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 couterpart had. At least up until now.

I love feedback...I don't have a Beta reader, so give it to me. Good, bad, or ugly.

Thanks to tkd for the review. In response, I’ve done a little tweaking of Kurt’s character. Funny thing was, I'd already started this chapter when I received the review.

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 Three: Every Bond You Break

Kurt was going mad.

The woman, his Trainer, this “Alpha Nine” subjected him to her “training” twice a day. She would bring him to the very edge of release and hold him there until he begged for it. Then she would speak the word, the word that he could not remember. Then he would come like some maddened animal.

Each time he would promise himself that he would not, could not submit. That he would not give her the satisfaction of a response. That he would cling to his dignity, his humanity. Each day, every day, she would strip him of both.

Worse still, she would not let him touch her. She dressed and undressed in front of him, tormenting him with the sight of flesh he could not touch. She did not openly tease him, simply ignored him as a man. As if he were nothing more than an animal.

The mere sight of her excited him. Her voice sent chills down his spine. The scent of her maddened him. No matter how hard he tried to resist, his body betrayed him.

By the fourth day, he found himself waiting eagerly for his morning session and by that evening he was begging to be allowed to touch her.

{What has she done to me?}


{It’s time.}

He was growing thin and restless. He needed exercise and some time away from his cell. Taking him outside was out of the question, but there was a gymnasium on this level close by. It could be locked and possessed enough space and equipment to put him through his paces.

{I need a break.}

The twice a day regimen was beginning to wear on her. She’d never used her gift so heavily before. The boy was tougher than he looked. Strong-willed.

She decided to replace their morning session with a trip to the gymnasium. She could tell the boy was uneasy with the change in routine. He’d been reluctant to submit to the shackles the Commander had ordered he wear.

She’d been impatient. She wanted to get out of her quarters, at least for an hour. She had distracted him by letting him get close to her, had even brushed her lips against his cheek. Maybe that was where she went wrong.

“Come along, pet. You need to stretch your legs.” She led him through the corridors by the chain attached to his manacles. “It will do you good.”

Kurt followed silently. His mind was filled with the sweet scent of her shampoo and the soft touch of her lips. How could he hate her and want her so much at the same time?

He’d become so compliant in the last few days, she had become complacent, even a little smug.

{Pride cometh before a fall.}

When they reached the gym, she had locked the door and released his manacles, letting him roam freely, setting his own pace.

She watched him for a while. His acrobatics were impressive as he ignored the exercise machines in favor of a complex tumbling routine. Then she chose a treadmill from which she could watch him. She slowly worked her way from a walk to jog as she watched him repeat the same drill several times. She failed to notice how he worked his way closer with each repetition.

She sped up and had just fallen into the familiar rhythm of a full run when she saw a flash of blue out of the corner of her eye. It was that second’s warning that saved her from a serious injury, perhaps even a fatal one as he leapt at her, knocking her ribs hard against the treadmill’s arm and striking her in the face.

She hit the floor hard and lay stunned for a moment as he continued the movement, letting it carry him out of reach. She curled up into a ball and rolled painfully aside as he returned for a second strike, a glancing kick to the head. Again he bounded out of reach as she struggled to reach her hands and knees, blood pouring from her nose and split lip. She spat blood as she started to rise. Another quick blow sent her tumbling to the floor again, her opponent dancing out of her reach.

{Idiot! He’s a trained fighter. He keeps moving so I can’t zap him.}

She was in trouble. She was no kind of fighter. Her tongue prodded her damaged lip. It was too early in his training to use the implanted command word. She might not even be able to speak it.

{Stay down. Let him come to you.}

She covered her head and rolled her back against the treadmill for the little protection it offered.

“Get up!” He landed next to her, just out of arm’s reach.

“No.”

“I should kill you, bitch.” He growled.

{I’ll never get out of here alive.}

“Yes.” A long pause, not the answer he expected.

“How do I get out of here?” He looked around for something to use as a weapon, but everything seemed to be bolted down.

“You don’t.”

“Tell me or I’ll kill you.” She lowered her arms and looked at him.

“They won’t care.”

“You would care.”

“I’ll be dead.” She rose up on an elbow to wipe the blood from her nose with the hem of her shirt.

{Damn it, why is it always in the face?}

“Someone will care.” His voice wavered as he saw the damage he’d done.

“I doubt it.” She sat up further, going pale at the pain in her ribs.

“I hate you.”

“I know.” She wavered and reached for him, as if for support. When her hand touched his, he collapsed as she poured her life’s energy into the jolt. She held on doggedly until he passed out. She then began the slow, painful walk to the call button near the door.


Kurt had a long, long time to think about what he’d done. He woke to blackness, another cell. This one was empty save for a toilet. He explored it by feel, not even enough light for his sensitive eyes to make out anything.

{Maybe I’ve gone blind.}

Long after his belly began to growl, he heard a scuffle and a small sliver of light shone through a hatch on the floor. A clatter of plastic and the smell of food told him that dinner had arrived.

{Or maybe breakfast?}

At last a dim light flickered to life over his head and he could see.

