Every Breath You Take

Author’s Note/Disclaimer: I’ll be going down some very dark paths in this fic. I love Kurt. And we always hurt the ones we love. Don’t we? “Every Breath You Take” is a song by the Police from the eighties. I used to love the song. More than a decade later I listen to the lyrics and realize just how creepy they are. I think it’s perfect for this story.

BTW: This Kurt Wagner is the Nightcrawler from XMen Evolution and hasn’t had quite the rough life his comic book counterpart had. At least up until now.

No Beta reader, plea for feedback...blah blah blah...you know the drill folks.

05/24/2007 – I just found a major error on my part that had made all the character’s internal thoughts invisible when posted online. I usually refrain from pulling up my own stories so as not to inflate the hit counter, but apparently I need to proofread online.

{This means character’s internal thoughts.}
**This means projected thoughts, as in telepathy.**

Chapter Eleven: I Dream at Night, I Can Only See Your Face.

Adrienne spent most of the morning in town, running errands and exploring what Bayville had to offer, at least within the range of her bicycle. By lunchtime, she was tired, and after grabbing a quick lunch at a hamburger stand, she wandered into a used bookstore to browse. Logan followed her in, deciding to make a friendly contact with the girl.

He waved at the store’s proprietor as he followed the girl into the stacks, pretending interest in the books on the shelves. She was engrossed in looking at used psychology texts and paid no attention to him until he brushed up against her shoulder. She started, nearly dropping the book in her hand.

“Sorry Miss. Didn’ mean to spook ya.”

“That’s O.K. I’m just a little jumpy. New in town.” She gave him a quick smile before returning her attention to the book in her hand.

“New in town, eh? You a student?” He looked pointedly at the book in her hands.

“Me? Oh no. I’ve been out of school for a few years. Just looking for something to read.”

“Kinda heavy stuff to read for fun.” She shrugged, then gave him a closer look, hugging the book to her chest. He wasn’t much taller than she, but he was powerfully built and had a wild look about him. Not the sort she’d expect to find here.

“And what were you looking for?”

{Damn. She thinks I’m trying to pick her up.}

“Some reference books for the school library. I’ve got a list here somewhere.” He fumbled around in his pockets, and of course came up empty, since it was a lie. “Guess I left it behind.”

“Are you a teacher?”

“Sort of, I fill in when I’m needed. Mostly I just take care of whatever needs doing.” He scowled briefly as he thought a moment. “You know anything about all this stuff. Not really my field.” He waved his hand at the shelves.

{Women can’t resist a “helpless” man.}

“A little. I majored in Psychology in college.”

“How about I trade you some coffee for your expertise? There’s a shop just next door.” She hesitated.

“I don’t know. I should probably head back home…”

“Just trying to be friendly… Miss?”

“Porter. Adrienne Porter.”

“Name’s Logan.”

A half-hour later, Logan was packing his purchases into his motorcycle’s saddlebags while she tucked hers into her bicycle’s basket. Soon they were sitting at an outdoor table chatting over over-priced coffee. After only a few minutes, they were interrupted by his cell phone.

“’Scuse me.” He answered his phone impatiently. “They did what? … How much? … No. I’ll deal with them… No don’t tell ‘em I’m coming.”

“Trouble?”

“Yeah. Some kids dumped a whole case of strawberry jello in the school’s pool.”

“Sounds like a mess.” She tried to cover a grin with her hand.

“Yeah. Shoulda used lime. That’s gonna leave a stain.” He grinned back at her. “Somebody pulls that prank at least once every couple a years. Gotta go put my scary face on.” He scowled comically at her.

“Yep. That’s scary all right.”

“Here. Before I go. Here’s my number. Call if you need anything.” He scribbled his cell number on the back of a receipt before hopping on his motorcycle and taking off.

Before she rose from the table, Adrienne programmed the number into her phone. She wondered why he hadn’t asked her for hers. Then she grabbed her bike and headed home.


{Here again.}

He didn’t remember leaving his room. The clock on her bedside table read 2:47 AM. He watched her sleep. Her brow furrowed in response to some dream. She shifted position and mumbled something.

{Why am I here?}

She had left on the bicycle Ororo had given her. He’d found out that much. So he couldn’t take it away or there would be questions. She hadn’t worn the clothes he’d left for her either. Hadn’t even tried them on. He saw that she wore a blue nightshirt. Where had it come from? He scowled at it.

He’d come earlier that day. In the afternoon when she typically read a book or watched TV. She hadn’t been back yet. Where did she go? Who was she with?

{What was so important? Or was it a who?}

He didn’t like the idea of her going out. Talking to other people. To other men. Perhaps recruiting new “pets.” He grew angrier and angrier at the thought, tail lashing with the ebb and flow of his anger. He tried to still it, not wanting to wake her. Not yet.


There was a heavy weight on her chest. She struggled against it as she emerged from her dream. Somehow her bed had become a sort of cocoon that hugged her too tightly. She opened her eyes to find sulfurous yellow eyes less than a foot away. She gasped.

“Where were you?” He snarled, fangs flashing in the dim light, his blue fur blending into the darkness making him almost invisible. She struggled against his weight, trying to push him off. He’d pulled her blankets up to her chin and now pinned them tightly with his full weight. He held her wrists down through the fabric.

