Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

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Rowena
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by Rowena »

Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men. I wish I did. Please don’t sue me or steal my story!


NOTE I: This first part happens shortly after Mystique tosses baby Kurt into the river. It describes how Kurt was first found by Margali and brought to the circus. I hope you enjoy it! :D

And now…on with the show!

Small Steps, Great Leaps
Part One
By Rowena

Eric Wagner had been feeling poorly for the last three miles. What had he been trying to prove to himself, undertaking a hike like this? He was sixty-three years old and he knew he was far from in the best of shape. He had been a fool to let his twenty-four year old wife talk him into this so-called vacation. He was a highly successful accountant, he had a wonderful home in Milan--what did he need to climb the Alps for? Felicita was probably already at the inn by now with their guide, wondering what had become of him.

Eric came to a stop and leaned his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He winced as another shooting pain lanced through his left arm. His chest was aching. He had definitely overexerted himself on this one. What he needed was a long, hot shower and a nice, soft bed.

Eric lifted his head as the pain began to dissipate. Somewhere nearby he could hear the sound of rushing water. Remembering that the inn was next to a river, Eric headed towards the sound, rubbing his arm and muttering to himself. He would have some choice words for Felicita and that guide of theirs when he got to the inn. What had they been thinking, going off ahead and leaving him behind like that? How did they know he wasn't lost or injured out there on the mountain? He was the one paying for this trip after all.

The river was lovely in the moonlight. Even in his exhausted state, Eric could appreciate the beauty of the ice on the water, reflecting the light of the stars and moon like so many mirrors. Deciding he could use a break, Eric sank to his knees by the snowy riverbank and watched the freezing water rush by.

He had just started to feel his energy returning when he became aware of a small, black spot in the water, held stationary against the current by a cluster of ice-encrusted driftwood jutting out from the riverbank. Curious, Eric climbed to his feet—a difficult task in his bulky snowsuit—and made his careful way down to the object.

It was difficult to see in the dark, especially through his goggles. Lifting them to his forehead, Eric bent over and pulled the sodden bundle from the water, trying to make out what it was. As he lifted it, he felt something move inside. Frightened, he nearly dropped it.

"It's probably just some kittens or puppies someone threw into the river to drown," he said out loud, as if to reassure himself. "I'll just take a look."

Kneeling in the deep snow, Eric carefully pulled the damp, ice-encrusted cloth open. He gasped and fell back on his hands. The sight he beheld was shocking. It looked as though someone had tried to drown a baby. Its skin seemed as black as pitch in the moonlight, and it was dressed all in white. Appalled, Eric recovered himself and moved closer, pulling off his gloves to feel for the baby's pulse.

To his surprise, the baby's neck was covered in short, damp fur. Abruptly, Eric began to laugh.

"Why, it's not a baby at all!" he exclaimed with deep relief. "It's some kind of monkey. And it's still alive."

Leaving the rapidly freezing cloth the creature had been wrapped in on the snowy ground, Eric lifted the unconscious monkey in his arms and resumed his trek towards the inn. As he carried it, he could feel its tail curling and uncurling underneath all the lace it was draped in. "I'll bet Felicita will love you," he said, trying to warm the tiny, shivering creature as best he could with his own body heat. "She's always saying how much she wants a pet. I wonder who in the world would want to drown a cute little monkey like you?"

The small tavern was a warm glow brightening the darkness that hung between the tall pines. Eric approached it with a light heart, trying to picture his young wife's face when he showed her the monkey. She would be so proud of him for rescuing it, she might even let him stay inside tomorrow and give him a break from mountain climbing.

A cheery fire was crackling in the huge fireplace when Eric entered the room. The warmth was palpable, seeping into all the little pores of his snowsuit and beginning the process of thawing him out.

"Well," he called out to the man leaning against the counter as he closed the door behind him, "I finally made it. I take it my wife, Felicita Wagner, and our guide have already arrived?"

The innkeeper shot a brief glance at the large book lying open on the counter beside him.

"Yeah, that's right," he said. "They got in several hours ago and went straight up to their rooms."

Eric nodded with a smirk. "They must have been tired after keeping up that pace," he said, striding across the small room and taking a seat at the counter. "I need something to warm me up before I join my wife. I've been hopelessly lost in that godforsaken wilderness of yours out there for nearly six hours now! Do you have any of that hot wine they served at that last place we stayed? I forget what they called it. My wife likes it. It begins with an 'M'."

"Mulled wine?" the innkeeper asked.

Eric snapped his fingers. "That's the stuff."

The innkeeper nodded. "Yeah, we have that. I'll get you a mug."

"I deeply appreciate it," Eric grinned.

While the innkeeper was away, Eric turned his attention to his small charge. Placing the tiny creature gently on the counter, Eric unzipped his snowsuit and pulled his glasses from his jacket pocket.

"I wonder just what kind of monkey you are," he said, starting to untie the lacy white bonnet that covered its head.

"What's that you've got there?" the innkeeper interrupted, placing the steaming mug of wine on the counter beside the accountant.

Eric abandoned the bonnet and took the cup between his grateful hands, burying his stinging face in the warm steam. "It's a monkey," he explained, taking a small sip. "Oh, this is good," he said. "It's even better than that other inn."

"Thanks," the innkeeper acknowledged, but his attention was still fixed on the strange creature lying on his counter. "Is it dead?" he asked, his voice tinged more with disgust than curiosity.

"What?" Eric exclaimed, putting his mug down and leaning over his charge. "No, it's alive," he said, relieved. "I pulled it out of the river just now. Can you believe it? Someone had tried to drown it."

"Why would they dress it up like this if they were going to drown it?" the innkeeper asked.

"How should I know?" Eric retorted, taking another sip of wine. "Maybe it was some kind of weird cult ritual or something. Use your imagination."

The innkeeper shrugged and started to turn away. "Just remember," he said, "if that thing gets lose and starts to climb around my place, I'll personally toss it right back where it came from. I don't usually allow pets."

Eric blinked over his mug, surprised at his host's attitude. "You're not serious."

"I am," the innkeeper said. "Just be sure to keep a close eye on it."

Eric nodded easily, too exhausted to feel concerned. "No problem," he called to the innkeeper's departing back.

Eric finished his wine, then lifted his charge into his arms and moved closer to the crackling fire.

"This is nice, isn't it little monkey? A huge, roaring fire, a belly full of mulled wine… This is a vacation. Not that agonizing hike up this blasted mountain. No matter what Felicita said, that simply could not have been the easiest trail."

The tiny creature began to stir in his arms, though it did not wake up. "Yeah, you like this better too, don't you. I notice you're not shivering anymore. The fire's starting to thaw you out, isn't it?"

Eric stroked the creature's dark, fuzzy cheeks with one finger and smiled as he felt it relax in his arms. "That's right. You sleep. You need to recover after that shock you had. I still can't understand it. Who would have the heart to kill a cute little monkey?"

Turning his gaze back to the flickering flames, Eric yawned hugely. "I sure am beat," he announced. "Let's take you upstairs to meet Felicita."

Not particularly wanting to call the innkeeper back, Eric peeked into the book himself to find his room number. "Room 3," he said with a smile. "Let's go."

Room 3 was located next to a very small bathroom at the end of a very short hall. Eric took a minute to consider the best way to present his wife with her new pet, wondering whether she was already asleep or whether she was awake and waiting for him and just starting to wonder why she hadn't been waiting for his return in the lounge downstairs.

Suddenly, he felt his ears prick up at the sound of whispers coming from Room 2 across the hall. Turning, Eric felt a chill clamp down on his guts as he recognized his wife's laugh, accompanied by a male laugh that was just as familiar. His brain pounded with denial, his heart racing. No, he thought, he was jumping to conclusions. Felicita would never betray him, especially not with some poor Welsh graduate student who spent his vacations working as a tour guide in the Bavarian Alps. Felicita had very expensive tastes. Eric had always taken pride in the fact that he could support her so easily. Besides, Felicita loved him. She was always telling him so. He had to learn not to be so jealous and to give his young wife the benefit of the doubt.

Having convinced himself that the conversation going on in Room 2 was completely innocent, Eric felt there would be no problem if he forwent knocking and simply walked in.

"Felicita," he announced, pushing the door open and striding into the room, "You will never guess what I found..."

He trailed off when he realized that his wife did not seem happy to see him. In fact, her expression was more like she had just been given an unpleasant shock. The face of her companion was a mirror of her expression. Eric again felt an uncomfortable chill growing in his gut. Had it been his imagination, or had they been sitting much closer when he first walked in the door?

"What's wrong?" he asked, still trying to play innocent if only for appearance's sake.

Felicita shook her golden curls, seeming to snap out of some kind of trance. Yves, the tour guide, rubbed his chin and stood up. His movements were awkward and his eyes uncomfortable.

"Eric," Felicita said, a broad smile growing on her face—a smile which, Eric noted, did not reach her emerald-green eyes. "What took you so long? Yves and I were getting worried." She rose from her chair and crossed the room, wrapping her long, slender arms around her husband's neck. "If you didn't get here soon, we were all ready to send out a search party for you."

"Is that so?" Eric said, his voice flat. His chest was beginning to ache again and he could practically hear the beating of his heart.

"In fact," Yves added, latching onto her excuse like a lifeline, "that is what Signora Wagner and I were talking about when you came in."

"Is that so?" Eric repeated in the same tone. "So you thought it was funny that you both left me behind in the wilderness. You found it amusing to think of me struggling to find my way to this godforsaken little shack in the middle of nowhere while you two shared a steaming cup of mulled wine? You laughed to picture me lost in the snow for six hours while you toasted your toes at a roaring fire?"

Yves froze, his normally ruddy face so pale it almost seemed blue. Felicita's smile had frozen in place. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"What kind of a guide are you, anyway?" Eric snapped, closing in on the weaker link. "Don't think I am unaware of what was going through your heads. I heard you laughing when I was in the hall just now. I saw you pull apart as I entered. You didn't believe I would be coming back, did you? That's why you weren't down in the lounge waiting for me."

"Honey, remember your heart," Felicita warned him, turning his attention from the cringing student, her voice warm but her eyes cold. "You're getting overexcited and jumping to conclusions."

Eric nodded, his heartbeat thumping in his ears as if it had taken on a life of its own.

"You're right," he said, rubbing his arm, his eyes stinging with tears he refused to let them see. "I am getting overexcited. I should have seen this coming. I should have expected something like this. Well, I guess I know now why you married me. I'm old and rich and you're young and beautiful. I suppose you just got sick of waiting for me to die.”

He snorted, shaking his head in disgust. “It would seem the perfect accident, wouldn't it. Now I know why you chose the more difficult path. You probably thought a man of my age and condition could never make it on his own. He got lost in the dark, you'd say. We sent out a search party but we were too late."

"What's that you're carrying, Eric?" Felicita asked, obviously trying to change the subject.

Eric looked down at the bundle in his arms. He had completely forgotten it.

"You always said you wanted a pet," he said, his voice soft and bitter. "Well, I fished this one out of the river. But forget it. You don't have to pretend anymore, Felicitia. I understand. You can have the house. I'll keep the monkey. I think I'll need the company more than you."

Felicitia's eyes widened and her mouth opened in protest at her husband's thinly veiled insinuation. Eric fixed her with a knowing look, then turned from the stunned faces of his wife and her paramour and headed down the stairs.

