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Everything	By : saiaax12 Category: X-men Comics > Het - Male/Female Views: 1063 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men or its characters, nor do I make any form of profit from it.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Watching Zelda and Virgil’s next moves will be funny.
                This time, I’m not watching them from the mirror; I’m perched on the coffee table as Zelda heads downstairs for a midnight snack. For me, crossing over into this world is easy. At night, Zelda looks prettier than at day. Not that she looks any less pretty at day…argh, I’m confusing myself.
I hear her muttering a song underneath her breath. I think it’s something called ‘Pretty Girl Rock’. Dante begins to whine in his sleep and as Zelda reaches for Hagen Das and a spoon, she strokes his ear with her big toe.
                She finally turns away from the fridge and I see her in all of her midnight glory. No makeup, no hair gel, no bra. She sits on the island counter, peacefully eating her beloved chocolate ice cream, a look of pure bliss on her face. I am so, so tempted to let her know I’m here, but that would freak her out. Oh well, she can blame it on the ice cream later.
Reaching out, I touch her lips. Her sleepy sea-glass-green eyes shoot open, and she stares in pure terror. My hand moves from her lips to her cheek and I lean in, pressing my ice-cold lips to her slightly warmer ones.
                The spoon clatters to the floor, as does the tub of ice cream. I come away and stroke her cheek, then turn as I hear a ‘BAMF’, and what appears to be a breaking noise, followed by several thumps and a,
                “GODDAMMIT!” Zelda jumps off the island counter despite her shock and runs into the hallway, turning on the light. What I see, I’m suddenly glad that no one can really hear me, because I start to laugh. Apparently, Virgil tried to teleport, but miscalculated, and ended up falling down the stairs. Zelda puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head,
                “Virgil! How many times do I have to tell you not to teleport in the dark?!” Virgil grins from his position on the floor at his mother and gets up, then peers into the kitchen, since his mother isn’t all that big. He lets an evil smirk take over his face and he teases,
                “Weren’t you the one watching your waist?” Zelda blushes heavily and grabs Virgil’s ear. “That is none of your business, Virgil!” I laugh a little; it’s good to know that Zelda is still a spitfire. Then I pause, Virgil has a funny look on his face. It could be hurt, it resembles anger. I tilt my head in curiosity. Then he manages to get out,
                “Why didn’t you tell me about Vatti?” I knew this question would pop up sooner or later, and all I want to do is tell my son I’m right here, and that I always kept little tabs on him. I loved and love him. It will never change. Zelda gives a tired sigh and brushes one indigo lock out of our son’s face. She then quietly utters,
                “Your father committed to the X-Men because he wanted the world to be a better place for the future…for you. He was the type that sought adventure, I suppose.” Then Virgil asks, voice cracking,
                “But why didn’t you go with him? We could have been a real family.” Zelda grows even sadder as she whispers, voice slightly melodic,
                “I don’t know the answer to that question yet, sweetheart. Now go back to bed, alright?” Virgil nods his head and starts back up the stairs, but not before sliding down, running up behind his mother, and kissing her on the cheek, then stating, a happy undertone to his sleepy voice,
                “Ich Liebe Dich, Mutti.”
Zelda’s eyes widen completely as Virgil runs up the stairs. I smell the tears before they begin to well up in her eyes. She rests her head on her forearms and begins to sob. I sit there and watch her do so for the next half-hour, until she drops into an uneasy slumber. Carefully picking her up, I carry her up the stairs and after a few trial-and-errors, find her room. She turns over as soon as I lay her down, and I catch sight of her lingerie-clad ass. I smirk, leaning over to touch it, but then wonder―what the hell is she doing wearing lingerie if she has a 16-year-old son?! She turns over again, and I smile; she’s fully asleep now.
Opening a portal to the Otherworld, I step through and find myself in the deep red sitting room again. My father looks up from the scroll he’s reading,
“How long were you planning to take, Kurt? A few days passed in this world.” I raise my eyebrow,
“Have I aged? Nein. Is it so wrong zhat I am keeping tabs on my child?” The arrogant prick snorts,
“You’re keeping tabs on the baby mama too. What is she; Gypsy?” I frown. What was Zelda? I was never too sure, even when she was a child. But that isn’t the point as I mock glare at my father. He simply laughs. He beckons to me;
                “Come on, we haven’t got time to waste.” I roll my eyes and follow him out of the room, making faces after him the whole way. He only laughs.
