It's a terribly lonely place to be, the aftermath. Your psyche is in a frenzy, and you struggle to recognize and sort through your emotions. The process is so disorganized and taxing for you, you don't even stop to wonder if what you're feeling is appropriate until later—if at all. This is where Kurt is mentally, wedged between grief and anger.
Mein Gott, was hat sie getan?
He packs the last of his clothing into the suitcase and snaps it shut, stores it next to his bed, which he crawls into, using first one heel and then the other to nudge off his shoes. He's tired but at the same time isn't, and thinks that this is going to be a long night. He shuts his eyes and listens to his breathing and the nighttime noises of the big mansion; people rolling over in bed, snoring, a dulled steam of television noise from somewhere else.
Some time passes before someone softly knocks at his door.
Groaning, he rolls onto his side, content to ignore the late-night visitor.
'Kurt? Are you awake?' Professor Xavier's voice calls to him telepathically.
"Oh, Professor. Come in." Kurt sits up and moves to the edge of the bed, digging the heel of his palm into his eye as the door slowly pushes open. In wheels the Professor, still dressed.
"I assumed you were." Xavier smiles. "I could see your light from under the door."
"Sorry, I sought you vere...somevone else."
His eyes wander, landing on Kurt's luggage. "Don't be. I gather you haven't changed your mind?"
"No," says Kurt.
"That's all right." the voice is kind and makes him feel better about his decision. This is a man he has grown to know and admire. "All packed, then?"
"Yes."
"Good, good. I'm sure your parents can't wait to see you." There is a brief silence in which both parties turn their gaze away and seek out something, anything to focus their attention on. The underlying tension Kurt projects makes the room suddenly seem very cramped. "Will you talk to her?" Xavier asks at last. "There's still time, before you leave."
"I...don't know," Kurt answers honestly. "I vasn't planning on it."
Xavier nods. "I understand, but you realise you can't avoid her forever?"
"I know. I jas don't sink I can, Professor." his knees press together and he drops his head. "Not now anyvay. She killed my muser."
"Curious."
Kurt looks up, confused. Xavier has his hands pyramided in his lap, an eyebrow tilted up. "Vat is?"
"That you refereed to Mystique as your mother."
"But, she is."
"Technically, yes." The chair silently wheels a few inches closer. "Although she didn't raise you, did she?"
"She couldn't," Kurt objected, warmth rushing to his face.
"I suppose not. But who did raise you? Who played with you, taught you, clothed you?"
"...My adopted parents," Kurt answers hesitantly.
He thinks of home and the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile. He thinks of all those years of Fasching Festivals, donning costumes and large, funny looking masks with exaggerated noses and ears. He thinks of setting his shoes outside his bedroom door in hopes of finding candy or coins the next morning, and Sperrmull—otherwise known as "junking." For two days a year, people would put out to the curb what they no longer wanted, and people would walk the streets in search of new treasures. Once, he found a whole bag of children's toys and books.
"And you love them, don't you?" Xavier's question catches him off guard.
Kurt's head bounces back, as though he's been struck. "Of course!" he cries. "But, zen, Rogue...vhat she did?"
"Some would praise her for what she did. Others, perhaps not. Though Mystique did terrible things, I don't believe she was inherently evil." for one brief moment, they lock eyes. "I don't condone what Rogue did, but what's done is done. All that's left is to move forward."
So what is he to do, then? he wonders. Forgive her? Pretend nothing ever happened? He can't. Whether or not Mystique was a good person, she was a person, and Rogue killed her. He wonders how something like this can go unpunished? And he is brooding now, mulling over every scenario he can remember. Images of her appear in his mind, accompanied by her voice. He remembers the last thing she said to him, and his heart breaks. "She could have changed," he breathes, tears stinging his eyes.
"You're completely right. She could have," Xavier says evenly. "Though when we look at her past acts and ambitions, it's very—"
"Unlikely," Kurt finished for him.
"Precisely. Kurt." his voice commands attention, and Kurt gives it to him. "Whatever you're feeling right now is okay. It's all right to be angry. It's also all right to be sad. When Rogue did what she did, she wasn't intending to hurt you. She was intending to end the hurt that Mystique caused her."
