Let Me Help You
Summary: Kurt must deal with some personal demons, and Kitty's there to help him. Dark, but kind of fluffy at the end. Teen just to be safe.
Note: Thank you Kgirl and Sidney for taking the time to review most or all of my work thus far. You two are amazing, and your comments help keep me writing.
Disclaimer: Since this is my first Wolverine and the X-men fanfic, I'm gonna say it once. I don't own it.
Nighttime in a small German village. A rusted street lamp lit the dark cobblestone streets dimly, giving off a ghostly glow. It was slightly humid. Heavy, thick. Smoke was palpable in the air. Despite the usual placidity of the village, the sound of angry, frightened voices echoed through the empty streets. Dark, skewed shadows followed a crowd of riled men as they tramped through the town.
A boy—dark, fast,—scampered down an alley street. He was struggling for breath, his chest heavy. His legs shook as he stopped for a breather. He was bruised, bloody, broken. He hurt. The hurt wasn't just physical—deep down, he was screaming, crying. Why did they hate him? Why was he running? They were just farmers. Men. People. Like him, but not like him. Not at all like him.
"Dort ist es!" A rough German voice called. The boy looked up. Oh, God, they'd found him. Why couldn't they have found him five minutes from now? He never got a break. He was always running. Running. He pushed away from the cool alley wall and darted out of sight. Too late. He heard more voice. They were on his trail.
"Damon!" Another voice called. The boy gasped, surprised at how close the voice was. He turned, just to see someone throw a rock at his face. He raised his hands over his face. The stone hit him in the arm, and he heard a sickening crack. Pain shot through his limb, and he jumped back in shock. As he jumped back, he teleported somewhere else. Where would he end up? He didn't know until he reappeared. *Bamf*
He landed painfully on his back in the middle of a street. "Ah," he cried in frustration and pain. He crawled to his feet, trying to decide where to run next.
Not good enough. He could see shadows, smell smoke. Shapes appeared in the fog. "Es ist hier!" The boy backed up, looking around wildly. He looked behind himself. More men. He was trapped on all sides. He looked to a nearby building, hoping he could climb it. No. Something heavy, metal hit him in the back of the head. He fell to the ground. It was cold, damp, unfriendly, and did nothing to ease the pain of his injuries. In a blur, he was surrounded. Cruel, twisted, hard-edged faces looked down on him. There was no kindness in their eyes. Only hate. Why hate?
"Damon, damon." They beat him, over and over. Oh, of course. That's why. Blue, furry, yellow-eyed, spade-tailed. He looked like a demon. And demons are never shown kindness.
"Gah!" Kurt sat up in bed; both hands flew over his heart. He panted for a moment, looked around, and relaxed a little. God, how he hated that dream. It always seemed to come at inconvenient times, too, like now when he was just starting to settle back in to the X-mansion. His heart raced at a hundred miles an hour. There was no visible danger, but his body felt like it was being threatened. Cold sweat dripped down his face.
Kurt wiped his brow with a fuzzy arm. Hmm. There was still a scar on that arm from where the stone had crushed it. That thought didn't help to placate his mind. He sat back in bed a little and took in his surroundings for a second time. It was dark, calm, peaceful. Nothing to fear.
Only, there was something to fear, but it was all in his mind. Bad memories lived and done. The past. Despite the fact that the memories were old, they were still clear every time he thought about them. He shivered, hating to think about that night.
A queasy, sick feeling came over him as more memories came rushing into his mind. He buried his face in his hands and cried quietly to himself. God, oh God, why did he keep battling these memories? Why wouldn't they just leave him alone? Kurt shook as sobs racked his lithe frame. Please, Gott, just let me have some peace, he begged. His tail tightened around his chest, as if he was hugging himself. Not that it really helped.
A soft knock at the door. *Bam*. Kurt didn't even hear the first one. *Bam* again. Kurt registered the sound, ignored it. On the other side of the door stood a nervous Kitty Pryde. She'd heard Kurt scream while on her way to the kitchen for a midnight snack. She'd never heard her friend scream before, so she wanted to see if he was alright. Kurt was usually energetic and spunky, but Kitty had been his friend long enough to know that he had some skeletons in his closet.
She phased through the door, worried that Kurt didn't answer and by the fact that she heard soft crying. Kurt's room was dark. No one had broken in or anything, so it had to be something else. Kitty approached Kurt gingerly, unsure what to expect. Kurt was sitting on his bed, hunched forward in a tight, safe ball. The end of his spaded tail flicked back and forth, as if agitated.
"Kurt?" Kitty asked. She put one leg up on his bed and crawled forward with her hands until she was right up next to him. She touched his arm with her hand. He flinched, but looked up to see her.
"Ah, uh, Keety," he stammered, startled. In the darkness, Kitty could see the pain in his eyes. His fur was streaked with tears.
"Whoa, like, what's the matter, Kurt?" Kitty asked, sitting back on her knees. Her brow crinkled with worry.
Kurt stared off into some random point in space and exhaled slowly. "Nothing. Bad dream, I guess. Go back to bed, Keety. I'm all vight." His sad, distant eyes, accentuated by the darker fur around his eyes like a raccoon-like mask, told Kitty everything was not all right. She tried again.
"C'mon Kurt. What's bothering you? It's like, totally obvious that you're worked up about something. Out with it."
Kurt sighed and gave her a dark look. The sadness kept coming through in his eyes, despite his best efforts to hide it. "Zat's none of your business."
Kitty twisted her mouth, thinking. "Kurt, I'm your friend. Let me help you. I won't pry, but I just want to know what's up. I've never seen you like this," she added in a low whisper.
Kurt sighed again. He looked at her very seriously. "You know zat when I lived in Germany, I wasn't treated vell. Because of how I look…I remember getting beaten zo many times over it. Some times vorse than other. Zis one memory just sticks out in my mind." He paused, glanced at Kitty. "Ze whole town decided to get rid of me. It…didn't end vell. Zat's all. I was having a nightmare about zat night. Happy?"
Kitty's face softened. "I…I knew people in Germany had been bad to you, but not that bad. Jeeze, fuzzy."
She gave him a comforting hug around the middle. "Anything I can do to help?"
Kurt smiled for the first time that night. "You're alveady doing it. Danke for listening."
Kitty nodded. "Sure, Kurt. Do you ever think you might, you know, need some therapy? You've got a lot of stuff locked away in your head that probably needs to be dealt with."
"Nein. I'm alvight most of ze time. It's only sometimes, when I have ze bad dreams."
"Yeah, that's what I'm talking about. Most people see a therapist when they make up screaming in the middle of the night because of stuff like that."
Kurt smiled sadly into Kitty's fine hair. "Ja, but I'm not most people. Like I said, I can deal vith it. I've been dealing vith it for many years. Don't vorry about me, Keety."
"Hmm," Kitty murmured. She was starting to fall asleep. Kurt was so warm and soft. His heart beat was so mellow and calming, his voice was like velvet…
"Mind if I camp out here for the night?" Kitty asked, hugging Kurt tighter.
"Uh, yes. Just a bit," Kurt replied, amused. "Logan vill kill us, for one."
"So? I'm tired, my bed's cold, and you're very warm. I'm staying," she muttered adamantly. "Besides, I'm gonna make sure you don't have any more bad dreams."
Kurt sighed and stretched out. Kitty lied down with him. "Oh?" Kurt wondered. "How vill you do zat?"
Kitty closed her eyes. "I'm an X-woman. I can do anything."
Yes, you can, Kurt thought to himself. You've already done more than enough for me.
Yeah, just a fluffy little one shot. Hope you liked it. R&R.
-The Ember Raven