close; Kurt realized they could hear him, but they couldn't see him. They continued this way until Kurt ran out of trees.
"I didn't mean to scare her." Kurt called down in French. The result was a spray of twigs and needles as a shotgun blast was fired in his direction. He climbed a little higher. "Please, I'll come down and we can talk about it. I'm sorry. Just stop shooting at me."
"No point Demon boy, I don't forgive rapists." This pronouncement was followed by several more blasts from various shotguns. The tree was getting awfully thin. Kurt was shocked. Rape? He'd kissed her and then she'd tried to rip his ears off. How was that rape? Maybe he'd heard him wrong.
"I don't understand. My French isn't that great. Do you know German or…" But his attempt at diplomacy was interrupted when he had to duck another spray of foliage. A large portion of the trunk uncomfortably close to his head had been blown out.
"I said you were a rapist. Die Vergewaltigung," was the reply. Kurt's heart sank: he'd heard the man right the first time. But he hadn't forced her to do anything. It had been her idea.
"No. That's not true. I would never do such a thing." Kurt called down as he climbed a bit higher. He was running out of tree.
"Are you calling my daughter a liar?"
Kurt swallowed. "No, I just…" The branch under him cracked and gave way. He tried to leap back to the trunk, but there wasn't enough leverage. He fell, branches holding him for a moment and then snapping under his weight as he dropped. Kurt shut his eyes. "Please God, please let me be anywhere but here," he prayed silently. There was a deafening crack, followed by a sensation that wasn't quite pain and for a moment Kurt wondered if he'd been shot. He hit the ground so hard it knocked the wind out of him and the world went black.
It was the feeling of being cold that made Kurt open his eyes. He'd never suffered from vertigo before and for the first time he realized how terrible it was as the world spun and tilted around him. The strange thing was that he was staring at the grey sky. The tree was gone, and he was alone. He sat up, trying to clear his head, and realized with a start that he was naked. With a cry of surprise Kurt staggered to his feet. Had those men done something to him? Had they taken his clothes? But when he looked down he was fine, just naked. Where had his clothes gone?
Kurt looked around. He was standing near a clump of bushes about twenty feet from their main tent. How had he gotten here, he wondered. He'd run away from the camp away from the tents, not toward them. Had God heard his prayer and somehow moved him? Put him here to keep him safe? Kurt was contemplating this when there was a flash of light accompanied by a loud "bamf" sound. There was a man standing there with his hands clasped behind his back. He was very well dressed in a fine suit and tie. Kurt dove into the bushes.
"Modest are we?" The man said. He was German or at least he was speaking German.
Kurt peeked out from behind the branches. "Hello?" He said tentatively.
The man smiled. "Ah. There you are. Well, come out. Let me see you."
Kurt blanched. "Who are you?" He asked, shifting to hide himself better.
"You don't know?" The stranger scratched his chin. "That is interesting. I'm surprised you're alive actually. Until just a few hours ago, I'd completely lost track of you."
"You know me?"
"Of course I know you. You were born just outside of Oberammergau, in some Godforsaken little Barvarian village without a name. A well meaning priest set fire to the house where you and your apparently dead mother lay, but an even more well meaning gypsy woman ran in and saved you. She named you Kurt, after the circus strong man. You started putting yourself on display for the entertainment of others when you were six. Have I left anything out?"
"A priest?" Kurt said in surprise. Margali never told him that part of the story. "What kind of priest?"
"I don't know." The man said, irritation apparent in his voice. "The kind with crosses and those little white collar things. Now are you going to come out or not?"
Kurt shook his head.
The man sighed. "Fine." He pulled one hand from behind his back to reveal Kurt's clothes, neatly folded. He tossed them over the bush. Not bothering to wonder why this man had his clothes, Kurt dressed hurriedly and started searching his pockets.
"Looking for this?"
Kurt looked up and saw that the man had taken the other hand from behind his back to reveal Kurt's rosary dangling casually from an outstretched finger. Kurt stepped forward out of the bushes.
"Yes." He said firmly. "Give it to me."
The stranger laughed. "Suit yourself." He said and tossed it over. Kurt quickly looped it around one of the belt loops of his pants so he didn't lose it again. The man was now circling around him as though looking for flaws in a piece of sculpture.
"You know you have your mother's eyes, but the rest of you is the spitting image of me." He said.
"I've got what? Who are you?" Kurt said in disbelief. Other than the dark curls, the man looked nothing like him. He was …normal.
"Ah. Does this help." The change was so gradual that Kurt didn't notice it was happening first, but a transformation was taking place, the man's skin reddening and his posture shifting until Kurt could see that the man had been right. Other than the color of his skin, Kurt looked just like him. He swallowed hard.
"Would I be repeating myself if I asked you who you were?" Kurt said in a small voice.
The man smiled. "Yes, but I'll answer it anyway. I'm your father."
Kurt didn't quite know how to take this news. It was hard to believe that a few minutes ago a man accusing him of being a rapist was chasing him. Now, in a totally different place another man, with a tail, was telling him that he was his son. Kurt narrowed his eyes, "How can you be my father? My father died."
"You did see my little trick a moment ago didn't you?"
"Yes."
"So, I can appear as whomever I like. A talent you apparently don't have."
