A/N Side Story for "Stir Them Up". Just a dream...or is it?

The Bells of Notre Dame (Kurt's Dream): Set in the "Out There" timeline.

The straw was too rough. It kept digging into his back, rubbing in all the wrong places in all the wrong ways. He couldn't rest, he couldn't think, he couldn't wake. With a cry he sat up at last, feeling as though water had been thrown across his face. His fur was damp with sweat. Under his breath, Kurt cursed Coldrim's carelessness. The windows were tightly sealed for the night, and it was the height of summer. He moved to the side of his cage, staring longingly through the bars at the locked window nearby.

He had an idea. Turning, he sat as close to the bars as possible, letting them dig into his back, and lashing out with his tail. After a bit of fumbling, his tail landed on the catch. He struggled for a few minutes before a quiet click signaled the window was free at last. Sighing in relief Kurt shoved against the window with his tail before withdrawing it, reveling in the breeze that rushed in.

A sound drifted through the window. A high, clear note rang through the air, sending shivers through his fur. He turned around again, peering through the window, bright golden eyes trying to pierce the darkness outside and find out what was making that sound. It rang again, and Kurt closed his eyes. Zat sound…iz so familiar…bells! He sat back. The bells! He felt his heart do a back flip.

Bellz…juzt like back home…in ze towers…

He smiled, leaning back onto his bed, so focused he didn't notice the straw for once. I used to zit in ze rafters during church, to listen to ze sermons…even zough mom told me to stay 'ome. I just loved ze sound of ze bells before church…I vould listen to zem all ze vay home…


It was dark. He was on a bridge, looking over the city. A cloaked figure dashed through the streets. In her arms a small bundle squirmed unhappily, but didn't make a sound. The woman was humming to herself, Kurt felt himself lean forward, trying to hear.

He fell.

Water, cold, and then warmth.

It was light. He was sitting in the audience with the other children, listening to the storyteller. That was odd. Why didn't they run from him? Never mind, the story was starting.

"Morning in Paris! The city awakes to the bells of Notre Dame." The jester, colorful and excited, danced fervently onto the stage. He was grinning as he continued, jestering towards the streets as they suddenly bustled with life, as though called by his voice. "The fisherman fishes, the bakerman bakes, to the bells of Notre Dame. To the big bells as loud as the thunder, to the little bells soft as a psalm…" He spun and winked at them. "…and some say the soul of the city's the toll of the bells, the bells of Notre Dame!"

Hold on, was she a girl? He could have sworn…but he/she was changing, right in front of him. Long brown hair he hadn't seen before…blue eyes so clear… He blinked as she was suddenly in his face.

"Listen, they're beautiful, no? So many colors of sound, so many changing moods." She stood and turned away as though she didn't see the blush on his face. Her eyes were distant, the brilliant light blue glowing softly with thought. Kurt felt something stir inside him as he watched them shift. "Because you know, they don't ring all by themselves."

"They don't?" He spoke automatically.

"No, silly boy." She laughed.

She spun on her heels, pointing straight up into the sky at a distant tower. "Up there, high, high in the dark bell tower lives the mysterious bell ringer." She turned back to them again, raising her hands in a shrug. "Who is this creature?"

"Who?" Kurt asked again.

"What is he?" She replied without answering.

"What?" He felt a blush across his cheeks. Why couldn't he stop answering?

"How did he come to be there?"

" How?"

"Hush!" The girl grinned as his expression turned sheepish. Her voice softened and she sat cross-legged, beckoning them closer. "…and Clopin will tell you."

Clopin…what an odd name for a girl…hold on, it sounded like she said something else…something with a "K"…

She interrupted his thoughts again. "It is a tale, a tale of a man and a monster…"


Where was he now?

A voice rang clear and calm above him…the gypsy girl!

"Dark was the night when our tale was begun on the docks near Notre Dame."

"Shut it up, will you!" Kurt almost jumped out of his fur before realizing the noise came from below him. I'm on zat bridge again! He realized, turning and leaning over the side. A river flowed beneath him, and a small, wooden vessel drifted quietly by. Another one of the men was saying something to the slightest figure on board…a woman?

"We'll be spotted!" The man snapped. The woman ignored him, turning instead to the child gathered against her chest.

"Hush, little one." She murmured. Her voice was strong and yet gefntle…and painfully familiar. "Clopin" spoke again, explaining.

"Four frightened gypsies slid silently under the docks near Notre Dame."

Kurt watched as they pulled up to the far side of the bridge and a man approached them. The leader stood and extended some papers.

"Four guilders for safe passage into Paris" He announced, then he froze and turned towards Kurt in horror. Startled, Kurt wheeled around and found himself face to face with a tall, dark figure that filled him with absolute terror.

Clopin's voice darkened, and Kurt shivered, trying to back away from that menacing figure. "But a trap had been laid for the gypsies and they gazed up in fear and alarm at a figure whose clutches were iron as much as the bells…"

Who is he? Who is he? Kurt asked Clopin mentally. He was answered by one of the men on the boat instead.