For the first time, he stops and truly thinks about Rogue. Her situation is odd. Holding hands, a kiss, a hug...all denied, and for obvious reasons. He supposes it doesn't seem like such an awful thing, until you live with it. He thinks back to a boy Rogue nearly killed at some sort of dance or party. She must have been horrified. He's known her for some time now, and can't imagine her being a mindless killing machine. She has to feel something besides anger, on some level. Even if she doesn't admit it.
Xavier's voice pulls him out of thought very slowly. "She's very upset, as well, Kurt."
Kurt's brow creases, and whether it's because he's genuinely shocked or because he feels as though she doesn't deserve to be upset, he isn't sure. "She is?"
"She values your friendship very much. I don't think she can forgive herself."
If she is as upset as the Professor says, he reasons, perhaps he doesn't need to shoulder all this grief and guilt by himself. There's a macabre sort of relief in the knowledge that she's hurting, too—even if it is only over the prospect of losing his friendship. He doesn't want to abuse this, but he thinks with the kind of person Rogue is, she'll lament over this for years to come, always second guessing, always wondering. This will stay with her for the rest of her life.
He can accept that.
"I can't forgive her," he makes clear. "But...I may be villing to work on sings."
"Of course." Xavier's reply is quiet, his eyes growing tired. "Would you like for me to tell her?"
"I vill speak to her ven I get back."
"I think you're making the right decision."
"I hope so," he sighs. "I jas need some time to sink."
"Take all the time you need." The wheelchair begins to inch away backwards, then turns to the side. Xavier pauses and looks at him. "Enjoy your time away, and remember, you're always welcome here. We're a family."
"Sank you, Professor."
"Goodnight, Kurt. I'll be there to see you off in the morning."
"Goodnight, Professor." Kurt rises after him and quietly closes and locks the door, resting with his back against it. He manages a tiny smile and pushes away from the door, undressing down to his boxers, and pulls on a night shirt and crawls into bed. He closes his eyes, and though positive he won't get any actual sleep, thinks of his mother and father.
He's surprised at how different he feels after two months. There's no way he's "gotten over" the incident, but he no longer feels as frail or hysteric as he was before. It was wonderful to see his parents. His mother, especially. He thinks, in a weird way, he's a better son to her now. He even almost considered staying.
He arrives back in the early morning, accompanied by Storm, who mentions needing a nice hot cup of tea. Since there's no welcome back party (he's glad, because honestly? It would be awkward), he walks up the stairs and to his room, determined to sleep until noon, at least. He drops his suitcase and uses his foot to shove it under the bed, then flops down on it with a loud, dramatic sigh.
"Kurt?"
His heart leaps into his throat when he hears the voice. Not that he's afraid, but he certainly wasn't expecting it. "Rogue!" he breathes, scrambling to sit up. She's standing there leaning in the doorway, arms folded, looking sad and insecure.
"Ah heard you were comin' home today, and just wanted t'say hi," she lamely explains, avoiding his gaze and brushing her bangs out of her face.
"Um, sanks."
Her voice is timid when she asks:"you still mad at me?"
He frowns at her. "Vhat do you sink?"
"A-all right." She apologises for bothering him and turns to leave.
Kurt sighs. "Rogue, vait."
"What?" she asks in that self-pitying voice he hates.
This isn't about you! he wants to scream at her. Instead, he says, "I don't sink I can forgive you for vhat you did. But...I like you, and I vant us to stay friends."
As her arms fall to her sides, she stands there, looking lost. She still looks as though she wants to turn and run. "D...d'you think we can work on it?" she asks.
"Ja." He can see the sun beginning to rise, painting over the cold grey with soft pinks and yellows. "I vould like zhat."
She smiles. And for once, it's a genuine smile and not a smirk.
Kurt tiredly smiles back.
Author's Note:
I wasn't satisfied with how the "demise" of Mystique played out. They made Kurt too emotionally invested (even after Rogue shoved a defenseless Mystique) for him to just brush it to the side and get over it" so quickly. Pretend this happened right after Rogue kills Mystique, then the series plays out like it did originally. Thank you for your cooperation.
I'm still getting the hang of writing, so if you have any concrit, or just want to point out an error, I encourage you to speak up. I really want to get better.
Mein Gott, was hat sie getan? My God, what has she done?