Playing with Fire

For those of you who read the first four chapters prior to 9/20/03, apologies, I accidentally uploaded the wrong ch. for # 4, so you might want to go back and read ch. 4. You'll be seeing Watcher in the Dark again later.

Don't own it, you're delusional if you think I do.

Please read and review. Hope you enjoy.


COLD LIGHT OF DAWN


Kurt came awake with a start in the cold first light of dawn. That, in itself, was nothing unusual, it was the feeling of being very cold, very damp and very, very sore that threw him for a loop. He lay motionless for a moment, eyes l cll closed, trying to remember where exactly he was and why he was there rather than in his cot listening to Scott snore and mumble in his sleep. He ran his fingers lightly through the damp fur on his bare chest, listening to the cheerful cacophony of birds rising to begin their day and breathingthe the fresh scent of loamy earth and damp grass. It didn't really bother him much to wake in the open, he'd just rather be able to remember why he went to sleep there in the first place - and also why he felt like someone had spent the night beating him with a stick.

He had finally opened one bleary golden eye to blink groggily up at the shifting canopy of new spring leaves above him when memory came flooding back to his sleep dazed mind and he surged gracefully to his f tai tail lashing with agitation. After Scott left the bathroom last night he had teleported straight to the woods above the bunker complex. The strain of 'porting up had left him dizzy, lightheaded and with a slight nosebleed to boot and his abused stomach had promptly made its displeasure known.

He had paused, after, gasping for breath and trying to regain his equilibrium when he had again heard that cold, harsh voice echoing through his mind, sensed phantom h rea reaching at the edge of his vision and he had been off, running. Moving as fast as he could through the trees, never stopping, never slowing, his only thought to escape, escape the burning touch of memory and nightmare. Branch to branch, leaping, grasping, swinging, teleporting any distance too great to leap. Breath coming in labored gasps, the lash and tug of twigs and branches whipping and clutching at him as he sped, unheeding, through the canopy. He ran until there was no room in his mind for anything but the next leap, the next handhold, until even the thought of 'porting was enough to make his head spin. Then he threw himself from the treetops to the forest floor and ran some more. Ran until each breath was an agony and his heart beat in his ears like a heavy metal drum solo, ran until there was nothing but oblivion.

Kurt wrapped his arms across his chest and shivered, not sure if it was the morning chill or the memory that suddenly left him so cold. He neither recognized nor remembered the part of the woods he found himself in, it was simply the spot he was in when he had finally dropped from exhaustion. It had been some time, he thought grimly, since it had taken quite so much effort to outpace his demons.

Lifting his arms high over head he stretched, feeling the protest from muscles and joints as he twisted and bent, trying to loosen up some of the kinks from hours spent in frantic activity followed by too little sleep on cold, damp earth. He felt as though, in Logan's words, he'd been 'ridden hard and put up wet'.

_I suppose that's not really so far from the truth,_ he thought wryly as he shook dew from his hair.

_Oooh, that was a mistake._ He groaned as his head began to pound in protest at the abrupt movement and his stomach clenched, threatening open revolt. Rubbing at his mouth he felt the warm slickness of blood running from his nose and the stickiness of old blood in the fur of his face.

"Scheisse, I'm a wreck," he mumbled to himself in frustration. He was filthy, cold and sore in places he'd forgotten could even get sore. He needed a scalding hot shower and probably a good hour or more of yoga before he was going to feel even remotely human again - not that he had time for the latter, not before morning mass anyway. If there'd been a time in the last few months when he had needed the comfort of Penance and Holy Communion, it was definitely this morning.

_Breakfast wouldn't hurt either,_ he thought as his stomach chose that moment to remind him, quite vocally, that teleporting burns a ridiculous number of calories and he'd eaten little, at least by his standards, the night before.

