An Unsung Hero--semi-illustrated (COMPLETE!!!! Now includes

[StarLightCrawler]

Thata was good one. That made this much more clear and more interesting. Can't wait to see what you post next.

[Rowena]

Thanks! The next chapter should be done by next week! At this point, it looks like there will be about seven more chapters to go before all is resolved. More clues next time! Stay tuned!

[Cherrydoom]

I loved chapter twenty! I'm usually not a Kuroro-type person, but I think I'm warming up to the idea ... The chapter before it was a tad confusing, only because I haven't had the chance to read the other fic with those characters in it just yet.. Whoops! But I'll be able to read it soon, and then it'll all make sense.. for the time being, though, the romance is so sweet and cute, and the new characters are all so spiffy and nice ( sound dorky saying that, but that's what they are XD)! Kinda missing Darkholme a bit, but.. Hope you update soon! :bamf

[Rowena]

Don't worry, there's an awful lot of Darkholme in this chapter! As well as several other familiar faces... Enjoy!!!!!!!

NOTE: I was greatly assisted with many of the translations in this chapter by my friend, Carmilla. Thanks Carmilla!


Chapter Twenty-One

Kurt Darkholme paused, stopping his progress as he crawled swiftly and stealthily along the smooth ceiling of the long, plush hallway. He carefully sniffed the air, every sense on the alert. Someone was smoking a cigarette in one of the rooms nearby.

Kurt clenched his teeth in a disgusted snarl. He despised the stench of cigarette smoke. The smell clung to his fur, irritating his nose and burning the back of his throat, causing his eyes to water and his stomach to lurch disagreeably. The foul air he was forced to breathe in his own reality was polluted enough. He didn't need second-hand smoke to blacken his lungs any further. Besides...wasn't this enormous place supposed to be a school of some sort? He wouldn't have thought that a school as posh as this would allow smoking indoors...

The smoker was standing alone before a large, bay window, the bright sunlight and the haze of cigarette smoke that wreathed his head somewhat obscuring his shadowy form. Darkholme dropped silently to the carpeted floor, a slight frown deepening his normally stern expression. He might have a personal distaste for smoking, but he needed information. He had been trapped in this reality for over nineteen hours now, and although he had learned a great deal about his surroundings, aside from the emotionally distraught human version of himself he had seen the night before, most of the people he had encountered so far were little more than children. If this man could help him in any way, Darkholme would eagerly buy him an entire case of cigarettes to smoke at his leisure. He had important duties to fulfill in his own reality. Lives depended on him. If he didn't get back soon, he didn't want to consider what might happen. His mother had never been a very patient woman...

Darkholme cleared his throat, announcing his presence to the shadowy smoker. The smoker didn't seem to hear him. He cleared his throat again, more insistently this time. The smoker took a long drag of his cigarette, then turned almost lazily, blowing smoke directly into Darkhome's face. Darkholme blinked rapidly, reflexively holding his breath, but he stood his ground, his expression darkening with a barely suppressed fury at this man's rudeness. His anger only grew as the man laughed at the look on his face.

"What is the matter, mein Doppelganger?" the shadowy figure said with a very thick Berlin accent. His deep voice was smooth with curdled charm, the silky, cultured tone causing Darkholme's fuzzy skin to crawl. "Smoke get in your eyes?"

Darkholme snarled dangerously, fingering the hilt of one of his swords. The other man stepped out of the light, a wry smirk twisting his narrow features. Darkholme's golden eyes widened in aghast amazement as he took in the slightly ludicrous, though unquestionably disturbing sight before him, his tail lashing behind him with an involuntary shudder.

"And just what the hell are you supposed to be?" Darkholme sneered in contempt, disgust dripping from his every word. He knew the answer. He had seen historical tapes, spoken at length with members of his resistance group who had survived the Holocaust. He knew about the devastation Hitler had wrought long before the rise of Apocalypse. This creature he saw before him, leaning casually against the windowpane, smoking a cigarette and wearing his face, was a living, breathing Nazi. His indigo hair was slicked back except for a long curl that dipped down over his purple-tinted mirrored shades and his colorful uniform looked like a reject from Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band. His gloved hands and feet sported long, talon-like claws and although his body was well toned, he had a thin, almost gaunt look to him. His dark, blue fur was dull and lifeless, probably from all the smoking. Darkholme didn't even try to keep his lip from curling as he frowned in unconcealed revulsion.

"I could ask you the same question, mein Freund," the Nazi smirked, one thin eyebrow rising over his tinted shades. "Body armor, swords, that vivid, red tattoo over your eye, and of course your completely humorless expression... Why, you look like a reject from a bad science-fiction flick." He snorted smoke and laughter. "Skewered any aliens lately?"

Darkholme's frown deepened, his yellow eyes glinting dangerously as he slid his sword from its scabbard in one smooth, menacing motion. "I'd be more than happy to start with you," he snarled, his pointed teeth flashing in the sunlight.

The Nazi laughed, resting a casual hand on the hilt of his own sword where it hung at his waist. "Ach, so you do have a sense of humor after all. Tell me, Herr Zinnsoldat*, is this your world I've come to? And, if so, could you tell me how to get back to mine? As much as I'm enjoying our light banter, I'm afraid I left my teammates in something of a tight spot."

With a quick, practiced flick of his hand, the Nazi snagged a fresh cigarette from his pocket and lit it with the end of his nearly burnt out stub, extinguishing the butt on the windowsill and carelessly leaving it there. Darkholme's eyes narrowed into disapproving slits as he noted the burn mark the Nazi had left on the polished wood and the ashes that littered the plush carpet by his taloned feet. Clearly this creature had no respect for other peoples' property.

"I was actually hoping you might know the answer to that," Darkholme admitted gruffly, replacing his sword in its scabbard. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to slow his breathing as the Nazi continued to blow smoke his way. "I have been trapped here for nearly twenty hours now. I, too, am needed back on my own world."

The Nazi regarded him through his tinted shades. "I didn't say I was needed," he said lightly, taking another puff as he turned towards the window. "I asked the question out of a sense of--shall we say 'misplaced duty'?--more than anything else. I actually couldn't care less if they all ended up killed, particularly that Hauptmann Englande. I never did like that pompous jackass. Meggan is easily just as bad, and Kate..." He sighed, the affected smarm dropping from his shoulders like a soiled cloak. When he next spoke, his voice was soft, sad, and surprisingly sincere.

"The poor girl is little more than a living ghost as it is. After all that has been done to her...to both of us, really..." He stared at his thick, taloned fingers, his expression unreadable behind his shades.

"She has been looking forward to her death since they took her family." He looked over at Darkholme, his characteristic smirk twisting his thin lips. "But, apparently we mutants are worth more to the Reich alive than dead, even the Jewish ones."

He turned back to the window, sucking at his cigarette like a lifeline, his clawed, tridactal hand trembling slightly as he worked to regain control over his anger. Darkholme tilted his head, regarding the Nazi through narrowed eyes.

"Why do you not resist?" he asked after a long moment. "Fight back?"

"And risk certain death?" the Nazi retorted with a snort. "Not to mention the loss of my special privileges as an elite member of the Lightening Squad. As long as I'm on time for duty, I can pretty much do anything I like, with any woman I please." He leered suggestively, all his former smarm returning in a rush. Darkholme's low opinion of him sank to the level of the sub-basement. The Nazi didn't seem to care.

"It wouldn't do any good anyway," he went on with a careless tone. "Even if we managed to take down Der Führer and all his minions, there are many more even worse just biding their time, eager to take his place. Nein, mein Freund. I, for one, would rather live in comfort than sacrifice myself in some pointless attempt at resistance."

"I, for one, would rather die fighting than allow myself to become a willing accomplice to evil," Darkholme retorted with a stanch, passionate glare.

The Nazi actually chuckled, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Then that is where you and I differ, mein Doppelganger."

He lifted his sunglasses slightly, regarding him with bloodshot, yellow eyes. "You know," he observed, "in some ways you remind me of another alternate of myself I met some years back on Earth 616. You seem to share the same noble delusion that you can actually change things."

He chuckled again, and turned back to the window, effectively dismissing his double with a casual flick of his spaded tail. Darkholme scowled and shook his head, unwilling to waste any more time speaking with this jaded, pessimistic creature. Without another word, he vanished with a bright BAMF, the sulfurous residual of his teleportation mingling with the yellowed curls of tobacco smoke clouding the elegant room.

*Tin soldier

*******

Artie pulled back his arm and fired the baseball straight at Bobby. Bobby swung with all his might, the wooden bat connecting with the ball with a solid, resounding THWUNK! Bobby dropped the bat and started running as the ball sailed high into the air, heading straight for left field.

"I've got it!" Jamie called out, racing after the ball as quickly as his legs could carry him, his glove outstretched.

"Jamie, watch out!" Rogue shouted from her position as short-stop. She winced as the younger boy dived for the ball several seconds too late, the ball hitting him on the shoulder then bouncing off to roll to a stop in the thick grass.

The impact caused Jamie's power to activate. There was a brief fizzle of light, then, suddenly, three identical copies of Jamie Madrox were standing in the outfield. Without hesitating, the one nearest the ball reached for it and tossed it to Rogue. She turned and threw it to Twyla, who was guarding second base. Twyla caught it smoothly, touching the base with her foot mere seconds before Bobby reached her.

"Hey!" Jubilee cried out from the line of students waiting for their turn at bat. "No fair!"

"Mr. Logan!" Ray shouted with an angry scowl. "Jamie used his powers!"

"It was an accident!" the four Jamies chorused defensively. "I didn't mean to!"

Logan stood from his crouch behind home plate, lifting his catcher's mask with a scowl.

"You might not have meant it, Short Stuff," he rumbled, "but the rules of the game are no powers. Bobby, get back here and let's do this over again. Jamie, pick one to stay. The other three, go sit on the bench."

The Jamies pouted a bit, but nodded. After a short discussion, three of them trooped over to the bench. The remaining Jamie bent forward with his hands on his thighs and a determined look on his face. No balls would be getting past him this time.

Logan grunted and went back to crouch behind home plate, still wondering how Charlie had ever gotten him to agree to this. Teaching gym to a bunch of kids...he must be going soft. Or at least soft in the head.

"Ready?" he called out. Bobby nodded, giving the bat a few practice swings.

"Ready, Mr. Logan," Artie lisped, tossing the ball from one hand to the other.

"OK, kids, this one's for real," he warned. "If I catch anyone usin' their powers, the rest of class will be spent doin' calisthenics." He smirked. "And I know how much you all love doin' calisthenics."

The horrified looks on his students' faces was almost enough to make Logan laugh. Quickly, he pulled his catcher's mask down over his face, hiding his smile from view. He had to keep up appearances, after all. Couldn't let them know he was actually starting to enjoy this.

BAMF!

Logan's ears pricked up, his nose twitching as the unique stench of teleportation reached his sensitive nostrils. He straightened, turning his head toward the direction the sound had come from.

This was not his imagination. Nothing else Logan had ever encountered sounded or smelled quite like the physical residuals of Kurt's power. Improbable as it seemed, there was a teleporter somewhere on the grounds, a mutant with the exact same abilities as his friend. Logan's senses did not lie.

"Mr. Logan?" Bobby inquired, lowering his bat to his side as he fixed his teacher with an alert, questioning look. Logan shook his head.

"Keep playin'," he ordered, ripping his mask from his head and dropping it onto the grass. "I've gotta look into somethin'. And remember," he called out, fixing each student in turn with his sharp gaze, "no powers!"

And with that, Logan was gone, running off before the bewildered students could even acknowledge his words.

*******

The trail of Logan's quarry ended at a tall oak tree on the far side of the gardens. Looking up, Logan squinted his eyes, searching for any sign of movement. If this intruder was anything like Nightcrawer, he would be invisible in shadow. Logan could be looking straight at him, yet never know he was there.

"All right," he called out, his gruff voice sharp and his expression stern. "I know you're up there. Get your tail down where I can see ya or this tree is comin' down with you in it." He extended his claws with a threatening SNIKT, turning them slightly so they would catch the sunlight. "Got it, bub?"

Logan wasn't clear on what happened next. No sooner had he finished speaking then there was a blinding swirl of yellow-white light, accompanied by a suffocating cloud of brimstone, far thicker and stronger than the smoke Nightcrawler left behind. Logan found himself blinded, his nose and throat stinging, his eyes tearing. He let out a hacking cough, only to be caught completely off guard by a sharp kick to the gut. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath, rubbing frantically at his streaming eyes as he focused on his ears to track his opponent's movements.

BAMF!

Another swirl of light, another cloud of suffocating smoke, and Logan's opponent was suddenly on top of him, punching him with thick, fur-covered fists. Logan raised his leg and flipped his opponent to the ground, locking him securely in a scissor hold. His vision was clearing now, his ears assaulted by a steady stream of harsh German.

Logan straddled the shouting teleporter's chest, pinning his arms to the ground, only to be caught off guard once again as a fuzzy, sinewy tail wrapped itself around his neck and began to squeeze. He blinked the last of the stinging tears from his eyes, forcing his head down to catch his first glimpse of his opponent.

The man was dark, almost like a living shadow. Brilliant, yellow light poured from his fierce, golden eyes, from between his sharp, clenched teeth. His skin was covered in fine, fuzz-like fur, but even so the alarming resemblance to the Kurt Wagner Logan knew was unmistakable. Logan stared despite himself, his rugged face purpling slightly as the desperately struggling teleporter squeezed his neck even tighter. But for the midnight fur and the glowing mouth and eyes, this man could pass for Kurt's identical twin.

“Lasst mich los!” the teleporter shouted. “Ich gehe nicht zurück. Ihr müsst mich zuerst töten!”*

"English!" Logan gasped out, pinning the man's lean, muscular arms with his knees as he got a grip on his fuzzy neck. "Who are you and what are you doin' here?"

”Ich bring euch um, ehe ich mich gefangen nehmen lasse! Keine Tests mehr! Ich lass mich nicht nochmal mitnehmen!”**

Logan snarled. "I've had enough of this," he growled with difficulty, his flinty eyes flashing dangerously as he gasped for breath through his constricted windpipe. Keeping one hand tight around the man's neck, he raised his other fist over his shadowy face, slowly extending his claws. Before he could say anything else, however, a blinding, red beam of concentrated power cut between them, causing the teleporter to loosen his tail as he cried out in alarm. Logan jumped to his feet, hauling the dark teleporter up after him by the neck. He leaned his face in close to his opponent, baring his teeth with a dangerous growl. The teleporter blinked his glowing eyes at him, suddenly seeming surprisingly young and vulnerable despite the violence of just moments before. Logan narrowed his eyes, loosening his grip slightly but still unwilling to let him go.