“Get off of me!” He pulled the blankets across her neck even tighter, almost choking her. She bucked under him, but he held fast.

“Where were you?” He growled, leaning so close she could feel his breath on her cheeks.

“I went shopping. In town.” She tried to kick the blankets off, but his weight rested on her thighs. She felt his tail thump warningly against her shins.

“All day?” It was becoming hard to breathe and she was beginning to fear he truly meant to hurt her.

“I haven’t been shopping in two years. I …needed some things.” She continued to struggle beneath him. There was no way she could use her gift with the blankets insulating her and her reserves so low.

“What could you possibly need that I haven’t given you?” His voice was cold with rage.

“Kurt. Please let me up. Let’s talk about this.” Her heart was racing and she feared she’d have to resort to the command words.

“Who were you with?” His grip on her wrists tightened until it became painful, pulling the blankets just a little tighter.

“Kurt. Stop. I can’t breathe.” She whispered. She was getting frantic. Any tighter and she wouldn’t be able to speak. He growled in response, then vanished in a puff of foul-smelling smoke.

“Bamf.”

Adrienne threw back the covers and pulled her knees to her chest, resting her face on them. She found herself gasping for air as her heart thudded in her chest. She struggled to slow both her breathing and her racing pulse.

{He’s out of control. Why haven’t his friends done something?}

Did they not see it? Or did they care if he tormented her? No. They would care, at least for his sake. They were heroes weren’t they?

{I wish Ororo had given me her number.}

She fumbled on her nightstand for her phone and flipped it open. Only two choices. One could bring disaster and the other was an unknown.

{I don’t think this is what Logan meant by “needing anything.”}

She should run now. Take what little cash she had and disappear. Maybe she should call Logan. Ask him to get her out of town. She imagined riding on his bike, arms wrapped around him. His energy flowing into her…

{Awful tall order for someone you’ve only shared coffee with.}

What would Kurt do if he found out someone had helped her? She’d be gone and there’d be no one to stop him. Was there any chance this Logan was another one of Kurt’s friends? Was his also being a teacher a coincidence? Or was she being paranoid? Her thoughts ran in circles.

{Why run? Didn’t you already kill yourself once?}

She flipped on the bedside light and reached for the book that always rested there. Like a favorite book of bedtime stories. Or a talisman against the dark.

“We are all destined to you, and sooner or later must pass to your domain.” (1) The familiar passage soothed her, no longer frightening as it had once been. She’d done this to him. He was her responsibility, in the end. It was only right that she should be the target of his rage. He’d given her this life and it was his to take if it came to that.

{Decision made. No running.}

She flipped the phone closed and placed it and the book back on the nightstand. Then she rolled over and went back to sleep. With the light on. Just before she drifted off, a last thought drifted across her mind.

{I miss you.}


Kurt paced his room, angry and frustrated. He was now banned from group practice, his outbursts of violence had gone too far. He had told himself that they were lying, making things up, but this time it was right there on the Danger Room logs. He rubbed his bruised jaw absently.

{What is wrong with me?}

He didn’t remember it. Didn’t remember a lot of things people accused him of lately. This morning there had been a training session with some of the younger students. He didn’t even remember going, but there he was on tape, backing poor little Rahne into a corner, fist raised. He’d been chilled by the expression of rage on his own face. Even confronted with the evidence, he still had no memory of it.

{This is big trouble. Rahne’s been pulled out of school before because her folks worried about her safety.}

It was Jamie who’d pulled him off, taking the blows meant for Rahne, each strike generating another defender. One of the Jamies had finally landed a punch that knocked him out and he’d woken up in the Infirmary flanked by a concerned Storm and a thoroughly pissed Wolverine. He’d had no excuse for his actions and couldn’t bring himself to admit he was blacking out.

{They’re talking about suspending me from the XMen. What am I going to do?}

He wasn’t sleeping at night. He kept finding himself at *her* place, with no memory of leaving his room, or even his bed. His grades were falling. He would probably fail this semester. Most of his friends were avoiding him now. Even the Professor and Jean had given up on trying to convince him to accept their “help.”

{I’m not letting anyone else fuck with my head.}

It was all *her* fault. Her doing. This was how she repaid him for saving her life? Getting her out of that hole? She ignored his gifts, ran around town doing god knows what. And now he was losing more time than ever, hurting people he cared about – maybe she had even ordered him to do it.

{She says her little magic words and I do whatever she says. Then forget about it. That’s how it works, right?}

She would pay for what she did. What she was doing now. He’d see to that. Arrogant bitch. She still thought she controlled him. And if she wasn’t the one making him do these things, then she was only one who could control him.

{If she doesn’t stop me, I’ll hurt someone.}

If he pushed her, hurt her, frightened her, she’d have to stop him. Have to say the words. Wouldn’t she? Let her see the monster she had created, up close and personal.

{God how I miss her touch.}

It was so hard to stay away. Not to touch her. But he’d had to stay away, keep her gift weak. Keep it so that her only defense was to use the words. He hadn’t told the others what she had told him. It wasn’t in the files she’d stolen. It was their secret.

{What is it like to be powerless, weak? Not used to that either, are you?}

If she’d had enough power to strike back, she would have done it last night.

{Tonight. I’ll know the truth.}


Quotes:
(1) Bullfinch’s Mythology, pg 152, Copyright 1952 by Edmund Fuller