He scrubbed his hands through his hair, dislodging an odd array of l lel leaves and twigs. Glancing down at the almost shredded remains of the flannel pants he'd worn to bed, as well as the assortment of fresh scrapes and cuts he'd collected on his night time obstacle course, he decided that, despite his exhaustion, one more teleport was probably in order. No point in shocking anyone who might be up and moving by trooping through the hallways looking like a one mutant fright show first thing on a Sunday morning. Hell, seeing him at his best first thing in the morning was enough to ruin breakfast for some of the new kids, even after all these months, seeing him this way would be really pushing it.

_No point in 'porting any farther than necessary, though,_ he reflected as his head and stomach both protested at the thought. He turned unerringly in the direction of home and began to make his way slowly and silently through the underbrush.

He'd gone almost a mile before he finally reached the edge of the woods nearest the mostly rebuilt mansion. Considering the distance, he was glad that he'd decided to walk this far rather than teleport straight to his destination. "I _would_ rather be conscious when I get there," he mumbled quietly to himself.

He sat limply on a downed log at the edge of the woods, catching his breath and gathering strength for the 'port down to their underground living quarters. _Gott, it will be nice to be back above ground again. I miss sunlight coming through the windows,_ he thought as he gazed out at the almost finished mansion complex.

The sun had finally risen high enough to peer over the treetops to the east and the dew was beginning to dry, both on the landscape and his fur. It was looking like the beginning of a beautiful day and it wasn't too difficult to wrench his mind away from dark thoughts of the night before.

He had learned from experience that the past was just that, and there was no point in dwelling on it. There would be another night to worry about soon enough as it was, and besides, as cas constitutionally unsuited for brooding. As for the fiasco with Kitty, he sighed as he scrubbed a battered hand through his tangled hair, he'd just have to give her time and space and see if, maybe, he couldn't salvage her friendship from the wreckage he'd made of it.

_"Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,"_ he thought with a melancholy smile. It was one of his Mutti's favorite Bible verses and it had suited both his circumstances and his disposition so uncannily well on so many occasions, that he had sometimes felt that God had been speaking directly to him through His Apostle. _No point worrying about tomorrow's problems, or yesterday's, just deal with today's as they come._ Vati's more prosaic version was a simple 'don't borrow trouble Kurti.' Either way, the sentiment suited both his personality and his mood. It was much too beautiful a morning to brood and his innate optimism simply wouldn't let him worry about worst case scenarios in the rosy pink light of dawn.

"Ah, I knew there was a reason that this ungodly hour was my favorite time of day," he whispered to himself with a tired smile. "Now to see what miracles can be worked by vast quantities of hot water and Herr McCoy's excellent fur shampoo," and with a brief flash of golden light and a muffled 'bamf', he disappeared.



Kitty woke to the jarring sound of Rogue's clock radio blaring Marilyn Manson at top volume. The noise was enough to have her nearly jumping out of her skin - and she'd been having _such_ a good dream. She groaned in frustration and pulled her pillow firmly over her head as she listened to Rogue cursing over the cacophony while she flailed around for the snooze button.

"Don't you _dare_ hit snooze and then go back to sleep," she told her room mate in an angry mumble, "'cause I'll phase right through the damn thing - and your stereo _and_ your discman - if it goes off again!

"You wouldn't," Rogue drawled in a rather sleepy attempt at outrage.

"Yeah? Try me," Kitty responded with conviction.

She knew that Rogue had taken her threat seriously - GOOD - when she heard the older girl rustle around in bed, followed shortly by the sound of bare feet hitting the floor and the quiet click followed by sudden silence as she actually turned the offending object off.

Kitty rolled gratefully over and, pulling her comforter up under her chin, tried to worm her way back into dreamland. If she was lucky, she might even be able to drift back into the dream she'd been so rudely awakened from. The details were already hazy in her memory, but she had no trouble remembering that it was definitely a dream worth revisiting. Failing that, well, _there's no such thing as too much sleep_ she thought dreamily as her eyes drifted shut.