"What's going on out here?" Cyclops demanded, running up beside them, Logan's gym students not far behind. "Who is that?"

"That guy kind of looks like Mr. Wagner used to!" one of the Jamies exclaimed in startled amazement. Twyla stared, an uncomfortable flush rising in her glowing cheeks as she backed away, separating herself slightly from the rest of the group.

The teleporter's eyes widened at the sound of Mr. Wagner's name. Glancing at Logan, he teleported out of his secure grasp with a very loud BAMF, appearing beside the Jamie who had spoken in a swirling cloud of light and smoke. The students gasped at the sight, so much more dramatic than Mr. Wagner's own powers.

"Wagner," the teleporter repeated, pointing at himself and favoring the Jamie with a pointy-toothed smile. "Mein Name ist Kurt Wagner. Wo bin ich? Was ist das hier für ein Ort?"***

"Erm, I don't think he knows English," the Jamie observed, nervously returning the teleporter's smile.

"Are any of you in Mr. Wagner's German class?" Cyclops asked, turning to the gathered students. Kitty tentatively raised her hand. Scott nodded at her.

"Kitty," he said, "can you tell us what he's saying?"

Kitty grimaced, shrugging her shoulders in discomfort. "I don't know," she said. "I, like, hardly know anything yet."

"You know more than me," Cyclops told her. "Try to talk to him. Let him know we're not a threat to him."

Kitty seemed to shrink slightly, but she stepped forward, cautiously nearing the crouching teleporter. He eyed her warily, his tail lashing, but he didn't move away. Kitty smiled with a nervous wave.

"Um, like, guten Tag?" she tried, a bit weakly. The teleporter tilted his head.

"Guten Tag," he nodded. "Kannst du Deutsch?"

Kitty winced. "Erm, like, ein wenig," she said, making a pinching motion with her thumb and forefinger to emphasize how little she knew. "Ich heiße Kitty Pryde. Ich bin deine Freundin. Wir sind deine Freunde." She gestured to the group behind her, smiling as kindly as she could manage.

"Meine Freunde?" he repeated, casting a suspicious glance at Logan. Clearly, he was not quite ready to trust them. "Wo bin ich? Wie kam ich her?"

"Xavier Institute," Kitty told him. "Eine Schule für, um, mutants." She gestured to herself, then to him, hoping he understood.

"Eine Schule?" The shadowy teleporter rose to his tridactal feet, turning his gaze to the sprawling mansion.

"Ist das hier die Erde?" he asked her curiously. "Alles fühlt sich so seltsam an, sogar die Luft. Bin ich im Himmel?"****

Kitty gave him a blank look, grimacing helplessly. "Erm, like, ich kann nicht Deutsch sprecken. Es tut mir leid."

The teleporter nodded his understanding, his face falling somewhat in disappointment. Then he turned to Cyclops. "Ist Jean hier?" he asked him. "Jean kann meine Gedanken lesen. Sie kann Ihnen übersetzen, was ich sage.”*****

Cyclops paled, a sharp pain stabbing his heart at the sound of his fiancée’s name.

"What did you tell him?" he asked Kitty, his voice slightly strained. "Why is he asking about..." he swallowed, "...about Jean?"

"I don't know! I didn't tell him anything about her!" Kitty said. "I just said we're his friends and that I can't speak German. Which I can't. We need Mr. Wagner to talk with him."

"But he's gone to the city for the day," Cyclops pointed out, "and I don't think he brought his communicator with him."

"Ororo went to join him a few hours ago," Logan told him. "She usually carries her cell-phone in her purse. We could try callin’ her, get to him that way."

Scott nodded. "We'll try that, then. In the meantime, let's get him to the Professor." He gestured to the shadowy teleporter, who was observing their conversation with wary curiosity. "If he can read this guy's mind, we might not even have to bother Kurt."

*******
Special Thanks to Carmilla for kindly helping me to translate the following sentences into German. Thank you!

*Release me! I’m not going back! You’ll have to kill me first!

** I'll kill you before you capture me! No more experiments! I won't be taken again!

*** My name is Kurt Wagner! Where am I? What is this place?

****Is this Earth? Everything feels so strange here, even the air. Am I in Heaven?

***** Jean can read my thoughts. She can tell you what I'm saying.


*******

The phone was ringing in the hall as the large group filed into the foyer.

"I'll get it!" Kitty exclaimed, rushing off to answer it. The group paused as they waited to find out who was calling.

"Hello," Kitty said brightly, "you've reached Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. How may I help you?"

"Good afternoon," a pleasant, English accented voice responded. "I'm calling on behalf of Kurt Wagner. Do you know him?"

Kitty's eyes widened. "Yeah, I know him," she said, suddenly concerned. "Has anything happened to him? Is he, like, OK?"

The woman seemed relieved, but her tone remained cautious. "Yes, he's fine. Is Scott Summers there? May I speak with him, please?"

Kitty frowned. "Mr. Summers," she called out, waving Scott over to her. "There's, like, an English lady asking about Kurt. She wants to talk with you."

Scott furrowed his brow, reaching for the phone. Kitty handed it to him, but remained nearby, listening intently to his side of the conversation. After a few minutes, Scott hung up, his face drawn and his expression serious. The others looked at him, curious and concerned.

"We've got to talk to the Professor at once," he said. "Kitty, do you know the number for Ororo's cell-phone?"

Kitty nodded. "I know where to find it," she said.

"Call her," Cyclops ordered. "Transfer the call to the Professor's office once you've gotten a hold of her. This situation has just gotten much more complicated."

As Kitty hurried off to find Ororo's number, Kurt Darkholme tilted his head, waiting patiently for the remaining people to start down the hall before leaving the concealing darkness under the stairway and climbing up the wall to the ceiling. He smiled to himself as he stealthily shadowed Cyclops, Logan, the dark teleporter, and the trailing students to the Professor's office. It finally looked as though he would be getting some answers.


Tune in next time, and thanks so much for your reviews!!!!!!!

[Cherrydoom]

Whoo, and so the plot thickens! It just keeps getting better and better! I love how you described LS Kurt's appearance and Ultimate Kurt's bamfs.. I'm so glad you had so much Darkholme in this one.. So very glad!! LS Kurt, too. Even if he's a bastard.. I still love 'im. And Ultimate Kurt, poor guy.. you did a good job with him I can't wait for the next chapter!

[CurlyyHairGirl]

Wow, I just found this fic and I absolutely love it. Will there be another update soon?

[Rowena]

Thanks for the awesome comments! Sorry it took me so long to write this, but I've been enormously busy with schoolwork! This is a really hectic time right now and most of my weekends are taken up entirely by research papers with no time left over for reading, let alone writing, anything for fun. Anyway, I managed to find the time to scribble out this chapter today. I haven't really read through it or checked it in any way, so if you spot any errors, please let me know! Thank you!

Chapter Twenty-Two

"What happened?" Marti asked, meeting her mother and sister as they trooped through the door to where the rest of the family had been waiting on the roof. "You weren't down there very long."

Alice looked at Kurt, then answered her daughter's question. "I managed to get a hold of the Institute," she told them, "and Scott. You two were right." She nodded to Marti and Kurt, her eyes filled with apprehension, but her tone calm and matter-of-fact. "We are in an alternate dimension. The X-Men do exist here, but their situation is very, very different than on our world. There is no Excalibur, no International X-Men Organization at all. In fact, the majority of humans here are barely aware that mutants even exist."

Kurt sighed, pursing his lips as he shot a worried, protective glance over to Marti and Edmund. "Has Scott agreed to help us?" he asked his wife.

Alice nodded. Kurt tilted his head, concerned by the strange, indefinable expression that had crossed her face.

"He's sending a car to pick us up," Alice said. "Apparently Ororo and this reality's version of you, my dear, are already in the city. They should be here shortly to take us to the Institute."

Marti shared a look with her sister, her tail swishing behind her. "You mean, we're going to get to meet an alternate version of Dad? Brilliant!"

Suzie grinned, morphing back into her own pale form. "Think he'll freak out like that alternate version of Mum?" she said in a stage whisper.

Kurt lifted an eyebrow at his snickering daughters, but kept his attention on the problem at hand. "Did you have any trouble convincing them we are who we say we are?" he asked.

Alice shook her head. "Surprisingly enough, no," she answered. "But I got a strange feeling during that call... I'm starting to think we might not be the only ones affected by the anomalous force that pulled us here."

Kurt furrowed his brow, his tail lashing in frustration as he strode over to the wall and peered down at the park far below. "Well, there's not much we can do from up here," he said after a moment. "We'll just have to wait until the X-Men arrive."

He turned back to Alice, taking her hand as he pulled her gently to his side. "If you're right, mein Liebe, they may know a way to send us home."

Alice sighed, moving closer and resting the back of her head against her husband's shoulder as his tail twined itself comfortably about her waist. "I hope so, my love," she said as the two of them watched their laughing children tease and tumble around the roof. "This reality is no place for us."

*******

Kurt tilted his head in curiosity, bending down to lift an oddly shaped metal object from the thin carpet. The men's section of the shoe department was surprisingly deserted given the crowds that filled the rest of the enormous department store; not even a sales assistant seemed to be present. That suited Kurt and Ororo fine, though. Neither of them was particularly comfortable with crowds, and both preferred to do their shopping for themselves.

"What in the world do you suppose this thing is for?" he asked Ororo, turning the flat object over in his hands. Ororo couldn't help but notice how much more adept he had become at coordinating his fingers over the past few weeks. Although he would still pair them unconsciously now and then, those instances were quickly becoming few and far between. For some reason, that realization caused a strange sinking feeling in Ororo's chest. She felt almost as though she was losing something...but she wasn't quite sure just what. Despite that, though, Ororo couldn't suppress a broad smile at the look of pure fascination on Kurt's face as he examined his discovery.

"It is used to measure the length of one's foot," Ororo explained, moving closer to him so she could demonstrate. "You see this knob? You can slide it up and down, and it tells you your shoe size."

Kurt nodded, then blushed slightly, placing the instrument back on the floor where he'd found it. "Ah," he said. "I should have guessed that."

Ororo favored him with a gentle, affectionate smile. "Don't worry about it, Kurt," she said, carefully draping her plastic-covered evening gown and Kurt's suit over the back of a nearby chair. "This is your first time in a shoe store, after all. Now, sit down and take off your shoes," she told him. "Let's find out what size you are so we can get you some shoes that fit."

"Take off my--" Kurt blanched a little, his startled eyes wide as he looked down at his feet. Almost at once, a sheepish flush began to rise in his pale cheeks.

"Oh, right," he said with an awkward little laugh, taking his seat and quickly untying Scott's shoes. "Normal feet. I...ah...I almost forgot for a moment."

Ororo's smile faltered slightly, but Kurt was too busy with his shoes to notice. Her thoughts were interrupted by the intrusion of Kurt's socked foot into her peripheral vision. He wiggled his toes beneath the stretchy fabric, a rather silly smile on his face.

"So, what do I do now, Liebchen?" he asked her as she crouched down to retrieve the foot-scale. "I look to you as the voice of experience to instruct me in proper shoe-shopping procedure." He stuck out his foot and wagged it in front of her until she grabbed it and held it still. Kurt grinned.

"You see, meine Liebe?" he said playfully. "I put my sole in your hands!"

Ororo ducked her head, a small snort of uncontainable laughter escaping as she caught the impish twinkle in Kurt's affectionate, blue eyes. Regaining control over herself, she released his foot and straightened, smoothing her skirt as she stood.

"Well first," she said, "we need to take a measurement." She gestured to the scale. "Stand up and put your right foot on this with your heel against the back."

Kurt did so, maintaining perfect balance the whole time. Ororo kept her eyes down, unsure why she felt so disappointed to see how well he had already adapted to his new physiognomy. She found herself missing his dexterous feet and his thick, blue fingers. She knew she was being unforgivably selfish, not to mention shallow. Her love for Kurt had always gone far deeper than just his appearance, and even now she had to admit that she still found him incredibly attractive. She should be proud of how well he was adapting to his new circumstances. But, she just couldn't help missing his golden eyes, those pointed ears, that expressive tail...

"Ororo?" Kurt's familiar, accented voice broke into her musing thoughts. He sounded concerned. She looked up, meeting his worried blue eyes with a small smile.

"I am sorry, Kurt. I was just...thinking..." She cleared her throat, straightening her posture. "What were you saying?"

Kurt's concerned expression only deepened. "Is there something wrong, Schatz?" he asked her. "You seemed so...distant...a moment ago..."

"Distant?" Ororo thought quickly, unwilling to ruin their time together by bringing up his transformation. "No! I was just considering what kind of shoe would go best with your suits. And, we'll have to get you some gym shoes as well...for the Danger Room."

Kurt nodded, wanting to believe her. He couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling, however, that her melancholy expression a few moments ago had been due to him. She had been staring so intently at his feet-- Still, he was unwilling to ruin their time together by bringing up the painful topic of his transformation, so he just smiled, willingly going along as she changed the subject.

"Now, let's see about your shoe size--"

Ororo was in the middle of bending down when an unfamiliar voice spoke up from behind them, causing them both to give a little, startled jump as they turned.

"Excuse me." The sharp voice belonged to a slender sales assistant with heavy make-up and meticulously styled blonde hair that hung just past her shoulders. "Store policy," she said brusquely, pushing her way between them and crouching down beside the scale. "Only employees can use store equipment. Please allow me."

Kurt and Ororo shared a half annoyed, half bemused look, then watched as the assistant took the measurement.

"Size nine and one half," she announced, standing quickly and striding over to the shelves, pulling out several boxes as she spoke. "On your way to a formal engagement, are you?"

Kurt blinked, turning a startled glance to Ororo. "Well, we have been friends for nearly a year, but today was the first time we--ah--I mean, engagement...!" He trailed off, blushing a furious shade of scarlet as he noticed the odd, wide-eyed stares the two women were giving him.

"Kurt," Ororo said, her eyes sympathetic, but her voice trembling slightly as she struggled not to laugh at his misunderstanding. "My sweet, she means a formal event--like a dinner party or an opera..."

Kurt clapped a mortified hand to his mouth. "Oh," he said in a very small voice, his face redder than ever as he ducked his head. "Oh, Gott!" Then he blinked, looking up at Ororo with wide, blue eyes as a sudden realization struck him.

"Wait a moment," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Did you just call me 'sweet'?"