Kurt looked down at his hands. "Apparently not." He said. "But Margali never mentioned you. How did you get out of the house?"
To Kurt's surprise the man burst into hysterical laughter. "Not too bright are you?" He said, "I'd say you yourself discovered the answer to that question a little while ago."
"I did?"
The man gestured around them. "How do you think you got here?" He pointed off into the distance. "You were over there before."
Kurt scratched his head. "Yeah, I was."
"Well then, how do you think you ended up here?" He gave Kurt an indulgent smile, like he was humoring a little child.
Kurt said the only possible explanation he could think of. "God?"
The man widened his eyes in disbelief and his fit of laughter lasted for several minutes. He wiped the tears from his eyes. "God? Don't be ridiculous. I'll give you another guess."
"You?"
"Closer. Three guesses then."
Kurt shrugged. "That leaves me. Or something I don't know about."
"Let's go with you for now." The man said.
"Okay. But how? How can a person go from one place to another in the blink of an eye?" Kurt asked. He didn't like this man claiming to be his father, but his curiosity was certainly piqued. There had to be some explanation to how he'd ended up here.
The man looked at his watch. "I can see this is going to take a while. Too long, actually. I'll let you figure that one out for yourself. Goodbye then."
"Wait!" Kurt shouted before the man could disappear.
"Yes?"
"Who was my mother?"
The man smiled. "Your mother was…complicated. Another conversation perhaps."
"Another question then." Kurt said. It was odd that even though this man had appeared before him in the strangest of ways, Kurt believed him. "What is your name?"
"Ah. I believe your foster mother has some very informative books on that subject. I can't give anything away at once can I?" The man bent down and with his finger drew a series of marks in the dirt. They glowed from behind as though lit by fire. "Do you recognize this?" He asked.
Kurt bent down and examined the shapes. He let out a gasp. "I do." He said. They were the markings that Margali's sister had put on their door to scare him away when she had visited last year. He had transferred them neatly onto a smaller piece of paper that was now folded and tucked into the pages of his bible. He looked up. "But this is angel writing. You don't look like an angel." Kurt paused. "Neither do I."
The indulgent smile that Kurt was already learning to hate was back. At least the man wasn't laughing this time. "You know," he said, "You might not be as stupid as I first thought but you are definitely somewhat…quaint." Kurt glowered at him.
"Demons and angels are one in the same. They just have different agendas if you get my meaning." He clapped Kurt on the back. "You'll get it all figured out one day I'm sure." He pointed at the mark, which was fading into the dirt. "Draw it in the ground." He said. "Add a drop of your blood. I'll know it's you and I'll come."
"Now," he said, standing up. "Though you did travel here in the 'blink of an eye' as you said, you might be interested to know that you've been lying in this field unconscious for hours not minutes. I believe it's almost time to put yourself on display again."
"But I…" Kurt's response was cut short by a burst of dark smoke as the man left in the same manner in which he had arrived. Kurt looked around feeling vaguely disoriented. He still wasn't sure what had happened to him. Even leaving out the man who had just appeared and disappeared in front of his eyes, exactly what had he done to get himself out of that tree and into this field? And how had he gotten out of his clothes? He scratched his head, wondering if perhaps he had dreamed the whole thing.
A break in the clouds showed him that it was indeed getting to be towards evening. Everyone was probably already getting ready and wondering where he was. Kurt started to jog back towards their camp when an idea occurred to him. Could he really just zap himself from one place to another? It would certainly be quicker than running. Kurt shut his eyes and asked God to take him to his trailer. He opened them. He was still standing in the field behind the tent. Feeling a little silly he started to jog towards the camp. It was definitely the strangest day he'd ever had.
Author's note:
I originally was going to leave Nightcrawler's canon parents out of the story. Mystique has way too many offspring and the whole thing with Azazel was just too odd. While I was looking for a good image of the enochian symbols on Nightcrawler's face I ran across this page and changed my mind.
http: whole thing is interesting, but here is the key paragraph:
"Enoch is the fabled author of a number of mystical and magical texts that deal largely with the fallen angels of God, known collectively as the Watchers, whose task it was to watch over humanity from the four Watchtowers at the corners of creation. These Watchers observed that human women were beautiful and lusted after them. A group of Watchers, led by an angel known by a variety of names, among them Azazel, descended to the earth and adopted material forms so that they could dwell with mortal women. Their consorts bore them sons and daughters who were half-human and half-angelic."
So, Kurt's father remains the same. I don't really deal with the whole Mystique thing at all. In fact it's really up to the reader. If you like Mystique as his mother, then the midwife is Mystique giving an Oscar worthy performance in order to escape and the woman on the bed is the midwife after Mystique killed her. (And arranging for a priest to burn down your house is apparently equally ineffective as throwing your child over a waterfall.) If you don't like Mystique as his mother then that really was a midwife, his real mother was really on the bed, and Mystique has nothing to do with any of it. Other than comment about Kurt's eyes, which could mean anything really, I give no clues about who it is. Therefore, the choice is yours…
(As you may notice, the page is on Elijah Wood's site. I surfed around for a few minutes and have since decided that Elijah Wood is completely insane. Check out his site and you'll see what I mean. It's scary. And he's so earnest about it that it's even scarier. My only hope is that this is some kind of hoax.)