!!CLANG! "Ow, shit! Goddamn metal furniture!" Rogue exclaimed from the darkness.
"You know, Rogue, that chair's been there since we moved in three months ago. It's never been moved. One of these days you might, like, try something new and _not_ kick it in the dark." Kitty peeked curiously over at the glowing numbers on the clock by her cot. "Y'do know it's Sunday, right Rogue?" she inquired.

"Unhuh," came the mumbled affirmative from the darkness across the room.
"So why in Hell are you getting up at 7:00 in the morning?"

"Ah let the furball talk me inta goin' ta Mass with 'im this mornin'," she answered in a sleepy, slightly exasperated tone. "It's part o' his idea of 'brother-sister bonding'." Kitty could hear her rummaging in the metal locker they shared as a 'closet' now and reached over to turn on the light. It wasn't like she was going to be able to get back to sleep anyway, so Rogue might all bll be able to see what she was doing.

"Oh, uh, when did he, like, ask you to go?" she asked, a little too quickly. "Not that it's, like, any of my business." She amended hastily, feeling more than a little uncomfortable.

_He wouldn't say anything to her, would he?_ she thought with a hint of panic. No, not Kurt. No matter what he might have thought of her behaviour he wouldn't talk about it with anyone else. _Would he?_ No, definitely, he, he was muc much of a gentleman. Now Roberto or Ray, they would've had it around the whole Institute before dinner, which is why no one in their right mind would _ever_ confide anything to either of them.

She realized with a start that she had totally missed Rogue's reply while taking her little side trip down Neurosis Lane.

"I'm sorry Rogue, I missed that," she said with a yawn.

"Ah _said_, Ah made the'mistake of askin' him about his religion when he was helpin' me with mah French homework on Wednesday. Y'know that scary-ass crucifix he keeps hangin' across from the foot of his bed?" Kitty nodded vaguely, trying to dredge an image to suit the description out of her memory. "Well," Rogue continued, "Ah asked how'n Hell he can sleep with that thing starin' down at him all night and it kinda went from there. So, now Ah'm stuck. Ah promised him Ah'd go to early mass with him this mornin' - to 'experience the beauty of the Catholic faith' as he put it."

After thinking about it, Kitty could now vaguely picture what Rogue must have been referring to. She'd noticed it on his wall before, she just hadn't really paid it any mind. Just like she knew Kurt was a Catholic - it had come up at some time in the past, just like her Judaism had - but she'd had no idea that he actually attended church. He never said anything about it. Not like when Rahne had been at the Institute. It had been hard to have a complete conversation with the girl in which religion didn't come up at least once - usually with reference to sin, guilt and/or damnation. Kitty had actually taken to avoiding the younger girl because of it before she had been called home.

"I didn't know Kurt went to Church," she said, feeling irrationally hurt and kind of guilty that, after all this time, she hadn't known this very basic thing about him.

"Oh yeah," Rogue responded absently as she finished collecting supplies for horniorning shower. "Never misses a Sunday if he can help it. Ah guess it was pretty hard for 'im an all, before the Prof gave 'im his inducer. It's not like a fuzzy blue demon can really walk into your average Church. Turns out that his uncle's a priest though, so he could do all that good Catholic confession and absolution nonsense a couple times a year when he came ta visit." The older girl had an uncharacteristic...t...tender...expression or far face as she turned to look at Kitty, but quickly replaced it with her usual look of bored cynicism.

"Anyway, seems like he's still pretty psyched 'bout bein' able to go every week, even after all these months. It was pretty hard to say no to the little fuzzball when he got so excited about showin' me 'his' Church." She paused and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. "Oh shit, Ah've gotta go," she exclaimed, "Ah don't want ta make him late. Later roomie," and she was out the door and headed for the shower - leaving Kitty wide awake at an ungodly hour on a Sunday morning wondering just how much she really did know about one of her 'best' friends.



Kurt staggered slightly as he reappeared in the locker room on the level below the living quarters, his head, stomach and the blood running freely from his nose all telling him that this had better be his last 'port for a good long time. He pinched his nose tightly to stop the bleeding and stood still for a moment, waiting for the vertigo to subside, before grabbing a towel and heading for the showers.

