Author's Rant: Shout out to blue-fuzzy, Kira Odayashi, and Orihime-San for their enthusiastic reviews ^_^ I was starting to consider stopping this because real life was getting in my way (moving, graduating, finding out about Kurt dying in the comics T^T, etc.) but hearing that my writing style is actually fun to read has given me my muse back!

This chapter took quite a while to think up as well. I didn't want to exactly torture Kurt (he gets so abused as it is), but I needed a way to get Amanda to piss off Kelly without Kurt being bound up. And just to answer the question ahead of time, no Kurt does not know he can teleport yet. That ability will be saved for a most strategic moment! D

Disclaimer:I do not own X-Men: Evolution or any other mentioned copyrighted material. You all know who does, now shut up and stop looking for a lawsuit before I boot you to the head

Chapter Three

Sanctuary

There were a lot of things that Kurt had always regretted.

That one time he took a sip of his master's wine had been more trouble than he had expected, resulting in both a stomachache for him and a headache from the long, rather angry rant he had to listen to.

When he asked about his mother and father, receiving little more than damnation as Judge Kelly declared them to be the worst kind of Gypsies imaginable.

But nothing ever compared to the situation he found himself in now.

The moment that his face had been revealed, the entire square went silent. No one, not even the Gypsies, had expected him to be a blue, fur-covered young man with indigo hair, glowing yellow eyes, and fangs that were nothing less than frightening when he attempted a friendly smile. He could see his master out of the corner of his eye, face purple with anger but looking all the world like he was seeing the Devil himself, and even the jesters that had been pursuing him the entire time looked rather surprised. A lead weight settled in his gut, cold with dread as he saw the fear and terror in their eyes. This was not going to end well at all.

"DEMON!"

All it took was that one, terrified shout, and Kurt found himself running for his life.

Many of the humans moved out of his way, shoving and screaming as the pandemonium started to escalate, and gave the poor boy ample room to run from the brave few who had started grabbing the nearest items to use as weapons. Ducking and weaving through the tangle of people, he was doing the best he could to get back to the Church, the one place where he would at least be safe from being murdered by a panicking crowd. Images of being burned at the stake, hanged at the gallows, or even beheaded in front of a zealous crowd only made Kurt panic even more as he narrowly avoided a thrown rock.

Why?

Why had he disobeyed his master?

His thoughts were rudely interrupted when a second rock caught him on the back, nearly making him roll into the steed of a soldier. They too were beginning to take chase, spears and arrows at the ready as he barely managed to leap out of harms way. Only the banner poles and tents provided him with any means of escape, and the years of living in Notre Dame, with its many statues, towers, and columns paid off. With grace that would shame even the best acrobats and contortionists, he stayed out of reach whenever the opportunity would lend itself in his favor. The boy was mere meters from safety as he left the maze of tents, the walls familiar and comforting to his frightened eyes. With a renewed burst of energy, he rushed for the doors…

…only to be stopped dead by an arrow in the back.

Crying out in pain, the boy fell and slid to a stop, the offending projectile lodged in his shoulder blade pretty deeply. Behind him the same archer was reloading his boy, taking aim as Kurt turned around in fear, tears in the corner of his eyes. He could see the ignorant hate in his eyes, a hate that had been born from merely seeing the boy's appearance. Clenching his eyes shut, he curled into a ball, too terrified to move.

Something jingled as a shadow fell over him, and the blue-furred boy opened one, then both eyes, disbelief evident in them as he stared at the back of Amanda. The girl looked slightly ragged, like she too had been running after him, but instead of trying to kill him, she was standing in front of him, arms spread protectively as the rest of the mob came running forward. She looked back at him, mercy in her eyes, before glaring daggers at the humans before her.

"Move, Gypsy!" snarled the man, his bow aimed right at her, "Or I'll skewer you!"

"Make me," she said, voice darker than before, "This boy has done nothing to deserve getting killed."

"He's a demon! He must be killed!"

Those words stung Kurt worse than the arrow digging into his shoulder blade. Did he really look so much like the hellish beasts that killing him was acceptable? More tears began to flow down his cheeks, fearing for a moment his savior would turn into his slayer, but the girl didn't budge, instead looking all the more enraged.

"He's no more a demon than you are! Not once did he make any attempt to attack anyone!" she spat, hands now resting on her hips, "Or does simply looking like something make you the same as it?" Letting the sentence hang in the air, she turned to the boy, who was now up in a crouch and looking more like a whipped dog than a devil. Kneeling next to him, she gingerly wrapped her hand around the arrow, saying gently, "It's going to hurt, but please bear with me, okay?" Nodding, he closed his eyes and stifled a pained yelp as the arrow slid out from his flesh, and something soft and silky was bound around it. Kurt looked down, frowning; it was Amanda's head-scarf, now stained an even deeper burgundy by his blood. The girl smiled kindly at him, and Kurt felt nothing but gratitude towards her as he whispered, "Zhank you," before rushing off.

As he entered the open doors of Notre Dame, bathed once more in its comfortable shadows, Kurt found tears rolling down his face when he caught a glimpse of the frightened faces outside.

Once the boy had retreated to the sanctuary of the stone church, Amanda was very much aware of the angry faces of the soldiers and heavily religious glaring at her. But there was also the supporting gazes of her fellow Gypsies, both those with gifts that ordinary people considered a curse and the ones who lived with them. None of them saw the boy as a demon, clearly recognizing him as one of their own, and her act of mercy had further solidified the unbreakable truth of her feelings towards them. Even some of the humans had seen her act of kindness as a sign that the boy was not a devil (other than the fact he had actually entered Notre Dame without burning or being smote by an angel), and glared coldly at the authoritive figure of Judge Kelly.

"How dare you prevent a figure of the law from doing his duty," he said to the girl, glaring coldly down at her red clad form as he rode up on his own jet-black steed. More of the men were gathering, armor clattering noisily as they prepared to arrest the young woman at his orders. Normally, his mere presence was enough to intimidate most people, but he noted with nothing less than complete hatred that this girl did not waver under his scathing glare, in fact shooting him one back that was ten times more angered, just like her tone.

"I wasn't about to let an innocent boy get killed, especially not by a bunch of monsters like yourself!"

Judge Kelly wasn't one used to defiance. In his career, no one, except the Gypsies and possibly the Archbishop himself, had ever defied his will, his power often rooting seeds of fear deep enough in to prevent rebellion from ever sprouting. But this girl was acting as if she had more power than he would ever possess. And while he considered himself to be a righteous man, his two greatest sins, Wrath and Pride, reared their ugly heads as he pointed to the girl.

"Arrest her."

Sorry if this chapter seems a bit short! I promise the next one will be much longer!