*.*
                The week is uneventful.
                The peacock was a pain in the ass, though, stubborn as hell. We were forced to chase it around its enclosure until I decided to use an old circus trick and catch it, at the cost of my shirt. When I come home, Virgil has a couple of his friends over, and Dante has his enormous head on Virgil’s thigh. They’re feeding him pieces of boneless chicken.
You must be wondering how my three-fingered, golden-eyed, velvet-furred, faun-footed son made friends at a human school. Well, there are three simple words:
Zero Bullying Tolerance.
From 4 to about 10, I homeschooled Virgil, due to the fact that 1, I was paranoid, and 2, I was saving money.
Virgil now goes to a private school renowned for its grades, creativity, and zero tolerance policies. At first his teachers and peers were a little put off by his appearance, but when he started to join the sport teams and participate in his classes they warmed up to him. The principal is aware of our true identities, there is some information that can’t be erased, and she understands the situation.
I groan at Virgil,
                “Don’t give the dog that stuff, sweetheart.” Then I acknowledge his friends, “Good afternoon boys.” They wave back,
                “Hey Ms. Adamms.” I then ask, spotting the Time magazines on the table,
                “What are all of these?” One of them, a swimmer named Andrew, tells me,
                “Oh, we’re doing a project at school. We each have to pick a superhero and do a report on them.” I nod, and look at Virgil,
                “Oh? Vincent, did you pick yours yet?” Virgil doesn’t acknowledge me at first; he’s gotten used to his birth name over the last few days, but turns red underneath his fur, and mutters, “No.” I know exactly who he wants to do, and he knows why he’s not telling me. I think for a moment. Perhaps I should give the man some peace since he’s dead. I hesitantly tell him,
                “Do your father.” The assembled boys raise their eyebrows, while Virgil stares at me as if I’ve grown another head. Eventually Virgil manages to stutter,
                “…Y-y-you’re l-l-l-letting me do V-V-Vatti?” I nod jerkily. But at the same time, a huge weight is removed from my chest and I say,
                “Sure. Go ahead.” A bespectacled one, George tells me,
                “Um…Ms. Adamms, we mean superheroes. As in heroes with powers.” I roll my eyes, which probably looks disrespectful, while Virgil turns red, and mutters something under his breath. I prod him,
                “What was that, sweetie?” He turns to his friends,
                “My dad was an X-Man.” There is pure silence for a moment. Then Andrew says,
                “Get outta here.” Virgil shrugs slightly, apparently at ease now,
                “Yeah. My dad was Nightcrawler.” George, his voice low, asks, “Was?” I cut off, my voice probably sounding pretty clipped,
                “He’s dead. Do you guys want home-cooked food or pizza?” There is silence; maybe abruptly changing the subject wasn’t such a good idea. Andrew asks me,
                “Was the break-up nasty?” I give him an incredulous look, as Virgil leans over and whispers,
                “I think so.” I could scream god why was Virgil born a boy?