By the time he reached the lounge, his chest had begun to hurt in earnest. He found himself gasping for breath in the warm, smoky room. Desperate for air, he made his way past the various tables and chairs that stood in his way and opened the door, stumbling out into the snowy night.

Colors were swirling before his eyes. He was sweating. The pain had become unbearable. It felt as though his chest was about to explode. With one last desperate gasp, Eric collapsed in the deep snow and lay still. His small charge landed several feet away, the shock of the fall and the sudden cold forcing it into wakefulness. As it began to scream with fear and cold, Felicita, Yves, and the innkeeper came bursting out of the tavern. Seeing Eric lying face down in the snow, the innkeeper kept his head and turned to Yves.

"I do not have a telephone," he said. "You will have to go to the nearest aid station and bring help."

Yves turned his frantic eyes to Felicita, who nodded silently, her full lips pursed and her green eyes wide.

"What are you waiting for, boy," the innkeeper snapped, his voice filled with a commanding authority he had not displayed previously. "Get going!"

The sharpness of the man's tone jolted Yves into motion. Felicita watched in silence as his tall form quickly faded into the night.

"Now, for you," the innkeeper said. "I will need your help to get him back inside."

Felicita's head snapped up, her emerald eyes fixing him with a cold stare. Then, she turned on the heel of her designer hiking boot and strode back into the warmth of the lounge. Unable to believe what he had just seen, the outraged innkeeper followed her back inside, slamming the door behind him.

As their argument swelled, a small, slender woman tightly bundled in a pink snowsuit pulled up to the side of small tavern on her purple snowmobile. Turning off the motor, the woman soon became aware of the raised voices emanating from within the lonely inn. Wondering whether it would be worth the risk of walking in on the middle of a fight for a mug of hot cocoa, the woman made her way through a snowdrift to the front of the building.

Just outside the door, a man was lying face down in the snow. A few feet from his head lay a small, dark form writhing inside what seemed to be a ragged bundle of weather-stained lace.

The woman went to the man first, wondering if he had been a victim of the argument raging inside. Turning him over with some difficulty, she took out her flashlight and peered into his face. It was obvious at once that that he was dead. "Heart attack most likely," she muttered sadly to herself. "I'd be willing to bet this is what they're fighting about in there. A man dies at their doorstep and all they can do is argue about whose responsibility it is to deal with it."

She next turned her attention to the mysterious bundle of lace. She approached it cautiously, aware that whatever was inside, it was alive.

"Hello," she whispered, crouching down next to the bundle. "Are you a puppy dog? A kitty perhaps? Who's in there?"

At the sound of her voice, the bundle began to emanate a strange, hoarse, coughing cry. It was the cry of a terrified infant who had been screaming for so long without hope of an answer that it had almost lost its voice. Alarmed, the woman impulsively gathered the infant into her arms and cuddled it, cooing and soothing the child until its own exhaustion lulled it to sleep. Once the squirming baby had relaxed in her arms, the woman once again reached for her flashlight.

"Oh, my dearest God," she whispered, aghast at what the light revealed to her—indigo skin, pointed ears, a long, prehensile tail poking out from among the tattered lace he was wrapped in. "A demon!"

Forcing herself to repress her superstitious inclination to leave the creature there and continue on her way, she tentatively stretched out a long, crimson-nailed finger and touched the infant's fuzzy, blue cheeks. The baby smiled softly in its sleep. The smile lit up his small face, and suddenly the woman could see past his frightening appearance to the lost, helpless, innocent infant he really was.

"No, not a demon," she corrected herself. "You are a mutant child.” Her voice was soft with sadness and understanding. She began to rise, then gasped in surprise as the infant’s tail coiled around her arm as if of its own accord.

"And you have an incredable tail underneath all this lace!” She stared in amazement, a smile stretching across her face. “If it's strong enough to hold your weight, I'd bet you would make an impressive acrobat."

She held the baby closer, her face stern but her violet eyes deep with pity as she gave him a more thorough looking over.

"You are so small,” she said. “Barely larger than a newborn. I would bet you're not more than a few weeks old. If I had not come here at this moment, would they have left you to die in the snow as they left him?"

She turned back to the still man lying in a rhombus of light from the window. Quickly, being careful not to wake the infant, she searched the body for signs of identification. After a short time, she located the man's wallet in a back pocket of his snowsuit.

"Eric Wagner," she read off his credit card. Gently replacing the wallet where she had found it, she made a similar search of the rags the mutant infant was bundled in. She was about to give up, when out of the corner of her eye she noticed a shadow on the fabric that struck her as a word. Turning her flashlight on the spot, she realized that there was an inscription hand-embroidered into the ragged cloth—an inscription written in German.

"Kurt Wagner," she read. Her eyes widened and she turned back to the body behind her. "Eric and Kurt Wagner. You must have been father and son. And now your father is dead, poor thing. I wonder what has happened to your mother?"

She focused her violet eyes back on the inscription. "The rest of it seems to be a prayer… Why, this is a baptismal gown!" she realized in surprise. "How strange! Your parents must have been planning to expose you, yet they were sure to have you baptized first." She shook her head in disgust. “If I live to be a hundred, I will never understand people.”

Squinting to see the white-on-white lettering, the woman read, "May The Good Lord Bless And Keep You, For You Are A Child Of God."

"A child of God," she repeated softly, her expression softening with tenderness as she looked down into the infant’s peaceful face. "Like all other outcasts and abandoned children before you, you can at least be sure of one protector. You are a child of God indeed, Kurt Wagner, and my being here to come to your rescue proves that someone somewhere must be watching out for you.” She smiled.

“And for me as well. If I'm right—and I usually am about these matters—someone like you is just what I need to bring my circus back to life. I will take you home with me, my little demon, and together we will see what happens."

Her dreams of hot cocoa forgotten, the woman carried the infant back to her waiting vehicle. Climbing onto the purple snowmobile and making sure the child was safely secured, she started the motor and pulled away from the little tavern.

"My stars did predict today that I would meet a dark stranger," she chuckled to herself as she made her way back down the mountain. "Though, I never imagined my stranger would be a fuzzy, blue baby!"

*******

The Szardos Bavarian Circus was a small, run-down affair teetering on the brink of respectability. Its star attraction, a Hungarian trapeze act, had recently left after accepting an offer to join the far larger Dusseldorf Circus, and the remaining performers were only just starting to feel the loss. Ticket sales had plummeted over the last few months, causing several of the more talented performers to begin searching for openings elsewhere.

The various performers who remained were gathered in the mess tent for breakfast when they heard the sound of a snowmobile pulling into the center of the small ring of shabby tents and dented trailers. Most of them barely looked up from their eggs and toast, but Bethica Bruckner, a young girl barely out of her teens who served as the costume mistress and resident tailor (despite her lack of talent with a needle), found herself nearly dragged from her seat by the two children she had been charged with watching over that night.

"Mommy!" the four-year-old boy exclaimed joyfully as a tightly bundled figure in a bright, pink snowsuit entered the tent. He latched onto her leg as his younger sister toddled up behind him and lifted her arms plaintively.

"I want up!" she announced.

Her mother pulled off her goggles, scarf, hood, and hat to reveal a face that, despite her exhaustion, was quite striking. Her violet eyes were the color of amethyst crystals and her dark, frizzy hair was full and shiny. Though she already held a bundle in one arm, she bent down and scooped her young daughter up with the other, resting the majority of the child's weight on her hip as her daughter wrapped her arms about her neck.

"What's that?" she demanded, pointing at her mother's mysterious bundle.

"I'll tell you in a minute, honey," her mother responded, turning to Bethica. "So, how were they?" she asked.

"They were little angels," the young tailor smiled, ruffling the boy's golden hair. Then she laughed, holding out her hand in mock defense as she caught her employer's skeptical glance.

"Honest, Margali," she said. "They ate all their vegetables and went to bed exactly on time."

"Why, this doesn't sound like my Stefan and Jimaine," Margali said, amusement twinkling in her eye. "They must have known that I would be bringing home something very special."

Placing Jimaine back on the floor, Margali Szardos took a step forward and called for the attention of the chewing circus performers.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I have a very important announcement to make," she called out. She waited for the moment it took for all heads to turn towards her—including the hungover ones—and then continued.

"I would like to announce the arrival of a new addition to our little circus family," she said, gently unbundling the infant in her arms. "This," she announced proudly, holding him up for all to see, "is Kurt Wagner. I have a feeling that he will be able to bring back to this circus something it has been sadly lacking of late. An audience!"

Margali had expected a more exuberant response than the one she received. The circus performers seemed taken aback at the sight of Kurt. Far from being pleased at the financial prospects of showing off such a unique and obvious mutant to the public, the performers seemed apprehensive, even a little frightened.

"Why, it looks like something out of one of those horrific paintings from the middle ages," Antonino Rosselli, the leader of the clowns, commented, his droopy eyes narrowed in revulsion.

"It's some kind of demon!" Big Jake, a man just shy of three feet in height who billed himself as the smallest man on earth, exclaimed.

"No, he's not," Margali retorted, emphasizing the 'he' in firm opposition to the use of the dehumanizing pronoun 'it'. "Can't you see? This young mutant boy is our ticket out of the small time circuit and into the major leagues! Don't you see the potential here? First, while he's still too young for training, we can use him in the freak show to help attract customers. Then, once he's old enough, imagine what a great acrobat he could be! Look at this amazing tail!"

She located the curling tail among the tattered lace and held it up for all to see. Kurt curled his tail around her hand, his dexterity deeply impressing Margali and several of the other performers. Kurt looked around himself with his bright yellow eyes, curious about his new surroundings and completely oblivious to the skeptical looks his new acquaintances were shooting at him.

Margali smiled as she noticed several of the performers starting to nod, understanding what she was getting at even though they were still clearly doubtful as to how well her plan would work.

"When he is old enough to perform, we wouldn't have to bill him as a mutant," Frank Holzt, commonly known as 'Woodhead,' added. "We don’t want to scare off the customers, after all. For all the audience would know, he'd just be a normal human in a really good costume."

Margali's violet eyes lit up, her smile broadening to a grin. "That's right! Now you're getting it!" She brought the infant to the level of her face and planted a kiss on his round, blue cheek. "Kurt Wagner will be our ticket to success!"

This time, she got the response she had been hoping for. The small tent erupted with applause. Like the natural born performer that she was, Margali took a sweeping bow, cradling Kurt securely in her arms.


End of Part One


Now, here' s a sneak peak from Part Two of Small Steps, Great Leaps!

EXCERPT:

Crouching down, Kurt kept his yellow eyes focused on the swinging bar before him, marking its rhythm. Just before the bar swung back to him, Kurt made a powerful leap, flying through the air like the monkey Eric Wagner had mistaken him for, until he caught onto the swinging trapeze with his long fingers and pulled himself up onto the bar. Once he was securely balanced, Kurt wrapped his long, dexterous tail around the bar and let go with his legs until he was hanging upside down. Then, he began to swing.

By this time, Chester had noticed his absence. Both he and Stefan were searching around frantically when they heard Yvonne Vogel's piercing scream. Looking up, they saw the cause.

"Oh, dear Lord," Chester gasped, his face drained of all color. "Margali's going to kill me!"


