Image #1: Uncanny #169.
Image #2: Uncanny #177.
Image #3: (Thanks Rowena!)
(desperately hoping these aren't too big...)
Now, without further ado....
Kurt slipped silently out into the night. He didn’t feel tired, and right now he needed a minute to slow down, to think over his life, and to decide what was so wrong. Climbing stealthily up from his window, he found his way to the top of the building.
It was quiet and breezy up here, just the way he liked it. His glowing yellow eyes looked like another pair of stars in the inky blackness. He looked out over the island landscape, still mostly a wreck, but getting better.
Kurt slowly pointed his eyes to the heavens. For hundreds of years, mankind had looked upward to find spiritual peace. The psalmist wrote “The heavens are telling the glory of God.” Jesus ascended by way of a cloud. Even most pagan religions had some kind of sun or sky worship.
Kurt felt lost and alone. He gently reached down to touch his rosary, which was resting in the pocket of his bathrobe. Part of him felt like praying, and yet another part felt that he couldn’t possibly.
Azazel had changed everything. His relationship with God, his relationship to other mutants, even his duties as an X-Man. Nothing made sense anymore—he had become the demon-priest, the mutant-spirit, the beast-man.
He rubbed his rosary gently between two large, thick fingers. How many times had he been lied to in the course of his life? How many more times could he handle those lies? It seemed that everyone who had ever known him had lied.
And the X-Men no longer stood for truth and justice and humanity. Now they were sulking children, dealing in falsehoods and secrecy, crying about their lost brethren, shutting themselves off from the rest of the world. Kurt sighed and wished he knew the words to pray.
As far as Azazel went, Kurt was extraordinarily confused. He didn’t know whether Azazel was demon or mutant. He didn’t know what having a demon father made him. There were some days when he felt certain his enigmatic father was a demon, and that he was doomed forever to hell. And then there were days when Azazel couldn’t possibly be a demon, when heaven was just in sight.
Today was one of the former days. Kurt began to weep as he thought about Azazel, about how he had been doomed to eternal death before he had even been born. Any thought of demons automatically brought up the thought of Mephisto. He had called Mephisto out, refused to stay out of the fight, and yet here he was, sitting on the roof of a building on an island specifically created so that he and the other X-Men could stay out of fights.
Kurt stood up suddenly, letting his bathrobe fall off. He stood naked before creation, before the stars, before his God.
“Jesus,” he said, whispering his desperate plea, “Give me a sign. Show me who my father really is, Lord. Let me know the truth, for once in my life.”
A wind whistled across his face and past his body. It was cool and clean and Kurt closed his eyes and raised his head, slowly lifting his arms. The tears were still coming down his cheeks and they felt cold on his fur, but he did not wipe them away.
A crash echoed across the dark night. Kurt turned towards it and knelt down, blending into the dark in a fluid motion. He saw a light in the building across from him, directly where he was looking, and he teleported just above it.
Kurt began to crawl slowly down the wall. There were voices and crashes from the inside. What could possibly be going on?
Just as he neared the window, there was another loud crash and the limp form of a young girl was thrust through the pane, sending shards of glass everywhere. Kurt reached out a hand for her, but she was too far away. In an instant, he had teleported to her.
She hit his chest with tremendous force. Kurt clasped her in his strong arms and caught a glimpse of the interior of the room she had fallen from. He teleported quickly into the room.
Kurt laid the girl down gently on the floor before he looked up. He was in the filing room, and to his great surprise, there stood his friends, Hank and Logan. “What happened?” he asked.
“She was trespassing.” Hank knelt down to her side and took a pulse. “She’s still alive, but these cuts could be rather serious. We should get her down to the hospice wing.”
“Wait a minute.” Logan stepped forward, all practicality. “This gal snuck in here in the dead of night and attempted to steal files. She needs to be secured.”
“She needs medical attention first,” was Hank’s reply as he stood up.
“What’s going on?” A sleepy, half-dressed Scott Summers wandered into the room.
“Intruder,” Logan said.
“She was hurt. She needs medical attention.”
Scott held up his hands. “All right. Let’s get her secured and then worry about medical attention. Kurt, can you take her to the detainment center?”
Kurt had not been listening to any of the conversation. He was staring down at the girl.
“Kurt? What’s wrong?”
Kurt, stilling crouching, lifted up the girl’s hand in his own. He looked down at it, and then up at his friends.
“Oh my stars and garters,” whispered Hank. Nobody else said anything.
Kurt grasped the girl’s hand, his own thick fingers and large thumb wrapping around a second set of large fingers and a thumb. They were identical, except for color and size. His hands were much larger. In his grip, the girl’s fingers looked delicate, white, and petite.
“How about you take her down to the hospice,” said Scott carefully.
Kurt picked the girl up in his arms and teleported.
*****
Kurt glanced up as Hank walked out of the room. Hank shook his head at him. “No,” he said, anticipating the question Kurt had asked every time he had walked by, “She’s not awake yet.”
Kurt looked through the window into the hospice wing, where she was still sleeping peacefully. Then he looked back down at his folded hands.
Who was this girl? Where had she come from? Why was she trying to steal files? Why did she have blue hair and three-fingered hands?
These questions were running around and around in Kurt’s mind without answers when suddenly Logan and Scott walked down the hall. He looked up at them, and they both stopped.
“You won’t believe this, Elf,” said Logan, “That kid was stealing your file.”
“Was?".
Scott nodded. “The only file in the whole room that has been disturbed is the one we have on you. And the part she was going through, the part that’s completely out of order, is the part that had information on your family in it.”
Hank came walking back down the hall. “What is it?” he asked. Scott quickly explained. “Why would she want that?” Hank wondered. All three of them looked down at Kurt.
Then Hank glanced through the window. “I think I can safely bring her to consciousness now without injuring her further. Perhaps now would be a good time for an interrogation.”
Scott nodded. “I want to know what she was up to.”
They entered the little hospice room. Hank took a syringe full of liquid and gave the girl the shot. “She’ll come around in about a minute,” he said, “If she doesn’t, I’ll give her a second dose.”
But the girl was already waking up, breathing more deeply with fluttering eyelashes. Suddenly her eyes flashed open, and they all stood around her bed.
“Who are you?” was Scott’s first question.
The girl didn’t even look at him. Her eyes were on Kurt the whole time. She pointed over to the blue furry mutant. “I’m Kurt's sister,” she said, “At least, I think.”
*****
Hope you'll enjoy my story. I think y'all can probably tell where this is going, but fortunately for me, this is the story I've wanted to write for a while.
[Edited on 10/10/09 by Dedicatedfollower467]
[Edited on 10/10/09 by Dedicatedfollower467]