Walking Wounded

Walking Wounded
Obviously, I don’t own shit. Anyone with two working brain cells knows that…oh.


Summery: Kurt has a problem that may very well kill him and the only one who can help him is Mystique. So he seeks help from the government and ends up with Lance. Now its just a race against time with an old enemy. Right?

Pairing: Slash, Lance/Kurt, Het: Scott/Jean, Wanda/Todd, Freddy/OFC (by mention only.) And Pietroryonryone. I just can’t see him sticking with one person for long periods of time.

Notes: I’m actually very upset about this story. I didn’t want to re-start with a Kurt centric story, it’s just too overdone and predictable most of the time, but this idea refused to die. Written while listening to the Third Eye Blind song of the same name.

Chapter One: Hit the Wall


“So?” Kurt asked, kicking his feet back and forth like a nervous toddler. His tail twitched anxiously , showing his mounting frustration with the situation he was in, and that wasn’t just referring to his less than totally dressed state.

Finally the woman sitting at the computer sighed and shook her head, brown braids rippling faintly. “Nightcrawler I…well, it isn’t the flu. Whatever it is isn’t just something that suddenly occurred , it’s…well I have no idea what it is honestly. They didn’t teach mutant biology in med school you know.”

Kurt smiled faintly. “I’m aware Cecile. No ideas?”

“Not a one. I’ll keep on it until McCoy comes back from his trip with Miss Trish and he can look over the stuff I sent to New York.” There was a note of disdain at the mention of the reporter that Hank was seeing and, though Kurt wasn’t one to get involved in the love spats of his fellow mutants, he did feel bad for Trish. Cecile Reyes just wasn’t a woman to be trifled with.

“It’s just…like nothing I’ve ever seen. Don’t suppose you’ve signed up for any genetic testing lately have you?”

“Nein, that’s scheduled for next week.”

“I say get some bed rest and drink plenty of fluids, just in case it‘s a mutant cold or something. We don’t want you passing out on the students anymore now do we Professor Wagner?” Her tone was faintly scolding, as if she knew he knew that he wasn’t well (and hadn’t been well for some time.) “You scared those poor kids half to death you know.”

“Ja, I know.”

“No, you don’t. Magick pulled me through one of her portals to get me down to you and you people know I don’t do other dimensions, and especially not without warning.” She shuddered. “If it happens again I’m leaving you on the floor, got me?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes, “Get out of my office Kurt. Come see me in a few days, after you rest. Lay off the ‘porting for a while. Take it easy until I get this figured out.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Kurt said, smiling. He waved a little then focused his mind on his room, which was on the same floor as the boy’s dormitories.

Before he was even fully into the port he realized something was wrong. He couldn’t…feel his landing point and even though he knew where he wanted to go, his natural ‘radar’ to let him know he wasn’t porting into wall wasn’t worki

He had a flash of panic then halted the teleport then went crashing into a wall hard and falling back on his behind. It hurt but at least he hadn’t ended up in the wall.

Thank God for small allowances.

“Whoa, fuzzy, what was that?” Kitty asked, raising an eyebrow. “And not that we don’t love your company, but why did you land in me and Pitor’s room?”

Kurt rubbed his nose in mild annoyance then shrugged. “I overshot I guess.”

“I think it’d be best if you walked the rest of the way Kurt.” Pitor advised, frowning at him.

“Probably.” He pushed himself up and shook his he“Nig“Night.”

He got two waves in reply as he walked out of their room and down the hall and up the stairs to his own. Something was up and it obviously wasn’t good. He couldn’t afford to overshoot when he teleported anymore. Not that he ever could…but in his younger days when he spent all of his time with Kitty it hadn’t been as scary a prospect as it was now that he had no one to get him out of any messes he may get into.

He dropped onto his bed and shut his eyes, sighing. This was only one thing in a long series of weird and dangerous shit that was going on with his power. The worst being the way his senses shut down when he teleported, giving him no idea of where he was going. The worst had been ending up at the bottom of the lake and having Jean fish him out.

He’s also ended up in that ‘place’ where he flashed too between teleports once or twice. It’d only been twice when he‘d been going long distances, but it’d been enough to convince him that he should drive where he needed to go from now on.

There was also the fact he was blacking out at the worst times. Usually he somehow ended up back in his own bed, but today it’d happened in a training session with some of the kids, which wasacceacceptable at all and he was sure Scott was going to get all over him for it when he found out. nd Snd Scott would find out, because he was Scott and that’s what he did. Even if Scott was in New York and he was on Muir Island, there was no keeping secrets.

Scott had become serious about their powers and how to handle them ever since the incident with Jean losing her mind and trying to swallow the universe. (Even though it hadn’t really been Jean apparently, though, as best they could figure, now it was the real Jean with the power of the thing that had been posing as Jean. No one really understood it, including Jean.)

The prospect of losing control was, for Kurt, a very scary one. It could very well bring his greatest fear to life, teleporting right to his death and never having anyone know about it. After all, if he went into a wall he’d be beyond crushed the moment he was solid.

He laid there, staring at the ceiling for some time, just focusing on not thinking about anything for the time being. However something was at the very edge of his mind, insisting he pay attention to it and figure it out, because it was all important.

He sincerely doubted the importance of whatever it was, as he was prone to trying to figurt tht the words to songs during huge life altering battles. He distinctly recalled humming ‘Pop Goes the Weasel’ when he was in Apocalypse’s pyramid.

Eventually he fell asleep.

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And he dreamt.

He dreamt of Rouge and how excited she’d been when she had first masteher her flying ability, in spite of how she had come across it. Then he dreamt of Rouge shoving the statue of her mother down onto the rocks by the ocean and how, for those long terrible moments, he was sure his heart had stopped.

Seeing Mystique alive and well, betraying them once again…and wishing he’d listened to Rouge, wishing she was still scattered at the bottom of that cliff. Telling her that they never wanted to hear from her again and seeing the brief flash of pain in her eyes, before she once again turned her face into a mask and let them leave.

And then he dreamed of many things, images he couldn’t hold on to or control, so he just let them wash over him. Some were wonderful, of life and love, but others…were of death and destruction and he wanted to scream for them to stop, wanted to alter them, but had the feeling that there was nothing he could do…total and complete helplessness.

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

And then he awoke, glad that he was still in his bed. He took a deep breath and shivered, then teleported to the hanger, sending up a silent prayer when it worked normally. He had to see the professor right away, or as right away as he could do without teleporting across an ocean and killing himself anyway…

Because he was now pretty sure he was losing his mind, as well as losing control of his powers.