Note from teh G-girl:

Here's Chapter two, for all you peoplz who have waited so paitently! And here's to the reviewers! Methinks I aught to dedicated this chapter to you dudes!

Anyway, it's Saturday, I'm bored, and I can't get passed the new level on my new computer game, so I thought I'd cruze on over here and post this little treat for you alls.

ps - If any of you get real confussed about the going back and forth in between Kurt and New Mutant, feel free to put your head between your legs until the dizzying motions stop.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Sadly.

G-girl

Pain is not something I am not accustomed to feeling upon awakening. It is something that comes from a punch in the eye, a kick in the shin. You do not feel through your eyelids a searing heat from a blinding white light you cannot evade; you are not struck by a sudden force that feels as though a sledgehammer is being whacked against your temple upon surfacing into consciousness; you do not become aware of your surroundings while feeling as though you have been run over by a train, and then clobbered with a rough stick. It is not natural.

Then why do I feel this way?

And then I remember.

"Are you awake?"

I must be dreaming. This voice is calm, still, and there is a lilt to it I cannot identify. An accent that hovers beyond my reach.

A minute passes, and I do not answer, so it speaks again.

"Well, I suppose you are not. But then, it has been three days. Why should you wake up now?"

Three days? Of what? Suspension? Hovering? Life, or death. Which answer would I fear more, I wonder.

"And once again, that is all the more reason for you to wake up, because you have been asleep for so long. Ah, but look at me. Talking to a mind that is either comatose, or simply sleeping. I must be crazy, no?"

I wonder if I should answer. It obviously expects one.

But then, how would I know that I was not talking to thin air as well?

Perhaps I have imagined this voice. Perhaps there isn't one. Perhaps I am dead and this is the trial that awaits me.

Or perhaps I am simply being rude and ignorant.

There is only one to fix this, and discover what this voice belongs to, or at the very least, where it is coming from. I must open my eyes and see for myself.

That might be a little hard, though.

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Kurt wondered why he was still talking to this little dragon girl. He had stayed more or less in the vicinity, mostly by her bedside, waiting for her to wake up. By the end of the first day he was having imaginary conversations with her in his head, wondering how she might answer him, and the next he was asking her questions. It was not that he expected a reply. It just seemed . . . proper.

So he was a bit startled when on the fourth day, she moved. Well, shifted was more like it. She turned more so that her head and upper body was inclined in his direction. Had she really heard him?

And then she opened her eyes.

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I see blue. Lots of blue. A blue room with blue lights and blue blankets and a blue man. He has blue hair and blue skin, and strange carvings in his face. And his eyes. They look like amber glass.

I don't say anything, and neither does he. He must be looking at my eyes too. They are round and silver. And they glow. He must find them fascinating.

"You have golden eyes," I say, very quietly.

He does not respond. Perhaps he did not hear me?

"And your's are silver."

Perhaps he did.

"Who are you?" I ask. I try to sound politely curious. Strange I should try to be so considerate when I am lying on a bed in the middle of a blue room not knowing where I am and being watched by a big blue man with bright white fangs and golden eyes.

"My name is Kurt Wagner. What is your name?" he says, very politely as well. I wonder if he is afraid of me? It would not surprise me. And yet, he seems so calm, so composed, it's almost as if he has been preparing for this.

"I don't know. I don't have one," I say, feeling a bit embarrassed. Everyone has a name. And mine is Wind. But I cannot tell him that.

He looks thoughtful for a minute; maybe he is trying to decide whether or not I am lying to him?

"Would you give me one?" I ask. I don't know why, I just do. It's as if I have been wanting to ask for a very long time and only just now found the right moment to do so. He must think I am quite strange.

"If you would like me to," he says, looking puzzled.

"Yes, please."

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Kurt watched the girl once more in fascination. She had not shrieked, had not yelled, had not made any sign whatsoever that she was frightened or even shocked by his outward appearance.

Her eyes were a bit startling, though. They were a bright, glowing, and very round silver; so pure and unflinching he almost wanted to look away. He felt that his own glow-in-the-dark yellow spheres where rather dull in comparison. There had been a faint glow coming from beneath her eyelids while she slept. This must have been why.

The strangest thing about her, though, was her request for a name. Kurt had never named anyone before, and wasn't sure he was quite up to the task. She deserved a fine name to be certain, something that mirrored her regal appearance, her shining scales and glowing eyes and beautiful dragon wings.

She watched him through silver shining crystals. He'd be hard pressed to disappoint her.

"What sort of name would you like?" he asked, buying time.

"I do not know. Something simple. So that it is easy to remember," she said. Her voice was calm. Almost too calm. So startlingly passive. Had her recovery not succeeded as well as he had hoped? Was she brain damaged? Her manner of speech indicated otherwise.

"What if I were to call you Alexandra?"

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Alexandra. It is such a long name. Nine little letters that sound like such a mouthful. But he seems to like it. I don't want to argue. It is not in my nature.

"That sounds nice," I say, careful to keep my expression vague.

"If you do not like it-" he begins, looking distressed.

"No, it's fine. It's better than no name at all. In fact, it's quite lovely," I say, trying not to sound too hasty. I do not want to upset this big blue man. Not when he has been so kind, answering silly requests.

"Anyone can call you Alex. It is much shorter. Much simplier, if that is what you would like," he says, looking down at his hands.

'That is fine too," I say. I have upset him. I am such a horrible person. No, I'm not even that. I'm just an element of nature. Nothing more.

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Kurt sat and watched the girl until she fell asleep again. She had looked unhappy. She must have hated the name. It had sounded so graceful in his minds eye. He should have stuck to simple. Simple was good, comforting. It was small, not immediately overwhelming, like extravegant was. He should have stuck with simple.

"Kurt?"

He turned to see the professor watching him. He rolled up next to Kurt.

"How is she?" he asked.

"She was awake, Professor. She spoke to me," said Kurt, still looking at the figure on the bed. Professor X watched Kurt's gaze. He looked almost like a father beside the bed of a sick child. Worried, and scared, because he could do nothing.

"And what did she say?" the Professor asked.

"She said she had no name. And – she asked me to give her one," Kurt said with a small sigh. He felt he had truly and utterly failed in the task.

"Yes?" said the Professor, softly probing.

"I knew a little girl, very much like her, in Munich. She was a tight-rope walker, in another circus. She was quite taken with me. Her name was Alexandra," Kurt said softly. He remembered the little girl. He remembered that she was so young . . . and the accident . . . he should have –

"Kurt," the Professor chided, but gently.

"Oh. Forgive me, Professor. My thoughts tend to run away with me," he said, looking at the older man.

"It is alright. Thoughts must be free to roam. I just ask that you try not to take me along with you. Those are personal memories, and should be kept as such. I wouldn't want to intrude," said the Professor.

"I understand, Professor. I shall try to think before I think in the future," said Kurt with a small grin.

"All right then," the Professor chuckled. "Come, you should probably get something to eat. You're looking thinner than usual."

"Very well," said Kurt. And, a bit hesitantly, he stood and followed the Professor out the door.