Stay Tuned!!!!! :D

:bamf


[Edited on 1/9/2007 by Rowena]
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei
CurlyyHairGirl
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

*bouncybouncybouncybouncybouncy*
Positively shuddering in excitement, shivering with adrenaline.
Monkeymonkeymonkeymonkey, awwww, sweetness.
moremoremoremoremoremore.
*takes a couple puffs of albuterol*
*gasp*

You bet I'll stay tuned:D
for your work, any day!:dance

Thanks alot! Now you got me all hyper...oh well, I'll just jump up and down till the next update.
*huggles*
one name: Bruce Campbell
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by kladyelf »

Squeeeee! Rowena fic! hooray hooray zippideedoodah zippideeeeaaay!

aww, fancy mistaking infantKurt for a monkey! (good grief - how ... Prattchet-like!)

i wonder if Felicita Wagner or anyone else will make an appearance in the young Kurt's life?

and Margali sticking Kurt in the freakshow? fiscally understandable sure, but - for shame! *thwaps Margali with a :sausage*
meddle not in the affairs of ficcers for you are malleable and easily .... O_o *stares* ooh is that a cookie?

Love your enemies - It will drive them nuts!

Crazy.... but in the nicest possible way....

To Stupidityyyyy - and beyond!

*after reading the latest gory/depressing "mainstream" comic* ....*sigh* that's it, I'm packin' up and moving back to the Eighties...
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by HoodedMan »

I love this explanation of Kurt's early life! It's very sweet! I eagerly await more.
ACHTUNG! Alles touristen und non-technischen looken peepers! Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sichtseeren keepen das cotten-pickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by Rowena »

Wowzers! Thanks for the terrific response, everyone!

And now, the story continues as little Kurt gets his first introduction to the flying trapeze. :D


Small Steps, Great Leaps
Part Two
By Rowena

The weeks passed slowly for Margali during the off-season. If she'd had the money, she would have moved the circus somewhere warm for the winter, someplace where she didn't have to go through these long weeks of tedium, financial paperwork, and trying in vain to coax new material from her employees. As she looked up from the latest stack of bills the small circus had somehow managed to pile up, she reflected that at least next season they could look forward to a larger audience. If she advertised right, enough people would be attracted to the circus by the strange, blue mutant she had rescued that they might even be able to show a profit next year.

At that thought, she sighed, ashamed at herself for being so cold. Kurt wasn't just a means to an end, he was a sweet, innocent baby. She had no trouble admitting that she was quickly becoming attached to the little fellow. His yellow eyes and round, blue cheeks were actually quite endearing now that she was used to them. Already, she was beginning to think of him as a second son. And why not? After all, she was the one who had found him. It was only natural that she would feel some kind of attachment, some kind of responsibility for his welfare.

She sighed again. Was she acting with a responsible eye to his welfare by putting him on public display as a “freak of nature”? She dared to ask herself the question: what if Stefan or Jimaine had been born looking as strange, as inhuman as Kurt. Would she have hesitated to do the same to them?

She was deeply shamed, but at the same time disturbingly relieved to realize that the answer was no. Although she still felt like a heartless heel, at least she could take some comfort from the knowledge that she was treating Kurt no differently than she would her own flesh and blood.

*******

By the time spring rolled around, little Kurt had become something of a mascot to the circus performers. Despite his gargoyle-esque appearance, the blue infant had managed to steal the hearts of even the gruffest performers—and that included the drunks. Although Margali was universally recognized as his unofficial foster mother, the rest of the camp felt as though they had adopted him too. Once the circus opened for the season, many of them took to ruffling Kurt's curly hair before each performance, ostensibly for good luck, but secretly because they too felt guilty about displaying him as a “freak” and wanted to assure him that they cared about him.

Three seasons came and went. By that time, Margali's fondest hopes for her circus had started to come true. “The Devil’s Child” had attracted so many spectators that she had not only been able to replace the tattered tents, but also to attract a new trapeze act, as well as a retired Olympic gymnast. And it seemed things would only get better from here on in.

At three years old, Kurt was an active, curious toddler who was already displaying astonishing agility and coordination. It wasn't long until, to the relief of all those who cared for him, Margali felt fiscally secure enough to take him out of the freak show and start his training as an acrobat. To her surprise, though, Kurt himself protested the change.

"But Kurt, don't you want to be an acrobat?" she questioned him, concerned.

"Yes!" Kurt exclaimed, his speech slightly slurred due to his over-large teeth. "But I like the people who make faces for me. We try to see who can do the best face, but I can beat them because I always win. They're very funny people."

He burst a gale of giggles, running around her in tight circles and making fake airplane noises as he stuck his tongue in and out of his mouth. Margali's face went cold and her heart clenched with guilt as, for the first time, the hard reality of how despicably she’d been exploiting the boy truly hit home. Always before, she’d been able to rationalize her decision to put Kurt on display, viewing it through the eyes of a struggling businesswoman rather than a mother. Now, however, faced with the unexpected way Kurt’s innocent young mind had interpreted the horror, fear, and derision on the faces of the spectators who paid to gawk and mock his mutation, Margali found herself suddenly terrified—terrified of what might happen to her sweet boy if he ever learned what dark emotions lurked behind those “funny faces”.

Acting on strong impulse, Margali knelt down and spread her arms wide. Kurt ran into their protective circle, wrapping his tail around her in an unconscious show of affection that melted his foster mother’s heart. Her violet eyes began to sting as she held him tight for a moment, then pulled back, looking him in the chubby face.

"Sweetheart," she tried to explain, stroking his soft curls with her fingers. "I know you think those people are funny—“

"Funny faces!" Kurt interrupted brightly, making one himself. Margali smiled indulgently as she waited for him to stop laughing, then continued.

"But think how much more fun it would be to play on the trapeze!" she said with over-done enthusiasm, trying to catch at his imagination. "You'll get to swing through the air, like you were flying! Wouldn't it be fun to fly, Kurt?"

"Fly!" Kurt repeated, his yellow eyes widening as his excitement began to grow.

"Yes, Kurt, fly!" Margali emphasized. "On the flying trapeze!"

"Flying trapeze," Kurt giggled, as if the words themselves amused him.

"Yes," Margali grinned. "You can play with Stefan! Stefan is going to start learning how to fly on the trapeze too, just like you!"

At the mention of his foster-brother's name, Kurt's whole face lit up. Margali knew how much he looked up to the older boy. She had always been extremely proud of how her own children got along so well with Kurt—especially Jimaine, who was closer to him in age.

"We will fly!" Kurt grinned, unabashedly displaying a mouth full of gleaming, white fangs. In another face such a sight would have been unnerving, yet in Kurt's those pointed fangs somehow managed to add to his unique charm. Margali couldn't resist another quick hug. Kurt's short, velvety fur felt wonderfully plush against her bare arms.

"Come on, Kurt," she said, breaking away and rising to her feet. "Let's go meet with Stefan."

The small boy reached out a three-fingered hand and Margali took it securely in her own. Together, the pair walked towards the main tent, Kurt singing happily to himself the whole way.

"Stefan and I will fly! Will fly, will fly, will fly...!"

*******

"Oh, Margali!" Woodhead smiled as she and Kurt entered the tent. "Hello, Kurt," he added with a friendly wave. The small, blue child waved back, only he used his tail.

"Stefan's already here, Margali," the hunchbacked sword-swallower/spotter continued as he finished tightening the safety net below the trapeze. "And he has some news for you."

"What kind of news, I wonder," Margali said, walking past Woodhead to the small swing Chester Vogel, the youngest son of the new trapeze act, had already set up in a corner of the tent. Stefan was sitting on a practice high-beam, but the moment he saw his mother and foster brother he jumped down from his perch and rushed over to them with his closed fist held out in front of him.

"Mommy!" the exuberant seven-year-old exclaimed. "Look at this! My tooth came out! It's one of the back ones too, so it's got to be worth more than the last one!"

"I want to see the tooth, Stefan!" Kurt announced, pulling on his foster brother's sleeve.

"Here, look," Stefan said, opening his fist. "But don't touch it!"

Kurt drew back the thick finger he had been stretching towards the small, white tooth as though he'd been burned.

"Now, Stefan," Margali scolded gently. "He's just curious. Let him see it."

"But Mommy," Stefan protested in a shrill whine, "he'll lose it!"

"Even if he does, you will still get your reward," Margali assured him. "I know the Tooth Fairy personally, and I'll be sure to tell her all about your tooth."

With reluctance plainly etched on his face, Stefan held his tooth out to Kurt. "There," he said, placing it in his foster brother's small, blue palm. "See? My tooth."

Kurt poked at the small, flat tooth with one finger, his confusion evident. "That's not a tooth," he declared in the definitive way all small children have. "It's too flat."

"It is so a tooth!" Stefan protested, snatching it back and scowling. "Woodhead said it's supposed to look like that. He said it's called a molar, for grinding stuff up."

"My teeth aren't flat," Kurt announced, bearing his fangs in demonstration. "Why is yours so flat?"


"It's a back tooth," Stefan emphasized, pulling the edge of his mouth back with a finger to provide an example. "See?" he said, releasing his mouth. "Now let's see yours."

Kurt pulled back his own lips. "Cahh oooo eeee eehhhh?" he asked.

"Yeah, they're there," Stefan observed. "They're a little pointier than mine, but you've definitely got some molars back there."

Kurt considered his foster brother's words carefully, then pushed his fingers deeper into his mouth.

"My molar is stuck!" he exclaimed, suddenly at the point of tears as he pulled his fingers away and wiped them on his shirt. "It won't come out!"

Margali, who had wandered over to inspect Chester's knots, came rushing back at the sound of Kurt's cries.

"What's going on here?" she demanded sternly of Stefan. Stefan's eyes widened with righteous indignance.

"What? I didn't do anything to him! He's all upset because he can't pull his teeth out."

"What!" Margali exclaimed, turning her attention to the crying Kurt.

"Mama!" he sobbed, burying his face in her flowing skirt. "My molar is stuck in my mouth!"

Margali had the sudden impulse to laugh, but suppressed it as she knelt down to his eye level.

"Of course your molar is stuck, sweetheart," she said, drawing him into a warm embrace. "You're only three years old. When you get to be a big boy, like Stefan, you'll start losing your baby teeth as well."

Kurt looked up at her, his yellow eyes streaming. "When will that be?" he snuffled plaintively.

"In only three or four years," Margali said comfortingly, "so don't you worry about a thing. OK?"

Kurt nodded, sniffing loudly and wiping his eyes with his tail. Margali reached into her blouse and handed him a handkerchief. "There," she said. "Blow."

Kurt did as he was told, then blinked up at her as she tucked the damp cloth away in her skirt pocket. "Feel better now?" she asked.

Kurt nodded again, still sulky.

"Good." Margali stood up and turned to Chester. "They're all yours, Chester," she said, ruffling her son's black hair.

"Mom!" Stefan protested, pushing her hand away. Margali smiled at him, then turned to go. "I'll be in my trailer should you need me. Have a good time, boys."

Kurt watched her go, then turned to Chester, who was standing on a soft floor-mat with one hand holding the rope of his swing.

"Good morning, boys," the seventeen-year-old smiled. "I’ve been told that you’ve both already been taught a number of elementary balancing exercises, so I thought it might be fun if we started off our first lesson by learning how to swing. Stefan, since you’re the elder, you can go first."