Ororo smiled, moving closer and wrapping her arms around his waist in a loose embrace. "That I did," she told him. "And that you are." Then, she leaned forward, planting a playful kiss on his nose, right in front of the sales lady. Kurt blushed again, but this time it was with bashful elation. Keeping in mind that they were in a very public place, Ororo resisted the urge to kiss his gently smiling lips and turned instead to the sales assistant.

"We have tickets to ‘Aida’," she explained. "And we will need to buy some sneakers as well."

The sales lady nodded and placed her chosen boxes on the seat beside their evening clothes. "You can start with these," she told them, "and I'll see about the sneakers."

"Dankeschon," Kurt smiled at her. To Ororo's surprise, the brusque lady actually smiled back.

Kurt peered into the first box, then made a face. "Ach, I do not like these," he said, holding up a pair of dark, brown shoes with leather fringes and tear-drop shaped holes in the toes. Ororo smiled at him, then looked into a second box.

"These are rather handsome," she observed, taking out a sleek, black shoe with rounded laces. "They look pretty comfortable, as well." She cast a quick glance at the box. "Reasonably priced, too. Would you like to try them on?"

"All right," Kurt smiled, walking over to her. Before he could take the box, however, the muffled sound of ringing started up in Ororo's handbag. Ororo sighed.

"Goddess," she muttered, rummaging through her bag as she searched for her cell phone. "I knew I should have turned this darn thing off."

"Might as well see who it is, meine Liebe," Kurt said, sitting down and pulling on the black shoes. "It could be important."

"That's what I'm worried about," Ororo said, locating the phone and snapping it open. "I didn't want anything to ruin our day..." She sighed and brought the tiny phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Oh good!" Kitty's voice exclaimed from the other end of the line. "You are there! Hang on a sec and I'll, like, transfer you to the Professor's office, OK?"

"Kitty?" Ororo said. "Wait--what's all this about?"

But it was too late. Kitty was already gone, and now the Professor was picking up.

"Ororo?" Xavier's cultured voice inquired. "Is Kurt with you?"

"He's right here, Professor, trying on shoes," Ororo told him. "What is going on? Is something wrong?"

There was a pause, during which Kurt noticed the look on Ororo's face.

"What is it, Liebe?" he asked, standing and walking swiftly over to her side, his pale face a portrait of concern.

"I don't know," Ororo whispered, her brow furrowed.

"Ororo?" It was Scott's voice now. Ororo shook her head, frustrated, her worry growing every moment.

"Scott," Ororo said, reaching out to squeeze Kurt's hand. "Tell me what is going on. Is something wrong or not?"

"It's a little hard to explain," Scott hedged.

"Try," Ororo snapped, in no mood for games.

Scott sighed. "All right," he said. "You remember the mission last night?"

Ororo rolled her eyes. "Of course I do. Why, have you located the telepath?"

"It doesn't look like there is a telepath, Ororo," Scott said. "From what Hank and the Professor have been able to figure, at this point it's starting to seem that these strange occurrences are being caused by some kind of rip or tear in the boundaries between realities."

Ororo shook her head as if to clear it. "Say that again? In English, this time."

"I know what this sounds like," Scott sighed, "but I'm serious. Some kind of super-powerful force has taken up residence in the dimension Kurt used to teleport through. It seems that whatever it is has been messing with the electromagnetic fields that help keep the alternate versions of Earth separate, allowing individuals from other realities to cross over into ours."

Ororo scrunched up her face. Kurt strained to hear, cursing his rounded, human ears with all his might and wishing he'd thought to buy a cell phone for himself. Before this, though, a cell phone had never seemed necessary. He would never have thought to leave the mansion by himself as a mutant, even with his image inducer to shield him. Unfortunately, the result was that now he was practically jumping in place with agitation, desperate to know what Scott had said that was disturbing Ororo so deeply.

"And this means what, exactly?" Ororo asked.

Kurt spun on his heel and began to pace in the sleek, black shoes. Ororo was right; they were comfortable. The soles were so soft--it was almost like walking on air. The sensation was odd and nice at the same time.

"Well, you know how Kurt used the earth's electro-magnetic fields to guide him when he was teleporting with that special spatial sense he had?"

"Yes," Ororo nodded. "Shortly after his--" she broke off, glancing at Kurt as he paced and lowering her voice, "--the incident--he kept commenting on how flat everything seemed."

"Yes, well, because this strange force is manipulating these energy fields--pulling them towards itself, essentially--a number of teleporters from alternate realities have been forced off their course, ending up here, in our reality, instead of on their own worlds. We know of two cases so far, but there may be more. And Ororo," Scott said, "both of them are alternate versions of Kurt."

"Of Kurt!" Ororo exclaimed. Kurt looked up from his pacing and hurried over to her side.

"What about me?" he said, the base of his spine tingling like mad where his tail should be. He rested his clasped hands over the irritating ghost as casually as he could manage. "What is going on, Ororo?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out, Kurt," Ororo told him, holding up a staying hand as Scott began talking again.

"Yes," he said. "One of them is here at the mansion. I don't think he understands any English at all, only German. The other is in the city, trapped on the roof of a skyscraper by Central Park. He has no means of disguising himself and is unwilling to risk teleporting because of that strange, pulling force. Apparently, he and his family barely made it out of their last teleport alive."

Ororo blinked. "His family?" she repeated; stunned, though she wasn't quite sure why. Kurt looked at her, fierce curiosity warring with helpless frustration in his blue eyes.

"What I wouldn't give to know what she is she talking about!" he groaned, balling his fists and quickening his steps as he paced back and forth in front of the chairs.

"That's right," Scott confirmed. "Apparently his daughter is a teleporter as well. You and Kurt will need to pick up all five Wagners and bring them back to the mansion as soon as possible. We need Kurt here to communicate with this other teleporter we've found."

He sighed. "Look, 'Ro, I'm sorry to mess up your afternoon like this. I know how important it is that you and Kurt get some time alone to talk. But, please believe I wouldn't have called if this wasn't of the utmost importance."

Ororo's lips twitched into a small smile. "I know, Scott. We'll pick them up. Just tell me where they are."

"Is there a problem?" the sales assistant inquired as she strode over to Kurt, her arms full of sneaker boxes.

Kurt nodded. "Ja, I think so," he said. He looked over at the evening clothes on the chair, then at Ororo, completely absorbed in her phone conversation.

"Can we purchase all these things here?" he asked the lady with a gesture to the clothes.

"Of course," she said, striding over to the sales counter. "You are taking those shoes, I assume." She looked down her nose at the sleek, black shoes Kurt was wearing.

"Was--oh! Ja, why not. I'll just get the clothes." He smiled, a bit apologetically. "I suppose we shall have to leave the sneakers for another time, ja? Sorry to have put you to all that trouble for nothing."

If the sales lady was upset, she gave no sign. Kurt hurried over to the chair and carefully scooped up the gown and the suit, resting his shoe box on top. Then he returned to the lady, who began scanning the price tags in the same brusque way she seemed to do everything.

"With tax, that comes to four hundred seventeen dollars and thirty-five cents," the sales lady announced, looking at Kurt with expectant, hazel eyes.

"Mein Gott." Kurt's eyebrows shot up as he stared at the incredible sum on the digital display. "One moment, bitte," he smiled awkwardly at her, then he hurried over to Ororo. He caught her just as she was putting her phone away.

"Ororo," he began, "I know you wished to pay for my suit and shoes as a favor, and it is not that I do not appreciate your kind offer, but, Liebchen, the price is such that I--"

Ororo rested a slender finger against his lips, effectively cutting him off. She smiled. "How much is it, Kurt?" she asked.

"Four hundred seventeen dollars and thirty-five cents in total," he said.

Ororo looked impressed. "That's all?" she commented. "I thought it would be more, even without the sneakers."

"More...?"

Ororo's smile gentled. "Kurt, shopping in the city is expensive. I planned on spending at least five hundred dollars today. When Jean and I used to go on shopping trips, it wasn't unusual for us to spend upwards of a thousand dollars." She grinned at his shocked expression. "Granted, we could only afford such splurges maybe once a year," she admitted, "but the point is I want to buy these things for you. The money means nothing to me."

She straightened then, fixing him with a mock glare as she took up her haughtiest 'goddess' pose. "So, don't go pulling your chivalry on me, Kurt Wagner. A simple thank you is all I ask in return."

Kurt's wicked grin should have tipped her off, but as it happened Ororo was caught completely by surprise when Kurt reached out and pulled her close, looking deep into her eyes. She gasped, trying to keep up her haughty expression, but failing miserably as she found herself fighting against a sudden flood of embarrassingly girlish giggles.

"Truly, there is nothing else my lady would ask of me?" he teased, leaning in even closer. "Not even...a kiss?"

"Kurt!" Ororo exclaimed, biting her lip to keep her laughter contained. "We're in a department store!"

Kurt stared into her eyes a moment longer, then abruptly pulled back, leaving Ororo breathless and reeling with the oddest sensation, almost like she'd lost something that she couldn't even describe.

"You are quite right, Liebchen," he said formally, starting back towards the check-out counter. "I have always abhorred such blatantly public displays of affection. They are so tacky, don't you agree?"

Ororo stared at him for a moment, the smallest of grins tweaking at her lips. Then, her eyes glittering with a wicked mischief that could easily match Kurt's own, she grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around, pressing her lips to his before he could say a single word.

"Oh, definitely," she chuckled when they parted several moments later. "Extremely tacky." She kissed his cheek, then pulled away to rummage through her purse. "Now...where did I put my credit card...?"

As Ororo paid for the clothes, Kurt remained rooted to the spot where she'd left him, his eyes wide and his expression distant. Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, he gave a loud "WHOOP!" causing Ororo and the sales lady to turn just in time to see him perform a perfect backflip in the narrow space between the chairs and the shoe displays. The lady gasped and brought a manicured hand to her mouth. Ororo's jaw dropped.

"Mein Gott, I love this woman!" Kurt exclaimed as though he were a prophet proclaiming a sudden revelation; absorbed in his joy and oblivious to the rest of the world as he spun in place like a giddy schoolboy, then fell limply into a chair, his shoulders shaking with happy laughter.

"Bright Goddess..."


The sales lady stared at Ororo as she shoved the shoe box--filled with Scott's old shoes--into a plastic bag. "Is he always like this?" she asked.

Ororo smiled, a bit sheepishly. "Actually, no," she said. "He's usually rather shy, almost withdrawn."

The sales lady raised a delicately penciled eyebrow, then looked over to Kurt, who was wearing a big, loopy grin as he stared up at the ceiling, still chuckling to himself. Slowly, a broad smile spread over her narrow, thickly painted features.

"In all my twenty-two years working in this city, I have never seen anything quite like you two," she stated. "And that is really saying something. I wish the both of you the best of luck. I truly do."

Ororo flushed deeply, unsure how to respond to that. She was still torn between wanting to both kiss Kurt and to kill him at the same time. Whooping like a madman and performing a backflip in a shoe store...! But he wasn't showing off. He was just being himself--honest and genuine and wonderfully unique. And Ororo loved him.

The sales assistant winked at her. "You do know we have one of the best bridal departments in the country right on the third floor," she said. "Just thought I'd put that out there for consideration." She smiled, slipping the receipt in the shoe bag and handing Ororo her purchases.

"Have a pleasant day."

*******

"So, we are going to pick up an alternate version of me and bring him and his family to the mansion where I am supposed to act as translator for another alternate version of me who can't speak English?" Kurt asked as they exited the store and started off for the parking garage where they had both left the cars they had driven into the city.

"That's right," Ororo said, adjusting her gown in her arms. Kurt nodded thoughtfully.

"I just have one question, meine Liebe. Why me?"

Ororo shot him a look. "All I know is that it has something to do with the electromagnetic fields used in teleportation. Something is pulling at these fields, directing them towards our dimension. So, when a teleport is initiated, the teleporter is pulled out of his reality and into ours."

"And because this force is weakening the boundaries between alternate realities, it is also responsible for the strange traffic accidents we thought were being caused by a telepath?"

Ororo nodded. "Apparently."

"Where do you think this strange force could have come from?" Kurt asked. "And why has it chosen the dimension I used to teleport through? Why didn't it choose one of these alternate dimensions?"

"I don't know, Kurt," Ororo sighed. "These are questions you are going to have to ask the Professor when we get back to the mansion."

"Liebchen," Kurt said after a moment, his voice hesitant. "Would you think me a coward if I told you that I was rather nervous about meeting these alternate versions of myself?"

"I could never think you a coward, Kurt," Ororo assured him. "And I don't blame you for being nervous. But remember this," she said, stopping their progress as she turned to face him. "No matter what they look like, how they act, or how many there are, not one of them is you. You are the Kurt Wagner who is unique to this reality, which makes you the real Kurt Wagner. The others are just manifestations of what might have been."

"But, since they arrived here by teleporting, they are all certain to be mutants," Kurt said softly. "While I..." He trailed off, watching grimly as he flexed his five, slender fingers around his shoe bag.

"Mutant or not, Kurt, you have something none of those alternates will ever have."

"What's that?" he asked, looking up at her.

Ororo smiled, stepping in closer and twining her arm around his. "You have me."

Kurt grinned as they started walking again.

"I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to go dancing, Kurt," Ororo told him. "I was really looking forward to learning."

"Is that so?" Kurt smiled, leaning over to kiss her snowy hair. "In that case, Liebchen, there's only one thing for it."

"Oh? And what is that?"

"We'll just have to come back another time, ja?"

Ororo smiled and squeezed his arm. "It's a date."


Next time: Rowena (who is my original character, not me) shows up and some real answers regarding this mysterious force are discovered. Stay tuned!

[CurlyyHairGirl]

BRAVO BRAVO!!!:clap, Danke, I neede that right now. Can't wait till next update.

[taekwondodo]

Very nice. I'm beginning to wonder if what happened to Kurt could be causing/affecting this dimensional instability thing.... Btw, nice to see one of my fav 'Crawlers - I *love* Ultimate Kurt...at least the way he first appeared during Return to Weapon X. Age of Apocalypse 'Crawler is pretty great too though. I must admit that I'm still hoping that when you change movie Kurt back to a mutant you do it without the repulsive scars and shark teeth.

[CurlyyHairGirl]

madI find those scars to be down right sexy! You leave them there!

[Saint Kurt]

You seem to have a real gift with turning what seem like overly convoluted plot lines into a mystery that is compelling on two levels. The first is of course - why is all this other stuff happening? Aren't things crazy enough? And the second is the actual desire to see the outcome of it all. Not a small feat...

I like this story and your other one on here as well. I'm genuinely interested in what is going to happen to both the original characters and all these versions of Nightcrawler.

I know what you mean about school and this time of year. It goes from a marathon to a sprint right before finals.

