To Live To Suffer

Watching

"Rogue? Rogue . . . "

The Goth stirred, letting lose a small groan as she blinked herself awake. Lifting her head from her arms, she first noticed the lightness in the room, and the muffled, distant sounds of a Danger Room session over the heart monitor. With the mansion as quiet as this around, it was easy to hear things. Rogue realized she had fallen asleep by Kurt's side, leaning on the white sheets, which had been pulled over him. She turned her head to the voice.

"Rogue, go get something to eat," Jean said softly. "I'll stay here for you."

It was late morning according to the clock on the wall, and Rogue had been sat there since she had been allowed into the infirmary. Kitty had been sat with her on the other side of the bed, but she was gone from her spot; the sheets were still creased where the valley girl had been leaning. Rogue couldn't remember much of the night, except Scott leaving not long ago for a glass of water, and not returning. Jean had hovered about in the infirmary until she too had disappeared with Hank. She vaguely remembered the Beast returning to check Kurt's vitals, but she had been half asleep so she didn't know if he had needed to do anything.

"Nah, ah'm not hungry," Rogue answered with a lie, sitting up and stretching. Her back was aching from her position, and she was still tired, not to mention starving. She didn't feel like leaving Kurt's side though, she felt it was her duty to stay. Maybe that's tha sisterly sighd kickin' in, she thought. She never really thought what it would be like to have a brother. She'd always thought of younger siblings to be a pain in the backside all the time, never getting along. But no, that wasn't what it felt like with Kurt. He was a good brother because he wanted to be one; he wanted to have a sister. She had never actedlike a sistertowards him because she didn't know how, but she realized she felt herself looking out a bit more for him, and feeling concerned when he seemed too quiet. Maybe she was beginning to care for him as a brother. Thinking about it now, and watching him rest in an almost peaceful way, she wanted to be his sister. The hurt she felt just seeing him like this was different to that she would be feeling if she were looking down at a friend.

Jean didn't need to read Rogue's mind to tell she was lying. "I know you want to stay with him, but let me. You can come back down as soon as you've eaten and changed."

Rogue wasn't one to give in to Jean, but she could admit that Jean was right in saying she needed a break, and she knew the redhead would watch Kurt carefully. Rogue just didn't want to let him out of her sight, but he was going to be like this for a day or more, and she couldn't watch him the entire time.

". . . Alright," Rogue said finally after a couple of seconds, standing up. She tucked back white strands of her hair and stared at Kurt. He was exactly the samewhen she first saw him like this, a sad sight to look upon, but seeming so helpless it made hers and everyone's hearts ache. His chest barely rose and fell as he breathed, apart from that he was as still as death. Rogue's eyes flickered to the heart monitor that was pinging back a regular beat. Rogue wasn't certain, but it seemed slower than a normal pattern.

The Goth finally turned and walked around Jean, making her way to the door. She stopped and looked back to see the redhead sitting down at her seat, reaching a hand over and gently fingering back a few strands of blue hair on the boy's face. Rogue's eye fell on the bandage on his forehead and realized it had been redressed. Hank must have done that when Rogue had last seen him.

With a growl from her stomach that brought back her attention, she turned and walked away from the infirmary to the girls' wing, lost in thoughts.

The entire institute was aware of Kurt's critical condition by the afternoon. The place automatically calmed down and noise levels dropped. Professor X felt it necessary to tell all his students just what had happened, so that they really understood what Kurt had been through, and would know how to behave around him when he woke. He mentally asked for forgiveness, because he knew Kurt would not like pity or sorrow. That was the whole idea of his carefree personality, to avoid the sorry looks. He didn't like it, because he wanted to be normal, and normal people didn't receive those glances. The Professor knew Kurt had never told a single person of the horror he experience back home in Germany, when he was almost burned for his appearance. But sometimes the telepath was actually tempted to tell it himself, having listened to some of his students complain(of which he felt pained to hear) but Kurt was so much worse off than they were. His past seemed like a tale to tell, just so they know that they were getting the better half of the prejudice. But no, he would never tell anyone anything someone didn't want told. Except this, because this was something Kurt couldn't hide, nor anyone else. He was missing from daily activities so students were bound to be curious asto his disappearance. Eventually they would ask, and the Professor, who didn't like to lie with such serious things, would tell. At least everyone would understand just how careful Kurt had to be with his appearance. Maybe it might give them a little extra caution too.

