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.

Please rate and review. I will be responding to reviews by using the Review function rather than using author's notes.

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 Eight: Every step you take

Slowly his vision began to return. The dim light from the light stick around his neck painted him an eerie green. He tried to pick out the familiar furnishings of the room he had shared with *her* for the past two months. Now he could make out the faint glow of the other light sticks, searching for the one she wore around her neck.

There she was, body hanging loosely from the metal grate, her fingers still wrapped around the bars. He walked to the cell and tried the door. It wouldn’t open.

“Adrienne?”

“Go ‘way.” She was still alive then. He teleported into the cell and reached for her.

“Don’ touch me.” He ignored her, climbing onto the table to reach up and pry her fingers loose. As he touched her he felt dizzy and weak. He broke the contact quickly.

“Tol’ you. Gif’s hungry…eat you ‘live.”

“Shut up.” He pulled his t-shirt over his head and wrapped it around his hand before trying again. He could still feel the pull, but it was tolerable now. He lowered her carefully to the table, touching her as little as possible. He slipped his shirt back on.

{Not too different from handling Rogue. I can do this.}

He teleported back out of the cell and pulled the blanket from her bed and grabbed the briefcase from its spot on her desk. He fumbled looking for the empty pill bottles. He knocked one on the floor and had to duck under the desk to feel for it. He found three and shoved them in his pockets.

{Need to know what she took.}

He looked back and could see that she’d curled up on her side on the table.

{Keep her awake.}

“No sleeping.” He teleported back to her and began to wrap her in the blanket.

“What stinks? Leave me ‘lone. Making me sick.” She protested feebly.

{Make her sick? Good idea.}

He gathered her up in his arms, careful not to touch her skin and readied himself to teleport. He rehearsed a series of jumps in his mind, mentally flipping through the photos she’d shown him. He wrapped his tail firmly around the handle of the briefcase.

“Hang on.” Then he disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke. The first destination was just outside the service entrance. They were there barely long enough to make out the shapes of buildings, dark silhouettes against a slightly lighter landscape before he ‘ported again. The next jump landed them between two jeeps and Kurt looked around quickly, but found nothing useful. The third jump landed them under a radio tower, a dark skeleton against the starry sky. There were no man-made lights anywhere in sight.

{Did she do that? It looks dead.}

The final jump left him standing next to a tall chain link fence topped with barbed wire. The nearest buildings were at least a hundred yards away and he could see trees in the distance on its other side. He thought he could make out a road far off to the left.

“You still with me?”

“Wha?”

“Stay awake.” He ‘ported again, toward the tree line close to where he thought he saw a road. He kept teleporting, a hundred yards or so at a time until he could see well enough to confirm that there was a road. By now his passenger was groaning.

“Put me down. Gonna puke.” He ‘ported once more to the tree line and then let her down. He rested her groping hands against a tree trunk and supported her carefully as she retched violently into the bushes. He waited several long nervous moments while she emptied the contents of her stomach. She spat weakly to clean her mouth.

“Done?”

“Hope so. Remin’ me …kill you later.” She leaned her forehead against the tree bark. He belatedly remembered the light sticks and tucked his inside his shirt and helped her do the same before removing the last one from the briefcase and shutting it inside, along with the pill bottles.

“Let’s go before someone sees us.” He gathered her up again, this time she offered no complaint, merely rested her head against his shoulder. He began the slow process of teleporting to the farthest clear spot he could see, time after time, hoping to come to some place where they could find shelter and a phone. There were few cars traveling this road and he knew it wasn’t safe to try flag anyone down this close to the base. Not to mention the reaction his appearance was likely to cause.

By the time he spotted a light, he was exhausted, arms and legs shaking. He’d tried to keep her talking, but now she was a limp bundle in his arms. It was a rest station; they’d been following a two-lane highway. Hopefully, there would be a pay phone.

{There it is. Please don’t be out of order. I don’t think I can walk another step, much less ‘port again.}

He lay her down next to the phone and checked to make sure she was breathing. He felt dangerously exposed under the street lights. It took him three tries to dial the XMen’s emergency number. He cursed his thick fingers for their clumsiness, but more likely it was the shaking. At last the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Gott sei Dank! Jean is it you?” (1)

“Kurt? Where are you? Are you O.K.? We’ve been worried sick!”

“I’m not sure where I am. I’m at a rest stop. A pay phone. There’s no address on it…”

“Hang on. We can get a location from the number.” He heard muffled voices on the other end.

“Jean. Hurry. I’m not alone. My…friend needs medical attention and I don’t dare call 911. People may be looking for us. We escaped from some sort of military base.”

“Is he injured?”

“No. She overdosed. She’s unconscious.”

“We’ve got your location. We’ll be there as soon as possible. Hide inside a building if you can.”

“O.K. Be careful.”

