Chapter 44: Useless Disquises

"You're not the only one on this train that people are afraid of."

Kurt looked out the window at the scenery rushing by. The closer the train came to Hamburg, the more familiar the landscape became until he could recognize familiar landmarks from earlier trips. Despite the many inconveniences it created for him, he always loved it when Margali abandoned her well-loved van in favor of the train.

Kurt had lived in Europe all his life and seen more of it than most, but it had always been through the windshield of a vehicle. And even when they stopped, he still wasn't truly free for then he viewed the world from behind the barrier that was Nightcrawler, as though the character he played was a shell around his true self. It was like seeing everything from inside a bubble, like he was some kind of rare artifact able to exist only if he remained protected.

On the train, he'd still watched the world go by through a window, but it was different. It wasn't just him and his family alone in the van, there were other people in the car with them. And while it was annoying that he had to wear shoes and pretend to sleep under a blanket the whole ride, there was a certain excitement to it. He liked going to the station, watching Margali or Amanda buy tickets for them, and then getting to sneak onto the train in his big coat. When traveling as a family, they always sat in a group of four seats facing each other and the rule was that he always got the window seat next to Margali while Amanda and Stephani had to fight over who got the window in the pair of seats across from him. That way, he could usually angle himself so he couldn't be seen at all from the aisle, but could still peak out from under the blanket to see out the window. It was true that he missed all the goofing off and roughhousing they did when traveling in their van; things which Stephani and Amanda were still free to do, he could still get in a few sneak attacks with his tail under the blankets, stifling his giggles so that his brother and sister blamed each other rather than him.

He always liked the idea of traveling with so many strangers, sharing an experience with them instead of providing one. It was the only time in his life when he was part of the audience, all of them watching the scenery pass by; getting tiny glimpses of the lives lived along the train track, like watching a film of the world. Combined with the fact that nearly all train travel had been to and from visits to Father Dietrich, he had come to associate trains and train travel with happy memories. Even so, this trip was different. This wasn't an ordinary visit to Father Dietrich's. And there were still so many questions in his mind.

What was it that what had happened to him in Brighton? He still had only the most fleeting memories, but he remembered staring at the water from the pier, not as Nightcrawler, but as Kurt Wagner, who was seventeen and happened to be a circus aerialist besides, and who liked the ocean and boats as long as he wasn't on them. The fact that he was blue, had a tail, and looked like an embodiment of what for centuries people had given the label "demon" seemed completely irrelevant. But had it been? Because the next thing he could clearly remember was that people who had known him for years were suddenly afraid of him. Even Father Dietrich had looked at him with fear in his eyes. Was that the price he had had to pay for his transgression, for daring to be himself in public for just five minutes?

Kurt frowned, it wasn't true; he did have one other clear memory. Azazel had been there. But why? Since when had Azazel ever had anything to do with him other than that single appearance when they were introduced? While Kurt had committed the sigil that Azazel had drawn in the dirt to memory, he had done so mainly to ensure that he never drew it accidentally. And yet he was sure Azazel had been there.

There was movement on the seat beside him and Kurt turned to look. Now that they were getting close to Hamburg, Father Dietrich had gone to change. Kurt hadn't liked the idea of being left alone, but since he certainly couldn't have joined him, nor asked Father Dietrich to change his clothes in the passenger compartment, he had remained silent. He was way too hot with both his hooded coat and the blanket, but he figured it was better that way so he stared out the window trying to think cool thoughts.

The sound next to him didn't sound like Father Dietrich so Kurt tried to turn and see what was going on without actually letting anyone see him, which turned out to be impossible. It was a boy about ten years old. He had dark hair, a pair of keen brown eyes, and the kind of sturdy classical features that seemed unique to Germany. He looked like what Kurt would have imagined Wolfgang looking like at that age, already handsome and destined to only become more so.

"Whoa. What are you?" The boy asked, a little too loudly.

Kurt had been trying to hold his hood over his face with his good hand. He let go. There was no point in hiding now, but there was no reason to cause a scene either. He put his finger over his lips. "Shhh. I think what you meant was 'who are you'," he said, "and it's not polite to ask unless you introduce yourself first."

The boy looked slightly taken aback. He moved as though to leave which would have been fine with Kurt, but then stood his ground. "Are you really blue?" The boy asked.

Kurt turned away. He knew it was rude, but he didn't feel like answering such obvious questions. They rode in silence for a few minutes. The boy tapped Kurt on the shoulder.

"My name is Kurt," the boy said.

Kurt turned around with mild disinterest. "That's my name too," he said. He was surprised when that boy's face lit up.

"Really? That's so cool. There's another boy named Kurt in my school, but he's mean. Are you a monster?" He asked.

Kurt shut his eyes in exasperation. "Of course not," he said, "I'm an acrobat in the circus."

"Wow. That's even cooler than being a monster!" The boy announced.

Kurt had to laugh. "I guess it is," he said.

"Is your name really Kurt too?"

"Yes." Kurt said with a nod.

The boy settled back into his seat, seeming perfectly happy to have taken up residence there. "I was named after my great grandfather. Where you named after anyone?"

"You ask a lot of questions, but yes, I was named after the strongman in our circus."

"Was he really strong?"

Kurt smiled and nodded. "He could lift one of the big tent poles all by himself. And he used to let me ride on his shoulders."

The boy nodded curtly as though he felt this was sufficient to qualify the man as strong and changed course. "How come you only have three fingers instead of five?" He asked.

"Because that's how many fingers God gave me." Kurt said.

The younger Kurt nodded again as though satisfied with this answer as well. "How come you have a hood on? Can I see what you look like?"