*.*
                Four hours, two pizzas, and way too much soda later, Virgil and I are playing chess. He’s telling me about his day at school, what he talked about with Ororo and Piotr, and how he’s trying to control the ‘flame thing’. I interject,
                “You know your father was Catholic.” He raises an eyebrow,
                “But you’re Wiccan.” I blush slightly, I haven’t told him about the whole Animus Sempiternus thing yet. Then I silently move my rook, capturing his knight. He swears under his breath and looks for a move. Then I say,
                “Yes, but had I married your father, you would have been Catholic.” He scowls,
                “Don’t wanna be.” He captures my bishop. I raise an eyebrow at his sudden snappiness and ask,
                “Are you mad with me, Virgil?” Virgil stares at me with his father’s eyes and then growls,
                “I really don’t know, Mom. Or is that even your real name?” I sigh heavily, maybe this trip to Utopia is a mistake, and I growl back, “Don’t use that tone with me, Virgil!” He gets up and storms up the stairs, as I follow,
                “Virgil, please!” His legs are longer than mine, and he locks his room door. I bang once and scream,
                “VIRGIL!” There is no response. I turn my back to the wall and slide onto the floor, blowing up my bang with a huff. I then state,
                “I’m going to sit right here until you want to talk, Virgil.” I don’t have to wait long; he sticks head out of the slightly cracked door and tells me, “You look like a tween.” I snort slightly,
                “When many girls were shopping for Britney Spears CDs and obsessing over N’Sync, I was teaching you how to ride a bike, Virgil. I didn’t really get to enjoy being a teenager.” He gives me a defeated look, and his tail sways slightly as he lets me into his room. It’s sort of typical, and yet not so typical; the walls are painted red, there are posters of video games and bands on his walls, a X-Box 360 rests neatly with some games in the corner, his computer is silent on a desk along with his text books for school. His room isn’t immaculately clean, but it is pretty decent. He sits on his bed and mutters,
                “Sorry, Mommy.” I smile slightly and sit next to him, taking him into my arms.
                “It’s okay, sweetheart. You know, I lost being a teenager, but I gained something even better. Do you know what it was?” He shakes his head, and I whisper,
                “I got you.” I sigh, “Raising you wasn’t easy. After I moved to the West Coast, it really wasn’t easy. Your father…” I trail off, then come back, stronger, “Some days, I wish I’d listened to your father concerning a family. He…he wanted us to be together, and raise you together. I just thought he was doing it out of concern for his religion. I never believed that he wanted to settle down at 23.” Not that I’d say it to his face, of course. I always had too much pride for that. “He wanted us to get married. I was completely against it. “My excuse was that it was illegal. He countered that I would be legal by 16. I was 17 when he asked again.”
(Flashback Begin)
                “Marry me.”
                Kurt was really pushing it, in my opinion. I was chopping tomatoes when he asked me. No, he didn’t ask, he demanded it. Once again, I snapped at him,
“Kurt, no!” He frowned and then asked, “Vhy not? You’re…”
“Seventeen, Kurt.” I move to turn off the stove, and he follows me, continuing to plead his case. Virgil gurgled over in his high chair, playing with the pudding I’d given him. In order to distract my son’s persistent father, I directed him,
“Please go clean your son’s mouth, and I’ll consider it.” He rolled his eyes, but did what he was told and convinced the squirming 22-month old to hold still while his mouth was cleaned. I watched him handle his son, and I couldn’t help but truly consider it. A married life with Kurt…? It didn’t sound so bad, but when I thought about it, it wouldn’t last. He would always be gone on missions, he would probably be tempted and cheat…
He leaned in and kissed the corner of my mouth, but I ignored him. He leaned in again, this time closer so that he kissed me fully. I tried to talk again, but every time I tried, he leaned in again. I finally plant a hand on his chest and snap,
“Aren’t you dating Jimaine?” He frowned at me and then said,
“On and off.” I snorted in disgust and pick Virgil up from his high chair. Virgil, completely obvious to my annoyance with his father squealed,
“Weddin’!” Kurt followed me into the small living room, still protesting,
“See? Even Virgil is for it!” I told him,
“Virgil doesn’t know the meaning of the word. Leave him out of this.” I rest my little boy in his play crib, where he stares up at his father and I cutely, nibbling on his tail. “Now are you here to visit your son or to get lucky?” He gets an indescribable look on his face. It looks like anger, could be anxiety, but it most resembles longing. Kurt finally states,
“I vant us to be a family, Zelda.” I shook my head and told Kurt,
“I don’t want to marry you, Kurt.” Lie, lie, lie. He was getting frustrated, “Vhy not, Zelda?” I couldn’t find a reason to tell him no, so I scowled slightly and didn’t answer. Suddenly, the doorbell rang and moments later, Jimaine stuck her head around the corner. She spotted Virgil and squealed,
“Guess who came to visit, Virgy!”Virgil raised his arms and squealed,
“Mandy!” Jimaine picks him up and hugs him tightly, as she gushes about how adorable he looks. She then blushes and sidles up to Kurt, and giggled coyly,
“If we get started, Kurt, we could make Virgil a half-brother or sister.” Ignoring the feeling of jealously in the pit of my stomach, I gestured to Jimaine and snapped at Kurt,
“Marry Amanda! You’ve fucked her, haven’t you?!” I’d gotten used to calling her by her new name; it’s not so bad. They are both silent for a moment. Kurt gave a sigh of desperation and Jimaine yelled, blushing,
“I’m kidding, Zelda! C’mon, Kurt got a ring and everything.” I shook my head and sadly took my son from Jimaine, cradling him against my breast, “I’m sorry, Kurt, Amanda, I won’t get married. I’m not going to tie Kurt down.” They exchange looks and Jimaine got a pout on her face, then looked
“Zelda, you were in love with Kurt, what happened?” I didn’t say anything as I saw them to the door, and before they left, I pressed a cold kiss to Kurt’s jaw and whispered,
“I grew up.” I turned and shut the door, not ready to see his reaction.
