Shiva

BY : Nemain
Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > General
Dragon prints: 5125
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men Evolution, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.




SHIVA—CHAPTER 22 (NC-17)

Standard Disclaimers Apply

 

A/N Foxfeather is still a goddess. Thought y’all should know.
And InterNutter and T.C. are special-groovy for archiving this smut—er,
fic—for me when ff.net went all conservative.
To everyone who reviewed and stuck w/this—I practice kissing my hand
every night and think of you… (Hmmm. I
think Nemain needs a hobby.)

 

 



Kurt felt
sick. He had not actually thrown up
since they determined that yes, Kitty was definitely missing, but he had come
close. The first few hours were a blur
of panic and fear, the sound of Kitty’s phantom screams ringing in his
ears. When did it happen? Could I have stopped it? What if I had insisted that we stay in the
janitor’s closet? What if I had never
suggested it? What if we had just gone to her locker and on to class? Damn it!
Kitty, forgive me—this is all my fault! Despite Logan’s talking-to, Kurt was still a ball of terror under
his newly calm exterior. He did not
join in the search, deemed too excitable by the Professor, but rather stayed by
the phone “just in case.” He gnawed on
his thumbnail, alternately crying quietly and trying not to picture the
thousands of things that he knew could have and could be happening to his best-beloved. Low murmurs in the hall drew his attention
with the mention of Kitty’s name.

“There has
been no ransom note or call, which makes me wonder…” the Professor was saying.

“Indeed…have
you called her parents?” Beast sounded
mournfully thoughtful and Kurt could hear him pacing.

“Yes. I’m afraid that they wanted nothing to do
with her. Her father’s exact words were
‘Good riddance to bad rubbish,’ which Kurt is never to know of.”

I will
kill them when we find Katzchen. Kurt
leaned forward to better hear the men talk.
Beast made a rumbling noise low in his chest before speaking again. “What of Ruth’s parents?”

“I called
them shortly after Kitty told me Ruth had passed. Both denied seeing Ruth’s body.
Her mother, when I pressed the issue, said the hospital had sent a tin
of ashes with a note apologizing for the mix-up in the morgue.” The Professor’s wheelchair squeaked faintly
and Kurt slid back into the shadows, knowing the men were heading down the hall
in his direction now.

“Ruth was in
a mental hospital…those do not have cremation facilities…” The footsteps stopped and Kurt held his
breath. “Charles…”

“I know,
Henry. I’ve already started things in
motion to find him. There’s another
complication. Principal Kelly is
missing.”

Was? Kurt breathed out slowly through his
mouth, careful not to make any noise, and crouched low. He could feel questing mental fingers and
knew the Professor suspected someone was near.
Kurt’s mental shields remained strong, though, and soon the sensation of
mental questing moved on. The Professor
still had not spoken and Kurt could only guess at what was being said without
words between the two men.

Finally,
after several minutes of relative silence, Beast made a thrumming noise and
murmured, “I see…” There was a curt
farewell and blue legs passed Kurt’s hiding place.

“Come out,
Kurt.” The Professor did not sound
upset, merely tired.

Cautiously,
Kurt came out and stood before the Professor in the middle of the hall, hang
dog expression on his face and body hunched in panicked depression. “I’m sorry, Herr Professor…”

“Don’t
be. Oddly enough, I wouldn’t expect any
less from you, Kurt… Come with me to my
private study. I want to speak with you
in private.” The Professor turned and
wheeled down the hall towards the elevator, Kurt following slowly. He followed the Professor in silence, riding
to the little-used third floor of the house where the Professor kept his
offices. The man led him to a rather
large room furnished in tones of emerald and fawn, burled wood featuring
heavily in the furnishings. Kurt’s eyes
scanned the well-worn spines lining the book shelves but only out of habit,
checking his surroundings, not from interest or impression. He barely registered being offered a chair
and accepting it, curling his feet and tail around the rungs while twisting his
hands in his lap. “Kurt, what I have to
say will probably not shock you nor will I be shocked myself at what I am sure
your reaction will be.”

“Professor,
please don’t double-talk me…”

“I’m not,
Kurt… I am sure you have guessed
Magneto is involved, if not Mystique.”
The Professor steepled his fingers below his chin and waited patiently
for Kurt’s response.

“Ja…I think
that’s almost a given, isn’t it? I
mean, who else?” Kurt let his tail come
off the rungs and whip back in forth in anger, scarcely noticing the fact it
was thumping against the desk.

“You’d be
surprised at the people running around this world who would do something like
kidnap a girl—or a boy, for that matter.
For reasons lessnd tnd than Magneto’s, as well. How did you come to the decision that
Magneto and Mystique were involved? I
am curious as to that point.”

“I figured,
since you told me about them maybe having Ruth…I figured maybe they could use
Kitty in some way.” Kurt shrugged,
uncomfortable to be talking about Kitty in such a manner. “Please, Professor, we have to find her…can
Cerebro….?”

