| 07) Kitty - Shelter From The Storm Kitty was lost. She was deep in a mist that blurred the outside world to her. It started in the shower, when she worked to clean the blood from her hands. Scrubbing, with a desperation that found her digging her nails into her skin, trying to scratch it off. She went into shudders when she saw the renewed swirls of pink that dripped off her fingers and into the drain. Vaile found her there, and got her dried and dressed, taking her to Howards. "You pushed her too hard. She's withdrawn." Firm hands turned her face upwards, but she couldn't focus on anything. "Damn. Take her to the Psychs. We need to know how bad it is... and just when she was starting to amount to something..." *** "The subject seems to be in a state of mild catatonia. She's increasing reactive to stimuli, however. I prescribe a night of isolation at the clinic, then returning her to her normal routine. We've bandaged her hands, and I don't think there will be a recurrence of the self-destructive impulses." *** "Kitty... are you ok? You look lost. They said something happened... Can you talk about it? C'mon, sweety, this is Karla..." "Hound, you need to do more working and less talking." "Yes, sir. I was just trying to..." "Orders are to let her do her work and to leave her alone." "Yes, sir." *** "She hasn't responded to you? My reports say that you've been the closest to her of her fellow Hounds." "Very little ma'am... and, um, that's not quite true. There's someone else. One of the guys." "She met someone at the Social? Who was it?" "The blue one, ma'am. With the tail. She seemed to like him quite a bit." "No Kidding? Well, I'll just have to make sure she attends the one tomorrow. You've been helpful, Hound." "You're welcome..." Footsteps moved away. "...Bitch." A sigh. "It sure feels weird to talk about you like you're not even there, when you are. Oh, Kitty..." *** Loud pounding music. The stench of alcohol. She felt reluctant to go any father into the room, but she was unsure why. A man... boy... was before her. Blue, with a tail. Something stirred in her. Trust. A flicker of hope, and recognition, and despair. Rough hands on her, a burly form blocking her view of the boy. A gravelly voice that awoke irritation from the mist. She ordered him to let her go, and he mocked her. She made him let her go. The young man called to her, his accent soft and familiar. Let's go, she told him. She didn't want to stay here, she wanted to be alone with him... again? Halfway to... wherever they were going, he stopped her. Stepping in too close he spoke to her. Something clenched in her at the aggression... but the distant trust won out. He said wanted to help. Kurt. His name was Kurt. Flashing, caring eyes chipped away at the mist, threatening to expose her sins. Not now. Not yet... That scent... It smelled so good. He smelled of safety, and love... like her father. He led her to the private place, the place she could relax... Except she couldn't relax, because he wouldn't want her here if... when... he knew what she had done. She sat on the couch and didn't look at him. She barely sipped at the juice he brought. Candles... Where did he get candles? ...so pretty. Soft music. He sat near her, attentive, concerned. Asking what happened, without really asking. She told him about the knives. About what they wanted her to do... what they wanted her to become. He interrupted, saying they had given him fighting gloves... Let me finish, damnit! You they give gloves to, me they gave knives... he fell silent again, and listened. She told him about Ox. About her fear, and the blood. About her cowardly attack, and her despicable behavior to a fallen opponent. The pillow... she couldn't seem to stop breaking things. Self-defense, he said. But... he didn't understand... He was going to forgive her, accept her... and the blood on her hands. She had to tell him. Tell him she wanted Ox dead. That she'd made him helpless, and she was going to slaughter him like an animal. That she refused to stop until they made her. He reached out to her, and she pulled away. Not me. I'm tainted. Damaged. Blood stained. I don't deserve you. Oh, God, no... The chiding tone in his voice was the last thing she expected. Stop feeling sorry for yourself? He brought up the pillow again. Said they twist us until we break, or bend. It made sense... his words dropping without sound into the thickness of the mist. She didn't know that she had angered him so... Maybe he could understand. Maybe he could forgive her... For the blood. For being so weak. For not staying the way that she had been. And now she was crying, and she couldn't stop. Then the mist was burning away under the warmth of the sun. The sun was in his golden eyes, so full of compassion. And he still wanted to embrace her, and oh God, yes! His arms felt so good around her. She cried brokenly onto his suit. The zipper and seams dug into her face and she wanted them gone. She put her hand on his zipper, and banished a flash of a meaty hand sliding down the zipper of an orange