(End Flashback)
                Virgil is thoughtfully silent after I tell him my tale. I merely hold him in place, stroking his soft indigo hair, until he asks,
                “Why didn’t you marry him, Mom?” Finally, I give him the best answer I possibly can.
                “Well…Mommy…was a stubborn little bitch,” Virgil lets out a snort of amusement; I swat him, and continue, “And thought that Vatti was trying to control her.” Virgil then gets up and fishes around in his bag, then picks out an envelope. It’s been open, albeit messily, and he says,
                “I read Vatti’s letter.”
                “Oh? What did it say?” Virgil’s tail waves around as he recounts,
                “It kinda started with this whole ‘I am your father’ joke from Star Wars and how he was saying that I was probably taller than him and all (actually, Virgil is 5’9…same height as his father. Virgil just looks younger), and how he hoped I wasn’t a prankster, then he gave me this awesome joke I have to tr...” I glare at him, and he gets back on track after a pronounced cough.
“Then he got all serious and said that I was supposed to protect you and vice versa. Then he kinda explained to me why he was probably dead. Um…then…then he said he loved me and he always would love me.” Then he squinted at the letter, and muttered,
“I’ll never understand why his handwriting is such a scrawl...” I nearly laugh; Kurt had piss-poor handwriting. Though Virgil shouldn’t be making remarks, his handwriting wasn’t much better. After a moment, I sigh and get up from the bed, sighing,
“Pack your bag.”
“Hm?”
“I was going to wait until tomorrow to tell you, but here goes nothing; Logan wants you to come and meet the other X-Men on Saturday.” Instead of getting the reaction I wanted, which was ‘Awesome!’, he stares at me with a look that his father had nearly perfected and said, dryly,
“Tomorrow is Saturday, Mom.” I inhale to say something, but then I sigh,
“Why are you so smart-mouthed?” He laughs,
“Well, when a stubborn mommy and a stubborn daddy love each other very mu…” I take off my slipper and throw it at him,
“Go to bed, you ungrateful child!” I’m laughing, it doesn’t have the effect that I wish it would have. As I leave the room, he says, softly,
“I love you, Mom.” I pause to turn off the light and see his golden eyes shining out at me in the gloom, before whispering,
“Ich liebe dich, sweetheart.”
*.*
My eyes snap open in the dead of the night.
Groaning, I rest my hand over my head and turn onto my side, as I grasp the sheets with my other hand. The mirror is glowing. With a low moan, I drag myself from bed and mutter angrily,
“Only verdammt zhing about zhis mirror…” When I look into it, I smile. Zelda is finally reading my letter, then cries…then begins to laugh, and yells out,
“KURT, IF I SEE YOU AGAIN, I WILL WRING YOUR FUZZY BLUE NECK!” I smile; she has to get in line with the legion of people that already want my skinned hide. I take a good look at the clock hanging on the wall of the room and scowl,
“You should have read that letter earlier, Zelda. Vhile it’s 10:34 in your world, it’s 2 in the morning here.” As I drag myself back into my bed, I feel warmth wash over me.

Author’s Note: Haha, so Virgil’s going to meet the rest of the gang! But will he follow in Nightcrawler’s footsteps?
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