Kurt watched for a few moments as Chester busied himself instructing Stefan on how to best position himself and how he should hold the ropes, but his attention soon wandered. The rest of the Vogel family was already deep into their own morning practice session, flying and spinning high in the air. Kurt watched them, fascinated, as Chester's brother, Tomas, hung upside down from the narrow trapeze and caught his mother, Yvonne, as she flipped through the air as though gravity had lost its hold on her. Kurt clapped his hands, delighted at the show. The two Vogels noticed him and took a playful bow. Then, they returned their attention to their practice session.

"You're next Kurt, so don't go anywhere," Chester said, aware of the child's short attention span. Kurt glanced over at him, but he stayed where he was, focusing on the stunning skill of the performers before him.

However, after watching three more catches Kurt realized it would be much more fun to join them than to simply watch them. Sneaking a glance behind him to make sure Chester wasn't watching, Kurt dashed across the floor on all fours and leapt onto the rope ladder that led to the aerialists' platform. He climbed it nimbly, reaching the platform in well under a minute. The Vogels had just completed another exercise and were taking a short break on the larger platform across the way. Fortunately for Kurt, though, the trapeze they had just vacated were still swaying.

Crouching down, Kurt kept his yellow eyes focused on the swinging bar before him, marking its rhythm. Just before the bar swung back to him, Kurt made a powerful leap, flying through the air like the monkey Eric Wagner had mistaken him for, until he caught onto the swinging trapeze with his long fingers and pulled himself up onto the bar. Once he was securely balanced, Kurt wrapped his long, dexterous tail around the bar and let go with his legs until he was hanging upside down. Then, he began to swing.

By this time, Chester had noticed his absence. Both he and Stefan were searching around frantically when they heard Yvonne Vogel's piercing scream. Looking up, they saw the cause.

"Oh, dear Lord," Chester gasped, his face drained of all color. "Margali's going to kill me!"

"Wow," Stefan exclaimed in awe. "I wish I had a tail!"

Kurt, still swinging from his tail, was completely unaware of the commotion he was causing below him. His focus was solely on the second bar.

His timing was purely instinctive as he launched himself from his trapeze and went flying through the air with his arms outstretched to catch the next bar. There was a collective gasp as the small crowd of performers who had gathered below him realized that he wouldn't make it. His arc was already falling and he was still at least a foot short of the swinging trapeze.

Chester turned away, unable to bear the sight of his fall. As a result, he missed one of the most spectacular events in the history of the Szardos Bavarian Circus.

Just as it seemed he wouldn't make it, Kurt flipped in the air and wrapped his spaded tail securely around the bar, swaying back and forth and back with his arms outstretched and a huge smile plastered across his face.

Margali came bursting into the tent just as the gathered performers raised their voices in an astonished cheer, followed closely by Woodhead, who had alerted her to what was going on.

She froze in place, her violet eyes wide as she watched Kurt launch himself off the final trapeze and execute a perfect landing on the main platform. Tomas and Yvonne Vogel lifted him into their arms, ruffling his hair and showering him with praise. Margali, although a large part of her felt like doing the same, was suddenly seized with a sharp anger.

"Chester Vogel!" she shouted, her voice as hard as reinforced concrete. Chester, not a very tall boy to begin with, seemed to shrink even further as Margali advanced upon him.

"I expected you to be watching him!" she yelled. "What were you thinking! What if he had fallen! He could have missed the net! He could have broken his neck! He could have been killed!"

Chester was too flustered to speak. "I-I-I..." he stuttered.

"Margali," Woodhead said gently, placing a gnarled hand on her shoulder. Margali spun on him, her violet eyes blazing. "And where were you while this was going on!" she shouted, her voice sharp. "Some spotter you are! Maybe you should think about sticking to sword-swallowing from now on!"

"Margali," Woodhead repeated in the same gentle tone. "Kurt's fine. In fact, he's better than fine. You saw him up there yourself. He was in complete control the whole time. It was as though he instinctively knew what he was doing."

Margali wasn't ready to give in to the pride she felt for her adopted son quite yet.

"Even so," she started, "he should never--"

Just then, she was interrupted by a slightly slurred, childish voice calling elatedly to her from high above.

"Mama!" Kurt called from Yvonne Vogel's arms, his face beaming. "Mama, I flew! I really flew!"

At the sight of his excited face, the last of Margali's anger faded away and she found herself smiling despite herself.

"Margali," a deep voice came from behind her and she turned. Sabu Vogel, Chester and Tomas' father, was standing there, his black eyes sparkling with admiration above the large, black mustache that dominated his face. "From what I've just witnessed, I think I can safely say that young Kurt has the potential to grow up to be the greatest acrobat who ever lived. In fact, I would be honored if you would allow me to conduct his training personally."

Stefan watched his mother carefully as she smiled, her pride in Kurt's newly discovered abilities now clearly evident in her face.

"The honor would be mine, Herr Vogel," Margali grinned brightly. "And, of course, Kurt's."

Stefan turned his blue gaze upward to focus on his giggling foster brother far above him. Then, he turned on his heel and walked out of the tent, his hands buried deep within his pockets.

It wasn't that he was resentful of the attention that Kurt was getting or even jealous of his abilities. Not really. What bothered Stefan was that Kurt had climbed the forbidden ladder and swung on the dangerous trapeze without asking permission—in short, broken the rules—yet he had not gotten in trouble for it. On the contrary, he was being rewarded! Chester had been lax in his duty to watch the boy, yet he, too, had escaped punishment. To Stefan's young mind, this was deeply wrong. Everyone had to pay for their sins. It was a fact of life. His father had taught him that before he'd died, and his teachings had been backed up by the Sunday School where his mother sent him in preparation for his first Holy Communion.

Kurt and Chester could not be allowed to get off without paying any penalty for their wrongdoings. Since it didn't seem likely that Margali was going to do anything about it, Stephan realized it was up to him to carry that penalty out...

*******

Over the next two weeks, a series of strange, unexplained events occurred in the Szardos Circus. First, there was the mystery of the missing bear. Herr Flaumig had been Kurt's favorite toy ever since Bethica Bruckner presented it to him on the anniversary of his first year with the circus, a date they had chosen to use as his birthday since none of them knew the actual day he was born. Herr Flaumig was a hand-made, dark blue teddy bear with yellow button eyes, and Kurt had taken to him immediately, often finding it impossible to sleep without his secure presence. Understandably, when the stuffed bear's disappearance was first realized, it caused great commotion in the Szardos family's small trailer...

Kurt had been crying nonstop since he first realized his bear was missing. By now, his voice was hoarse and raw and his cries interspersed with sharp hiccups. Margali and Jimaine had torn the trailer apart in their fruitless search for the bear. Margali was tired and frustrated and Jimaine was tottering on the brink of tears herself. Stefan, however, was nowhere to be found. He had left the trailer for his acrobatics lesson just after Kurt first noticed Herr Flaumig's absence and he hadn't returned since. Margali sighed as she scratched her fingers through her hair, trying to release some of her frustration. She could hardly blame him for wanting to avoid this scene, but she certainly could have used his help in the search.

Mysteriously, after three days of pouting, sulking, crying misery, Herr Flaumig suddenly reappeared on Kurt's cot, just where Margali knew she had left him the day he had vanished. Not one of the circus performers could think who could have kidnapped the bear, or for what purpose. A close inspection of the bear turned up no signs that it had been ripped or re-sewn in any way so Big Jake's theory that it had been used for drug smuggling was abandoned. In the end, the mystery of Herr Flaumig's disappearance was never solved to anyone's satisfaction.

Only two days after peace had been restored to the circus with the return of Kurt's beloved bear, another mystery struck--this one far more disturbing. Chester had been spotting for his brother that day when he realized that one of the knots he had personally tied to hold the safety net in place had been undone and then retied into a much less secure knot that could easily give way under the weight of a falling acrobat. He quickly called to his brother to stop his practice and they both reported the incident to Margali, even showing her the knot. Shocked that such a deliberate act of sabotage had been performed in her circus, Margali and the two Vogel boys diligently questioned every member of the camp, including Margali's own children.

Although Stefan had seemed strangely surprised to learn that Chester had noticed the knot before anything went wrong--which greatly annoyed Chester--he could give no information as to who might have done it. After an entire day of searching and questioning, it was clear to all three of them that no answers, or even reasonable suspects, would be forthcoming. Soon, Chester's knot was included in the same category as Kurt's disappearing bear.

*******

After these two mysterious incidents, life at the Szardos Bavarian Circus returned to normal. Kurt was making astounding progress under the expert tutelage of Sabu Vogel. Margali was even working on advertisements that would list Kurt as an acrobat on the next season's tour. In the meantime, the scheduled date for Stefan's First Communion arrived and the entire circus population was preparing to attend the ceremony at the local church.

"But, Mom, it's too tight!" Stefan protested, struggling against her as she tried to knot his tie.

"I'm a pretty princess," Jimaine announced, twirling theatrically in her new white dress. Kurt looked up from his blocks to grin at her. "A pretty princess," he repeated.

"Mommy," Jimaine asked, skipping over to where her mother was now struggling to hold Stefan's head still as she attempted to tame his wild, black hair. "What is it, sweetheart," she asked distractedly, not looking at her daughter.

"Why isn't Kurt getting dressed up too?"

The innocent question asked in a curious, though off-hand manner, caught Margali completely off guard.

"Well," she said, flustered, "it's going to be a long ceremony. I thought he might get bored."

"I want to go to church," Kurt announced, standing up, his tail inadvertently knocking his small tower of blocks to the floor.

Margali stared at him guiltily, her mind racing to find the words to explain to him why she was reluctant to bring him without hurting him.

"But, sweetheart," she tried, "I don't have a suit for you to wear." She knew it was lame, she knew she was doing wrong, but she couldn't help herself.

"He could wear one of mine," Stefan offered, slightly comforted by the thought of not having to be the only one suffering under the yoke of a tie. "That other one is way too small for me now. I'll bet it would be just right for Kurt."

Margali looked at her children, her eyes desperate with helplessness. "But—" she started, then she trailed off.

"I know why you don't want to take him," Stefan announced, his voice cold. Margali turned to him, guilt etched deeply into her striking features. "You do?" she asked weakly.

Stefan nodded. "It's because he's got a tail and you don't want to have to cut a hole in my trousers, isn't it?"

Margali stared at him in amazement. "Uh, er, yes," she said, latching onto the excuse. "That's it exactly."

"But Mom, that's so stupid," Stefan commented in exasperation. "They're way too small for me anyway."

"Even so, they were very expensive and that's how I feel about it," she said shortly. With that, she turned to Kurt, her deep, violet eyes willing him to understand, to not hate her for what she was doing to him.

"I'm so sorry, baby," she said. "Please know that I want to take you more than anything. It's just that…well…a church is God's house and when you go in you have to be properly dressed. You understand, don't you, sweetheart?"

Kurt's lower lip began to tremble, his yellow eyes brimming with tears. "But I want to go!" he cried. "I hate my tail! I want to go to church with Stefan!"

Kurt grabbed at his tail and began to bite its end, crying harder as his sharp fangs drew bright red blood. Shocked at what her cruel words had done, Margali raced to the dark, fuzzy child and scooped him up in her arms, pulling his tail from his mouth.