suit... She bared his chest, and he helped her, dropping the top of it off his shoulders. Then it was just Kurt against her. Warm blue fur, Old Spice, and his soothing heartbeat pulsing under her ears as she cried within the circle of his arms. He murmured softly in German as he stroked her hair. She didn't understand, but she didn't need to. His words were simply sweet music to her. She cried herself out, legs curled up beside him, the rest of her basically laying over his chest. As she quieted he kept one hand around her always, and with the other he massaged her, loosening pains and kinks in her body that she didn't know she had. She lay still, half dozing and listening to his quiet breath as he worked the stiffness out of her. She sighed contentedly, and scratched into the fur at his sides. He sat upright suddenly and she panicked, heart thudding in her chest as she stared at him. He smiled gently. "Easy Katzchen. It's alright, you just tickled me." He kissed her forehead and put both hands on her to relax her once more. "Didn't mean to," came an unfamiliar voice; hers. She sounded so hoarse to her ears, almost as if she were drugged. He gently settled the bulk of her weight back on the couch, and stood up. Where was he going? "I know you didn't, liebchen. I'll be right back." Just beyond the end of the couch he started loading up the record player. He wanted to dance? She wasn't sure she could even move right now. "Nothing... fast, please." She pleaded. She could handle slow music, probably. "My thoughts exactly." She couldn't help but smile at brightness of his grin. He physically pulled her upright, holding her against him as he cleared space for them to dance. Then he took her hand put his other around her waist. Her other hand didn't get as far as his shoulder; she left it lying on the soft fuzz of his chest. She leaned against him, feeling the magic between them happen again. He felt different to her, or maybe he was feeling differently. His arousal wasn't pressed against her, but his arms held her tightly, protectively... possessively? It was nice, more than nice. Then, nicer still were his lips on hers, thrilling her to her core and burning off the remnants of the mist that lingered inside her. His mouth was so warm and soft, she wanted it to last forever. And deep within her she knew she was waking up at last. He pulled away from her, far too soon. She hadn't gotten nearly enough of him yet. He looked worried that she might be angry. He gave an embarrassed smile. "Ah... you looked like you could use that." She brought him back to her mouth and lingered there for a while, tasting him. She let the kiss end and nuzzled against him again. She whispered to him softly, "God, Kurt. Oh, thank you. You brought me back. I was lost and drifting, but you brought me back." She hugged him tightly, and he returned the embrace in kind. Warm rain fell down on her. She looked up into his tears. "I was so worried about you Katzchen... If you didn't find yourself... They..." They both knew that a useless Hound was a dead Hound. "They would kill me. I know, but I couldn't bring myself to care." "I would care." A sad smile crossed his face. "And Katzchen, I would miss you, very much." What had she done to deserve such caring? Then he nuzzled her neck as she liked to do with him, and his fur flexed with his movements, stroking the tender flesh... and darn it, stop that! "Hey! Kurt, your fur tickles!" She gently shoved his shoulder, a laughing smile on her face. His wide grin warmed her. "Well, you seem to like it. I wanted to see what it was like." They weren't really dancing anymore. "Well?" she challenged. Alright... tell me what's it's like for you. He put his cheek to hers, and bent slowly, dragging his soft fur down her face, her chin, and down to her neck. He nuzzled there again, more carefully this time, taking in her scent. A soft kiss, then the moistness of his tongue licking her; sparking a shock through her. When he lifted his head he looked like a connoisseur of fine wines. Thoughtfully he licked his lips, and smiled. "Salty... and intoxicating." She blushed so hard she felt like she would burst into flames. "Well, duh!" she said, to defuse the tension within. "I've been crying a river on you. Look at your poor chest fur." She worked at the flattened fur, hoping that some of that hadn't come from her nose... He stopped her. "I'll brush it out later. Right now I don't want to waste a minute with you." She leaned back against him. "Thank you, for all of it. I needed that." "It was my pleasure, Katzchen," he replied. A gust of air cooled her reddened face. She turned her head to see the blankets on the back of his wall flapped slightly, then settling again. "What... what is that?" He led her to the back wall. "They built this place in between the outer hulls, at the bottom of the Carrier. It was meant for sick staff, but it was abandoned before it was finished. I tore down a section of the wall so I could get into the space between. There are many things to climb on, which I like, and a vent to