“I’m sorry,
Kurt, but I’ve never been able to track Magneto and the signals I was getting
from Ruth have stopped.” The Professor
held up a hand to stop Kurt’s onslaught, preceded by the boy’s indrawn breath
and slack jaw. “No, she isn’t
dead. The signal was….messed with, as
you students would put it. Magneto has
either moved Ruth somewhere that Cerebro cannot read her or he has manipulated
her in some manner that she is unreadable.”

Kurt was on
his feet then, pacing and gnawing on his thumb again. “What can we do?” he wailed, unashamed of his worry now. “Professor, we’re wasting time just sitting
here like this! The police, the police
will never find her if Magneto has her!”

“Kurt, calm
down, please. Again, Magneto’s part in
this is unsure. There is still the
chance that Kitty might be in the hands of someone else, a nonmutant even.” The Professor’s tone belied this statement,
though.

Kurt paused mid-stride and turned
to face his mentor, eyes narrowed and fairly glowing with suspicion. “What do you know?”

The Professor let Kurt’s aggressive
tone slide, opting for the truth. “I have
known Eric—Magneto—for what seems like forever. I knew him before he became so obsessed with this Brotherhood
idea. He…he is fighting or the wrong
reasons.”

“What the Hell does this have to do
with my Katzchen?” Kurt felt his jaw
clench and was almost certain he had just cracked a tooth in his frustration.

Professor Xavier moved from behind
the desk and drew near Kurt. “I know
Magneto has a hand in this as sure as I know Logan is in the garage drinking
right now. You know someone long
enough, they are in your head no matter what you do. You know their ways…I know Magneto has Ruth and I know he took
Kitty for some related purpose.”

Kurt drew himself up straight and
jutted his chin out in an expression of defiance. “If Magneto has her, we can get her. We’ll find her.”

“I’m sure…Magneto will not be able
to keep this a secret for long. He’ll
have to get our attention in some way.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, Herr
Professor…” Kurt felt his panic being
subsumed beneath purpose now. “We have
to find her before he decides to get our attention!”

 

Logan was six deep into a twelve
pack and feeling no effects. The rest
of the beer and several bottles of assorted alcohol were lined up in front of
him like so many soldiers facing death and he gave them all a faint growl,
chugging another Molson’s[1]
without pausing for breath. A faint
sound near the van made him freeze, sniffing the air for signs of
intruders. He gently set the now-empty
can down and glared into the darkness, detecting the scent of male sweat, wash
powder, and chocolate. Overlaying it
all was a smell that Logan recognized as panic, sorrow…Welcome to the club,
kid. He could tell it was Jamie lurking there by the
silent snuffling noise the boy was trying not to make. “C’mon out, Kid. Ain’t gonna bite.”

Jamie froze then, his shadow
wavering in mimic of the indecision the boy was feeling. Finally, he crept forward, tear-stained face
peering around the bumper of the much-abused van. “Hi,” he said softly.

Logan felt his heart lurch in a way
that he was becoming accustomed to where the kids were concerned. “Hey,” he responded just as softly as Jamie
had spoken. “C’mon over. Sit a spell.”

“You sure? I mean…” Jamie gestured towards the bottles
of liquor all lined up.

“Eh. It can wait. Sit.” Logan shoved the alcohol to the side and
Jamie crawled over and sat, legs tucked beneath him Indian-style. The two males regarded each other with mixed
emotions, each face showing equal parts fear of the unknown, panic, sadness,
and frustration. Logan broke the
silence by asking, “How’re you holding up?”

“Okay, I guess. It’s all…I dunno…surreal, I guess is the
word I want. That’s what Jubilee said
it was.” Even in such dire straits as they
were in, the mention of Jubilee made Jamie blush. Logan noted this and filed it away to consider and comment on
later, when everything had returned to as close to normal as life at the
Institute ever got.

“Guess that’s the right
word…surreal. I was going to go for
fucked up, but you’re a kid and shouldn’t say those words.” Logan gave in and cracked open another
beer. “Want a soda or something?”

“Um, no. Don’t guess I could have a sip of your beer, could I?” Jamie ducked his head, expecting
reproof.

Logan looked around, knowing full
well that there was no one else in the garage but feeling compelled to do so
anyway, and said, “Guess it wouldn’t hurt.”
He held out the cold can and Jamie looked at him with wide eyes before
accepting it. The boy took a large swig
in his best Logan impression and swallowed it without making a face. Logan nodded, duly impressed expression on
his face, before taking the beer back.

Jamie shook his head and wrinkled
his nose as soon as Logan took the drink back.
“Not as good as Sam Adams[2],
but still…”

“When the Hell did you have Sam
Adams?” Logan had an inkling that Remy
was somehow involved in that experience.


Jamie shrugged and muttered,
“Dad…he used to keep it in the fridge and I snuck some once or twice…” In fact, he had gotten a terrific hiding
once when he got caught with a bottle of his father’s stash behind the garden
shed.

“Ah. Dads tend to have that sort of thing on hand…” I guess… I don’t remember. Silence fell again and Logan drained the
remainder of the can without glancing at the boy.

Jamie was playing with a pull tab
and shooting covert glances at the man known as Wolverine. When he reached for another can, the boy
said quietly, “I’m scared.”

That’s going around a lot
lately…”I know.”

“What’re we going to do?”