"Stop that! Stop that Kurt!" she yelled. She was shouting because she was angry at herself, but Kurt thought she was yelling at him. He began to cry even harder. Any words he might have been trying to say were rendered completely unintelligible.

Just then, the trailer door opened and Woodhead peeked inside. "I take it the little fellow just found out he's not going to the ceremony," the hunchbacked man observed quietly, his voice barely audible over Kurt's impassioned screams.

"I didn't want it to be this way," Margali said desperately, her eyes full of guilt and pain. "I just—" she noticed her children looking up at her and changed what she was going to say. "You know what could happen, Frank. What else can I do?"

"I'll watch him for you, Margali," Woodhead offered, stepping up into the trailer and reaching out his gnarled arms for the bawling child. Margali looked down at him, her violet eyes guiltier than ever, yet tinged now with a touch of gratitude. "Thank you, Frank," she said, handing Kurt over to the stooped man.

"You go to church," Frank said, stroking the child's back in a soothing motion that gradually managed to quiet his sobs. "Have a wonderful time. You needn't worry about us. We'll find a way to occupy ourselves."

Margali nodded, taking a deep breath and turning to her children. "All right, gang, we're going to be late. Everyone into the truck."

As the Szardos family filed out of the trailer, Jimaine paused for a moment to smile at Kurt. "Don't feel bad," she offered. "I don't really want to go myself."

To Woodhead's surprise, Kurt raised his dejected head, smiling at his sister through his tears.

"Jimaine!" Margali called from outside, her voice sharp. "Come on! You're making your brother late!"

"Bye, Kurt," Jimaine smiled again. "Bye, Woodhead."

Woodhead turned so Kurt could watch his foster sister climb into the truck and the truck speed away in a cloud of dust. Then he turned his lined, lumpy face to the small, indigo mutant.

"Don't ever let anyone tell you that you aren't allowed in a church," he said. Kurt looked at him, his yellow eyes still bleary with tears.

"Why?" he sniffled.

"Because we are all God's children, no matter what we look like," the deformed man explained. "And God is pleased to welcome us all into his house, even if we are dressed in rags."

"Why?" Kurt repeated, more curiously this time.

"Because, Kurt," Frank Holzt smiled, "God's love is unconditional. It knows no bias and is untainted by favoritism."

"Does God love my tail?" Kurt asked, raising his wounded appendage for Frank's inspection.

"Did you do that to yourself, Kurt?" the stooped man asked, shocked.

"Mama said I couldn't go to church because of my tail," Kurt explained, his eyes brimming with tears once again. "Mama said I couldn't have Stefan's trousers because she would have to cut them."

Frank closed his eyes, his heart full. "She was wrong, Kurt," he said fiercely. Kurt's eyes widened. He'd never heard anyone say Margali was wrong before. Frank went on. "God loves you, Kurt. And that includes your tail."

"I want to go to God's house," Kurt said, his voice sulky. "I want to see Stefan's First Communion."

Frank lowered the boy to the ground and took him by the hand. "Then let's go," he said. Kurt looked up at the stooped man, an excited grin spreading across his dark face.

"Really? I can go?"

"Yes, Kurt. Come along. My car's this way."

*******

"This is where I come to be alone sometimes," Frank explained to the wide-eyed child seated on his lap. "There was an ancient organ up here once, but they moved it to the local museum about five years ago, when they restored this church. They installed the new one over there on the balcony. In consequence, no one ever comes up here anymore. See," he said, running one gnarled finger along the edge of the floor and the wall. "You can tell by the dust."

Kurt smiled, delighted. Frank went on, leaning his twisted spine against the dusty wall and peering through the spaces in the railing at the ceremony taking place below them.

"I usually think of this as my private sanctuary," he said softly, "but I'm happy to share it with you, Kurt. As long as we're quiet, we can see everything that happens down there and no one will ever know we're here. That might seem like a lonely thought at first, but to me it's peaceful."

Kurt slipped off Frank's lap and scooted closer to the railing, peering through the spaces in an attempt to pick out Margali, Stefan, and Jimaine from the crowd below.

As he searched, his eyes were drawn to the activities going on at the brightly lit altar. Kurt found himself fascinated by the candles and by the flowers that graced all the statues in the small church, lending them a grace and majesty that made his young imagination soar.

As he watched, captivated, Frank explained the ceremony to him step by step. When Stefan's name was called out and he started up the aisle, Kurt clapped happily. Although Frank was initially alarmed, he sat back with a wide grin as Kurt's small, heartfelt clap was caught and taken up by the rest of the congregation.

"After all," the veteran circus performer reflected as a woman's voice politely requested the gathered families to save their applause until every name had been called, "applause, much like laughter and the common cold, is highly contagious."

As the ceremony came to a close, Frank reached out for Kurt's hand. "It's time for us to go, Kurt," he said, leading the way down the ancient, cobweb-draped staircase to the back exit of the church. “We’ve got to get back before Margali sees us, remember.”



And now: Another sneak peak! :D

EXCERPT from Part Three:

Kurt let out an elated cheer and raced from the trailer, almost bowling over Jimaine and Stefan in his exuberance.

"Guess what!" he called out as he raced towards Bethica's workshop. "I'm the star of the circus!"

Jimaine blinked, impressed. "Wow," she said, turning back to her brother. "I knew he was good, but I had no idea he was that good."

"No, it's not that," Stefan said.

"What are you talking about?" Jimaine asked.

"You mean you didn't know?" Stefan said, looking down at his younger sister. "This has been Mom's plan all along. It's why she took him in in the first place. Kurt attracts an audience."

Jimaine rolled her eyes. "Duh," she said. "Of course he does."

"No, I don't mean because he's good." Stefan sighed. "He's a mutant, Jimaine, a very obvious one. People pay to stare at him, they don't much care what he can do. That he's a talented acrobat is just an added bonus. Mom's using him to drag this decrepit old circus out of the gutter, and Kurt's playing right along."


See you next time! :D
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by HoodedMan »

I LOVE it! Fantastic and heartrending! I especially love:
"Mama!" he sobbed, burying his face in her flowing skirt. "My molar is stuck in my mouth!"
:LOL
ACHTUNG! Alles touristen und non-technischen looken peepers! Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sichtseeren keepen das cotten-pickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

I especially love Herr Flaumig. that is just so darned cute.
I thought it was wonderful that he got to see holy communion, how sweet! Though, I hope Margali feels terrible, she could of found another way to bring him in *sobs for likkle, sweet, defenceless Kurt*

*bouncybouncybouncy* Can'twaitcan'twaitcan'twait!!!
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by ElfSpam »

I LOVE this story! The part where he bit his tail was so poignant, because it showed some of the self-loathing which he later either buries or comes to terms with (depending on the writer).
Please post more. It is awesome. :D
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by DoomInABox »

Wow, stories about Kurt's past seem to be the "in" thing now. Perhaps I should jump on the wagon ... *strokes chin evilly* ... Ah, who'm I kidding.

Rowena, as always, a pleasure to read from you. You have such an awesome way of capturing those momentous scenes, whether great or small. And I agree with CHG, Herr Flaumig is adorable.
*dances happily* yay for Rowena!
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by Rowena »

Hi Everyone! Thanks for the awesome comments! I'm sorry I've been so long, but my access to the computer's been limited lately. I should be able to grab more time after this weekend, though.

This part is one of the 'great leaps'. Kurt jumps from being 3 to being 8. The stuff that happened in between was mainly pointless, the biggest event being a silly argument between Kurt and Zuzu Goff. All quite deletable. So, I deleted it and skipped ahead to the important stuff.

Hope you enjoy this chapter! :D


Small Steps, Great Leaps
Part Three
By Rowena

"Kurt!" Margali called from the door of her trailer. "Where are you?!"

Margali's ears were met by a chorus of laughter from the direction of the small copse of trees on the outskirts of the camp. As she turned her gaze in that direction, she saw Kurt come bursting out from among the trees on all fours, followed closely by Jimaine and Stefan.

"Come on, Kurt, no fair!" Jimaine whined as she ran. "You know we can't keep up when you run like that!"

The agile eight and a half year old just laughed, calling over his shoulder, "She called for me, Jimaine. Why should I wait up for you?"

"Because if you don't I won't practice with you tomorrow. You'll have to rehearse with Zuzu Goff instead!"

Kurt came to an abrupt halt, clapping a theatrical hand over his heart with an exaggeratedly scandalized expression. "That was below the belt, Jimaine," he scolded. "You know she's the worst acrobat the universe has ever known. The trapeze shudder when she walks by, I've seen it!"

"I know," Jimaine grinned as she passed him, with Stefan following close behind. "That's why I said it!"

Kurt waited a few moments, allowing her a good head start, then started running again, this time remaining upright. Even so, he passed her and her brother once again before reaching the family's trailer.

"Don't feel bad, Jimaine," Kurt teased as his foster sister panted her way to where he stood leaning against the side of the trailer, his tail waving smugly behind his legs. "Don't you know you were racing against the world famous Blue Lightening, the boy with the fastest feet in all of Germany, Switzerland, Italy, and France combined?"

The ten-year-old stretched herself to her full height, looking down her nose at him through mischievous blue eyes. "That might be, Mr. Blue Lightening," she said with a superior smirk. "But I'm still taller than you."

"Ooh, good one, Jimaine," Stefan commented, striding over to casually flick her ponytail over her face. "Just you wait. You'll end up the shortest of the three of us once we've all grown up."

Jimaine stuck her tongue out at him. "We'll just see about that, know-it-all," she retorted, straightening her hair with a sharp glare.

Kurt laughed and opened the door to the trailer, leaving his foster siblings to continue their bickering without him.

Margali was sitting at her round, wooden table with her back to the door, but she turned as Kurt entered the trailer, gracing him with a broad smile. The energetic eight-year-old returned it brightly, and pulled up a pile of books so he could sit beside her.

"You wanted to see me?" he said.

"Yes, Kurt," Margali nodded, her violet eyes sparkling. "I have some good news for you."

Kurt straightened, a crooked smile quirking across his face. "What is it? Is Zuzu Goff leaving the circus?"

Margali blinked. "Actually, yes. Her parents have accepted another offer in France."

Kurt's yellow eyes widened and he placed a hand over his open mouth. "Oh,” he said, his cheeks darkening under his fur. He seemed stricken. "I hope it's not because of me."

Margali's sharp eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?” she frowned. “Have the Goffs been unkind to you?"

Kurt looked up, surprised. "Huh? No! It was me! I mean, everyone knows Zuzu’s no good on the trapeze, but I didn’t have to rub it in her face all the time.” He looked up at her, his eyes guilty and defensive. “I didn’t think she’d leave, though! I was just teasing!"

Margali shook her head, trying to calm him down. “No, Kurt," she assured him. "It's not your fault they're leaving. They've gotten a better offer, that's all. It happens all the time."

Kurt nodded, but his face was still concerned. "I think I should talk to her before they go, anyway," he said.

"If it will make you feel better," Margali said. "But, don't you want to hear my news?"

Kurt immediately brightened. "Yes! What is it?"

"How would you like to be billed as the star of the Szardos Bavarian Circus?" she asked, trying and failing to keep a straight face as Kurt's dark face lit up with delight.