No one would be there at this hour on a Sunday morning so he should be able to have his shower and dress his injuries in peace, without having to explain himself to anyone. Then he could slip into the uniform that was always kept in his locker and grab the spare image inr her he usually kept there as well and head up for breakfast with no one the wiser. That was the plan, anyway.

He'd just stripped out of his shredded pyjamas and gotten the water running as hot as he could stand it when the sound of the door sliding open, then shut startled him from the daze he'd been slipping into. Looking up, he caught sight of a burly figure moving around in the locker room near the door to the showers - unmistakably Logan. He stepped quickly under the spray and, closing his eyes, let the scalding water run down his face to saturate his fur, ignoring the stinging of the dozens of scrapes and cuts he'd accumulated as the hot water flushed them out.

He hoped the older mutant was simply retrieving something from his locker and would soon be gone without ever entering the shower room - a hope that was soon dashed as he heard another faucet turning and the spray begin from another shower head. Of course he hadn't heard Logan actually enter the room. You never did unless he went out of his way to let you hear him - much like Kurt himself. The difference was that Kurt was small, light, always barefoot and had, essentially, cat-feet. How Logan managed to be so quiet with a metal plated skeleton and cowboy boots was a constant source of mystery to Kurt and the other students.

He seemed to be in luck this morning, as Logan didn't appear to feel socially inclined. After a few moments of silence, broken only by the sound of running water and Logan washing himself, Kurt relaxed and let the hot water begin to work some of the blood from his fur and the stiffness from his muscles.

He had just gotten to work on the seemingly gargantuan task of working all the twigs, leaves and loam out of his hair when Logan's gruff voice broke what was just beginning to feel like a companionable silence. "So Elf, rough night?" There was a hint of humor in the question, but there was definitely an edge therewellwell.

He took a moment to finish picking out the bit of twig he'd been working on then answered in as noncommittal a voice as he could muster, "Ja, I've had better." He didn't meet the other man's eyes as he spoke, but concentrated on moving on to the next personal grooming challenge of the morning. _Thank God the hot water supply down here is virtually unlimited, he thought with chagrin, it's going to take forever to get me clean this morning._

A few more moments of silence and he was beginning to relax again when, "Nightmares, eh?" Logan asked in a voice so neutral as to be almost toneless.

Kurt froze, stunned for a moment, then managed to reply, "Ja, nightmares," in a not quite strangled voice. The older man's question had caught him totally by surprise, although he wasn't quite sure why. If anyone could guess it would be Logan. He and the Professor were the only ones who knew about the nightmares that had haunted him fonthsnths after his arrival at the Institute. Months when he had been irrationally grateful for the self-imposed ethical niceties that kept both the Professor and Jean out of his head without a specific invitation ? an invitation he was not bloody likely to ever extend. It had been Logan who had programmed the series of drills in the Danger Room specifically for him to use when he wanted - needed - to run himself to exhaustion before he could risk sleeping. Ororo and Jean, and even Scott, had known he was having 'difficulty adjusting' to his new life, as the Professor had so diplomatically put it, but it was Logan who had been there in the night when he had woken up in the med lab nothing but an incoherent ball of instinct and terror.

"Want ta talk about it?" the Canadian asked in the same carefully neutral voice.

Kurt actually found himself tempted for a moment. Logan did, after all, know some of his secrets anyway, it had seemed very natural to open up to the gruff, taciturn man in the dark watches of the night when he could neither sleep nor be trusted alone. Logan had never insulted him with pity, nor had he taken it on himself to judge, he had simply listened and understood. Most importantly, he had never spoken of any of it again to Kurt or, he was absolutely certain, to anyone else - including the Professor - nor had he let it affect theilatilationship in any way. The urge to speak passed almost as soon as it surfaced, however, as soon as he remembered the difference between those previous confidences and the one he was actually contemplating now. Some things might, after all, go beyond even Logan's understanding and acceptance.

