So once again our delightful friend Nyltiak making me write against my will. She says she needs her angst fix. She's... umm... PERSUASIVE when she wants to be.

Mort: See! Isn't she SCARY?

Me: I SAID NOTHING OF THE SORT! I PROMISE, KIRA! IT WAS ALL HIM!

Mort: But... you just... DON'T HURT ME!

Me: SHUT UP! BE RESPECTFUL!

Nyltiak: Heeheehee!

So here we go!

Gremblin: Hives are gone! YAAY! Oh, and we all know it's true about Scott and X-head.

ToadMorty: NOT THE PLUSHIES! ANYTHING BUT THE PLUSHIES!

Nyltiak: I'm updating! Praise me!

Aan het etage! That's Dutch!

Chapter 6: This fic is like the energizer bunny! It just keeps going and going and going...

Mystique's POV:

Jean smiled, unsure. The witch next to her avoided looking at him, which seemed to make him more mad than standing up and taunting him would have.

I put a hand on his shoulder to snap him out of his daze. "Don't worry. She's not going to hurt you."

"Damn right she's not gonna hurt me. She's no' gonna touch me. The bitch won' be livin' five seconds more," he growled.

"Stop that," I groaned.

"Stop wha'?"

"Making empty threats- it's unbecoming."

"It's no' an empty threat. I'm gonna kick tha' whore so hard tha' brains'll shoot outta 'er ears."

I stepped back, and looked him up and down exaggeratedly. "Then do it."

He hobbled over, leaning heavily on the cane for support, and stood up almost straight when he reached the table. It looked like it hurt. "Oy, bitch," he spat at her, "I oughtta kill you righ' now."

She looked at him him amusedly. Bitch. Normally I let him take the fall for his big-talking, but this was too painful to watch. I stepped over. "Mort, sit down, you're making an ass of yourself," I said loud enough for all of them to hear.

He stood looking at the chair as if he was about to sit down for a few seconds, then looked up at me, and I remembered that he needed help. Bending his stomach still hurt. He looked so embarrassed as I lowered him into the chair.

"It looks like you're feeling a little better, then, Mort?" asked Jean.

He glared at the table and muttered in a grumpy snarl, "Fine. Don' call me tha'."

She looked nervous. "I'm sorry. It's just that Mystique just- and I thought..."

"Don't worry about it, Jean," I assured her before elbowing Mort, "Nicer when he's delirious, isn't he? Just wait 'til you get him off the painkillers. He's just ponies and rainbows then."

He rolled his head towards me lazily. "I am sitting righ' 'ere, you know."

"Who could miss you?" sneered Storm.

His eyes fixed into a glare. "Guess I'm pretty obvious, huh? Ya know, I'd prolly miss you if it weren't for the bitch radiating off ya."

"I've yet to decide if the scars I left you are an improvement, frog."

Jean stood up. "Ororo! For heaven's sake!"

He kept at it, and I had no wish to stop him. "So why haven' you been sacked yet? Don't the X-ies have some rule about attempted murder?"

"I wasn't the only one trying to kill that night."

"Ah, bu' I'm no' in a non-violent pussy organization."

"If that's how you feel about it, I'm sure the Professor will arrange to have you returned to the pond you came from."

"Ororo, stop it!" ordered the red-head.

"Oh, I don' think your professor will be ready to come down for a while." What?

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Well him and his little fuck-toy, Scott seemed a bit preoccupied last time I checked." So THAT'S what happened in the hall!

"That's not funny," said Jean, suddenly joining the debate.

"It wasn' funny when I had to hear the whole fucking thing through the door."

"That's not funny!"

"You shoulda 'eard 'im. Groanin' like some sick animal. 'Scott! Oh Scott! Faster Scott!'" He started to laugh.

The red head stood up. "Shut up, Mort!"

"DON' CALL ME- ah!" He had stood up really fast, and now looked on the verge of tears or passing out. He slammed a hand into the table, and it shook with the force. He turned, and hobbled out of the room as fast as the cane would allow.

I glared at them both, and turned after him.

Mort's POV:

It's not fair! I just want to make her pay for what she did to me! I was used to being able to kick the living shyte out of anyone who dared cross me, but here I was. She was insulting me left and right and I was too weak to do anything about it. Not to mention that I was now depending upon the X-Men.

I thought I was going to be sick from the pain ripping through my abdomen. I was holding myself above the sink, trying not to watch myself sob in the mirror. It hurt so fucking much. Every time I did something like this it was like being hit all over again.

I pretended not to see Mystique come in behind me. She started to rub a hand over my back. What would I do without Mystique? I tried to stand up more so that I could talk to her properly, but a rush of pain fell through my gut. I puked into the sink. She ran a hand through my hair and waited for me to finish.

"I feel so pathetic," I confessed through new tears.

"You're used to being on top of your game. Now you're at your lowest in the hands of the enemy."

Her echoing voice soothed my shaking form. I looked at her in the mirror. "Thank you, Mystique."

She cocked her head. "For what?"

"Ever since I was a kid, you're the only one who ever took care of me. You're the only one who ever gave a damn."

She just smiled. It said more to me than anything else could. She opened one of the many pill bottles scattered over the counter, and gave me a little pink tablet. "Get some rest, Mort."

((Sob)) Touching moment! Sorry, I need a second. ((Sob))

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