"Really?" Kurt exclaimed. "The star? Me?!!!"

Margali nodded, her smile almost matching Kurt's in brightness. "That's right. I was talking with the Vogels this morning. Sabu believes you're ready. But I wanted to run the idea by you before saying anything. What do you say? Do you accept?"

"Of course I do!" Kurt exclaimed, leaping up from his book pile and pulling Margali into a surprisingly powerful embrace for such a small child.

"Wow!" he grinned, breaking away and shaking his head. "This is so great! Do I even get to wear a costume, like the Vogels?"

Margali caught herself before blurting out the first thing that popped into her head--namely that he didn't need a costume. Horrified at the implications of that thought, Margali covered up her hesitation with another smile.

"Of course you can, sweetheart," she said. "I'll tell you what. You can even design it yourself. Go talk with Bethica and she'll get everything squared away for you."

Kurt let out an elated cheer and raced from the trailer, almost bowling over Jimaine and Stefan in his exuberance.

"Guess what!" he called out as he raced towards Bethica's workshop. "I'm the star of the circus!"

Jimaine blinked, impressed. "Wow," she said, turning back to her brother. "I knew he was good, but I had no idea he was that good."

"No, it's not that," Stefan said.

"What are you talking about?" Jimaine asked.

"You mean you didn't know?" Stefan said, looking down at his younger sister. "This has been Mom's plan all along. It's why she took him in in the first place. Kurt attracts an audience."

Jimaine rolled her eyes. "Duh," she said. "Of course he does."

"No, I don't mean because he's good." Stefan sighed. "He's a mutant, Jimaine, a very obvious one. People pay to stare at him, they don't much care what he can do. That he's a talented acrobat is just an added bonus. Mom's using him to drag this decrepit old circus out of the gutter, and Kurt's playing right along."

Jimaine stared at him, her expression turning cold. "You're a jerk, Stefan," she said. "Mom's not like that. She loves Kurt."

"Of course she does," Stefan agreed. "But just because you love someone doesn't mean you can't use them."

"But she's not using him!" Jimaine protested. "Kurt loves the circus. He told me he's never happier than when he's flying on the trapeze. I'm really happy for him. You're just jealous."

Stefan shook his head. "I'm not," he said, completely serious. "But you can think what you want. See you around, Jimaine."

Jimaine stared after her brother's departing back for a moment, then slammed open the door to the trailer. Margali’s head shot up in surprise.

"Mom!" Jimaine cried, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. "You're not just using Kurt to attract an audience because he's a mutant, are you? You really think he's a great acrobat, don't you?"

Margali stood up, her eyes wide with shock. "Jimaine! How could you say such a thing! Who told you that?"

"Stefan," Jimaine said, her lip trembling as her blue eyes filled with tears. "He said you were using him because he looks different so you could drag the circus out of the gutter and that people pay to stare at him and not because they want to see him perform!"

Margali felt a cold chill pass through her. She couldn't deny that much of what her daughter had just said was the truth. However, it was missing a very key ingredient.

"Oh, Jimaine," Margali sighed. "Come here."

Jimaine picked her way across the cluttered trailer floor, sinking into her mother's arms as she fought against her tears.

"I would never do anything to hurt Kurt, you know that, don't you, sweetheart?"

Jimaine nodded. "That's what I told Stefan," she sniffled.

"Well, here's something that Mr. Know-It-All Stefan doesn't know," Margali said, raising her daughter's drooping chin until their eyes met. "I've seen the reviews and I've spoken with many of the people who've seen Kurt perform these past few years. Not one of them had any idea that Kurt was a mutant. They all thought, each and every one of them, that he was dressed in an elaborate costume. Now, the Vogels and I decided to make Kurt the star of this circus because of his talent, not because of how he looks. Herr Vogel was telling me just yesterday how Kurt is already as good as Tomas as an acrobat. In a few years, he'll be even better. Do you understand now, Jimaine?"

The girl nodded, even managing a small smile. "But Mom?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Can you just tell me one more thing?"

"Anything you want to know."

"What's a mutant?"

Margali looked down at her daughter, wondering how best to answer such a delicate question.

"First of all," she said, "it's not very nice to use the word 'mutant'."

"But Stefan did."

"Stefan was wrong to say it."

"But what does it mean?" Jimaine pressed. Margali sighed.

"It's just a rude term for someone who's a little different from everyone else. These people are very special but even so, most people are scared of them. That's why they use rude words to describe them. Most of them look like everyone else. It's just a very few extra special ones that look different."

"Like Kurt?"

Margali sighed again and stroked her daughter's short, light auburn ponytail. "Yes, honey. Like Kurt."

*******

Margali lay on her cot, her eyes wide in the near-darkness, completely unable to sleep. She had heard Kurt sneak out of the trailer over an hour ago. She knew where he had gone. It was a rare night that Kurt didn't escape into the darkness of the woods to think by himself. She knew he waited until he thought she was asleep, unwilling to worry her with his wakefulness. But she always aware of him as he crawled out of the trailer. And she always waited for him to return.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft creak of the trailer door opening. Her eyes followed the dark, moonlit outline of her foster son as he crept silently to his cot and lay down. Normally, once she saw him safely in bed she went to sleep herself. But tonight she noticed an uncharacteristic slump to his posture as he slipped through the door that worried her.

"Kurt?"

The yellow eyes blinked in the darkness; the rest of the boy's body was functionally invisible.

"What are you doing still awake?" Margali whispered, making her way over to his cot and sitting down beside him.

"Just thinking," Kurt said.

Margali reached into the darkness and stroked the boy's soft, indigo curls. "You need to get your rest, my little night crawler," she smiled gently. "You've got a lot of practicing to do if you want to be ready for Saturday's big show."

"I know," Kurt said. "That's why I was thinking."

"About the show?"

"No." Kurt sighed. "Yes. I don't know."

"Come on, sweetheart. You know you can tell me what's bothering you."

"It's just—" Kurt started. Then he paused and closed his eyes for a moment. Margali was almost ready to think he'd gone to sleep when the bright yellow orbs opened once again.

"Why would God create someone who looks like me?" he asked, his voice tight with a pain Margali had never heard in him before. "I mean, what for?"

Margali felt her heart tighten. "I'm afraid those are the kind of questions philosophers have been trying to answer for centuries. For now, all I can tell you is that you're the only one who can discover those kinds of answers for yourself." Kurt sighed and the cot jiggled as he rolled over.

"I know it's not what you want to hear, sweetheart," Margali said, placing her hand on his warm, velvety arm, "but it's the best I can do."

Kurt rolled over again, his yellow eyes vulnerable. "Mama?" he asked softly.

"Yes, my dear?"

"You're not my real mother, are you."

It was a statement, not a question, but Margali responded anyway.

"No, sweetheart. But I consider you just as much my son as Stefan. And I love you just as deeply. You know that, don't you?"

The yellow orbs bobbed and Margali knew he was nodding.

"Mama?" he whispered.

"Yes?"

"Where did I come from? I mean, I don't think I hatched out of an egg or anything. Who are my real parents? Do you know?"

Now it was Margali's turn to sigh. She felt Kurt take her hand in his own. As he did, she gave his thick fingers a small, affectionate squeeze.

"Well," she said, "I don't know much about them. But I can tell you about the night I found you."

Kurt's gleaming eyes rose from the bed as he propped himself up on his elbow.

"I found you high in the Alps, half frozen from the cold. You were dressed in nothing but a tattered baptismal gown made all of lace. Beside you lay a man. He had died of a heart attack before I got there, but I managed to find some identification in his pocket. His name was Eric Wagner. I assume he was your father, because when I picked you up for the first time I noticed that embroidered in the lace was your name, Kurt Wagner, and a short prayer."

"What did the prayer say?" Kurt asked with deep interest.

"Oh, I don't know, honey. It was so long ago. No--wait. I remember. It was written in German and it said, May The Good Lord Bless And Keep You, For You Are A Child Of God."

"A child of God," Kurt echoed thoughfully. "That's just what Woodhead told me when Stefan had his First Communion. He said that I was a child of God and that God loves all his children equally, no matter what they looked like."

"And he was absolutely right," Margali emphasized, giving the boy's small hand another squeeze.

"Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Will I ever be able to have First Communion?"

Margali raised her eyes to the darkness of the ceiling, as though searching for guidance. "Oh, my dear Kurt," she sighed. "We'll find a way. If it really matters to you, we'll certainly find a way."

Kurt lowered his head back onto his pillow and released her hand.

"Mama?"

"Yes, Kurt?"

"I love you."

Margali's eyes stung for a moment, then she smiled even though she knew he couldn't see her. "I love you too." She stood up and reached over to tuck him in, whispering in his pointed ear, "Now get some sleep, my little night crawler. Remember, you're our star."

*******

As Kurt had grown older, he had become more aware of how different he was from the 'normal' humans around him. Although he knew there was nothing he could do to change his frightening appearance, he wasn't willing to just accept it as a fact of life without question. He believed strongly that everything had a purpose, and now that he was nearly nine he was beginning to wonder what his purpose was. As a result, the young boy began to look for answers beyond the insular life of the circus. He couldn't accept what he had heard so often: that he had been born for the trapeze. Although he was proud of his abilities and loved the trapeze, deep down he felt that there had to be something more, some more substantial meaning to his life than simply providing an audience with a nightly dose of entertainment. After all, he didn't live in the spotlight twenty-four hours a day. When the show was over, he knew that not one of the people who had cheered him so ardently would want anything to do with him. Frustrated, confused, and often desperate for answers, Kurt found himself turning more and more often to his unshakable belief in a loving God for solace.

Margali was his tutor in the basic skills of math, reading, and writing, but what she knew about the Catholic religion could hardly fill a small notepad. Her husband had been a devout Catholic, but Kurt had never seen her practice any form of religion at all.

Stefan, on the other hand, was deeply religious. He made it a point to attend church every Sunday, no matter where the circus moved to, and had made friends with several priests. However, whenever Kurt tried to ask him questions he often acted so self-important that it was difficult for Kurt to pry any meaningful information from him. So, he turned to Woodhead to help him unravel the mysteries of the Catholic faith he had been born into. Having already reached the age of eight and a half, however, Kurt knew that his first step into this strange and mysterious world of faith had to be receiving his first Holy Communion.

Margali had already promised to help him in this matter, but her mind was almost completely consumed with the operation of the circus. At this moment, she was focused on getting everything ready for Kurt's premier show, which was due to open that night.

Kurt's starring role consisted of a complicated solo routine tailored around his unique attributes--namely his tail, his remarkable agility, and his uncanny ability to stick to walls. He had wanted to design a costume with wings, to emphasize the amazing feeling of flight swinging from the trapeze provided him. Unfortunately, the costume budget (as well as Bethica's skills as a tailor) was quite limited and Kurt had to be happy with a pair of golden lightening bolts sewn to the front of a tight, sparkly blue costume, illustrating the stage name he had thought up for himself--Blue Lightening.

"Well, what do you think?" Kurt asked as he modeled his new costume for Margali, Amanda, Bethica, Stefan, Big Jake, Woodhead, and the Vogels in the main tent. All around them, people were rushing back and forth, making sure everything was safe and secure for that night's show.