"Nein, Herr Logan," he finally answered, aware that the silence was stretching from companionable to uncomfortable as the older man waited for his response. "It is nothing new, it'll go away. They always do." He dove back under the shower head to forestall any further attempts at conversation and concentrated single-mindedly on washing away all physical reminders of how he'd spent his night. When he finally opened his eyes and emerged from beneath the spray he was relieved to see that Logan had taken the hint and left.

Aware that time was passing more rapidly than he might wish, and that his stomach was becoming increasingly aware of the fact as well, he finally rinsed the last of the shampoo from his body and shut off the hot water. Before grabbing his towel he gave himself a cursory examination and was satisfied to see that everything seemed to have stopped bleeding, and nothing felt too seriously damaged. He actually felt a bit of spring return to his step as he grabbed his towel and headed back to the locker room, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw Logan, already dressed and sitting casually on the bench in front of his locker, obviously waiting for him, with an open first aid kit on his lap.

"I know ya don't want ta talk about it Elf, I can work with that. But you sure as hell can't reach everything that's gonna need patchin' up, so I thought I'd stick around and give ya a hand." It was simply a statement, not patronizing or pitying, and not digging for more information. It was, like the man who made it, very straightforward. An offer of help - no more, no less.

Kurt nodded once as he resumed toweling himself off, moving over to sit next to the older ma"Ja,"Ja," he said, with a little more animation than he'd managed earlier. "Ja, that would be helpful. I can _reach_ my back, but I can't see what I'm doing."

He sat silently while Logan examined, disinfected and patched up the multitude of cuts and abrasions marking his back and shoulders, not objecting when the Canadian simply continued on and took care of all his other injuries as well. Neither of them spoke and Kurt only moved when prompted so that Logan could get all his cund and abrasions. Despite the pain of having the myriad small wounds dressed, it was oddly comforting to just sit and let the older man take care of everything. For such a gruff and seemingly surly individual, Logan was remarkably gentle when it came to patching up any of his 'kids', a fact that Kurt had had cause to be grateful for more than once in the past. By the time he was finished Kurt had relaxed considerably.

"That's it Elf," he said as he applied a gauze pad to the last gash on Kurt's left temple. "Ya look like shit warmed over, but nothin's serious. You may not heal as fast as me, but you're fast enough, so it'll be mostly gone in a couple a' days." The older man began to methodically replace the supplies in the room's first aid kit while Kurt fished his uniform and spare holowatch out of his locker and began to dress.

Logan glanced up from beneath dark brows and eyed the younger man consideringly. "Ya might want ta think about wearin' that thing around home for a bit," he said, gesturing at the clunky watch Kurt had laid out on the bench next to him as he attempted to shrug into his uniform without getting his fur too uncomfortably rucked up. "Else you'll have 'Ro an' half the kids around here houndin' ya ta find out what ya've done ta yerself." He finished what he was doing as he spoke and rose to replace the first aid kit in its niche by the door.

Kurt responded with a smile that felt almost natural for the first time since yesterday afternoon and nodded his agreement. "Ja," he said with a short laugh, "I don't want Ms. Munroe sending me off to Dr. McCoy for any more stitches if I can help it. It's certainly better than Mutti or Margali used to do with their sewing needles, but I'm still not really partial to the whole experience."

Logan headed for the door but paused just short of the threshold, "oh and Elf," he said, looking back over his shoulder to where Kurt was now strapping on his holowatch, "I'll have a couple programs set up in the Danger Room for you by tonight in case you need them, passcodes'll be in your locker," and without waiting for a reply he was through the door and gone.

_Danke, mein Freund,_ the blue youth responded silently as the doors slid shut.

Kurt scrubbed his hands through indigo hair that was almost dry now and realized that he was still smiling. Logan's non-judgmental companionship, combined with the sheer physical relief of being clean and relatively patched up, had managed to resurrect some of the optimism he'd felt at the edge of the woods this morning. What he'd told Logan earlier was true after all, the nightmares were nothing new and they _would_ go away again. As for Kitty, well, he'd burn that bridge when he came to it.