When the Professor had called everyone into briefing room and the news had been told, the silence that waspredictedto hover around took over. Charles gave them permission to leave the room, and most did so, very slowly. It was the X-Men, minus Rogue, who remained where they sat or stood.

"Man, I can't believe the 'Crawler would let someone do that to him . . ." Evan said quietly, leaning against a wall near a window, dressing in his usual attire but missing the skateboard. The silence filled the room again as everyone thought about that same question. Why would he let something like that be done to him?

"Let's hope he will be able to tell us," the Professor spoke up, having been sat with his chin resting on his fingertips. "He may not want to at all . . ."

Everyone lowered their eyes or heads in sadness. A few seconds ticked by before Professor X's wheel chair started to hum, and the X-Men glanced up to see him making his way towards the door.

"I'll be around if anyone should need me," he said, and then disappeared from the room.

Quiet surrounded them once again, but it was something they had gotten used to now, and barely noticed with the train of thoughts that pulled into their minds. It was Saturday afternoon; no one had plans other than a relaxing weekend right here, but none of them felt like relaxing, and it didn't feel like a Saturday. All were drawn to the infirmary, wanting to sit down there by Kurt's side as an act of friendship duty.

Jean tugged unconsciously at her right sleeve of her lavender top, chewing on her lip while lost in her own mind. She was pulled back when Scott stood up. His shades flashed as the light caught them.

"I'm going out," he announced, and began striding towards the door.

Evan, who had an idea where Scott was going, stood up straight and followed the older teenager, saying, "Yo, wait up, man. I'm coming with." They both walked out of the room, leaving the soundless air to hover once more.

Having telepathic abilities that liked to step outside of control boundaries now and again, Jean lowered her eyes again to the floor after she had caught a few stray thoughts. So Scott wanted to see what he could find about a blue mutant attack in the streets of Bayville town . . . let him, he might pick up something. Jean knew sitting around and waiting was not Scott's style, nor Evan's. It was surprising to actually find the Spyke in the Institute on a Saturday, and not on the streets with his beloved skateboard.

Jean sighed, and then sensed a presence in front of her. Lifting her head, the telepath looked into the face of Kitty. That ever-present concern that she now wore was Kitty's only expression.

"Jean," she began slowly, unsure what she wanted to say. "If you felt Kurt's pain, couldn't you have seen or sensed Kurt's attackers?"

Jean blinked and thought about the previous night when she had glimpsed Kurt's tortured mind. The pain had been so intense, and the fear so strong she didn't know if she had seen the attackers. There had been confusion, yet understanding why he was being beaten . . . Jean thought harder. Yes, Kurt knew why he was being beaten . . . Was that guilt she remembered? No, maybe not, his mind had been a mess that night. There had been so many confused things running though his head; she had seen blurred imagines through his vision. People had screamedin one of his mindsoldmemorird - resurfaced by the newest attack -all the people who had seen and feared him . . . and then fire.

Jean had never told anyone, not even the professor she had seen some sort of flashback memory replayed in Kurt's mind. Some of which had been so frightening Jean had not wanted to think about them. And she had glimpsed this all so fast; in a matter of seconds she had pinpointed his position while enduring his fear and pain. She only now went back and visited those memories of his, feeling curious but guilty as she did. That one last memory she had seen before her connection was broken had been terrifying. Oh God, poor Kurt had been so scared, he had been screaming – people were yelling, there was smoke, heat, fire, and hatred in this memory. But no escape – Kurt had not yet learned of his teleporting abilities – he was almost burned at the stake . . .

"Jean? Jean's what's wrong?"

The urgent voice of Kitty broke into her mind and Jean opened her wet eyes. Tears had leaked down her cheeks without Jean even noticing. She had been too caught up in that memory she had almost lived it herself – and the fear was still strong. Jean took in a deep shaky breath and placed a hand over her mouth, blinking away more tears. Kurt had actually suffered what she had just seen.