-e

[CurlyyHairGirl]

Ach! FINALS SUCK!! Good luck with school everybody, dont write fics if ya haven't studied. I have homework and have to study. But I agree with ZW this is a complicatingly good fic.

[Rowena]

Hi, Taekwondodo!

To tell you the truth, it will ultimately be up to Kurt to decide whether he gets his powers back or not. If he does, though, I'm afraid he'd want to go back to the way he was initially. He's used to his scars, but he's never had fur before. Sorry. But there's lots of other fuzzy Kurts running around in this story! Does that make up for it a little? Maybe?

Thank you so much, everyone! I hope you still feel that way after reading this chapter. Inside is everything you never wanted to know about the make-up of the multiverse. All the explanations are off my own bat and have no basis that I know of in the Marvel universe, so if you don't like all the technobabble, blame me!

Please let me know what you think!

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Are you sure they're even coming," Suzie asked, leaning glumly against the wall and crossing her arms over her chest. "I mean, it's been what? Half an hour already?"

"Have some patience, sweetling," Kurt said from where he was watching Edmund and Alice play Cat's Cradle with a long piece of string Marti had found tied to a rusty antenna nearby. Unable to join in because of her lack of fingers, Marti had moved off to a corner, where she was now passing time seeing how long she could stand on her hands before losing her balance. So far, she'd lasted almost seven minutes and was showing no sign of wobbling.

Suzie groaned loudly. "This is so BORING!" she exclaimed. "My brain is turning into mush as I speak."

"Why don't you come play with us?" Edmund asked, looking over at his sister with a smile.

Suzie shot him a superior look. "I don't think I'm quite that desperate yet."

With a deep, dramatic sigh, the thirteen-year-old climbed up onto a nearby pile of decaying crates and leaned her elbows over the side of the high wall, peering down to the busy street far below.

“Be careful up there, Suzie, love,” Alice called out, concern tinting her accented voice. “Those boxes don’t strike me as being particularly sturdy.”

Suzie remained where she was, responding only by rolling her golden eyes. From her vantage point, she could just see the tree where she and her family had initially materialized in this dimension. She tilted her head as she watched a young woman with long, brown hair that reached past her knees pacing back and forth, slowly circling the tree while holding her arm out in front of her as though she were feeling for something solid hidden in the air. Squinting her sharp eyes, Suzie noticed that she was holding something in that hand, some kind of whitish object. She smirked. She’d always heard that New Yorkers were an eccentric lot, and this lady’s absurd behavior seemed to prove that rumor true.

Shaking her head slightly, she returned her attention to the rows of cars and trucks crowding the road below. As she watched, two cars—one red and one white—pulled up in front of the building, parking in a lane that was clearly labeled ‘No Parking’ in white paint. Suzie was just about to comment on this to her family when the door to the white car opened and a dark-skinned woman with long, silvery hair stepped out onto the sidewalk. She gasped.

“Mum, Dad!” she cried, leaping to her feet and causing the crates to wobble a bit. Alice winced slightly as she and Kurt turned to their excited daughter. Suzie didn’t even notice. “They’re here! I just saw Auntie Ororo get out of her car!”

“Alice,” Nightcrawler said, “you should go down to meet them. And, Liebchen,” he said as his wife turned to leave, “ask them if they have any blankets or spare jackets in their cars. We don’t want to attract any,” he scowled slightly, his powerful tail lashing back and forth, “…undue attention.”

Alice nodded, her lips pursed and her bright eyes dark. Suzie leapt gracefully from the boxes and ran over to her mother.

“I’m coming too,” she stated, using her power to match Alice’s skin, hair, and eye color as she spoke. “We must hurry, though. They’re probably already climbing the stairs by now!”

As Alice and Suzie headed for the stairwell, Nightcrawler sighed deeply, running his thick fingers through his indigo curls. With his family trapped in a hostile dimension and unable to use his powers of teleportation to shield them from danger, the normally confident leader of Excalibur--the English branch of the International X-Men Organization--was seething with frustration and an unsettling feeling of helplessness that did not sit well with him. Edmund looked up at him, his tail twitching nervously at the sight of his father looking so agitated. Rising to his sneakered feet, the nine-year-old walked over to his father and impulsively wrapped his skinny arms around his waist.

“Don’t worry so much, Daddy,” he said. “You’ll get your tail all tied up in knots. Now we’re going to meet with Uncle Scott and everybody, you and Mummy can find out how to get us back home.”

The utter faith and trust in his son’s hazel eyes both touched and pained Nightcrawler at the same time. Crouching down to his eye level, Nightcrawler smoothed Edmund’s straight, black hair with a small smile.

“Whatever happens,” he said, “I want you to remember something—something my foster parents often told me while I was growing up in Germany. No matter where you are, as long as you are with your family, you are always home. That means as long as we stay together, you and me and Marti and Suzie and your mother, we will be at home.”

Edmund tilted his head. “Even if we’re in the car?” he asked.

Nightcrawler blinked, then laughed. “Ja,” he smiled, his golden eyes brimming with affection. “Even then.”

“Hey, Dad!” Marti’s voice called out from the direction of the stairwell. Nightcrawler straightened just in time to see his daughter flip easily down from the stairwell ceiling, where she’d been hanging upside down, waiting for the newcomers to arrive. Nightcrawler and Edmund walked over to join her by the doorway, getting there just as Suzie led the rest of the small group up the last steps and out onto the roof. Ororo was instantly recognizable despite the fact that she was at least thirty years younger than the version he knew, but it took Nightcrawler a moment to realize that her pale, slender companion was his alternate self. Nightcrawler couldn’t help but smile slightly as his Doppelganger from this reality cast a wide-eyed glance at his gathered children. The poor man seemed rather overwhelmed.

“Guten Tag, meine Freunde,” Nightcrawler said with a warm grin, holding out his fuzzy, tridactal hand for his double to take. “Thank you for coming to our rescue so quickly. These are my children, Marta and Edmund. You’ve already met Suzie and my wife, Alice.”

The pale man shot a nervous glance over to Ororo, who nodded encouragingly, then he shifted the somewhat battered blanket he was holding to one arm and held out his own hand.

“Bitteschon,” he said softly, his accent far stronger than his older double’s. Nightcrawler narrowed his golden eyes as they shook hands. His hand felt perfectly normal, no fur, five separate fingers… Nightcrawler looked down at the man’s wrist, blinking in surprise when he noticed he wasn’t wearing a holowatch. But surely--

“Wait a moment,” Edmund piped up, interrupting his father’s thoughts. “Mummy, I thought you said we would get to see an alternate version of Daddy. Where is he?”

Alice flushed slightly in consternation, turning an apologetic glance to the two X-Men.

“He’s right here, love,” she said, gesturing to the slouched figure hunching uncomfortably beside Ororo with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. “Only, he’s in disguise right now. You remember that old image inducer of Daddy’s?”

Edmund nodded, turning a bright, curious look to Kurt. “So you’re wearing a hologram right now?” he asked. “Is it solid? Can I see your watch?”

The pale man seemed to shrink even further. “Erm, I’m afraid not,” he said with a slight wince that could have been an attempt at a rueful smile. “You see, there was an accident during a recent mission to rescue a young girl who had just come into her powers and…” He sighed, pulling his hands from his pockets and fidgeting with his slender fingers, his blue eyes downcast. “This is not a disguise. I really am a…a normal human.”

Marti, Suzie, and Edmund stared in amazement while their parents shared a startled look. The human Kurt flushed deeply. Ororo gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. He seemed to brighten a bit at that, but he didn’t raise his eyes.

“What did you look like before?” Marti asked hesitantly, clearly afraid of offending him. “Were you, well, like us?” She made a sweeping gesture with her tail, indicating herself, Edmund, and her father.

“Well, I didn’t have any fur,” he said, looking over to her with a shy smile. “And there were a few other differences, but yes. I was just like you.”

Marti smiled at him, causing his posture to straighten slightly. “I bet you must be missing your tail, now, huh,” she said sympathetically, her own spade-tipped tail twitching behind her.

“More than you can know,” he nodded. “After the incident, it took me almost full day to learn how to walk without it.”

Marti, Edmund, and Nightcrawler’s tails gave unconscious shudders at that thought. Ororo and Alice had to fight the urge to chuckle at the sight.

“How awful!” Marti exclaimed. “Is there any way you can…you know…reverse the transformation or something?”

“Right now,” Kurt sighed, “it doesn’t look like it. But it is all right. I have found I can still do many of the things I could do as a mutant, and,” here he smiled somewhat bashfully at Ororo, “I have very dear friends to help me make the adjustment to my new circumstances.”

Alice noted the warm look that passed between the two X-Men, her eyebrows raising in surprise. While her children continued to ask questions of the shy human, she turned to her husband, wondering if he, too, had noticed. Apparently, he had, for he seemed bemused as well. Alice slunk over to him, smiling slightly as she spoke under her breath, just loud enough for his sensitive ears to pick up.

“You and Miss Munroe?” she kidded with a gentle nudge. “Anything you want to tell me, Kurt?”

“Please, Liebchen,” Nightcrawler whispered back in the same tone, twining his tail around her waist. “Back home Ororo is old enough to be my mother.” He took her hand in his, pressing it to his chest as he looked into her dark eyes. “And even if she wasn’t, meine Liebe, you should know by now that not even a weather goddess could ever usurp your place in my heart.”

Alice rolled her eyes slightly, withdrawing her hand and giving his arm a playful punch. Nightcrawler blinked at her in wide-eyed innocence.

“Was?” he protested, struggling to keep up his hurt expression. “It’s true.”

“Kurt, you’re hopeless,” she smiled, chuckling softly as his twitching lips finally broke into an impish smile. “I blame those ancient movies you watch.”

Gracing his smile with a brief kiss, Alice broke away from his tail and walked over to Kurt and Ororo.

“Do either of you know anything about the strange force that pulled us here from our own reality?” she asked them, bringing the wandering conversation back to their present situation.

“Very little,” Ororo told her with a slight sigh. “Hank and the Professor have come up with some theories, I believe, but you will have to speak with them if you want to know more. If we’re to reach the mansion before sunset, however, I’m afraid we’re going to have to leave now.”

Alice nodded, then turned to her children.

“Marti, Edmund,” she called, “come here and take these blankets. Edmund, dear, tuck your tail up under your jacket. We’re going to be heading down for the street now, and I want you both covered.”

“This sucks,” Marti stated, taking the battered blanket from Kurt and draping it over her curly head and around her shoulders like an old woman’s shawl. “Big time.”

“I know,” the human said with a compassionate, though helpless, shrug. “But it’s only until we get to the cars.” Marti scowled, but nodded her understanding, wrapping her tail around her waist like a rather thick belt.

“I’m afraid we could only find these two picnic blankets in the cars,” Ororo said apologetically, turning to Nightcrawler. The fuzzy mutant waved off her concern.

“The solution is a simple one,” he said easily, firmly repressing the urge to complain that if he could only teleport, none of this nonsense would be necessary. “Get Marti and Edmund in the cars, then bring the blankets back to me. I can wait in the stairwell until your return.”

“All right, then,” Alice said. “How are we going to divide this up? We’ve got two cars and seven people.”

“I want to go with Kurt!” Marti announced, raising her hand.

“Me too!” Edmund added.

“Suzie?” her father inquired. “Do you have a preference?”

“I don’t care,” she shrugged. “Either one’s OK.”

“Very well,” Nightcrawler said. “Then you go with your mother and Miss Munroe. Since I would never be cruel enough to leave poor Kurt alone with Marti and Edmund and their antics for too long a time, I shall go with him in the BMW.”

“Antics my fuzzy, blue foot,” Marti snorted with a smirk, half invisible in the shadows of her blanket. “You just like his car.”

Alice snickered. “She knows you too well, my love,” she grinned, pecking her husband on the cheek, then taking his hand as they walked towards the stairwell. “You two are so alike it’s almost scary.”

As the Wagner family trouped down the dark, dirty stairway to the ground floor, Kurt turned to Ororo, an odd look in his blue eyes.

“What is it?” she asked, a hint of concern creeping into her voice. Kurt turned away, shaking his head.

“It is nothing, Liebchen. Let’s go.”

“No, Kurt,” Ororo insisted, stopping his progress with a pull on his elbow. “It is something. Something is bothering you.” She set her jaw, uncertain whether she was ready to broach this subject yet but aware that if she let it slide now, it would only grow in silence.

“Was it the children?”

Kurt closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath through his nose. Ororo sighed.

“I thought so,” she said softly. “This can’t be easy for you, seeing a manifestation of yourself from an alternate existence, an alternate life…”

“Ororo,” Kurt said abruptly, taking her hands in his as he turned to face her. “Do you…do you think that we could ever be like that? Do…do you believe you could ever want what they have…with me?”

Ororo had known that question was coming, but she had to avert her eyes just the same. What Kurt was asking—Ororo would have found the whole concept unthinkable before she’d met him. She had always been the untouchable Storm, aloof and powerful, always in perfect control of her emotions and her life. Her early experiences, growing up on the harsh streets of Cairo, had turned her off completely to the thought of ever having a family of her own. But now…now everything was confusion.

The sound of laughter echoed up the stairwell, breaking into her troubled thoughts. She looked over at Kurt, who had lowered his head during her long silence, his unruly curls shielding his eyes from view. Slowly, he released her hands, then clasped his tightly behind his back as he turned towards the doorway.

“It is all right, Ororo,” he said, his accented voice soft and surprisingly understanding. “You do not have to answer me now…or even ever.” He looked up at her, a small, sincere smile brightening his pale face. “Come along, meine Liebe,” he said gently, holding out his hand for her to take. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting down there.”

Ororo stood there for a few moments longer, just looking at him, her mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. She wanted—needed—to say something, but she just didn’t know what. Unable to think of anything else to do, she slowly began to walk towards him. She stretched out her hand, and Kurt took it, gracing her knuckles with a soft kiss. At that moment, something snapped in Ororo’s heart. She shook her head, her crystal eyes stinging with tears she refused to shed as she enfolded him into a tight embrace. She trembled slightly as she felt Kurt return the hug.

“My dear, sweet Kurt,” she said, burying her face in his shoulder, “I don’t deserve a friend as wonderful as you.”

To her surprise, Kurt laughed into her hair, rocking her gently as he held her close. “And I don’t deserve a friend as kind and as lovely as you, Liebchen. Yet here we are.”

He leaned in to kiss her cheek, then pulled away, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears of his own. “Ich liebe dich, Süßigkeit. And I always will.”