{Not much to look at. But at least I can see to eat.}

The cell was barely large enough to lie down in, the concrete walls were grey and stained with something he hoped wasn’t blood. The door was heavy steel, no point in trying to break through it.

What had he been thinking? He’d had no plan, merely grabbed the opportunity. Had he really thought she would help him? If she knew a way out, would she still be here?

{Or did I just want to hurt her?}

How long would they keep him here? What would they do to him for attacking her? What could he do other than wait?

Three times a “day” someone would shove a meal tray through the slot without saying a word. He’d tried shouting, pleading, even cursing in German with no response. At “night” the lights would go out and it was pitch black. He tried to slip his tail through the meal slot, but it was firmly latched from the outside.

He hated her. He wanted her. His dreams were filled with confused images of her, sometimes sensual, sometimes violent. Even when he was awake, the dreams still seemed to play across the dull grey walls. He longed for her, and feared her return. More than that, he feared being turned over to someone else for “training.”

{Better the devil you know, I suppose.}

It was six “days” before anything changed.

When he awakened on the seventh “day” he found himself back in his original cell. He had no memory of how he’d gotten there, but it was almost a relief to see the familiar furnishings. He was manacled again, even though he was inside the cage.

{Where is she?}

It wasn’t long before the door opened and she walked in pushing a meal cart. Someone from the outside shut the door with a thump and the woman paused. Then she slowly pushed the cart toward his cell.

He could see the bruises on her face where he’d struck her, beginning to fade now and her lip had needed stitches. His stomach churned nervously as she frowned at him.

Wordlessly she opened the cell door and reached for him. He flinched, expecting some sort of retaliation, but she was only removing his manacles. She tossed them aside carelessly where they clattered against the bars of the cell. Then she walked across the room and slowly lowered herself to lay on her bed, tossing one arm over her face to block out the light.

Confused he hesitated before leaving the cell and claiming one of the trays as his own. He ate hungrily, sneaking glances at the woman on the bed. She hadn’t moved.

“You can have mine. I’m not hungry.”

He took another look at her and she looked thinner than he remembered, and pale. He looked at the second tray and set the milk and toast on her desk before eating the rest.

“Can I use the shower?”

“Knock yourself out.” Her voice was flat, emotionless.

“You aren’t angry?” He blurted out.

“No.”

“They really don’t care do they?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry.” She dropped her arm and looked at him.

“Don’t ever apologize to me. They may have lied to me to get me here, but in the end I walked in here of my own free will. In a week you’ll wish you had killed me.” She sat up slowly to look at him.

“Go take that shower, you stink.”


Grimacing at the pain, she dredged the bottle of painkillers from her pocket and reached for the toast and milk. After she’d taken a dose she tucked the bottle into her desk drawer and reached for the manila envelope someone had left on her desk.

{Another day with those ghouls in the Lab and I’d have gone nuts.}

The folder contained a report on the Lab’s current project. The toast became a cold lump in her stomach. The “Marionette Project” was already in testing? They’d already done the implants on four Gamma level mutants. With “only” one fatality they were calling it a success.

{Looks like I’m obsolete.}

She continued to read on, stomach churning. The last page was a proposal to expand testing with a list of mutants the Lab was requesting. On the top of the list was “Beta-Six, Teleportation” and two lines down “Alpha-Nine, Biolectrical fields.”

“Shit!”

The boy had chosen that moment to emerge from the bathroom, hair still dripping, a towel wrapped around his hips. She stood and tossed the file on her cot, not caring if the pages spilled onto the floor and stalked into the bathroom.

“Next time you try to kill me, do me the favor of finishing the job!”

Kurt watched the pages flutter to the floor with a sense of impending doom. Slowly, he began to gather them up, sorting through them to try to make sense of what he saw. At first the technical jargon was hard to follow, but with each page he read, the meaning became clearer. His breakfast had become a hard, indigestible lump by the time he found the list of mutants.

The phone rang. Kurt was so startled he nearly dropped the file. It rang again.

“What the hell?” She came sailing out of the bathroom, hair and skin still wet, a towel in her hand. She snatched the phone off the cradle.

“Trainer Alpha-9.” A pause.

“Yes, Commander. I’ve read the file.” She turned and met Kurt’s eyes.

“Yes, Sir. I understand…”

“That…that’s not enough time, Sir. I’ve just got him back and…” She bit her lip worriedly as she listened to the voice on the other end. She flinched as her teeth closed on the still healing stitches.

“Yes, Sir.” She hung up the phone slowly and sat down, heedless of how she was dripping all over her desk and chair.

“Bad news?” Kurt crept closer.

“Yeah.” She seemed to remember the towel still in her hand and began to mop the moisture from her face and chest.

“About this?” He reached over to place the file on her desk.

“Yeah.” She wrapped the towel around her hair. “The Commander wants you ready for the field ASAP. The Lab has got a 6 week turn-around on these, these… robo-mutants. We have to beat that -- or join them.”

“What…are you going to do now?”

“Take a day off.”

“Huh?”

“Eat, drink, and be merry….”