Mea Culpa

Peccavi nimis, cogitatione…

Kurt kneeled in a darkened corner of the garden; his eyes shut tight, his head bowed in reverence. His lips mouthed a silent prayer, over and over again, using it like a mantra to ward off his sinful thoughts. Rain began to fall like tears from heaven, but Kurt, still deep in prayer, didn’t seem to notice. Finally as the rain soaked through his threadbare clothing, Kurt finished his self-imposed penance.

He teleported to the covered porch of the mansion, and shook most of the rain off of himself. He was still soaked to the bone, and starting to get cold, but he didn’t much care. He teleported again, this time to the room that had been set aside for his use. He still couldn’t bring himself to think of it as his room.

Kurt stripped off his dripping clothes and hung them over the back of a chair to dry, then flopped onto bed, without his usual grace. Even though his body was weary, his mind was still to troubled to sleep. His fingers traced along the raised skin on his chest. A mark for every sin. His hand moved to the engraved skin over his heart. Pride. His first sin, and his first mark. He closed his eyes as his fingers wandered over other sins. Greed, Sloth, Gluttony, Envy, and finally Wrath. When he was younger, his wrath and envy went hand in hand. His hatred of himself and his envy of ‘normal’ people.

Of all the seven deadly sins, there was still one that was not marked upon his body. But now, he was in danger of losing himself to that one sin. A face invaded his ruminations, causing him to shudder involuntarily. Mocha colored skin and cerulean eyes tempted him. They invaded his every though, his every dream. What he wouldn’t give for one of her smiles, to feel her hand caressing his cheek. Kurt let out a soft moan, as his fevered imagination laced his daydream with carnal intentions. His hand began to move of it’s own accord, down his chest, across his belly…

He suddenly froze. “Mein Gott..” he hissed to himself, as he bolted upright. He could not do that. He had to be strong. He could not give into that last sin. His eyes flew to the small balcony attached to his room. It was pouring outside. He stepped out, letting the cold rain fall upon him, in hopes that it would help wash away his guilt..

* * * * * * * * * *

Ororo trudged her way to the kitchen, wrapping her terrycloth robe tightly around her body. Moments ago, she had bolted out of bed, a silent scream caught in her throat as images of Jean's death assailed her. Sleep was impossible after that. Running her fingers through her disarrayed hair, Ororo sighed and hoped that a cup of hot chocolate would sooth her jangled nerves.

Soon she was basking in the comforting scent of cocoa as she held a large mug close to her face. As she wandered through the silent mansion, slowly nursing the scalding sweet liquid, her eyes caught on a light coming from underneath the door that led to the gym. 'Who could be up at this hour?' she mused to herself as she quietly opened the door. At first glance the room appeared to be empty. Then she looked up and almost dropped her cup. A lithe form flew through the air, performing acts of athletic prowess. Their new recruit, Kurt Wagner, seemed to be working off extra energy by using the mansion's extensive gymnastic equipment. Long limbs moved with fluid grace, swinging up from parallel bars to the rings that hung from the ceiling.

Ororo watched in stunned silence at the elegant dance that was playing out above her. Obviously he didn't notice her presence, so she took the time to get a good look at this mysterious man. He wore a pair of oversized gray sweatpants and a khaki colored shirt, both of which looked to have seen better days. Lean muscles moved underneath his embossed blue skin as his body twisted and turned midair, to grasp the rings overhead with dexterous hands, feet and even his spade tipped tail. After a series of flips, jumps, and midair turns, he grabbed onto a ring with his prehensile toes and swung back and forth hanging on with just one foot. He hung, his free leg folded behind his knee, his hands held behind his back, and his eyes closed in concentration. Ororo couldn't help but think that he looked like the hanged man from a tarot deck.

Suddenly, without warning, he let go of the ring and dropped like a stone. Before she could react, Kurt twisted in midair, like a cat, and gracefully landed in a crouch on his feet. He stretched out his long frame and walked to a nearby bench, grabbing a water bottle and taking a swig. She didn't realize how tall he was, seeing as most of the time he walked bent over in a slouch. It was as if he was trying to make himself smaller and unnoticed. She must have unconsciously made a sound, as she was puzzling over the enigma that was Kurt Wagner, because he suddenly turned to look in her direction.