Ororo sniffed slightly, then smiled, a warm, genuine grin meant only for him. “Thank you, Kurt,” she said, taking his hand once again. “Come on. I think we’ve kept those poor people waiting long enough!”

*******

Rowena Zahnrei pulled her scanner from its proper slot on her utility belt and activated it, her brown eyes narrowing as a man swathed in old blankets dashed across the crowded sidewalk and dived into a sleek, red sportscar. She grunted slightly as she watched the readout flash across the white, palm-sized scanner’s small display screen. That was him. The teleporter from Earth 723. The energy signature was unmistakable. He and his family were in the two cars just pulling away from the front of that tall building, along with one mutant and one human from this dimension.

Rowena smiled to herself as the cars slid their way into the slow moving traffic and drove out of sight. She knew where they were going. Both cars had sported bumper stickers reading ‘The Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters’. Quickly pulling up a map on her scanner, Rowena ducked into a nearby alley. A flash of light, a loud SHAZZP, and she was gone, leaving behind no sign that she had ever been there at all.

*******

Twyla Todd looked up at the sharp sound of knocking, moving quickly to open the door to the Professor’s office to see who was there. She had been sitting quietly in the corner of the large room, consciously striving not to bring any attention to herself as she listened to the adult X-Men discuss their various theories and ideas as to what could have brought this strange, shadowy version of Mr. Wagner to the mansion. The other children had long since left, more interested in finding some food or seeing what was on TV than listening to Dr. McCoy and the Professor spout quantum theory at each other. Twyla had chosen to remain, however, hoping against hope that what she had done to Mr. Wagner had nothing to do with this present situation.

“Who is it, Twyla?” Dr. McCoy asked, looking up from the stack of hastily scribbled notes that had grown up between him and Xavier. Logan and Scott were wearing slightly glazed expressions, and the shadowy Nightcrawler seemed to have fallen asleep in his chair.

“Um, I don’t know,” Twyla said, opening the door all the way to reveal a slender young woman with long, brown hair standing in the hallway.

“Then, allow me to introduce myself,” the young woman smiled, striding past Twyla and into the richly furnished room to address the X-Men where they sat around Xavier’s desk. Logan straightened in his chair, wrinkling his nose slightly. There was something strange about this lady, an odd, almost alien scent that he had never encountered before. Whoever she was, there was no way this young woman was from Earth.

“My name is Rowena Zahnrei,” the stranger announced. “I am the Head Historian of the Omniverse and Second Advisor to the Supreme Ominversal Guardian Roma. We at Otherworld have become greatly concerned by a recent rash of unexplained cross-dimensional occurrences that seem to have their origins in this dimension. I have been sent here to discover the cause so that, hopefully, our experts can put things right before the Omniverse collapses in on itself.”

Scott blinked hard behind his visor, struggling to force his muzzy brain back to full alertness. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but could you say that again?”

Rowena frowned for a moment, then brightened, reaching into her pocket and pulling out what seemed to be an ordinary deck of playing cards and a cloth-covered elastic band. Xavier and Hank shared a confused look.

“Excuse me, Miss Zahnrei—“ Xavier started.

“Historian Zahnrei is my proper title,” Rowena corrected him curtly as she placed the cards on a nearby table. Then she smiled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “But since we’re going to be working together, you and your friends may call me Rowena.”

“Working together,” Scott sputtered, rising from his chair. “Who the heck are you?”

“Scott,” the Professor admonished, wheeling his way over to Rowena.

“Historian,” he said, “I sense your sincerity, and I understand the urgency of this situation, but perhaps if you could explain—“

“That is precisely what I am trying to do,” Rowena said, waving the others over to her. Hank, Scott, and Logan frowned, but crossed the room to her table. Twyla looked over to Nightcrawler, who was still asleep, then crept up to the table herself, getting just close enough to see what Rowena was doing without getting into anybody’s way.

“I realize this dimension has yet to discover the true nature of the multiverse, but as I do not have time for a thorough explanation, I will try to make this as simple as possible,” Rowena told them, pulling the elastic onto her wrist.

“What’s that for?” Logan asked. Rowena blinked at him.

“What, the elastic?” she asked. Logan nodded. “It’s for my hair.”

Rowena smiled, brushing her hair into a loose ponytail with her fingers, then quickly securing it in place with the elastic. “Now it won’t get in my way as I give the demonstration,” she explained.

Twyla stared at her almost absurdly long hair for a moment, wondering absently how long it took to wash, then turned her attention to the playing cards.

“Imagine this deck of cards is the multiverse, OK?” Rowena said. “Here, I’ll spread them out so it’ll be clearer.”

She placed her palm over the deck and twisted her hand, fanning the cards out into a neat ring. “Each of these cards represents a unique dimension,” she explained. “Here at the center, where they all touch, is the dimension known as Otherworld, where I am from. We at Otherworld work to regulate the dimensional boundaries and to make sure no one from one dimension attempts to manipulate or take over another. In essence, we are sort of an interdimensional police force, if you will, keeping the timelines straight and moving in their proper directions. Now, these dimensions are related to each other in several ways. One way is by the individuals present. You have already seen an example of this in the case of Kurt Wagner. In fact, there are two alternate versions of that man in this room right now.”

“What?” Logan exclaimed, looking over to the sleeping Nightcrawler. “I only see that one.”

“Nevertheless, there is another,” Rowena said, turning a pointed gaze to the shadows by the large potted plant at the far side of the room. Realizing he had been found out, Kurt Darkholme stepped into the light, his muscular arms crossed over his armored chest.

“There are others here besides me,” Darkholme pointed out, ignoring the gasps and wide-eyed stares that met his sudden appearance. “I met a particularly distasteful one smoking on the level just above here, and another, some kind of priest, I believe, praying on the roof. There may be more, but I have yet to meet them.”

“In fact,” Rowena said off-handedly, “there are eighteen alternate versions of Kurt Wagner, four versions of his daughter, Marta Wagner, and at least twenty other alternates of various other teleporters and those individuals they were teleporting present in this reality as of this moment. And those numbers are only going to increase unless we find out what is causing this disturbance and put a stop to it. Now, where was I?”

“Alternate universes,” Scott said.

“Right,” Rowena nodded, reaching down to pick up a card from the ring. “Now, each of these dimensions is entirely unique from the others. There are some in which Earth exists and others in which it doesn’t. Each of these dimensions is assigned a number. Every time events in an individual dimension come to an important turning point—a point at which the course of history will be changed based on a single decision—the dimension splits, creating two new timelines in a series. This is the second way in which dimensions are related. For example, we are presently on Earth 816, meaning that this version of Earth is sixteenth in a series stemming off of Dimension 8. This man,” she gestured to Darkholme, “is from Earth 679—seventy-ninth in a series stemming from Dimension 6, and this one,” she gestured to the shadowy form of the sleeping Nightcrawler, “is from Earth 615. He’s from the same dimension as Kurt Darkholme, here, but his world is fifteenth in the series. Does this make any sense to you?”

“Yes,” Xavier nodded.

“No,” Logan retorted bluntly. Hank shot him a look.

“Your explanation is perfectly clear, my dear,” he told Rowena. Rowena sighed.

“Well, clear or not I’m not done yet. You see this table the cards are on?”

The X-Men nodded. Twyla just narrowed her eyes, struggling to wrap her brain around everything Rowena was trying to say.

“Well, beneath all these dimensions is a separate layer commonly known as subspace,” Rowena explained. “Teleporters instinctively use this dimension to travel beyond normal space as they move practically instantaneously from place to place. Although there are no boundaries dividing subspace into sections, like the multiverse is divided into separate dimensions, each with their own separate series, the electromagnetic fields unique to each version of Earth tend to keep the teleporters on the proper track. It is very rare for a teleporter to materialize on an alternate world—unless something is interfering with the flow of these electromagnetic fields, of course.”

“Precisely what we were thinking,” Hank exclaimed, his expression brightening as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place for him. “What we don’t know, however, is what this force is, where it came from, or how to stop it.”

“Well, I can tell you where it came from,” Rowena said. “Or, rather, when.” Hank and the Professor looked at her curiously. “It came from the future,” she explained. “From this world, Earth 816. From what I have been able to determine, this force is somewhat akin to an expanding black hole. As it grows, spreading itself across the space-time continuum, it absorbs the energy that separates the realities into itself, severely weakening these boundaries. Already, it has caused the collapse of several series in this dimension. And the effect has started here. I am sure you have noticed random flashes from alternate realities popping up here and there? Perhaps you saw a friend, long dead, walk past you in the street and fade away, or a traffic accident that didn’t actually happen? These are all symptoms of the imminent collapse of the multiverse.”

She scooped up the cards into a pile, then flattened them in her palms, squashing the deck until it became essentially one large, muddled card. Logan blinked.

“How did you do that?” he inquired curiously.

“Magic,” Rowena smiled. “Anyway, this is basically what will happen here if something is not done about this anomaly, and soon. The entire multiverse will converge at this point. As more and more alternates appear, crowding the Earth well beyond its capacity, this world, along with every other inhabited world in the Omniverse, will dissolve into utter chaos.” She sighed deeply, shaking her head as she shoved the mashed deck back into her pocket. “There will be blood, before the end.”

“Well, you said we would be working together on this,” Scott said after a moment. “What can we do to help?”

Rowena turned to him. “I need to know the anomaly’s energy signature in order to determine exactly when it originated on this world. Hopefully, if we can catch it early enough, we can stop it before it ever enters subspace and none of this mess will ever have happened.”

“You mean I will be returned to my own world?” Darkholme asked, his golden eyes gleaming.

“Well, actually, you never would have left it,” Rowena told him. “The anomaly wouldn’t have been there to pull you off course, you see.”

Xavier opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, raising a hand to his head. The others turned to face him, concerned.

“What is it, Professor?” Scott asked.

“Ororo and Kurt have returned,” Xavier said. “And they’ve brought the Wagners. In fact, they should be here any—“

”Good evening, Professor,” Ororo’s voice interrupted from the doorway. The group gathered around the table looked up as Ororo strode into the room, followed closely by Alice, Suzie, Nightcrawler, Edmund, and Marta from Earth 723. Their own version of Kurt entered last.

“So,” Nightcrawler said, rubbing his fuzzy, tridactal hands together, his tail swaying behind him. “Have we missed anything important?”

“Yes, actually,” said Rowena. “But it doesn’t matter. You are the one who actually saw the energy anomaly while you were teleporting, is that right?”

Nightcrawler nodded. “It is not exactly an experience I wish to remember,” he said, “but, yes, I am.”

”Good,” Rowena smiled. “That means I’ll need you to come with me when we go back there.”

Nightcrawler stared, looking to his startled wife, then back to Rowena. “Why am I starting to get the feeling we might have been better off on that roof?” he muttered, realizing that the young woman with the long hair was deadly serious.


Next Time: Rowena and the X-Men head off for subspace to confront this weird energy force thing. Also, Twyla finally discovers her true role in this mess. Stay tuned!

[CurlyyHairGirl]

*bowing in honor* absolutely positively fantabuloso job. I am honored to read your fics.

[Saint Kurt]

Techno-babble usually drives me nuts, especially when it tries to re-invent science in order to serve the story. For instance, when ever Xmen tries to go into the genetics of the mutants I go nuts. All science says that it's not even possible for DNA to be altered so radically on replication - at a biochemical level it simply couldn't happen. And the idea that all of these various mutations are just alelles of the same "X gene" is perposterous. And even if it was possible, the fertilized egg would most likely terminate before it even divided. And then even if it did divide, the fetus wouldn't be viable. In the off chance it was born, it would likely be sterile. It's best to just steer clear. I'd be happier if they just said "we haven't figured it out yet". But I digress because I still enjoy the Xmen when I ignore the genetics.

In this case you haven't re-invented anything (except the concept of subspace which some physicists really think exists, but most don't) so it's perfectly acceptable. You also haven't done the other thing I hate which is invent a lot of vocabulary. I don't really consider a word like "omniverse" an invention since it uses the same rules that create "universe" so that's its meaning is immediately obvious.

Okay, so now that you know what my pet peeves are I'm happy to say that they're not in your story. Rowena's description of what is happening is easy to understand and since there is dialogue with the other characters going on, characterization is still happening (Logan's "no" for instance) and the story still moves forward (the surprise appearance of Kurt Darkholme who gives the locations of more nightcrawlers). For me at least, any kind of techno-babble or exposition is best presented this way. JK Rowling uses Hermione for this all the time in the Harry Potter books.

I did have to read the whole scene on the roof several times before I could figure out which Kurt was which, but in the end you always give a clue as to whether it's "mutant Kurt" or "human Kurt" so it's as clear as you can make it.

All in all I think you handled a lot of difficult problems, like having two different people named Kurt talking to each other, really well. It would have been easy to have everything fall apart here but it didn't. Bravo.

And I just realized this critique is nearly as long as your story so I'll sign off now.

-e

[taekwondodo]

Great chapter Rowena. I didn't find it at all confusing. I was quite surprised and intrigued by the number of alternate Kurts - and teleporters in general - that are now in that dimension and am wondering how many of them we'll actually meet.

Oh, and Zam, she didn't invent 'Omniverse' anyway, it's actually from the comics.

[Cherrydoom]

It's all clear to me now! You did an awesome job with the explanation.. I don't think it would've worked any other way. Although the first part of the story with Twyla seems like it's from a different story than the alternate Kurts... It's almost like one could be the prologue of the other, or the alternate Kurts (& friends XD) could be in a sequel to the Twyla story... (Neither one could work without the other one there )

The chapter was very well-written and you made me make a loud happy noise when Darkholme came back You're doing a wonderful job with this story.. I'm definitely enjoying it!

[Rowena]

Dankeschon, Everyone!!!!!!!

Sorry I took so long to get this up, but I forgot my disk in the computer lab yesterday and only just rescued it. I didn't quite get to Twyla's actual role in this one--it turned out longer than I'd originally planned--but it will definately be in Ch. 25! Hope you like it!

NOTE: Everything in brackets is in German, even though it appears to be in English.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The cottony clouds had faded from brilliant pink to dusky purple by the time the adult X-Men and their motley collection of unexpected guests gathered into the conference room to discuss the strange, dangerous mission to come.

The Nightcrawler from Earth 723 was crouched on a chair at the far end of the long conference table with Alice, Rowena, Xavier, Hank, and Scott, trying to describe what he had seen while Rowena recorded his statement with her scanner. Twyla observed them silently from her place in the corner, determined to do or say nothing that would prompt the adults to send her from the room to join the other students in the dining hall.