“Find Half Pint, kick some
ass…” Logan shrugged. “What else?” Don’t let the kid know you’re at sea…

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
Jamie sighed and sent the pull tab flying with a flick of his
fingers. “Logan…do you love Kitty? I mean, like a daughter. Not that sick stuff like a pedophile.”

Logan snorted before replying. “Thanks for making the distinction,
Kid.” Logan rolled the idea over in his
head before letting it fall from his mouth, “I do love her. I love all of you kids…” He flushed now, making it a night for
unusual occurrences. “I know it seems
like I don’t like you…” Logan decided
that honesty was better than blustering at this point. I never let Kitty know I loved her…God,
don’t let it be too late.

“Yeah, You’re kind of scary sometimes.”

“Yeah, well…That’s my job. That’s me…”
Logan toyed with another beer and sent it rolling back towards the case.
Tired of that shit…when the kid’s gone, I’ll break out the hard stuff.

“I know…Logan?”
Jamie would not look him in the eye now and focused instead on Scott’s
car’s tires.

‘What’s up, kid?”

“I jut want you to know…I, uh, I
think of you like a dad sometimes. A
lot.”

“Huh?” Slap my ass and call me Margaret[3]. What?

“It’s just….” Jamie sighed and
finally looked at Logan. “You’re like a dad to us. To me. You don’t make fun
of me and you kind of seem to give a damn…You’d never tell me I’m stupid—well,
not like you mean it—and you’d never treat me like a baby.”

“Beast is like that, too.” Pressure…so much pressure…

“Not the same.” Jamie shook his head and seemed to strive
for an explanation. “It’s like…it’s
like you would protect us, follow us to Hell if you had to.”

Logan felt a lump rise in his
throat and had to pause for a moment before responding. “So….”

“So…Well, what I want to say is…um,
I want to say that I love you like a dad.”
Jamie flamed red, ducking his face against his knees.

Logan sighed loudly, the row of
alcohol beckoning him even more loudly.
“In that case, get daddy a Jaegermeister.[4]

 

 

Jean felt
like throwing up again. She had been
ill three times since the news had broken about Kitty, the panic and depression
and confusion rising around her too great to block out. Scott had lurched towards her with worried
eyes when she convulsed in the foyer but Jean waved him away, stumbling to her
room and retching her guts out in the half bath. She had rallied enough to join the search near the school but was
sick twice more before returning to the mansion. Scott followed her to her room, this time ignoring her
protests. He tucked her in to bed,
bringing her a bowl “just in case” and a damp cloth. Jean moaned and rolled to her side in memory of the day, praying
that she could wake up and find this was a bad dream.

“Sweetie?” Scott’s voice drifted on the breeze of the
ceiling fan.

“Oh.” Not a dream.

“Scoot
over.” Scott nudged her and she moved
to the other side of her narrow bed, too weak to argue. “I’ll rub your back.” Scott’s hands began working along her spine,
purely comforting, she was marginally pleased to note. “I’m scared, too,” he offered after a
moment.

“I can feel
it…”

“Want me to
go?”

“No—I’d
still feel it. At least if you’re here,
I can pretend…” She fell silent, desperately trying not to picture Kitty bound
and gagged, in the trunk of a car or worse.

“Pretend
what?”

“Pretend
that it’s all a bad dream, that you’re here to make me feel better.”

“Sweet
Jean…” Scott murmured into her hair,
wrapping one arm around her middle and sliding his other hand into her thick
red hair. “I wish I could make it all
better…”

“She’s like
a sister to you, isn’t she?” Jean’s
voice was barely a whisper and Scott wondered briefly if she was also
projecting her thoughts to him instead of speaking.

Scott
gulped against a sudden influx of tears.
“Yeah…she is.”

“She’ll be
back.”

“How’re you
so sure? I don’t want to sound defeatist, but how?”

“I just
am…I know Kitty. She’ll find a
way.” Jean shifted a little then,
turning to face Scott, leaving his arm draped over her waist and pressing her
face against his chest. “I do love you.
I’m sorry I was so…so wishy washy before, but I love you. I think it’s important that you know.”

Scott’s
breath sounded harsh in her ears. “I
know. And I love you, Jean. Love you more than anything.”

Jean felt
so sad and happy at once that she thought her brain would short circuit. Silence crept in and soon Scott’s breathing
settled into a slow, even pattern and she knew that he was asleep. Ask me again, Scott…ask me again and I’d
say yes…



[1] Canadian
beer. If you ever see Dave Thomas (the comedian,
not the Wendy’s guy) and that movie….I think it’s Canadian Bacon or
somesuch---they have a routine about Molson’s and a Mousey in the Beer...funny
as hell.

[2] American
microbrew. Good stuff. Shiner Bock is better, but Sam Adams is more
available. If you’re of age and like
beer, you should try both. (um, pretend
I didn’t say that)

[3] I have no
idea where that came from, only that I say it sometimes.

[4] Line’s
stolen directly from a DREW CAREY ep.
Funny show, that…Jaegermeister….hmmm.
Good stuff if you want to get drunk fast. Hell, even if you don’t want
to, it’s all sparkley.


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