Kurt shook his head. "No, people are sometimes afraid of how I look." He said sadly. The truth was, he wanted nothing more than to take his hood off. He was used to wearing a lot of layers, but the cast on his arm seemed to be messing with his ability to regulate his body temperature and he was uncomfortably warm.

"That's stupid." The boy said with a frown. "Why would they be afraid of the way God made you?"

Kurt decided he didn't mind the boy all that much. At least he asked some good questions. "I honestly don't know," he said.

A woman stopped beside them and Kurt turned away quickly to look out the window again. He tried to concentrate on the scenery going by, but beside him the boy was tapping him enthusiastically on the shoulder.

"This is my mom." He said. "Mom! He's from the circus. His name is Kurt too. He's blue."

Kurt looked around and gave her a quick closed mouth smile before turning back to the window. He figured it wouldn't be long now before his new companion was gone so there was no point in being overly polite.

"Let's go honey. He doesn't want to be bothered." The woman said.

But the boy protested. "We were talking." He said. "I'm not bothering you am I?"

To Kurt's own surprise, he should his head. "It's fine, Miss," he said, still not looking directly at her. "He can stay if he likes. I don't mind."

"See" the boy Kurt said.

"Do you really perform in a circus?" The woman asked.

Kurt nodded his head and then realized that from within the hood, she probably couldn't see the gesture. "Yes," he said aloud, "I'm an aerialist and an acrobat." She didn't seem frightened of him at all. In fact, her attitude was much like her son's, curious and nothing more. It made Kurt wonder how many people out there were like her.

"Is that difficult?" She asked.

"No. I mean, it's hard work, but it's not difficult. Not for me." Kurt said. "But, I've been doing it all my life."

"Did you always look like that?" The boy asked.

"Kurt!" His mother said sternly.

Kurt jumped instinctively at the sound of his name and the boy laughed. "It's okay." Kurt said. "And yes, I have."

"That's so cool." The boy said. "I wish I looked like you. I wouldn't hide though. I'd be like…" The boy started making scary faces and postures. "Everyone would think it was really cool," he said.

Kurt watched the boy with a look of consternation. He had no idea did he?

His mother gave Kurt an apologetic shrug. "You know where I'm sitting then," she said. "If he starts bothering you, just tell him to come back and sit with me."

"I will." Kurt said. He watched her go and then looked back at his new companion who was still sitting in Father Dietrich's seat, apparently thrilled with the arrangement.

Not one to keep quiet for very long, the boy started telling Kurt stories about school, which he found very interesting. He wondered if that was what school had been like for Stephani when he was younger. Though Stephani always brought home books and papers for Kurt to see, he rarely talked about what life at school was like.

"Ah, we have a guest," a familiar voice said after they had been talking for about ten minutes. Kurt looked up and saw it was Father Dietrich, now properly attired returning to his seat. He figured they must be very close to Hamburg.

The boy smiled. "Hi," he said with a casual wave.

"His name is Kurt too." Kurt said.

"Are you really a real priest?" The younger Kurt asked.

Father Dietrich laughed. "I'm afraid so," he said.

The boy got up so Father Dietrich could sit down and then sat on the arm of Father Dietrich's seat, apparently not ready to leave yet. "Where are you going?" He asked.

"To my church in Hamburg." Said Father Dietrich.

"I'm going to Hamburg too! My grandparents live there." The boy shouted enthusiastically.

They continued their conversation, with the boy asking questions about everything under the sun while Kurt and Father Dietrich took turns attempting the answer them. The boy seemed thrilled to have such a unique fount of knowledge at his disposal and stepped up his questions until he had the both of them scratching their head.

"I think we maybe speaking to the next Descartes." Father Dietrich commented.

"Who's Descartes?" The young Kurt asked.

Before Father Dietrich could answer the train lurched as it rounded a sharp bend of track. The boy fell off the chair arm and landed in Father Dietrich's lap.

"Oops." Said Father Dietrich as he helped him back to his feet and brushed him off. "Maybe that's not such a good place to sit."

"It certainly is not." Said a stern voice. It was the boy's mother, whom Kurt had met a few minutes earlier.

The three of them looked up.

"This is my mom." The boy said to Father Dietrich.

To Kurt's surprise she took her son by the arm and pulled him in close to herself, laying a protect arm over his shoulders. "Don't you dare touch him again," she said glaring at Father Dietrich.

"I assure you I meant no harm." Father Dietrich said.

Kurt was speechless. It was almost like she was afraid of Father Dietrich. But why? He couldn't begin to imagine.

"Let's go Kurt" the woman said, "come back and sit with me now."

"But we were talking" the boy protested.

"Not anymore. Let's go," she said and without another word she pulled her still protesting son towards the other end of the train.

Kurt was thoroughly confused. He looked over at Father Dietrich who had taken his glasses off and rubbed a hand across his eyes.

"It's so frustrating." Father Dietrich said before Kurt could speak.

"What's frustrating, Father?"

Father Dietrich looked surprised as he put his glasses back on. "Sometimes I think you're lucky to live the life you lead," he told Kurt.

Kurt was even more confused. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"You're not constantly bombarded by opinions. Your views on the world are your own, not what you've been forced to think by reporting biased towards presenting things in the worst possible light," said Father Dietrich.

Kurt had never heard him say anything like that before. It sounded like the kind of thing Wolfgang or Christian would say. "Ummm…" Kurt started to speak, but wasn't sure what to ask.

"It is very common for the news to portray priests as…" Father Dietrich paused, " as taking advantage of the close relationship they have with their younger parishioners."

Kurt scratched his head. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"I can explain better when we get home if you like," Father Dietrich said, "but the short version is that you're not the only one on this train that people are afraid of."