Ororo flushed in embarrassment as golden eyes peered at her curiously. She straightened her shoulders and stepped fully into the room, causing Kurt to unconsciously take a step backwards. He had instantly adopted his usually crouching stance as soon as he realized he was being watched.

“Hi..” she smiled, clutching her now cold cup of cocoa to her chest, “I didn’t mean to bother you.. I saw a light on and-“

“Nein.. It’s okay,” he interrupted as his eyes dropped to the floor and a shy smile pulled at his lips. “I’m not able to sleep well tonight..” He self-consciously wringed the water bottle he held in his hands.

Ororo laughed softly, causing Kurt’s golden eyes to glance up at her. “It seems that insomnia is catching,” she smiled, prodding another shy grin from him. She raised her cup towards him. “I was heading back to the kitchen to warm this back up. Care to join me?”

Kurt’s grin widened showing sharp, white teeth. “It would be my pleasure, Fraulein Storm.”

“Please,” she replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief, “Call me Ororo.”


* * * * * * * * * * * * *


An hour later there were sitting at the kitchen table, their now empty mugs of hot chocolate forgotten. It had taken a bit to get Kurt out of his shell, but soon he was talking animatedly, perched on the edge of his seat, his whip-like tail flicking behind him. Ororo smiled as he told of his days as the ‘Incredible Nightcrawler’, pantomiming and over exaggerating in his storytelling. Ever the entertainer, he did his best to put on a good show as he fought invisible adversaries, relishing Ororo’s dulcet laughter. As she leaned back in her chair, her eyes caught on the flashing kitchen clock.


“Oh dear,” she moaned, “It’s four o’clock in the morning. We really should be getting to bed.”

“Ja. This was fun. Maybe we could do this again some other time?” Kurt replied, running his fingers through his indigo locks. She paused and grinned.

“Yes, I would definitely look forward to that.” Kurt cast his eyes down shyly. From affable showman back to the bashful new recruit. Ororo hope that with enough time, she could draw him out, show him that he had no need to be so withdrawn. She let out a silent sigh as Kurt teleported out of the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.


* * * * * * * * * * * * *


Their late night talks became a matter of routine. Ororo would wander to the gym and find Kurt doing his nightly workouts. He would finish and the both of them would sit around with a cup of hot chocolate or tea, discussing the day’s events. The conversations seemed to help him slowly get over his shyness and interact with the others during the day. He spent most of his time with the children. They quickly saw past his demonic visage, to the amiable man underneath. The midnight talks were also a way for her to get things off of her chest. Kurt was a wonderful and sympathetic listener. The conversations gave her something to think about other that her nightmares of Jean. She was usually so tired when they finished, that as soon as her head hit her pillow she’d fall into a deep dreamless sleep. She wasn’t getting a full night’s rest, but it was enough to keep her from being a zombie. But of course, after about two months of this, those missed hours of sleep were catching up with her. As she sat in her room, reading to kill time until midnight, her eyes began to droop shut. It wasn’t long before her chin hit her chest, and her book fell into her lap, as she slipped into unconsciousness.

She was flying above a large mass of water, searching in vain for something. She had to find Jean, she could still save her friend! Suddenly a waterspout rose in front of her. She moved back quickly to avoid the torrent of water. Then from within she saw a figure. She drew closer until she could make out pale skin, the color of a dead fish’s stomach, hair the color of blood tangled with seaweed. Ororo eyes widened in horror as she recognized who it was.

“Jean..” she moaned as tears fell from her eyes. At the sound of her voice, the corpse’s eyes snapped open and a cold hand reached up to grab Ororo’s in an iron grip.

“You didn’t save me..” came the dead woman’s hoarse voice. Ororo struggled in mounting panic.

“We tried!” she cried as she fought in vain against being pulled down into the water.

“Not hard enough,” Jean hissed as she pulled Ororo into the cold sea below.