Before leaving Xavier’s office, Darkholme had volunteered to track down the Nazi and the priest. Now, the small group of Doppelgangers were seated at the table talking among themselves. Darkholme had somehow managed to convince the Nazi to extinguish his cigarette, and while the others in the room were very grateful for this, the truly murderous looks that passed between the two every time their golden eyes met were starting to cause the Professor some concern.

“Wer sind diese Männer?” the shadowy Nightcrawler asked, knowing he was speaking to himself. His posture was tense and alert, his tail was lashing warily, and his wide eyes were shockingly bright in his dark face. “Woher kamen sie?”*

Kurt looked up from his slouch against the wall, where he had been leaning with his arms folded over his chest as he watched Ororo with the Wagner children. Seeing them smiling together, hearing her laugh as Edmund tugged at her arm with his tail…the sweet little scene tore at Kurt’s heart. It was almost a relief to turn away.

[Have you ever heard of alternate realities, my friend?] Kurt asked the dark young man in German.

The shadowy figure shook his head, his eyes and mouth glowing eerily as he spoke. [No,] he said. [What does that mean? Are you saying that we are no longer on Earth?]

[Well, we are on Earth, but it is not the Earth that you know,] Kurt tried to explain. [This is an alternate Earth, just as I am an alternate version of you. My name is Kurt Wagner, and this is my world you’ve come to.]

The dark man stared, his tail trembling with disbelief as he took in the sight of the pale human before him.

[You…you are me?] he whispered, his voice hoarse. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed as though he was in pain. Then, he looked up, his golden eyes blazing with an inner fire. [But…that is impossible!] he shouted, grabbing Kurt’s pale hand and pressing his fuzzy, three fingered hand against it, palm to palm. [You are normal! A human—a…a flat-scan! Why would God make you normal, but allow Weapon X soldiers to do THIS to me?!]

He tore his hand away with a violent gesture, indicating the midnight fur that seemed to absorb light, his terrifying eyes, his glowing mouth, the lingering stench of brimstone that never seemed to leave him. Kurt couldn’t seem to find his voice. His throat had constricted, and his blue eyes were stinging with painful tears. He swallowed.

[I’m sorry,] he managed to say. [But I wasn’t always like this. I was born a mutant like you, and like them.] He indicated the other Nightcrawlers at the table. The shadowy man glared at him, fury and anguish darkening his fiery eyes. Kurt lowered his head slightly, his heart aching with compassion.

“Please, everyone,” Xavier’s voice called out, breaking through the scattered conversations and causing all heads to turn to him. “If you would just take your seats then this meeting can begin.”

Kurt held out a chair for his shadowy double, but the young man turned away from him, choosing a seat across the table, next to the priest. Kurt sighed, then took a seat between Ororo and Logan, his shoulders slumped and his hands folded carefully in his lap. Marti looked over at him, her green eyes narrowed.

“Are you all right?” she asked in her London accent. Ororo turned to him in concern.

“I’m fine,” Kurt assured them both. “This whole thing is just…” he sighed. “It’s a lot to take all at once, you know?”

Suzie smirked. “You can say that again.” Edmund nodded his agreement.

Ororo reached for his hand, pulling it over to her lap and squeezing it gently. “You’re certain you’re all right,” she asked, her blue eyes concerned and searching.

“I am fine,” he repeated. “But some of these others…” he trailed off with a small, sad shake of his head, rubbing the beads of his ever-present rosary between the fingers of his free hand as he turned his attention to the Professor. Ororo regarded him for a moment longer, then turned her own focus to the meeting. She didn’t let go of his hand.

“…might be beneficial if we knew the circumstances leading to your arrival in this reality,” the Professor was saying, directing his words to the alternate Nightcrawlers. The priest, who was crouched on the chair beside the shadowy Nightcrawler, took it upon himself to translate for the young man’s benefit. The Professor paused long enough for him to finish, then continued. “If there was some kind of common factor, something you all experienced, it might help us to track down this anomaly so we can identify it.”

“So,” the Nazi smirked, fiddling agitatedly with a nearby pen. His tail couldn’t seem to keep still, and his knee was banging rhythmically against the table as he unconsciously shook his foot. “We won’t simply be charging into subspace after all. That’s something, anyway.”

Suzie regarded him from across the table, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a wrinkled pack of gum.

“Want some?” she offered, holding the nearly empty pack out to him.

The Nazi looked surprised. “I, ah…” He raised his sunglasses slightly, then quickly snatched a stick, unwrapping it and folding it into his mouth with a sad kind of desperation.

“Danke,” he said as he chewed; uncomfortable, but completely sincere.

“No problem,” Suzie said with a slight smirk, shoving the gum back into her pocket. “If you need more, just ask.”

“Kurt 816,” Rowena said, causing all eyes to turn to the pale human. Kurt straightened slightly in his chair. “I believe it would probably be wise to start with you, and go from there. Could you describe the last time you teleported?” she asked. “Was there anything unusual about the experience, anything out of the ordinary?”

Kurt glanced over at Twyla, who had taken the seat across from him and was now looking at him with wide, nervous eyes. Kurt smiled gently at the glowing girl, letting her know he had told her the truth before, that he really didn’t blame her for what had happened. Twyla gratefully acknowledged the smile, but couldn’t bring herself to relax.

“There was nothing unusual about initiating the teleport,” he told Rowena, who was holding up her scanner to catch his words. “The problems came during the teleport. You see, I had gone in to get Twyla out of the path of an oncoming train. There was little time for introductions or explanations. For all the poor girl knew, I was a monster trying to kidnap her rather than to rescue her.”

A slight murmur broke out among the gathered Nightcrawlers at that, causing Twyla to flush furiously in agonized mortification. Kurt shot her a sympathetic look as he went on.

“She naturally tried to defend herself against what she believed to be an attack, activating her powers just as I initiated the teleport. I became very weak and somehow we both came out of the teleport in that strange dimension—erm, subspace, as you called it. We were only there long enough for me to get a good grip on her, then I quickly teleported us both out of that awful place. It was much harder that time because I was so weak, but we made it without any problems. Admittedly, I don’t know what this anomaly looks like, but neither of us saw anything unusual while we were there. It was just blackness—dark clouds and black flames.”

Twyla nodded in confirmation. Rowena narrowed her eyes at the dark-skinned girl.

“How long have you been glowing like that, Twyla?” she asked.

“Ever since I…um…” she gestured weakly to Kurt. “Did that to him. Dr. McCoy says it could be due to some sort of secondary mutation.”

“That is correct,” Hank nodded. “It’s possible that the energy she absorbed in subspace caused this reaction, hastening the onset of a secondary mutation that would have occurred naturally in adulthood.”

“Hmmm.” Rowena tapped at her scanner’s keypad. “This is very interesting,” she said, turning her intense, brown eyes to Twyla. Twyla shivered slightly.

“Miss Todd,” Rowena said, “were you aware that you have no alternates in any other reality?” Twyla blinked.

“What?”

“It’s true,” Rowena confirmed, poking at her keypad again. “This does happen from time to time--that the circumstances for an individual’s birth only exist on one world--but as you can imagine, it is extremely rare.”

“What does it mean for Twyla?” Kurt asked anxiously.

“Nothing, really,” Rowena said. “But it does mean that I can’t check the Otherworld Historical Database to find out if Dr. McCoy’s hypothesis is correct or not. There are no records of any older alternates to compare her condition to.” She turned to Hank with a slight smile.

“I’ll just have to bow to your expertise on this one,” she said. Hank returned her smile with a small nod.

“So,” she went on, turning her attention to the gathered Nightcrawlers. “Kurt Darkholme. You were the first to arrive in this dimension. Could you describe your experience for us, please?”

Darkholme leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his armored chest. “I was on my way to see my mother,” he said, his tone curt and gruff enough to match Wolverine on a bad day. “I was aboard a submarine with a group of American refugees. We were running out of air. I waited for the sub to reach the surface, then teleported out.** I was very weak at that time, but although that made teleporting difficult, there was nothing unusual about it. Except, of course, that instead of materializing on top of the sub, I ended up in a dark room; a large space I heard that man,” he pointed to the human Kurt, “call the Danger Room. I have been here now for over a day.”

“Is your mother Grandmother Raven?” Edmund asked curiously.

“Her name is Raven Darkholme, yes,” Darkholme said, glaring down at the boy over his long nose. “But she is not your grandmother.”

Professor Xavier couldn’t hold in a sharp gasp. Kurt turned to him, his blue eyes wide with startled confusion.

“Was?” he asked. “Who is this Raven Darkholme? Do you know her, Herr Professor?”

“Her code name’s Mystique, if that rings any bells for you,” Darkholme offered. He shook his head with a dark smirk. “While I was growing up, my dear mother often told me how close she’d come to abandoning me after I was born. I wouldn’t be surprised to find she did exactly that in an alternate reality or fifty.”

“Mystique!” Kurt gasped, finding his alarmed shout echoed by both Ororo and Logan. “Nein! I mean-- No! She can’t be! There is no way! We met briefly, but she hardly even looked at me… If she had been…wouldn’t she have…? Ach, Gott!”

Kurt buried his face in his pale hands, his shoulders shaking slightly as he struggled to control his raging emotions.

After a long moment, he looked up at Rowena, his eyes rimmed with red and his pale face drawn. “Is it true?” he asked. “Is Mystique my real mother?”

Rowena nodded. Kurt turned his wide, blue eyes to the Professor.

“Did you know about this?” he asked, his voice thick and trembling slightly with emotion.

Xavier shook his head, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he answered. “No, Kurt,” he said at last. “I knew nothing about your natural parents. But I do know that Jean suspected this. That night before the events at Alkali Lake, when they caught you listening in on their conversation from that tree…” Kurt flushed slightly at the slight chuckles that broke out at that image. “…Jean caught a flash of…something...from Mystique, something painful, almost like a memory she had consciously suppressed. This worried her, and I know it was on her mind before she left the jet to hold back the waters of Alkali Lake. I was planning to ask her about it…but I never had the chance.”

He lowered his head in grief, strengthening his mental shields in an attempt to block out the waves of anguish emanating from Scott’s direction. Scott’s expression, however, remained stoic and emotionless behind his visor, despite his inner pain. Logan shifted in his seat, casting a glance over to Ororo, who was still holding Kurt’s hand. His gaze softened despite himself. Apparently, that trip to New York had finally done the trick. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying hard not to think of Jeannie, then he shook his head with a deep sigh. Not everyone was immortal, after all.

Kurt nodded, consciously working to calm himself. “Well,” he said with an attempt at a smile, “I always have wondered who my real mother was. Until now, I had believed that she was dead. To find out that she is alive, to finally know who she is… I—I should… I should be…” His throat was too tight to allow him to continue; he felt he was choking on his own words. He trailed off, pressing his forehead against his palm and squeezing his curls tightly between his fingers as he fought to swallow the painful lump in his throat.

“It’s all right, Kurt,” Excalibur’s leader said softly, his golden eyes glowing softly with sympathy. “It’s not easy finding out that your mother is…well…a heartless criminal. There’s no kinder way to say it. But it was her choice to live the way she does and to act with such brutality and coldness. You bear no responsibility for her crimes.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Believe me, Kurt,” he said. “I’ve tried living with her guilt. It doesn’t help anything, and it will never bring you closer to her.” He sat back with a humorless smile. “Just some friendly advice from someone who’s been there,” he said.

Kurt sighed. “I’ll try to keep that in mind,” he said. “Danke, mein Freund.” He took in a deep breath, then looked up at Rowena. “So, who’s next?”

“I’ve already taken the statement of the Nightcrawler from Earth 723, so now it’s over to you,” she said, pointing to the Nazi. The Nightcrawler chewed thoughtfully at his gum for a few moments, then said, “I can’t recall anything unusual at all.”

“Would you care to qualify that statement?” Rowena asked.

“Not particularly,” the Nazi replied lazily, absently checking the state of his fingernails. Rowena glared at him. He lifted a wry eyebrow over his shades.

“Honestly,” he said. “There was nothing strange. I had been sitting in a tree for about twenty minutes watching this pathetic little would-be assassin mill around der Fuhrer’s pathetic little garden party. I decided to give the fool a scare, so I teleported. Only, instead of popping in on the chair next to him, I found myself in your kitchen, Herr Xavier. I suppose now it’s up to my teammates to spot the assassin before he spikes the punch, or whatever dastardly deed he was planning on. Just another day in the glorious life of the elite Lightening Squad, ja?” he smirked.

“To tell you the truth, though,” he admitted, “finding myself once again in an alternate reality has pretty much made my year. Things have been so dull lately. Once I realized what had happened, I spent a lovely afternoon wandering about this lovely mansion. That is, until I was found by Mama’s Boy over there.” He gestured with his thumb to Darkholme. Darkholme seemed to expand in his armor, his golden eyes flashing as he bared his fangs.

“Just try it, mein Freund,” the Nazi snarled in return, running his thick fingers over the hilt of his sword. “I’ll teach you the penalty for teleporting my cigarettes into a tree.”

Xavier’s eyes widened. So, that’s how Darkholme had stopped his smoking…

“Keep it up, you Nazi Schleim,” Darkholme growled, “and I’ll 'port your greasy head in next to them, sunglasses and all.”

Logan shot Kurt a wicked grin. “I’d pay good money to see that,” he said. “Never would ‘a guessed you had it in ya, Elf.”

“I don’t,” Kurt retorted, embarrassed and concerned at the way his doubles seemed so eager to get at each other’s throats. The open hatred in their golden eyes reminded him of his own violent outburst in the Danger Room, and he didn’t like it. “They do.”

“Yeah, but they’re still you, essentially,” Logan pointed out. “They just grew up in a different environment.”

Kurt looked over at the snarling Nazi and shuddered. “I don’t want to know what kind of environment could have made me turn out like that.”

“That Darkholme guy seems pretty tough, though, eh?” Logan observed. “Guess that’s what comes from bein’ raised by Mystique.” He spat the name out like a curse. Kurt raised an eyebrow, though he found himself strangely relieved to realize Logan didn’t hold Darkholme’s parentage against him.

“We will now turn to Kurt 615,” Rowena announced, forcing the conversation back on track. “Since you’ve been translating for him all along,” she said to the priest, “would you mind continuing for the benefit of those here who don’t understand German?”

“It would be my pleasure, my dear,” the priest smiled. Rowena smiled back. “Good,” she said. “Please ask him how he came here.”

The group waited while the priest asked the shadowy young Nightcrawler the question, then while Nightcrawler answered.

“Because I was born a monster,” the priest translated, “I was stolen from my family and experimented on. I was fourteen years old when Weapon X took me. I don’t know how old I am now. They accelerated my growth, they altered my appearance and my powers, they tried to force me to kill. Only one mutant had ever escaped from them. He was called the Wolverine.”