"Kurt, you look absolutely adorable!" Margali grinned. Kurt scowled.

"Adorable!" he exclaimed, hugely disappointed. "I'm supposed to look dashing! Like a superhero! I'm supposed to be the Amazing Blue Lightening!"

"That's what I meant," Margali said. "You look adorably dashing. There won't be a third grade girl in the audience who won't fall for you."

Kurt made another face. "Oh, you're taking all the fun out of this," he complained, picking absently at the shiny lightening bolts sewn across his chest. "I knew this costume needed wings."

"Cheer up, Kurt," Chester said. "Tonight's your big night. Aren't you excited?"

Kurt turned to Chester and flashed him his toothiest grin. "You bet I am!"

Sabu Vogel stepped forward and patted him on the head. "You'll knock 'em dead, kid. Just do your best out there, and you'll make us all proud."

*******

Kurt's first solo, starring role went forward without a single hitch. The audience was amazed at how he used his tail to maneuver from bar to bar, soaring and somersaulting nimbly through the air for just over five minutes without a single pause. When he finally came to a stop on the main platform high above their heads, there was a moment of complete silence (during which Kurt grew very confused and self-conscious as he held his pose) before the tent exploded into a riot of cheers and applause. Amazed and thrilled by the audience's response to his act, Kurt decided that, instead of a bow, he would give them a brief encore. Grabbing onto the nearest trapeze, Kurt performed the most elaborate moves he knew as he made his way to the smaller platform that was nearer to the exit. As the audience exploded once more, Kurt slid down the pole and, pausing just long enough to take a bow, launched into a cartwheel and ended up back flipping his way out of the tent.

"Show-off," Jimaine muttered to herself as she prepared for her own modest routine, partnered, as usual, with her brother. Still, despite her slightly annoyed tone, Jimaine's blue eyes shown with amusement and affection at her young foster brother's palpable and contagious enthusiasm. Then, she heard her own cue and rushed off to the platform, followed closely by Stefan.




And now: Here's a preview from Part Four! :D


"See," Margali said, gesturing to the ancient book of parchment lying open before her on the recently cleared table. "This is the only spell I could find that looked like it might be able to help you. But I need to know what you think of it first."

Kurt leaned over her shoulder and looked at the carefully hand-written passage she was pointing to. The richly colored ink was surprisingly vibrant for such an obviously ancient text. However, the appreciation he felt for the manuscript was replaced with alarm when he looked past the intricately colored letters to read the words they spelled out.

"Spell of Illusion," he read aloud. He turned to Margali, his vibrant, yellow eyes narrowed. "What sort of illusion?"

"Well," Margali said, feeling very awkward. "If it works as it should, this spell should temporarily make you seem like an average little boy to anyone who sees you." :eek


Until next time! ;)

:bamf
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by HoodedMan »

Fantastic; I love it! I'm glad Kurt got into the circus and the introspection is just awesome! Shame about Stefan, but there has to be an initiator! Looking forward to the preview. :)
ACHTUNG! Alles touristen und non-technischen looken peepers! Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sichtseeren keepen das cotten-pickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by DoomInABox »

When I read the night-time conversation between Margali and Kurt, I thought, "this is an awfully deep discussion for an eight-year-old to initiate". But when you think about it, eight-year-old kids are pretty observant... and freakishly smart. Heck, FIVE-year-old kids are freakishly smart. Once they learn how to talk, there's no stopping them! AAAHHHHH!!!

That was a pretty mean thing for Stefan to say ... but at least he had the grace to say it out of Kurt's earshot. As much as Kurt idol-worshiped Stefan, I always figured he played the typical, overbearing older brother role. Stefan seems pretty down-to-Earth to hit on the mutant thing right away as Margali's means to sell the circus.
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by Rowena »

Thank you, thank you, thank you! And the Preview is now up! :D

*blink* *double take* Oh! You changed your name to Northstar! Cool, I didn't know you could do that!


About eight year olds...I volunteered to tutor two third grade classes filled with eight year olds and it's amazing the stuff they come up with! Kids are an awful lot brighter and deeper than most grown-ups give them credit for, and they can get almost frighteningly serious at times. They can also get incredibly silly, and they can change from one to the other at the drop of a hat! :D

Ah, Stefan... I dare not go on lest I ruin Part Five. And Six.

I've got to get some work done on Belasco now while I still have control of the computer! Hopefully, I'll have the next chapter ready by the end of the week. See you then, and thanks so very much for your reviews! :D

:bamf
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

Ook! Just got on the computer to comment. I read it earlier but had no time to post because my mom wanted to go grocery shopping before it got too dark out, so every couple minutes while I was reading through she would tell me to hurry up and my response was, 'One minute., "Give me a couple seconds.", "I'm off in a minute.", "hold on." and so on, and so on. But here we go.

I totally agree with what you say about eight year olds. I have a cousin who's eight and had several before that obviously grew up, and it is the strangest thing when they start talking about the news or something you would think that they wouldn't know yet.

As for Stefan's 'tude, he's what, eleven, twelve by now? Most kids start to realize that what they say may be meant just as a fact but come out as a rude insult around his age, maybe younger nowadays. He probably didn't mean for it to come off sounding rude, it is just other peoples perception that makes it that way, along with the circumstances...Kurt's appearance, agility, and how he came to the circus...that supports ones opinion of what he actually meant. He was just stating something he thought was surefire fact.


I love how Kurt felt the need to show off at the end...
Subconciously...he can't wait to get older and be the ladies man Margali hinted at:naughty;)
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by HoodedMan »

Mmm. Spell of Illusion. Like an image inducer, except easier? Sounds like fun. :p
ACHTUNG! Alles touristen und non-technischen looken peepers! Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sichtseeren keepen das cotten-pickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by John Doe »

Wow!

Most of the stories written about Kurt's past are savagely* trite:

They address the "deepest" parts of Kurt's past, the times heaviest laden with trauma and revelation- for example, I'd say the overwhelming majority address Kurt's discovery of his power before they even address his childhood! Your story serves as an excellent reminder that the character's life and times are composed of more than simply the climactic moments of a his life; that the innocuous, everyday** ingredients of a person's life are just as important as those "life-changing" moments.

But I'm overanalyzing, and making unintentionally deragatory remarks to other writers of this sort of style. Then again, reading your work is an excellent reminder to me of truly superior, fine writing.

This in itself is excellent, as I think I may or may not have adequately expressed earlier; good job, and I hope to read more of this!

--John Doe

*Incorrect? Perhaps. But I firmly believe that "savagely" is the only adverb that is universally applicable. :shocked

**I know that the events surrounding the First Communion are far from everyday- as are the events surrounding much of this story- but I mean this phrase to be analyzed not in a vacuum but by comparison.
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by DoomInABox »

Originally posted by John Doe
Your story serves as an excellent reminder that the character's life and times are composed of more than simply the climactic moments of a his life; that the innocuous, everyday** ingredients of a person's life are just as important as those "life-changing" moments.
Not meaning to advertise on Rowena's thread ... but if (above) is what you like, you should also check out Zamweasel's "Even Angels Have Scars". It's definitely comparable to, and on the same par with Rowena's work here.

Oh, and Rowena ... *bangs spoon on the table* ME WANT MORE STORY!!!!!!!!! RRRAAARRRGH!!!!
Yes, how eloquent, I know. But please, don't let my animalistic outbursts rush the creative process! The sedatives should kick in soon ... CHG reccomended them (joke: Sorry Curlyy, I couldn't help it! Don't hate meeeee ....) :P:P:P
"Picture this: bumpity bumpity bumpity SPLAT!"
-- Nightcrawler, X-Men Evolution

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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

No need to apologize....I use 'em all the time:toothy
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by Rowena »

You hit it on the nose about the "everyday ingredients"! It was my aim starting out to detail the events that led up to and resulted from the climactic episodes in Kurt's life, from the moment his parents first met to the day he joined the X-Men. The result was gargantuan and admittedly sloppy (I wrote it a gazillion years ago, after all), but I'm really happy and even relieved you think this heavily revised, condensed mini-series version retains the spirit of my initial endeavor! :D
Oh, and Rowena ... *bangs spoon on the table* ME WANT MORE STORY!!!!!!!!! RRRAAARRRGH!!!!
I'm workin' on it! :D It should be ready in a couple of days. If I take too long to post, though, feel free to send me another poke. I'll commandeer more computer time if I have to kidnap the darn thing and hold it for ransom! :D

P.S.: If anyone wants me to start working on that prequel, ask and it shall be done--after the final installment of this story, of course... ;)
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei
Rowena
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by Rowena »

I am so sorry I took so long with this, but this has been a dreadful week for writing! I actually started carrying my disk around with me wherever I went in hopes of spotting a computer where I could sit and write for a few uninterrupted minutes! But it's done now--finally! I really hope you enjoy it, and I'll try to be quicker next time!



Small Steps, Great Leaps
Part Four
By Rowena

The months were passing quickly now that the popularity and renown of the Szardos Bavarian Circus was beginning to grow. Just as Margali had predicted, their young Wunderkind was drawing crowds the size of which the gradually expanding circus was barely able to handle. Talk of the Blue Lightning’s amazing feats was slowly but surely spreading its way throughout the small towns of central Europe, and Margali was finding herself utterly swamped by her new responsibilities. For the first time in her life, she had to deal with the bureaucratic and administrative consequences of genuine success, and although she complained at length about how paperwork and advertising schemes were eating into the time she could spend with her children, it was clear to those who knew her that deep down she was enjoying every minute of it.

Kurt, himself, was very proud of the role he was playing in bringing his foster mother’s circus such widespread acclaim. However, despite the cheers his nightly performances received from the audience—his audience, if he was to be perfectly honest, since most of them came for the express purpose of seeing him perform—his heart remained troubled. His ninth birthday was rapidly approaching, yet so far neither he, nor Margali, nor even Woodhead had been able think of a way for him receive the Eucharist without his “unique” appearance causing the rest of the congregation to panic.

To the rest of the circus, Kurt’s melancholy attitude was incomprehensible…and even a little annoying. He was the star! His name had top billing, even above the Vogels! He had no right to mope around the circus, spending his days sulking in the treetops. That was certainly Margali’s opinion, and most of the other performers shared it—including Chester and Jimaine.

Surprisingly, it was Stefan who seemed the most sympathetic to Kurt’s mounting frustration. While the others put his sullen mood and occasional outbursts of temper down to some kind of “phase” he was going through, or even a swollen head from his sudden rise to fame, Kurt’s older brother understood the confusion and pain that was truly at the heart of the matter. Kurt was feeling trapped, restricted, imprisoned by his own skin; his young mind locked in a cycle of fear, anger, and bitter frustration that Stefan knew only too well…but for a completely different reason.

Finally, after months of hesitation and debating with himself, Stefan approached his brother with an offer, an offer he hoped would ultimately solve both their problems. All he had to do was meet him in the forest one night after the circus had gone to bed.

“You mean, like a camping trip?” Kurt had asked excitedly, smiling for the first time in days. “Yeah! We could bring sausages and marshmallows and tell ghost stories! Chester told me a really creepy one last week, about a girl who--”

“What I plan to tell you is far more shocking than any ghost story,” Stefan had interrupted darkly, a mysterious look in his eyes. “And unlike the tales Chester tells, this one is true.”