"Judge Claude Frollo!" The overwhelming fear, the power of the man's despair felt like a shot to Kurt's heart.

"…The bells of Notre Dame." Clopin finished and Kurt felt...a shift. He was suddenly next to the men on the boat, part of them, feeling their terror.

An unseen chorus of voices swelled from nearby. Kurt realized with shock that he understood what they were saying.

"Kyrie Eleison!" They sang.

"Lord have mercy." Kurt added under his breath. It fit.

Clopin stood above him, next to the frozen figure of the cloaked man on the bridge as though he were more repulsive than the slime beneath the bridge, and yet her voice remained cool and hard. "Judge Claude Frollo longed to purge the world of vice and sin."

"Kyrie Eleison!" The chorus sang again.

Clopin tossed her hair back, sarcasm seeping into her voice at last. "And he saw corruption everywhere except within."

Frollo spoke at last. "Bring these gypsy vermin to the palace of justice." His voice was hard and almost empty of anything resembling pity or love. He sounded so arrogant, so cruel and harsh, Kurt felt something inside him boil with resentment as the man's unseen eyes pierced the huddled group at the edge of the bridge. Zis man thinks zat he can cure ze vorld? Vhat a joke!

Someone grabbed the woman next to him, and Kurt wheeled in surprise as the guard yelled in the gypsy's face.

"You there, what are you hiding?" The man bellowed, and Kurt's fur prickled angrily.

Frollo's voice was once again empty of emotion. "Stolen goods, no doubt. Take them from her."

Kurt felt terror swell inside of him. They couldn't do that! It was her baby! Couldn't they see? No…they couldn't. They were blind as surely as he was blue.

"Vhat did she do?" Kurt asked Clopin automatically, and jumped as the girl replied.

"She ran."

Kurt watched as the woman dropped into a crouch, knocking the men off their feet and then jumping up again and running faster than should have been possible.

"She's getting avay!" Kurt cheered, turning towards Clopin with a grin…which faded as Clopin placed a sad finger to her lips and then pointed back towards the scene. Kurt turned forwards again, reluctantly, and the scene began to melt. The other gypsies grew wings, spat fire, wove spells in midair, and then faded into the darkness.

Frollo was moving. Floating above the ground he began to fly in the direction the woman had fled. "Ve have to stop him." Kurt whispered.

The ground began to move beneath them. The chorus sang in his ears as he fled and the translation spilled from his lips on its own.

"Dies irae, dies illa!" (Day of wrath, that day)

"Solvet saeclum in favilla!" (Shall consume the world in ashes)

"Teste David cum sibylla!" (As prophesied by David and the sibyl)

"Quantus tremor est futurus!" (What trembling is to be)

"Quando Judex est venturus" (When the Judge is come)

There she was! Kurt mentally urged the ground to move faster as the woman flew into sight.

"Sanctuary, please give us sanctuary!" She screamed.

Her hood had fallen back and her bright red hair spilled behind her. She was crying something, and Kurt glanced up to see a gigantic monastery…the same monastery from his own homeland.

Kurt shot a glance at Clopin, but she didn't react at all. He opened to ask her what was going on as city melted into his own home country, but was interrupted as something, wrong, passed right through them.

Frollo had caught up with them! As Kurt watched in horror, Frollo raised one hand. A long spear of metal peeled itself from the cathedral wall, at the last moment twisting into a circle that clamped shut around the woman's form as she fled. She stumbled and fell to her knees on the steps of the cathedral, the baby spilling from her arms. Another shaft of metal dislodged itself and pressed its sharpened edge against the woman's throat, drawing blood and forcing her head back.

Her face was blue.

Blue like his.

Kurt couldn't breathe.

Frollo floated past her, scooping the spilled package into his arms. He blinked, tossing off the black cloak to reveal red armor as he peered closer. "A baby?" The man murmured.

A blue, three fingered hand reached upwards towards his face.

"A monster!" Frollo cried, disgust in his voice. He spun around, calling another shaft of metal from the cathedral walls. An intricate knife fell into the man's hands before melting into an injection shot.

Kurt took a step forward, his eyes wide with terror as the woman cried out with a sob. Clopin flicked a finger, freezing him in place. "No!" Kurt cried, struggling. "Zat is me! Me! I'm not a monster! I'm NOT a MONSTER!!!"

The needle pierced blue skin. Kurt turned away.

"'Stop!' cried the Archdeacon." Clopin said as Kurt's head snapped up again.

A man stood at the top of the steps, arms raised like Moses commanding the close of the Red Sea.

"Brother Pierson…" Kurt managed.

Frollo turned his helmeted head towards the man atop the steps of the cathedral, clear disapproval in his voice as he spoke.

