Quixotic

Quixotic Chapter Twenty Eight (NC-17)

Disclaimers Apply

 

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch, and Uberbeta…my muses are
demanding more cold weather…got any on hand?
InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, and Dracena are chocolate coated goodness
for archiving/hosting. J ProPhis ais a strawberry smutmuse (and I
really have no idea why I’m assigning flavors to everyone today…). ReiMars gets extra reinforcements against
Killer Kitty ™ attacks…. Readers/Reviewers:
Thank you so much for readall all this and reviewing when you can. And the ducks thank you, too. They’re very polite, for ducks. The geese
are another matter entirely. Ungrateful
fowl. They have ONE cabaret act and
think they’re better than everyone else…
Odd fact…Today is officially “Run it up the flagpole and see if anyone
salutes it” day.

 

 

 

Jean winced
sympathetically as Beast slid another needle under Kurt’s skin. As each dose of sedative wore off, the young
man was being given another, keeping him in a hazy twilight sleep to prevent
further escape attempts. “We’re
treating him like an animal,” she murmured.

“We’re
treating him like a threat,” Beast responded flatly, though the guilt he felt
was writ large on his face.

Jean took
several tentative steps towards Kurt before apparently thinking better of it.
“What are you going to do when you can’t dose him with that anymore?”

“Restrain
him and hope he doesn’t remember how to port,” Beast sighed. “That sounded horribly cruel…”

She made a
noncommittal noise in her throat and finally approached Kurt’s bedside,
laying her hand on his shoulder in a
near sisterly manner. “I wish I could
just see…”

“No, Jean,”
Beast said softly. “That would not be
wise.”

“Just a
scan,” she proposed as neutrally as possible.
“Just to see…”

Beast’s
placid but guilty expression became distinctly stern. “Jean, I must you you to leave if you’re going to present an
impediment to this process.”

“And what
process is that?” she asked, offended.
“All I see is you drugging him into a stupor because no one knows what
the Hell is going on!” She turned on
her heel and strode from the room, not feeling a bit guilty about her minor
outburst. Emma, where are you?

There was a
long pause and then, Why do you ask?

I
need to ask a favor…

I
didn’t get you a Christmas present so okay.
What is it?

Meet
me in the basement, sublevel one, the storage area where Jono keeps his stereo
crap.

Do
what?

Emma,
please…it’s important. Jean
thought for a moment then added, It’ll get me in huge trouble if anyone
finds out.

Be
there in ten minutes.

 

Kurt felt
thick and stuffed, like cotton filled his mouth and ears and gauze smothered
his eyes. He wanted his forest, his
peace and quiet and occasional spates of adventure. He wanted his merry men at his right hand, the clear evil of
Prince John and his cronies in their castle on the hill and the sweet embrace
of Maid Marian waiting for him whenever he wanted it. Instead, he was trapped.
He could hear a familiar bass voice and instantly thought Friar Tuck
but the image of blue gray fur blazed across his memory. Beast.
Friar Tuck is a Beast. Surely
that’s a hellworthy offense to think that of one of the Lord’s own… A sharp, burning pain erupted behind his
eyes at this thought. No no no…not a
man of God. Healer. Doctor.
Beast. Beas a m a man. His toes flexed and fingers clutched at the
sheets beneath him. I want…I want to
feel normal again. I want my
trees. I want my quiet. With a soft groan, Kurt opened his eyes and
winced at the light, dim though it was.
He could not quite bring himself to turn his head but he felt marginally
less stuffed. Shuffling noises
interspersed with metallic clinks and an occasional plastic thud, letting him know
that he was not alone. Slowly, he
stretched his sore muscles, shuddering at the wave of nausea that passed over
him at the effort. Part of his mind was
telling him he needed to eat and soon, at that, but his fight or flight
response was overriding it. First
get out of here and back home, then find food…
As he licked his too-dry lips and tried to sit up without drawing
attention to himself, Kitty stormed into the room.

“What the
Hell are you doing to him?” she demanded of whomever Kurt could not see.

“Kitty,”
Beast said with growing annoyance, “I am trying to keep him from running off
and possibly getting hurt or worse! Now, please leave and I’ll get you when
he’s awake!”

Kitty could
hardly form an articulate sentence. She
had run into Jean as they each entered the foyer and the older girl had told
her what was going on, to the best of her understanding. Kitty had barely been able to speak to
Astrid for her rising anger much less do so without being rude or
hysterical. The call had been abrupt with
a hasty promise to call back in an hour, after which Kitty had phased through
two floors and a very startled Jamie to get to the infirmary. “You have him drugged to his eyeteeth!” she
spat. “You’re treating him like
some…some…”

“Kitty,”
Beast drew himself up to his full height and peered down his nose at hhis his
glasses magnifying his eyes to a startling extent. “You’re out of line. This
is a veritable emergency situation.
What was thought to be a simple…diversion from stress…is turning into
something more complex…” He sighed and
glanced at the seemingly-asleep Kurt.
Lowering his voice a bit, he added confidentially, “The Professor is
calling St Dymphna’s in the morning and asking them to send Doctor Morton,
their chief of psychiatrics, out here…”

Kitty
swallowed bitter bile. “No. That’s unacceptable.”

“I don’t
think you have much of a say in this, Kitty…”

“No,” she
said calmly, “but I know someone who does and Astrid trumps Professor!” She pulled the portable phone out of her back
pocket where she had stuck it somewhat hastily and awkwardly before coming
downstairs and hit redial.

“Kitty,
stop,” Beast began, but she phased danced back out of his way, unwilling to
phase and loose the connection.

“Astrid!
It’s me again! Yes, he’s here but…he
can’t talk…” Kitty glared at Beast and
ducked around him, practically running into his office and slamming the
door.

Kurt felt
his heart staratinating faster at the sound of this new voice. She’ll save me, he thought
desperately, she has to…she loves me!
The sedative was quickly wearing away now and feeling returning to his
limbs. As Beast entreated Kitty to come
out of his office, Kurt slid from the bed and swayed dangerously on his feet,
his knees not quite cooperating with his will.
The room swam in his vision, as if the entire space was expanding and
contracting, trying to find it’s own level.
“Eins, zwei, drei,” he murmured to himself, the language coming easily
to him despite a tiny voice in his head insisting, that no, he spoke solely
English and had never heard whatever that was coming out of his mouth. On “drei,” he took a step and gasped as he
felt the cold floor under his feet. The
commotion at the office door was growing more erratic and less kind, signaling
that if he were to make a break for it, it had better be soon. Swallowing to steel his resolve, Kurt took
another step, then another… The door to the hall loomed large before him. Freedom, a voice whispered. Go, now! Another voice insisted, But Kitty… He closed
his eyes, the dizziness passing, and told himself sternly that Kitty would be
fine, he would come for her shortly, and opened the door.

 

Kitty flung
the door open triumphantly, the phone clamped to her ear. “Move!
She wants to talk to Kurt!”

“He’s unconscious,”
Beast ground out.

“She
doesn’t care!” Kitty ducked under his
arm and skidded to a halt “Where did you put him?” she cried accusingly.

“Damn
it!” Beast pinched the bridge of his
nose in aggravation. “I mean… no, I
meant damn it! He’s run off!”

Kitty
gulped. “Astrid, I’ll have to call you
back…”