the outside." "Can I see?" she said, looking at the blankets. "If you wish, but it's very dark, especially at night. It's even dim during the day for me." He tapped his upper cheek. "And I see well in the dark." She pushed the blankets aside and stepped into the heavy darkness. He chuckled at her expression, and his eyes were glowing, really glowing in the dark. "I'll go get a candle for you." He was gone for less than a minute, and returned with one of the votives in a plastic bowl. The naked flame swayed fitfully in the sporadic gusts of air. Tall support struts and heavy cables cast dark shadows that twisted around with the movement of the light. Kurt curled his feet around a cable that reached up diagonally, moving up effortlessly. She saw now what his feet were truly meant for. "Be careful," she called nervously. Twenty feet up, the cable met a beam, and he was clinging to it, one foot still on the metal wires. He paused to smile at her. "Ha! I was climbing like this when I was a toddler. Drove my poor mother to distraction trying to keep me safe. My love of heights is why I joined the circus trapeze troupe." He was climbing the beam vertically now. "Let me get a bearing on the mid point, and I'll teleport you up." He was too far away from her. She started air-walking upwards, the phasing keeping the flame from dancing. "Teleport?" she said, her voice gone spectrally hollow with the use of her power. He reached his goal, and looked down at her, the light catching his golden eyes. "It's my mutant power; to move from place to place instantly. And... I think I am seeing yours, ja?" "Yeah, they took my collar off. What I do is phasing, moving through solid objects. She reached his level and carefully aligned her feet to the surface of the big I-beam, then went solid. "Okay... Did I ever tell you I'm sorta scared of heights? Just how high up is this?" "Forty feet. And no, Katzchen, I don't think it's come up before." He took the candle, and let her lean on him to keep her balance. The surface they stood on was only 12 inches wide. "Like about you running away to join the circus?" She couldn't help but to smile. "I didn't run away to the circus, I just traveled there from the Gypsy camp." He looked off, a melancholy expression on his face. She snickered. "Gypsies? Now you're kidding me, right?" He frowned at her. "I would never kid about the people who took in a little blue foundling, and raised him as part of a loving family." She kissed his cheek to apologize for her skepticism. "I'm sorry, Kurt. In America, tales like that are the stuff of corny jokes and old clich�s. Boys running away to the circus, people being raised by Gypsies, those are only found in exciting, and usually fictional, stories." "Well, I am here to say it's not always fiction." He fingered his almost non-existent earlobe. "I could show you where I used to wear an earring, but the hole grew over. Jimmy will be so disappointed that we aren't a matched set anymore." "Jimmy?" She wondered how Kurt could be a part of a matched set with anyone... he was unique. "My brother. Well, my foster brother. Mother raised us both." She could hear the warmth in his voice, he loved them. "I don't have any siblings. Must be nice." "Ja. We fought sometimes, but we were brothers. We looked out for each other." He looked so sad now, speaking in the past tense, like he was mourning the dead. She gripped his arm gently. "Can I see this vent, before I lose my nerve?" She was unsure what she was doing in this spooky place, except to see a part of his life, something that brought him joy. "Um, yes. Katzchen, it's quite a bit higher that this, so forgive me for asking, but..." He took a deep breath. "Doyouweighlessthanonehundredthirtypounds?" "I don't even weigh that much when I'm soaking wet, so yeah. Why?" "I can port us up there, and back down afterwards, so you won't be frightened. I know the top beam well, I spend a lot of time up there." "Will it be safe?" "My current weight limit is 130, and that means six ports carrying that much, the breadth of the training rooms, in under a minute. These ports will be less weight, less distance, and spread further apart. I can do that very easily." He smiled confidently. "Okay," she said. "I trust you Kurt, take us there." She snuggled closer. He nodded, holding her firmly. Bamf. Disorienting otherness! Then almost as soon as she registered that, they were standing on another, colder, beam. It was dark, the candle was out. "Ach, the candle, and I didn't bring any matches. I can go get some..." "Don't you dare leave me up here, or let me go!" She thought she sounded just a little on the panicked side. "I will hold you as long as you like, Katzchen." He put the cool candle in his pocket, and let the bowl fall into the darkness. She could hear it hit and rebound off unyielding steel all the way down. She shivered in fear, clutching his velvety arms. "Don't worry, liebchen. If we fall I'll just port us to the bottom. I have very quick reflexes that way." He scooted them both to the side a little bit, and carefully crouched, still holding onto her. She sank shakily to her knees, trying to bite back a whimper. "The metal here is cold, so come sit on my legs, and lean against me. Then you will feel warm and safe." She started to rise again and wavered. He solved her vertigo by lifting her up settling her on the firm bunched muscles of his thighs, pulling her tight against his chest. Slowly she stopped trembling. Inside the circle of his arms she felt secure. "The vent is in the outer wall. It's as tall as we are, and several yards long. If you look out and little down, you can see the lights of a city below us." Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she did see a carpet of yellow lights laid out in patterns under the sky-ship where they lived. "How beautiful," she breathed. "But why can't I see the stars?" "It's overcast. Can you smell the water in the air? I think it will rain soon." The hovering clouds in the distance lit up with a silent flash, and seconds later they heard a deep rumble. Little by little, in a march towards them, the yellow-specked carpet blurred, and finally the rain reached the Carrier. Only hints of the rain carried over to them from their vantage point, mist blown in by the gusting winds. It was a welcome touch of weather, a kiss from Nature she had missed for too long. The vent might be frighteningly high up, but she understood why he frequented it. It was a grounding reminder that there was still a world outside the metal walls. "So. I was raised by the Romany. Where did you grow up?" "It isn't as interesting as your youth. I lived in Deerfield Illinois, a suburb west of Chicago." His eyes flashed with excitement. "Really? Wow... Oh, with gangsters and G-men. Have you ever seen any famous mobsters?" he said breathlessly. She giggled. "Now who's been reading too many romantic stories? I swear you're as bad as those old radio dramas Dad listened too. That was in the '30's, Kurt, before the war. Chicago is just like any American city now. Safe. Boring." "Oh." He shrugged. "Home is always boring before you leave it." "Yeah." She'd done it too, she realized. Talked of her family in the past tense, like they were dead. After a silence, she spoke. "I thought of you this month, before the... test." She laughed. "I did your laundry. What were those suits dipped in that stunk so much?" "Garbage. I'm the only Hound who lives down here, so I work with the trash men. Where do you think I get all my beautiful 'gently-used' furnishings?" He was quiet for a while too. "I thought of you, too. How nice you are. How pretty, and how nice you are to me." His lips brushed her face. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "Not half as nice as you are, Kurt. I... I think about you when I go to sleep. When I think I just can't go on anymore..." She turned her face to him, and kissed him softly, sadly. There was little passion in the kiss, only a heavy weight of emotion that she couldn't express any other way, at least, not right now. "I, too, liebchen," he whispered when their mouths parted. He covered her face with slow kisses, and licked away the tears he could taste on her cheeks. "Salty," he rumbled, "...and still intoxicating." His words and the way he said them made her quiver. "Oh God, Kurt, I..." He put a finger on her lips, stilling them. "Hush. We have no guarantees here. We have only what we have. Don't make it worse for either of us by saying something too soon, before we're certain... what God's will is for us." "Are you sure God has anything to do with us?" Her bitterness showed in her voice. "Of course," he said. "In the depths of my torment, He brought me an Angel." She had to smile at that, he sounded so sure. He cocked his head suddenly, and she heard a distant, broken sound. "Verdammt. It's the curfew notice. Time to go Katzchen. I'm going to stand up, and port us to the curtains. Alright?" She nodded. He straightened his legs, still holding up her weight, without apparent strain. She had just time to wonder at his strength when... Bamf. And they were elsewhere, in heavy darkness with music nearby. He parted the curtains, and led her back to the upper decks. "Auf Wiedersehen then, mein Katzchen. Until next month." He gave her a quick buss on the lips and hurried away. She went back to the dorm, still thinking about what he'd said. 'My kitten'. He'd called her his kitten. Oh God, did he mean that? *** After lights out she heard a soft sound above her, as Karla swung down and crouched next to her. "Is that Old Spice I smell, Kitty?" she whispered. "Yeah. Kurt was wearing some," she whispered back. She sighed. "I love Old Spice." "Me too, and it smells like he rubbed it all over you." She heard quiet laughter, and she blushed in the dark. "It was kind of a mutual thing. And Karla? Thanks for trying to help me." "No problem, sweetheart. I'm glad he could help you come back to us." "Me too." She yawned hugely. "Good night, Kitty." Karla climbed back into the bunk above her. "G'night." Chapter Eight Back to Main Page Back to Series Index Back to Fanfics |