Jean sniffed, her hand remaining over her mouth so Kitty wouldn't be able to see her lip tremble as she spoke. The fear, the pain, the emotions were still with her, still fresh in her mind as she looked at Kitty, who had knelt down in front of Jean's seat. She had placed her hands on Jean's knees.

"I'm sorry,"Jean managed to say in a whisper, sniffing again and swallowing. "I'm just ... worried about Kurt," she excused her weeping behavior, though even Kitty would be able to see that if Jean was crying for Kurt, then either she was lying about something, orshe knew something bad that Kitty didn't.

However upsetting Kurt's situation was, Kitty couldn't help but feel it wasn't the cause of Jean's tears. The redhead had never let her tears loose so freely like that, as though she hadn't known she was crying. Before Kitty could dwell on it any more at that minute, Jean spoke.

"I didn't get a look at his attackers," the telepath answered Kitty's earlier question. "He never looked at them, I only saw their feet." I only saw their feet just before they kicked Kurt in the head . . .

Kitty leaned forward, studying Jean with her concerned blue eyes. "Jean, what aren't you telling me?"

Jean shook her head and took away her hand, feeling stronger again. "No, it's nothing, Kitty. I was just thinking about the 'ifs' of last nights, that's all . . ." Lying usually didn't work well for her, but she pulled this one off flawlessly.

Kitty nodded understandingly. When the older mutants get upset, it was usually for a very good reason, and it mostly meant that the younger ones should be worried too. The valley girl felt only slightly better.

Hank taped up the last dressing he had to do, and felt grateful Kurt was asleep. Pulling off bandage tape that was stuck down on fur wasn't the tickly feeling people made it out to be. He should know, he had a few bandages taped to his own body before. The Beast glanced up at Kitty, who had now replaced Rogue in her seat by Kurt' left side. The Goth had been relieved of 'staring' duty to get a better break, and Kitty had been pretty insistent that she take over.

It must have been an hour ago since Professor X's explanation of Kurt's attack, and Hank had not seen anyone except Kitty, Rogue and Jean. Storm had been present for a late breakfast in the kitchen, and then had disappeared. Her usually neat, brilliant white hair had been a bit on the untidy side, and her sharp features slack, so Hank guessed she had taken another well-deserved rest.

Kitty moved behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to see her leaning her arms on the edge of Kurt's bed. She rested her chin on them and continued to watch her best friend. Her eyes were clouded, though, and she was obviously lost in her own world.

Twenty minutes later Jean walked into the room with silent footfalls, unnoticed to the occupants. She glanced from Kitty to Hank McCoy and then at Kurt, who was in exactly the same position he had been put in last night. The redhead moved over to the younger girl as Hank was occupying himself with something across the room on a small table. Jean placed a hand on Kitty's shoulder, startling her enough to lift her head from her arms.

"Hey, do you want me to fetch anything?" She asked softly. Then smiled and added, "A book?"

Kitty smiled and shook her head, bangs and ponytail swaying with the motion. "No thanks." She had plenty of thoughts to read. "Where's everyone?"

"The new recruits decided to watch a movie," Jean said, sitting down next to Kitty on the edge of the bed, clasping her hands between her knees. "They usually go out at weekends, but even they said they didn't feel like moving. I haven't seen Miss Munroe all day, or Logan . . ." Where had Logan disappeared to? He hadn't been in the briefing room, or in the kitchen at breakfast. Jean found herself smoothening out the white bedcovers while Kitty stared at them.

"Where did Scott and Evan go?" Kitty asked, remembering their departure after Professor X's meeting.

"They went to check out the streets," Jean answered, "to see if they could hear anything about an attack on a mutant."

Kitty's features darkened and her eyes narrowed. "That's easy," she said, her tone bitter. "Just listen out for the word 'demon' and you've got your lead . . ." she glared at the sheets. A small feeling of guilt flared up inside her chest. She remembered the day she had first been introduced to Kurt, and had used just that word in front of him. His expression, already ashamed,had fallen even more and he had teleported away from her. The guilt increased with a sudden jolt. She had not been used to seeing different things, she hadn't been expecting someone blue and demon like in appearance. Oh how she regretted reacting like that towards him. Even afterwards she had been cautious of him – but now, there was a big change. She was his best friend, she loved him as friends do; she found the ears, the tail, the fur and fangs cute. He wasn't a monster; he was special, and Kitty had learned to realize how lonely he was in the world. If only there was a way to make other people see through his eyes . . . he would probably gain every sympathy in town,and people would know what it was like to be treated different . . .