"This is an unholy demon." Frollo explained, as though it should be obvious. "I'm sending it back to Hell, where it belongs."

Kurt stiffened. Demon…demon…demon…

Brother Pierson stood firm, his eyes locking onto the ones behind the mask as he spoke. "See there the innocent blood you have spilt on the steps of Notre Dame?"

Frollo turned away from the man's accusing finger as it pointed at the red on the woman's throat.

"I am guiltless." Frollo snapped. "She ran, I pursued."

Pierson's expression made it clear the excuse would not fly. "Now you would add this child's blood to your guilt on the steps of Notre Dame." Pierson said in disgust.

"My conscience is clear." Frollo growled, waving a hand that tightened the woman's bars until she passed out and releasing her.

Pierson knelt beside her, pain on his face as he brushed red hair from her face, still speaking to Frollo. "You can lie to yourself and your minions, you can claim that you haven't a qualm. But…" He stood, his hands still reddened. "…you never can run from, nor hide what you've done from, the eyes…" Pierson pointed upwards and suddenly the air was filled with angels. The strangest angels Kurt had ever seen, dressed in the strangest clothes, all glaring accusingly at the man before them. And none of them glared harder than one near the front, his bald head reflecting a light Kurt couldn't see, Pierson's voice no longer seemed his own. "The very eyes of Notre Dame."

"Kyrie Eleison!" The chorus whispered again, this time to Frollo.

Clopin spoke again, her voice quiet and hard as the angels'. "And for one time in his life of power and control Frollo felt a twinge of fear for his immortal soul."

An amazing change came across Frollo. As Kurt watched, the man fell to his knees, dropping the needle to the ground and cradling the bundle to his chest. His voice was broken with fear.

"What must I do?"

"Care for the child," Pierson replied instantly, "and raise it as your own."

"What?" Frollo snapped, surging to his feet. "I'd be settled with this misshapen …?" He trailed off, staring down at the figure in his grasp. Kurt waited, not sure if he was even breathing anymore. "Very well." Frollo said quietly. Then he turned back to Pierson. "Let him live with you, in your church." He said calmly.

Pierson blinked. "Live here? Where?"

"Anywhere…" Frollo said, glancing upwards at the church. Then he turned his gaze towards the countryside where a distant farm was burning the afternoon firewood. A smile could be seen beneath the helmet. "Just so he's kept locked away where no one else can see. And who knows, our Lord works in mysterious ways…" Frollo looked back down, moving his hand so that the tiny flailing fists could latch onto his fingers. "Even this foul creature may yet prove one day to be of use to me."

Frollo turned away then, and with one gesture carried both himself and the woman from the ground and into the air, carrying them away towards a castle in the distance.

Vision faded. Color swirled. Pierson faded into nothing.

Kurt gasped as he opened his eyes. Clopin yanked the colored ribbons from Kurt's eyes, her voice quiet and flat as she finished the unhappy story. "And Frollo gave the child a cruel name a name that means half-formed, Quasimodo...Now! Here is a riddle to guess if you can, sing the bells of Notre Dame." She said, her eyes flickering with mischief. "Who is the monster…"She was back at his side, her hand against his face. "…and who is the man?" Kurt swallowed hard, not sure how to respond. Then she smiled, and Kurt felt warmth shoot through his body as she went dancing back onstage as merrily as though nothing had happened.

"Sing the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells…" She spun once more, and Kurt felt himself shifting again. He reached towards her, not wanting to go, but she just smiled and waved, blowing him one final kiss before the world disappeared, leaving one more song ringing in his ears. "Bells of Notre Dame!"


Kurt sat up with a jerk so hard he hit his head against his knees. After a moment of rubbing at it, he curled back up in his mat, his eyes soft and thoughtful.

Vhat does it mean?

He chafed the circulation back into his arms as he tried to think through the haze of wakefulness, trying to grasp the last fragments of a dream that was quickly fading. It was too far…he'd lost it. All he could remember was blood, the monestary, and…a girl. A girl with bright eyes and beautiful brown hair…a girl that seemed to see him in ways no one else could…a girl that made him feel…special.

The bell tower across London rang loudly, hailing the dawn and echoing the call of a dream that wasn't completely a dream.

Bells…bells….bells….

A/N: I really wanted to write this. The dream is actually related to my version of Kurt's birth (with minor differences to match the song). In case you don't get it, here's a summary:

The gypsies on the river are mutants and the angels are the x-men.
Mystique was the woman. (In my version of the story…well, if you want to know tell me and I'll write it up.)

Frollo was Magneto (I actually like Magneto, but his self-righteous attitude fits right in and he actually does keep Kurt for a while…once again, more later.)

Colpin was Kitty. (I debated this for some time, but I thought it would be cool to have Kitty in his dream before he even meets her (Yes, I plan on Kurtty stories later)).

Kurt is, of course, Kurt/Quasimodo.

I hope you like it. Let me know if you want the "original" story.