Logan straightened, his interest perked. The priest went on.

“I knew I would probably be shot down, I knew that even if I did escape my family would probably be terrified of what I had become at the hands of those evil men, but if the Wolverine could do it, it had to be possible. So I tried it, but it wasn’t long before the soldiers found me. They started shooting, but I saw a snowmobile in the distance.*** I was teleporting over to it, but instead of landing on the snowmobile, I ended up here.”

Logan grinned approvingly at the shadowy young man. “Good for you, kid,” he said. “I bet you’d ‘a made it, too.”

The priest translated, and Nightcrawler’s dark face lit up like a sunrise.

“Dankeschon, Herr Wolverine!” he exclaimed. He turned to the priest, speaking rapidly. The priest smiled, then nodded.

“He says he is certain that he would have made it, because he had your example to inspire him. The knowledge that escape was possible helped him to keep his hope in that dreadful place.” Logan looked impressed.

“Hey, Kurt,” he grunted under his breath, nudging the human in the arm. “How’d ya say ‘you’re welcome’?”

“Bitteschon,” Kurt smiled.

Logan nodded, then turned to Nightcrawler, looking him straight in the glowing, yellow eyes. “Bitteschon, mein Freund,” he said. “Even though it wasn’t really me,” he added, just loud enough for Kurt to hear.

“Yes,” Kurt nodded, “but he’s still you essentially, ja? He just grew up in a different environment.”

Ororo stifled a giggle. Logan would have glared, but the sight of the shadowy young Nightcrawler’s beaming face put a stop to that. He couldn’t help wondering how long it had been since the kid had last smiled like that.

“And now I suppose it is my turn at last,” the priest said, looking around the table. “Like the others, I experienced nothing unusual when I initiated the teleport. I had been tracked down by one of Ahab’s hounds; a dear girl I had known many years ago, when she was just a child.” He lowered his head, his golden eyes flashing with anger and sadness. “Her face had been scarred, she wore a spiked collar around her neck…” He shuddered. “She had been completely brainwashed by her tyrannical government. She was threatening me, stalling until her loathsome master could arrive. I abhor violence as a rule, but I had to make sure my friend Pietro had time to get the orphaned mutants to safety.**** I was planning to teleport in behind her, to knock her out as painlessly as possible then make my escape, but I ended up on the roof of this mansion instead.”

Rowena tapped at her scanner’s keypad, then frowned. “I have plugged in the paths which, based on your accounts, you all must have taken through subspace, but the only point at which they converge is this mansion. It seems we’re just going to have to go in and see what we find once we’re there.”

“I believe we should keep this party small,” Xavier suggested. “This anomaly is extremely powerful, and I want to keep the risk to a minimum.”

“I agree,” Rowena nodded. “I will need Kurt 723 as a guide, since he was the only one here who has actually seen this anomaly. Unfortunately, since he has been proven to have trouble combating the pull of this force, I believe two other teleporters should accompany us—just in case the energy disturbance interferes with my portal once we’re inside. Based on my observations, I believe Kurt Darkholme and Marta Wagner would be the best choices.”

“Wait one moment,” Alice exclaimed, rising from her chair. “It’s one thing bringing Kurt in there, but Marti—“

“I understand your concern, Mrs. Wagner,” Rowena interrupted her, “but of all these teleporters, only Darkholme and Marta have shown that they are able to teleport without any adverse consequences despite the effects of the anomaly.”

“She means puking and nosebleeds,” Suzie translated for Edmund’s benefit.

“I want to go, Mum,” Marti spoke up. “I want to help out. Usually I’m stuck in the control room or something while you and Dad and everyone go out on missions. I’ll only be there as back up, anyway, isn’t that right, Historian? I most likely won’t even need to teleport.”

“In a best case scenario, you would be absolutely right,” Rowena nodded.

“’Best case scenario’,” Alice repeated. “I don’t know if I like this.”

“Dad!” Marti started, but she stopped when her father raised a hand.

“I don’t know if I like this either,” he stated, “but Rowena is right, Alice. Besides,” he pointed out, “with the imminent collapse of the multiverse getting closer every second, even sitting still is risky. I think Marti should be allowed to come.”

Alice scowled for a moment, then sighed, slumping her shoulders slightly. “Well, when you put it like that…” she said.

Her husband grinned, striding over to her and kissing her soundly on the cheek. “I’ll make certain no harm comes to either of us while we’re away, OK?”

“You’d better,” Alice retorted, “because if you two come back dead, I’ll kill you.”

Kurt almost laughed. “Now who’s the one with the corny lines, Liebchen?” he smiled, his golden eyes warm. “We will be all right,” he assured her, his tone serious this time.

As Kurt and Alice embraced, Twyla rose from her chair and walked over to Xavier.

“Professor,” she said, her voice coming out a bit shakier than she would have liked.

“No, Twyla,” he said, answering her question before she’d even voiced it.

“But Professor, I can’t help feeling that all of this is somehow my fault. I messed up Mr. Wagner’s teleport. What if that had something to do with this energy thing being able to make its way into subspace?”

Xavier shook his head. “Twyla, the first time you entered that dimension it triggered a secondary mutation. I don’t want you to risk exposure again.”

“The damage is already done, though, isn’t it?” she asked, turning to Hank. “What difference can it make if I go again?”

Hank shook his head. “There’s no way of knowing,” he said. “So little is known about what causes secondary mutations…” He sighed. “Basically a second exposure could either accelerate the progress of your mutation, have no effect at all, or else it could kill you.”

Twyla looked like she was about to object, but Rowena cut her off before she could open her mouth.

“Kurt 723, Darkholme, and Marta,” Rowena called out, “please follow me to the lawn. I don’t want to risk opening a portal into what is essentially an expanding black hole in this enclosed space.”

“A wise course of action,” Hank nodded approvingly.

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” the Nazi said, striding over to the door after the chosen four, “but I want to see this.”

“Me too,” Suzie added.

The Nazi seemed decidedly fidgety as he looked down at Suzie. “Erm, Kind,” he said, “I was wondering if—“

“Yeah, you can have another piece of gum,” she said, reaching into her pocket. “Just don’t call me Kind, OK? I’m not a child. I’m thirteen, and my name is Suzie.”

“My mistake, Fraulein Suzie,” the Nightcrawler smiled, taking a second piece of gum from her pack and shoving it hastily into his mouth. Suzie shook her head.

“You must smoke at least ten packs a day, huh,” she said. “Bet you drink, too.”

The Nazi scowled at her, then turned away, his tail twitching irritably behind him. Suzie snorted, then turned her attention back to Xavier.

“Well?” she prompted. “Can we watch?”

“We will watch from the foyer window,” Xavier told her, though his eyes were fixed sharply on Twyla, “but we will not go outside. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Grandpa Charles,” Suzie and Edmund chorused. Twyla just scowled.

Xavier raised an amused eyebrow. “You know,” he said as he wheeled past Kurt and Ororo, “I rather like the sound of that. Don’t you?”

Kurt and Ororo stared at each other, flushing deeply. Logan struggled to keep up his gruff demeanor.

“C’mon, you two,” he said, “let’s get movin’. If you wait too long to join the others, the teasin’ will only get worse.”

Ororo smirked, raising a wry eyebrow. “Thanks for the tip, Logan.”

“My pleasure,” the gruff Canadian snickered.


*Who are these men? Where did they come from?

**As seen in Age of Apocalypse: X-Calibre, Issue #2

***As seen in Ultimate X-Men Vol. 2.

****As seen in Excalibur: Heartbreaker, Issue #35.

*******

While the X-Men and the alternate Nightcrawlers gathered around the bay window in the foyer, Twyla Todd snuck quietly down the hall towards the side entrance. Unseen and unsuspected, she slipped from the mansion and hurried to the front lawn, arriving just in time to see Rowena open her portal. A strong wind instantly grew up around the four chosen as the anomaly sucked in the static electricity, the electromagnetic energy, and the heat energy from the air. It whipped their hair around their faces—and in Rowena’s case, her legs and waist—as they stepped through the bright, circular portal; first Darkholme, then Kurt and Marta, and finally Rowena.

Carefully timing her movements, Twyla ran from the cover of the bushes, reaching the portal just as Rowena’s long ponytail vanished into the near-blinding light. Without stopping to think or even to draw a deep breath, she dove inside. The portal closed behind her with a loud, crackling SHAZZP, sealing her and her four companions in the mysterious dimension known as subspace.


Until next time!

[taekwondodo]

Nice Rowena, like usual. Only quibble is that it's a tad difficult to keep track of which Kurt is which occasionally. Looking forward to finding out what happens next.

[Rowena]

Thanks!

I was afraid of that. Here's a little explanation that will hopefully make it easier to follow.

Dimension 6 is Comicverse, because in the comics the official Marvel dimension is called Earth 616. So, all Comicverse Nightcrawlers (Ultimate, Nazi, Priest, Darkholme) are from there.

Dimension 7 is the number I assigned the Evolutionverse. Earth 723 is my version of Evolutionverse, particularly its future. Kurt, Alice, Marta, Suzie, and Edmund are from there, and they're all with Excalibur--the English branch of the International X-Men Organization that serves as peacekeeper for their world. If anyone wants to know more about Earth 723, please read 'The Day the Earth Stood Back'!

Dimension 8 is the number I assigned the Movieverse, and it's the dimension in which this story takes place.

I usually refer to Movieverse Nightcrawler as Kurt. He's the human one and he's from Dimension 816. He's the only one the students call Mr. Wagner.

I usually call Kurt Darkholme by his last name. He's from Earth 679.

Ultimate Kurt is usually called Nightcrawler, or the shadowy Nightcrawler or something like that, and he's from Earth 615.

The Priest is from that alternate future Rachel Summers (a.k.a. Phoenix) came from in the comics. I usually call him 'the priest', and he's from Earth 617.

I call the Nazi Nightcrawler 'The Nightcrawler'. He's from Dimension 6420 (Hitler's birthday's April 20. (4/20) )

I think that's everyone. If I forgot anyone, just let me know. I really hope that this explanation helps to make things clearer. It's really tricky writing a story where so many characters have the same name!

The next chapter should be up by next weekend or a little later. Thank you so much for reading!

[StarLightCrawler]

opsss i have not comment in a while. Well it is very intresting so far. I can't wait to see what will happen nest. You realy have a way with writing suspense(sp).

[Kakegoddes]

I love this story! I especially appreciate the elements of Excaliber you put into both this story and The Day the Earth Stood Back. I haven't had any trouble following either story. I can't wait to read more.

[CurlyyHairGirl]

BRAVO:clap. Although I was hoping for a fight between Nazi Kurt and Darkholme...drat..I loved it though *sighs in absolute admiration of Rowenas talent*

[Rowena]

Sorry about the wait. I didn't mean to torture anyone!

I just turned in my final final paper! YIPPEE!!!!!! And, about fifteen seconds ago I finished up Ch. 25. Hope it's OK!

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Mummy?"

Alice turned her head slightly at the sound of her son's soft, hesitant voice, but did not look away from the sight of her husband and eldest daughter talking with Rowena on the lawn. With their midnight fur blending into the evening darkness, the two of them were little more than shadowy silhouettes against the surprisingly bright light of the nearby lamppost which illuminated the driveway. Their night-adapted eyes gleamed deep gold and pale green respectively in a way that would have been eerie if it wasn't so familiar.

"Yes, love," she inquired, rather distractedly.

Edmund lowered his hazel eyes, his rounded face drawn with anxiety. "Is this all my fault?" he asked, his tail twitching agitatedly behind him.

Alice did look at him now, her brow creased. "Is what your fault, sweetling?"

"This whole thing," he said, looking up at her with wide-eyed apprehension. "Us being here and everything. Is it because of me?"

Alice shook her head a little, not understanding. "What do you mean?" she asked, crouching down to his eye level. "What could make you think that?"

Edmund hung his head, his straight, black hair falling over his forehead and shielding his expression from view.

"I didn't want to walk to Uncle Scott's party," he confessed. "I wanted to teleport with Daddy. It was my idea; I was the one who talked Daddy into it. But, we ended up here instead. And now, everything is my fault because I was lazy and didn't want to walk from the car park."

Alice stared for a moment, caught off guard by the worries that had obviously been plaguing the boy since their arrival, then wrapped him in a close embrace.

"Oh, Edmund," she sighed, pulling back slightly and brushing the hair from his eyes. "Of course it's not your fault. Do you honestly think your daddy would have agreed to teleport us if he thought there was any danger?"

Edmund shuffled his sneakered feet. "No," he admitted. "I suppose not."

"Of course he wouldn't," Alice said. "This whole thing was an accident, and now Marti and your daddy are going to try to fix things. So don't go blaming yourself for something that certainly wasn't your fault, OK?"

Edmund nodded, but he still looked uncertain. Alice squeezed his shoulders, catching his eyes as she gave him a reassuring smile. Slowly, Edmund returned it, the tension draining from his small frame.

"What party was he talking about?" Scott asked, his brow furrowed above his visor as he turned from the window, curious despite himself at the mention of his own doppelganger.

"Uncle Scott's surprise birthday party," Suzie explained. "He turned fifty today. Auntie Jean planned it. She was bringing all the presents and the food and stuff in her car."

Scott stiffened even at this casual mention of Jean's name, his hands unconsciously balling into tight fists and his breath catching in his throat. Suzie tilted her head slightly, her golden eyes narrowed at his reaction.

"What's wrong?" she asked, somewhat concerned. "Was it something I said?"

Scott swallowed, his throat painfully tight, his eyes and nose stinging uncomfortably. Suzie's concern deepened. She looked like she was about to say something more, but Scott shook his head, straightening his posture as he worked to regain control over his emotions.

"No," he assured her, his voice sounding oddly strained even to him. "No, it's not you. I..." He took in a slightly trembling breath, acutely aware of Suzie's confused golden gaze as he went on. "I should have guessed that there would be doubles of her out there. In a way it's good to know that somewhere, even if it is in another reality, Jean is still--" He almost choked on the word, but he forced himself to complete the thought. "Still alive."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. Suzie paled, then blushed furiously, deeply mortified.

"Oh. Oh, I am sorry. I...I didn't know--"

Scott lowered his head a little, a sudden burst of frustration overtaking him. He just wanted to drop the subject, to pretend it hadn't happened, to make it all just go away...

"Forget it," he said, a little more sharply than he'd intended. He sighed, his expression softening along with his voice. "I should be the one apologizing, really. I guess I...sort of overreacted."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned his gaze back to the window. Behind his visor, however, his glowing eyes were blurred with unshed tears he refused to let fall.