"Kitty?"

The valley girl blinked and looked up. She was facing not Jean, but Rogue. Kitty glanced back at the doorway before turning again to the Goth.

"Where's Jean?" Kitty asked as a small frown creased her brow.

"She left a minute ago," Rogue answered in her southern accent, frowning slightly herself. Her makeup was not so thick today, making her look somehow less pale than usual.

Kitty blinked and realized she must have been thinking for a while. She didn't need a book to read, that was for sure; if thinking passes the time like that.

"Ya c'n go if ya like," Rogue spoke again, sitting herself in the same spot Jean had last been seated. "I'll stay here."

"No, I will too," Kitty said, looking back at the motionless face on the pillow in front of her. "I'll just grab something to eat and be back." She stood from the chair, turned and walked out, noticing that Hank had disappeared too. Probably to get a break, Kitty thought. He had been working hard on Kurt, he needed some time off.

Rogue watched the ponytail sway out of view and then turned back to the bed, sliding off it onto the chair, which was still warm from Kitty's body heat. She leant an elbow into the white fabric and rested her head on her hand, drumming the fingers of the other on the sheets and stared at them.

She started drifting away in thoughts, trying to think why someone would do so much damage to a teenager. Just because he looked different? Maybe, maybe not. And when they found the attackers, Rogue would be only too happy to beat them up. She thought, just then, about having the chance to touch one of them with her bare skin. She would be able to find out why they had almost killed her brother . . .

Rogue lifted her eyes from the sheets to the blue face sleeping soundlessly before her. She noticed a corner of tape was sticking up from a strip that was holding down the bandage on his forehead. She reached over and gently pressed it back down with her gloved hand, smoothening it over his fur. She remembered clearly how Kitty had said one time that Kurt's fur was so soft, and felt bad she couldn't feel for herself. Rogue moved aside a strand of his blue hair and flattened down another curling corner of white tape.

Kurt's brow twitched and he let out a soft, barely audible groan. Rogue froze, her hand hovering over his forehead. The blue elf remained quiet and still once again.

"Kurt?" Rogue spoke quietly, pulling back her hand. She mentally put herself in his position – if she was waking up from his condition then she wouldn't be able to hear someone whisper her name that quietly. She raised her voice. "Kurt?"

Hislips partedever so slightly and his chest rose a little higher as he took in a breath. His eyebrows moved again, giving his blank features some expression. Expression of pain, Rogue saw.

The heart monitor had quickened its pace very slightly, but Rogue didn't even hear it.

Kurt's chest rose again in a gasp as the pain of his injuries met his awakening mind. His body was aching badly, and there were sharp throbs from his stitched wounds. His eyebrows were tugged in and pulled higher on his forehead, expressing his agony. Confusion had flooded his brain. He didn't know anything except what had happened to him. There were strange, pulling sensations around the many pains, and he could only guess they were bandages.

"Kurt," Rogue said again, half standing off her seat. "Kurt wake up, please . . ."

He knew that accent. It was Rogue. Where was she? There was an uncomfortable buzzing in his ears that made it seem as though her voice had come from the back of his mind. He tried to focus but that only caused a headache to pound unmercifully. Make zuh pain stop . . . he groaned in his head. He felt something take hold of his left hand and squeeze it gently. Rogue . . .

"Ro . . ." He managed to whisper in a dangerously weak voice. He swallowed, wincing as his throat screamed in pain. He felt sick, but he wanted his sister . . .

Rogue's eyes flickered about across his face, waiting for him to wake up fully. She understood he was obviously still in pain, but it was taking him too long to even open his eyes, and he looked and soundedso veryweak.

"Yeah, it's me, Kurt," she said, assuring him she had heard. She wanted to help him wake properly, but she couldn't.

A small whine rose from his throat. He tried to say something else, but all that came out was his breath.

Rogue realized he was trying to talk before he was strong enough. This might be a slow awakening, but she'd rather he wait for some strength to returnbefore he strained himself. The Goth reached over and very gently rested her hand on his forehead.