“We will. Hang in there Kurt.” Kurt hung up and looked around cautiously before picking his companion up again. He trudged wearily towards the restrooms, choosing the women’s side. Women were less likely to be traveling through here at night. At least that’s what he hoped. After checking to be sure the floor was reasonably clean and dry, he settled his companion in a corner of the larger handicapped stall and crouched down beside her to rest wearily against the tiled wall.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he was aware of was the creak of the stall door opening. He rose to a crouch, ready to spring at whoever was coming through the door.

“Whoa there! It’s me kid.”

“I never thought I’d see any of you again. I’m even happy to see your ugly face.”

“Humph! Must have been a rough trip.”

“Very.”

“What’s her story?” Wolverine stalked into the small space and reached for the blanket.

“Careful…she’s a mutant and her power is out of control. Or at least it was before she passed out.” The older man placed a cautious finger on the woman’s cheek.

“Seems O.K. now.”

“Good.”

“Logan?” Scott’s voice echoed from the tiled walls.

“Found ‘em. Elf’s O.K. Girl’s not so good.” Logan gathered her up and carried her through the stall door to greet the rest of the XMen.

“Kurt!” He suddenly found himself surrounded by two pairs of clinging arms and resisted the urge to flinch. Kitty and Rogue had pounced from both sides and threatened to crush his ribs.

“How the hell did you wind up out here?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t remember. But I have something that might help.” He’d almost forgotten the briefcase, sitting in the stall they had vacated. He gently pushed the girls away and returned for it. He handed it to Scott.

“We need to get her to the Infirmary as soon as possible.” Jean checked the unconscious woman’s pulse and pried open an eyelid.

“All right then, let’s load up.” Scott motioned them outside. They’d landed the Blackbird in the rest stop’s parking lot and it was only a matter of time before some passing motorist discovered them.


{Where am I?}

The lights were bright and she smelled antiseptic. Unfamiliar voices rose and fell around her, they sounded angry. Her eyelids seemed heavy and leaden, refusing to open.

{Am I dead? I’m supposed to be dead.}

**No. You’re not dead. **

{Oh God! Not the lab! No…} The smell of antiseptic triggered memories of the mutilated Gammas and she began to panic.

**Be still! This is not the Lab.** A man’s voice…no… presence in her mind? He was angry. Very angry.

{Where’s Kurt? He wouldn’t leave me. Did he make it?}

**He’s safe.** The anger receded a little.

{Who are you?}

**I know what you did to Kurt and the others.** The anger was back and it was somehow painful.

{Who are you?} This must be a telepath … she’d heard of them, but never encountered one before.

**You’ve misused your gift.**

{I’m no hero. And I can’t undo the past.} How much could he see?

**Everything.**

{Then let me go. This was never meant to be.}

**No. It won’t be that easy. He risked his life to give you a second chance and you are going to take it whether you like it or not.** The presence seemed to fill her mind, blotting out everything else. **Now forget.**


Kurt sat perched on a chair, watching the Professor as he moved his wheelchair to the head of the unconscious woman’s bed and placed his hands on either side of her temples. There’d been long arguments between the senior members of the team over what to do with her. They’d all read the reports in the briefcase, including the official outline of Alpha-9’s training program. They’d thrown around words like “Stockholm Syndrome” and “brain-washing.” In the end he’d won by refusing to argue. He simply sat vigil in her room as she hovered between life and death.

When no one was looking he’d stroke a hand or touch her face, but she never responded. Nor did her gift. He didn’t question why he couldn’t let her go. She wanted to die – the Professor had said as much. That was why she wasn’t responding to him or the excellent medical care she was receiving.

She owed him something – and if her life was all she had left – it was his. But, he didn’t say that. And he wouldn’t consent to let the Professor take a peek. He’d had enough of people tinkering with his mind. He’d simply insisted her final act of self-sacrifice entitled her to a second chance. Perhaps it did. Or maybe it was just a final attempt to take control from him, the Commander, everyone else. Alpha-9 could never tolerate losing control – even to herself. If she ever woke up who would she be? Trainer or woman?

“There. It is done.” The Professor pulled his hands away from her temples abruptly. He wheeled himself out of the room without saying anything further to Kurt. From the hallway, Kurt could hear him speaking to Ororo and Logan.

“Put her in the caretaker’s cottage. Give her what she needs.”

“Shouldn’t she stay here where we can keep an eye on her?” Ororo sounded surprised.

“I want her out of the mansion by morning. She will wake sometime around noon. See that she has no contact with any of the students. You and Logan may check on her if you like. But, don’t reveal yourselves. I don’t trust her.”

“Who is she Chuck? Nothin’ in them files to I.D. her.”

“That remains to be seen. She has her second chance, we will have to see what she does with it.”


Translations from http://www.dict.cc
(1) “Thank God…”