No one was quite sure of what to say that could offer consolation to the suffering man. The priest stepped forward, clearly intending to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he paused in mid-motion, his golden eyes widening.

"Gott im Himmel," he breathed, "what does that child think she is doing?"

"What?" Xavier wheeled quickly over to the window, arriving just in time to see Twyla's dimly glowing form emerge from the shadows of the bushes to dash across the lawn, heading straight for the blinding portal Rowena had opened on the lawn while he had been distracted by his emotions regarding Jean's death, as well as blocking out Scott's.

"Twyla!" Kurt exclaimed, leaving Ororo's side and rushing across the room to wrench the front door open. The wind caused by the open portal rustled the drapes and blew loose papers around the foyer. Xavier pounded his fist against the arm of his chair, swearing softly.

"I should have been monitoring her," he berated himself angrily. "If she enters subspace again, who knows what the reaction could be." He clenched his teeth, not wanting to contemplate the possible repercussions of Twyla's reckless action.

Kurt leapt down the steps, well aware that he would never catch her on foot, but knowing he had to try nonetheless.

"Twyla, stop!" he shouted through the fierce, swirling wind. "Don't do this!"

But it was too late. She was already gone, the portal snapping closed behind her, the wind dying down as though it had never been.

*******

"I've erected a forcefield around us," Rowena announced, her eyes focused on her scanner while her companions took in their surroundings. "I don't expect it to last long, given the fact that it is an energy field, but even if it dies it should take at least twenty minutes for the air within it to dissipate in this thick atmosphere--provided we don't move about too much."

"Is the atmosphere toxic, then?" Kurt asked, peering around at the dense crimson and blue-black clouds that slowly swirled and tumbled their way across the rugged landscape.

Rowena nodded. "Yes. But you would die of asphyxiation before it could poison you. There is very little oxygen and even less nitrogen in those clouds."

"Then how did Twyla and that other Nightcrawler breathe when they were here?" Marti asked. Rowena glanced up at her.

"You know how when you and your father teleport, some of the smoke from this dimension escapes into your atmosphere?"

"Yes," Marti said.

"Well, it's the same here," Rowena explained. "Some of the air from your dimension escaped into this atmosphere, only because of its density and the lack of wind it took far longer to dissipate. If they had remained any longer than they did, I'm certain they would have run out of air very quickly."

Marti nodded her understanding, then narrowed her eyes.

"I thought this place was supposed to be dark," she said, looking around at the harsh, frightening landscape they had stepped into. She fought back a shudder, working to keep her voice from trembling. "Blackness, burning with a dark flame. Isn't that what the human version of Dad said?"

Rowena nodded, her brown eyes intense as she carefully observed their surroundings. "Yes, that is what he said," she replied, looking down at her scanner and furrowing her brow in concentration. Marti shivered a little, stepping closer to her father. Kurt looked down at her, then kissed the top of her curly head, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Grateful for the comfort, his daughter leaned closer into his half-embrace, twining her tail around his lower leg.

Darkholme glanced at them, then turned his sharp, golden eyes to the murky yellowish light that colored the thick, clouded sky--though he rather doubted that 'sky' was the right word to describe what he was seeing. There was no sense of space here, no sense of distance. The landscape that met his eyes was surreal at best, an airless, windless, formless place of thick, slowly shifting clouds of crimson and blue-black smoke billowing up like tar-soaked cotton from misty craters in the hazy, pock-marked ground. The jagged cliffs and fire pits were ghostly, insubstantial, and the omnipresent reek of brimstone was nearly overwhelming. The place had the solidity of a dream--or rather, a nightmare--and the sickly, yellow-orange light that illuminated it all only added to the odd sense of unreality that made Darkholme's fuzzy skin crawl.

"Then where is all this light coming from?" he asked, crossing his arms over his armored chest and turning to Rowena with a deep frown. "I don't see a source. We are in subspace--there are no stars, no sun. And those flames seem to be absorbing the light, rather than giving it off." His tail gave a slight, unconscious shudder, betraying his emotions where his face never would.

"The light is coming from our anomaly," Rowena told him, not looking up from her scanner's screen. "If we could just pinpoint its location..." she trailed off for a moment, tapping industriously at her keypad, then snapping her scanner shut.

"Kurt Wagner," she said, "I understand that one of your talents is an extremely acute sense of spatial awareness. Can you use this sense to point out where you were when you first glimpsed the anomaly?"

"I can try," Kurt said, unable to keep the uncertainty from his voice. He looked down at Marti, who squeezed his arm encouragingly, then closed his eyes, stretching out with his senses. He tried to remember the unique feel, the flavor of the place he had passed through that afternoon, but he was unsure what he was really looking for. He shook his head, stretching even further, then gasped as a vaguely familiar tingle caused an uncomfortable shudder to run all the way up and down his spine.

"I found it!" he exclaimed, slightly breathless, his golden eyes opening wide. "I think. It's...I don't know how to describe it...very high. I'd say seven kilometers up if we were on Earth. But it's not too far from here. Maybe half a kilometer to the right?"

Rowena flipped her scanner open once again, holding it up and turning in place until she was facing the direction Kurt had indicated. A slow smile crept across her face.

"Ah," she nodded. "There it is. Like the deadly parasite it is, it has attached itself to the underside of Dimension 8. And it has grown, hasn't it. It looks like it has nearly tripled in size since its initial detection."

She lowered her scanner, then blinked as if she wasn't quite sure she'd read the information scrolling across the screen correctly. "That can't be right," she muttered, waving her scanner back and forth as if searching for something among the oddly translucent rocks behind them.

"What isn't right?" Darkholme asked impatiently. Marti craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the screen as Rowena walked by.

"For a moment, I thought..." she trailed off, biting her lip as she tapped at her keypad. She shook her head. "No, I wasn't mistaken," she said, turning back to her confused companions. "It was faint, but it was there."

"What was," Darkholme demanded, his tail lashing with frustration.

"An energy signature, disturbingly similar to that of the anomaly. It seems to be drawing energy in the same way, only it is nowhere near as strong. And," she said, her brown eyes bright with apprehension mingled with curiosity, "the readings are unmistakably human."

Darkholme and Kurt shared a startled look, but before either of them could think to say anything, Rowena walked through the forcefield, creating an odd rippling effect that marked its previously invisible boundaries. As the three of them watched, Rowena pounced on something hidden behind a nearby rock. There was a startled cry, then Rowena pushed her way back through the forcefield, one hand clamped firmly around the back of a sheepish, yet defiant Twyla Todd's neck.

"What are you doing here, girl," Darkholme demanded, his tail lashing as he took a step towards her.

Twyla cringed slightly under the force of Darkholme's glare. "I--I just wanted to help," she protested, looking to Kurt, Marta, and Rowena in hopes of gaining at least one supporter. Rowena tightened her lips angrily, letting go of the girl’s collar with a frown.

“You may have had noble intentions, but no good can come from this,” she stated with a pointed glare. Twyla straightened, forcing herself not to cringe. “Your presence here is disruptive. Your powers are unpredictable and your genetic structure is currently in a state of flux—not to mention that the energy you are absorbing is interfering with my readings! You cannot remain in this environment without risking considerable harm.” She sighed deeply, her nostrils flaring with frustration.

“This mission is aborted as of now,” she snapped, flipping open her scanner. “Twyla Todd, I am returning you to Dimension 816. Hopefully, this delay you have caused will not prove fatal.” She turned to the three teleporters.

“My readings are tainted. We will have to return to gather new data. At least we now know the physical location of this parasite.” She scowled, then turned her attention to her scanner. “I am opening the portal. It might be unstable. If it is, you three must be prepared to teleport us all out of here. Are you ready?”

Marta looked up at her father, who looked over to Darkholme. The three of them nodded. Rowena began tapping the sequence into her keypad.

Twyla stared, her breathing short and ragged. “But—but I—“

Marti gave her a helpless shrug, her green eyes glowing with sympathy in the yellowed light. “Sorry, Twyla,” she said softly.

But, Twyla didn’t hear her. It was getting harder and harder for her to breathe. Her face was hot, everything was spinning, and, strangely, her clothes suddenly felt far too heavy. Panting raggedly, she collapsed at the knees, falling into an awkward crouch on the ground, her hand pressed to her forehead.

“Twyla!” Kurt exclaimed, crouching down beside her. He looked up at Rowena, alarmed and uncertain whether it was safe to touch her or not. “What is it, Liebling?” he asked the shuddering young girl, his gentle voice sharp with apprehension. “What is wrong?”

“I—I don’t know!” Twyla exclaimed, feeling very nauseous. “I—I’m so dizzy…I think…I think I’m going to be sick…”

Marti stared, her tail twitching nervously behind her. “I think she’s going to be more than sick…” she said, then she yelped as a bright flash nearly blinded her. Barely a moment later, the energy bubble that had surrounded them wavered and vanished. Kurt, Darkholme, and Rowena all shared a startled glance.

“She has disrupted my forcefield,” Rowena stated, her anger and anxiety causing her tone to flatten. Then, her eyes widened. “Oh no. Oh no, I don’t believe this.” She hissed through her clenched teeth, staring at the read-out scrolling across the scanner’s small screen.

“What?” Kurt asked, surging to his feet and peering over her shoulder. “Ach, mein Gott! Nein! It can’t be possible.”

“Dad?” Marti asked, flicking her frightened gaze from Twyla to her father. Twyla’s glow was growing steadily brighter, nearly matching the yellow-orange light from the anomalous parasite. “What’s happening?”

“The parasite originated twenty years in the future,” Rowena said softly, shaking her head slightly as she looked down at Twyla Todd huddled in a shivering, glowing ball at their feet. “Twenty years…a secondary mutation manifesting in adulthood…no alternates in any other dimension…it all fits.”

“Are you saying that this child will grow up to become the parasite?” Darkholme asked, glaring down at Twyla.

“Their energy readings are nearly identical,” Rowena observed, her brown eyes focused on her scanner. “The parasite is a creature of almost pure energy—practically nothing organic remains. But the nature of their powers, the yellow-orange glow, and the unique signature of her mutation all indicate the same thing. Her exposure to this environment has accelerated a process that began upon her initial entrance into subspace. She is manifesting into an energy being.”

“We have to get her out of here!” Kurt declared. “Perhaps Dr. McCoy can do something for her, or Herr Professor! She cannot stay here!”

”You’re right,” Rowena agreed. “She must be removed from this environment without delay. I’m going to attempt to open the portal. Be prepared to teleport.”

“Can we touch her?” Marta asked, taking a hesitant step toward Twyla. Without thinking, Kurt clamped a protective hand on her shoulder and pulled her back.

“Remember what happened to that Doppelganger of ours,” Darkholme said, his golden eyes narrowed. “I, for one, have no desire to become a powerless--”

“It’s noticed us,” Twyla interrupted, her voice hoarse and shaky. “It knows we’re here…tastes the energy… Oh, my God, I can feel it…it’s like it’s a part of me. I…I know what it’s doing…it just doesn’t care.”

She looked up, her fiery eyes blindingly bright, a fevered, twisted grin spreading across her face, her voice growing stronger, firmer. “I…I don’t care. It just…feels so good! All that energy, all that power!”

She leapt to her feet, her frizzy hair shimmering with energy, her dark skin appearing almost fluid as swirls of yellow and orange light coursed like liquid magma over its surface. She stretched out her arms, maniacal laughter swelling as it had that first night when she set fire to her house. But this was so much stronger than the paltry little energy surge she had absorbed from her lamp. All the energy, all the power of the entire omniverse was at her fingertips. It was all hers for the taking, and she wanted nothing more than to gorge herself on this feeling, to loose herself completely in the heady intoxication of raw, delicious power….

“NO!” she screamed, overcome with horror at what she had been contemplating. She clenched her fists until her short, blunt fingernails cut into her palms, drawing blood. The pain helped to bring her back to herself, to remember the cost of such wanton gluttony. She had brought her mother to the point of death, she had destroyed her home, she had physically altered the man who had tried to save her, all but ruining his life. She would not be responsible for the destruction of the omniverse. She could not allow herself to become that mindless monster attached to the underbelly of her home dimension. She knew what she had to do. She only prayed that God would see fit to forgive her choice…

“Rowena,” she said, her hoarse, trembling voice sounding strange even to her own ears. “I have to go back. I have to go back to that night—the night it all began. I have to stop this before it starts.”

”No, Twyla,” Kurt exclaimed, realizing what she meant. “There must be another option. Now that we know what form your secondary mutation will take, we may be able to find a way to prevent it. Perhaps a modified inhibitor, or genetic therapy of some sort. We must talk with Hank and Charles. You can’t just sacrifice your life like this!”

“Well, we can’t stay here talking about it,” Rowena said curtly. “Our little air pocket is rapidly dissipating. We’re leaving for Earth 816 now. We can continue this discussion there.”

With that, Rowena completed entering the proper sequence into her scanner and a round hole appeared in mid-air a short distance away, along with a renewed gust of wind. The darkened grounds of the Xavier Institute could clearly be seen on the other side.

“Quickly, now!” Rowena shouted over the rushing wind. “The portal is very unstable. It could collapse at any moment!”

The five of them rushed towards the flickering portal, their hair whipping wildly around their faces. Kurt turned his head slightly, making sure Marti was beside him, then his eyes widened.

“Faster,” he shouted, his tone brusque and commanding. “It’s behind us!”

Marti and Darkholme followed his gaze. Five long tentacles of thick, swirling light were cutting through the clouds like whipped cream, heading straight for them. Marti swayed on her feet, suddenly feeling horribly light-headed. Darkholme brought a hand to his temple, then glared at the encroaching tentacles, dropping down to run on all fours. Marti and Kurt quickly followed suit, with Rowena and Twyla close on their heels. They dove through the portal, tumbling onto the short, cool grass. The portal snapped shut behind them with a strange, fizzling sound, quite unlike its usual SHAZZP, the wind instantly vanishing, along with the immediate threat.

“Well,” Marta panted, rising slowly to her feet. “What do we do now?”

”That thing is not me,” Twyla stated, her eyes glittering with more than a little hysteria. “Not anymore. We have to destroy it, whatever it takes.”

“Twyla,” Kurt began, but Twyla just shook her head, her expression set in grim determination, her tone one that allowed for no argument.

“Whatever it takes.”


Two chapters to go! I'm going off to work on Ch. 26 right now, actually. Be back soon!

[CurlyyHairGirl]

THAT WAS A CLIFFHANGER TO KEEP ME UP WONDERING!!! You torture me!!!:(bawl