"Shh, Kurt don't talk," she commanded softly. "Wait until you're strong enough." Even if that was all day she would wait with him. She started rubbing her thumb over his fur comfortingly, hoping he felt calmed by her action. She wasn't the best at soothing people.

Kurt's attempts to form words slowly stopped and his expression relaxed only slightly. He remained still, taking in air, trying to rid his nausea and find the strength to open his eyes. The rubbing on his forehead seemed to loosen the pain around there, and the sensation felt nice. But the rest of him still ached, and he would have done anything to get rid of it. His mind suddenly pulled him back to that night he had met his attackers. How long ago was that? It seemed like ages ago, but the throbbing pain made it seem only a few hours had passed. No – he didn't want to go back to those thoughts – let him forget, he didn't want to speak of it. Let him just find the strength to open his eyes and see his adoptive sister – and to say he was sorry . . . sorry for letting this happen, sorry more causing them pain over him, sorry for looking like this, and pulling everyone backwith his appearance. . . he hated himself . . .

Something small leaked from his eye and traveled down his temple.

Rogue's heart wrenched at his tears. Why was he crying? Was it his pain? What was he thinking . . . ? She squeezed his hand again and used her other to softly wipe away the teardrops.

"Don't cry . . ." she whispered, returning her hand and massaging his forehead again. Just that small action made her feel a little bit closer to him.

He swallowed and winced again at the sore feeling. He knew where he was now. The soft material beneath him was obviously a bed and, trusting his nose, he smelt the antiseptic air of the infirmary. Of course, he wouldn't exactly be anywhere else, they couldn't take him to hospital . . .

"I'm sorry . . ." he whispered suddenly, using the little strength he had to speak.

Rogue stared at his face, her lips parted as she wondered why he had said that.

"No, don't be sorry, Kurt," she said softly, "this isn't your fault . . ."

He made no other attempt to speak, and Rogue knew he was just too tired. His mouth closed, his expression relaxed, his breathing slowed, and the heart monitor's paced beeping returned to its previous pattern. He was unconscious again.

Rogue watched him for a few seconds and ceased her thumb movements. She reached over, gripped the small, plastic object that hung behind the bed on the wall, and pressed the button. Hank would hear the call if he was in his room or office, and he usually was. He should be here any minute. She just hoped when she told him Kurt had awoke, Mr. McCoy wouldn't give her bad news by telling herit was bad news. . .

The Goth looked back at him. He had only been awake for a few minutes, but that had exhausted him greatly . . . and he hadn't even opened his eyes . . .

The sound of rushing footsteps from the corridor outside met her ears and grew louder. She hoped Hank would tell her Kurt's waking up was a good thing.

AN: Thanks again for reading, hope you enjoyed, and more apologies for the late chapter. Work gets in the way, ugh. I dunno if Kurt DID have his powers when he was almost burned, I just remembered that picture (awesome picture I might add) from the comic 'Am I Blue?' and wrote while thinking of that. Danke and all ;)

TheDudeLordOfFantasy: Thank you so much, I'll fit the proper medical terms in when I can, don't wanna confuse anybody, lol.

DemonRoge13: Thank a lot, ;)

Kurrygirl: What wud the X Men be withoutKurt? No way can they loose him, he's waaay to valuble ;) and waaaay too cute

ManniElf18: Yeah yeah, you'll get questions answered, lol, soon...

Snitter: Lol, thank yee very much, I actually started out without a clue where I wanted this to go; now I do ;). I didn't know if it wud be a gud thing or a bad to bring other characters into center attention since it's meant to be about Kurt, but Scott was fun to write. There's so much more to him than just the 'fearless leader' image. Lol, the Rogue nd Kitty chair-sharing thing I imaged only to happen because Rogue fell asleep first ;) but hey, they're roomies, they gotta be gud friends.

ToiletDuck85: Hehe, I have the story behind Kurt's attack worked out ;) just wanna find a nice place to put it so y'all can stop guessing. Thank ya

Pointyearsrule: Sorry for the short and late chapters, I usually write a lot longer. Nice to hear you're dying of suspence, z'wat I was aiming for ;) lol evil laugh