For now, he was going to go upstairs and scrounge up a very substantial breakfast and then haul his 'sister' off to Mass. If they hurried he should still have time for confession before the Latin Mass began at 8:45 ? he had originally planned on skipping the Sacrament of Penance this week, in the interest of spending the time with Rogue, but he felt an acute need for its comfort this morning. He didn't think she would mind waiting by herself for the short time it would take.

He wasn't going to be bouncing off any walls today, but there was definitely a bounce in his step as he activated his holowatch and steppet tht the door on his way to breakfast a few minutes later.


Logan managed to maintain his careful facade of neutrality until a few moments after the fortunately soundproofed door slid shut with a sigh, then he let loose with a string of invective that might have made a longshoreman blush. The damn kid had looked, sounded and smelled almost as torn up as he had when they'd first dragged his sorry ass back here from Germany in the fall. He'd spent way too many nights back then keeping the little squirrel from doing himself or anybody else serious damage before he came back from wher the the nightmares had taken him. He didn't really want to go that route again, and he was pretty damned sure Kurt didn't want to either. He'd heard the background stories that went along with a few of the nightmares and he understood exactly why the kid had been such a panicked mess so much of the time back then. When you thought about it, it was really more of a surprise how well he coped most of the time. He wondered what had happened to dredge those memories back up again, the Elf didn't really need that kind of kick in the ass.

_Suppose it could just be all the anti-mutant hysteria gettin' to him. Seein' your picture in the paper next to the headline "Mutant Monster Still on the Loose" every few weeks probably does get old after a while,_ Logan reflected as he headed for the elevator at the end of the hall. _Still, if that was gonna bug him I'd've expected it to show up a while back and to have built up gradually. Wouldn't have expected him to go to hell in a handbasket with no advance warning like he did yesterday._

As he punched the button and waited for the elevator doors to open, Logan's mind drifted back to his observations at dinner the night before. He was pretty sure that whatever had gone on between Half Pint and the Elf yesterday had something to do with how fucked up the kid was now, he just couldn't figure out why or how. Sure, he never would've pegged the two of 'em for gettin' it on in the underbrush, but stranger things had happened. From the scent of 'em it had gone pretty far, but not too far ? they hadn't smell like _that._ And besides, what in hell could possibly be so damn traumatic about some heavy petting. Unless?and Logan's mind took a side trip he really didn't want to be on. _No, not the Elf. He wouldn't...and she didn't smell...No. *So* not gonna go there. Couldn't happen, didn't happen. But hell,_ he thought with frustration, _what did happen?_

The elevator doors finally slid open and he stepped quickly in, pushing the button for the main level as he did so. He briefly considered trying to milk Kitty for some information on what, exactly, had happened yesterday, but abandoned the thought almost immediately. She didn't really seem any the worse for wear and Kurt obviously didn't want to talk about it, so in his book that effectively made it none of his damn business. He'd just have to keep an eye (and an ear and nose) on the two of them for a while and see if anything turned up. In the meantime, he'd just hope that Kurt could work out whatever was bugging him on his own or, barring that, that he'd have the sense to come to someone for help before it got out of hand.

Good thing his own demons had sent him down to the Danger Room this morning to burn off a little steam. He didn't want to get blindsided if the runt lost it.

The elevator doors slid open yet again, this time on the silent metal corridor leading past the dormitoried dod down to the kitchen and 'dining hall.' Time to rustle up some breakfast and a cup of coffee and then get outside before the rest of the kids dragged their lazy asses out of bed and started turning the place into a zoo. His 'game' in the Danger Room had definitely given him an appetite and his acute senses really didn't feel like dealing with the noise and smells associated with that many teenagers this morning. With a purposeful stride, he headed silently down the corridor and disappeared into the kitchen.