*******

The night air was cool on their backs as the two brothers stared at the crackling flames of the small campfire they’d built. It was very late—later than even Kurt was used to being out—but neither boy felt tired. Kurt poked at the fire with a stick, trying valiantly not to look as impatient as he felt. He’d been burning with curiosity for a week now, desperate to know why Stefan had asked him out here. His brother was such a quiet, reserved boy, so different from Kurt with his boundless energy and showman’s spirit. He possessed a strange, solemn gravity that made him seem far older than his twelve years and evoked a kind of awe in Kurt. He had always idolized his older brother, and the thought that Stefan wanted to entrust him with something important, something he couldn’t tell anyone else, left him nearly dizzy with a pride he could not suppress.

Stefan leaned back against the mossy trunk of a nearby tree, staring at his foster brother through the popping flames as he contemplated how to phrase what he wanted to say. It had taken Stefan a long time to realize that what he saw when he looked at Kurt was quite different from what everyone else saw. To everyone else, Kurt seemed a dark figure—cute, perhaps, for as long as his fuzzy features retained their childish roundness, but unsettling just the same. His malformed hands and feet, his glowing eyes, and especially his spaded tail gave him the appearance of something demonic, dangerous…something born out of the ghostly superstitions mankind had invented to fill the creeping shadows of the night. And if he worked very hard, squinting his eyes until they were barely slits, Stefan could see that too. But, when he opened his eyes, the image he saw was very different.

Stefan Szardos had been born with what his Gypsy forebears called “The Sight.” In practice, it was sort of like the ultimate X-Ray Vision: the ability to see through the shell of a person’s outward appearance to the truth that resided within. Essentially, Stefan could literally see people’s souls, shining like a spectral aura around and through the dull “stocking” of their physical forms.

Although his mother had all but abandoned her culture when her family had disowned her for marrying an “outsider,” she had been unable to prevent the ancient magic that ran through her veins from being passed on to her children. She, herself, had once been a great sorceress, her place secure on the mystical path known as the Winding Way. But that had been many, many years ago, and as far as her employees were concerned, she was as normal a human as they were. As for her children…unless they began to show outward signs of magical ability, Margali was determined to raise them as though magic was nothing more than the clever tricks Big Jake performed as a prelude to Kurt’s show.

Even so, ignoring Stefan’s gift did not mean it wasn’t there, and it did nothing to change the fact that he understood more about his family’s true nature than Margali herself—especially when it came to the nature of his own soul. It was for that reason, that he had invited Kurt to join him in the forest that night.

“Kurt,” he said softly, breaking the long silence that had grown up between them and the flickering flames.

“Yeah, Stefan?” the boy asked, perhaps speaking a little too quickly in his eagerness. Stefan straightened, one hand slipping behind his back to touch the object he had taken from his mother’s storage box. Standing up, he closed the distance between him and Kurt, sinking back down to a cross-legged position directly in front of him.

Kurt regarded him curiously, mimicking his position so their knees were almost touching. Stefan watched him as he moved, seeing not the boy’s blue fur and glowing eyes, but a brilliant form of vibrant brightness contained in a shadowy sheath of skin, muscles, organs, and bones. Closing his hand tightly around the object, Stefan steeled himself, knowing he would soon be seeing a great deal more.

He looked around, keeping his voice carefully light as he said, “You used to play Cowboys and Indians out here, didn’t you. With that Christian Gunther boy.”

Kurt blinked as his back stiffened, his tail twitching reflexively behind him. Christian had been Kurt’s best and only friend outside his circus family until one afternoon, when Kurt was six, he had told the boy that because he had blue skin, they could no longer be friends. His cruel words had broken Kurt’s heart and alerted him for the first time to how very different he actually was from everyone around him. Christian had run off after that, and Kurt hadn’t seen or heard from him since. But even after almost three years, it still hurt to hear his name.*

“Um, yeah,” he nodded, his voice so soft it was barely audible. “Yeah, we used to come out here all the time.” He looked up then, firmly blinking away the stinging in his eyes. He wasn’t about to cry in front of his big brother. “Why?”

Stefan lowered his head, pursing his lips as he forced himself to articulate the idea that had been swirling through his thoughts for so long.

“I—“ he started, then paused and tried again. “Kurt, how would you like to be my brother for real? My brother by blood?”

Kurt tilted his head, not quite understanding. “You mean, like blood brothers?”

Stefan snapped his fingers with a relieved nod. “Yes! Yes, that’s exactly the term I was looking for. Blood brothers. How about it?”

Kurt stared at the older boy, utterly floored. He never would have expected this, especially from Stefan! He looked down at his three-fingered hands, at the thick digits and blue fur that set him apart from everyone else he knew, then back at Stefan.

“You would really want to do that?” he said softly. “You’re not…you know….scared?”

Stefan shook his head, a twinge of compassion causing his eyes to soften somewhat at the look on Kurt’s young face, and for the first time he felt guilt over what he was about to do. This plan was going to cause his innocent brother a lifetime of anguish, but there was no doubt in Stefan’s mind that it had to be done. He had seen the strength behind Kurt’s golden eyes, and he had seen the love in his soul. He would be able to handle this. He had to…

“Kurt,” he said firmly, leaning forward to look his brother in the eye. “I could never be afraid of you. But I do fear the dark side of my soul.”**

Kurt was confused. “What do you mean?”

Stefan didn’t answer. Instead, he reached behind him and placed the object he’d been concealing on his lap. The orange flames of the campfire flickered along its gleaming blade, causing the ancient Romani inscriptions to stand in sharp relief. At the sight of the elegant and deadly dagger, Kurt gaped in open wonder.

“Wow,” he gasped. “That’s so awesome! Can I touch it? Please, Stefan? Oh…”

Kurt’s excitement trailed off sharply as Stefan pushed up his sleeve and slowly dragged the point of the dagger across the inside of his wrist. Bright red blood instantly stained the boy’s tanned skin, trickling slowly down his arm. Kurt’s eyes widened in sudden trepidation as Stefan turned the dagger to him, his features hard with purpose.

“Hold out your arm,” he said, and after only a moment’s hesitation, Kurt did. Stefan flicked the dagger so skillfully, Kurt barely even felt a pinch. As his own red blood began to well up, Stefan quickly and firmly pressed their wrists together. Kurt could feel his brother’s pulse beat against his as he watched their blood mingle, torn between revulsion and pride.

Kurt was just about to ask when he could put his arm down—now that the initial shock had worn off, the wound was beginning to throb and sting—when Stefan suddenly reached out with his other hand to place his palm against Kurt’s fuzzy cheek. A peculiar tingle ran all the way down and through him, and then, without warning, he could see

It was as though the future and past had collided with the present, lighting up the world in a stunning display of colors. Kurt saw Margali walk by, talking with the clowns after a show. Yet somehow, she wasn’t the Margali he knew. Hidden just beneath her curling hair and violet eyes was a figure of green, with thick horns that curled about her ears like those of a ram. Raw power radiated from her in pulses, sometimes white, sometimes shadowed, as wild and unpredictable as nature herself.

And then, there was Jimaine, chatting with Chester by the tent that housed the kitchen. She had a golden aura, drawn from a power as strong as Margali’s, but not quite as wild. Behind her childish features and laughing eyes stood a regal figure all in white, as imposing and dangerous as she was beautiful. Kurt lost his breath at the sight of her…

Until Chester became the focus of attention, standing with Kurt at one of the game booths as they competed to see who could fire an arrow closest to the bullseye. Kurt experienced an odd mental jolt as he realized he was seeing one of his own memories from a completely different angle. But that disturbing thought fell to the wayside as he looked at Chester. He, too, had an aura, bright but indistinct. A gentle soul hovered behind his eyes, but it was a mere outline compared to the forceful power within Margali and Jimaine.

The scene shifted once more, this time to the inside of the Szardos family’s trailer. He seemed to be alone in the cluttered space, until he turned to face Margali’s dusty mirror…

And came face to face not with his own reflection, but with Stefan’s. But it wasn’t the Stefan he knew. Peering beyond the reflection’s glittering eyes, he saw a dark figure—tall, broad, and strong—as regally imposing as Jimaine, yet his was a power laced with cruelty. The sense of danger was even stronger here, a dark potential derived from an inner tendency towards malice and a need to seek revenge. This was not a forgiving creature; there was no love behind its eyes. And yet, it yearned for love. It yearned for a goodness it could not quite grasp; a salvation it could not reach…

Kurt came back to himself with a sharp gasp. Stefan was kneeling beside him, carefully bandaging his fuzzy wrist. When he looked up, Kurt was stunned to see there were tears in his brother’s eyes.

“You have a beautiful soul, Kurt,” he told him, his voice tight with envy and sadness. “Thank you for sharing it with me, if only for a short time.”

“Wha…what?” Kurt asked, bewildered. “What just happened?”

Stefan sat back, unable to meet Kurt’s eyes as he picked at his own bandage. “I had to show you,” he said softly. “You’re the only person who would understand, the only one with enough…with enough compassion not to run from me once you knew the truth.”

“The truth…?” Kurt repeated, his eyes widening as understanding began to dawn. “You mean that…whatever I just saw? That was real?”

Stefan nodded. “You’ve been taken in by a family of Gypsy sorcerers, Kurt. Mom’s done a good job of hiding it, but if you ask me, it’s past time you knew the truth.”

Kurt tilted his head, fascinated. “Gosh. So, what you just did? That was magic?”

Stefan almost smiled. “Yeah. I’ll never be a great sorcerer, but I do have the ability to see into people’s souls. Including my own.”

He looked up then, meeting Kurt’s eyes with a look bordering on desperation. “You saw that soul just now, Kurt. You know how dangerous I could be if I ever…if I ever let myself go. That’s why I asked you out here tonight. You and no one else. I need you to promise me something, something that could mean the difference…” he swallowed, forcing himself to get the words out, “…the difference between a life of evil, and a chance at salvation.”

Kurt shook his head, confused. “But you’re not evil, Stefan,” he asserted. “That creature in the mirror wasn’t you.”

”But it could be, Kurt,” Stefan said, and there was no doubt in his voice. “I’ve been fighting it all my life, and I will continue to fight. But despite all my efforts, there’s a good chance I will lose in the future. And when that happens, I will have lost my humanity.”

He turned on Kurt then, taking his bandaged hand in his and squeezing tightly. Kurt winced, but didn’t cry out. He didn’t fully understand what Stefan was trying to tell him, but he did know he had never seen his brother so frightened, or so sincere. He straightened, squeezing back with as much pressure as his nearly nine-year-old muscles could muster.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his golden eyes wide and his expression serious.

“I want you to swear to me, Kurt,” Stefan said. “I want you to swear an oath that if I ever turn evil…if I ever take an innocent life…,” he leaned forward, his eyes piercing into Kurt’s, “…that you will kill me.”**

Kurt sat back in shock, an uncertain laugh bursting from his throat. “You…you want me to what?”

“Just swear it, Kurt!” Stefan pleaded, no longer able to hide his desperation. “Please, brother. Do this for me.”

Kurt stared at his brother for a long moment, a chill running down his spine and causing his tail to twitch uncomfortably. Stefan held his eyes, a single tear trickling down his cheek as he waited, breathless, for an answer. Finally, Kurt spoke.

“OK,” he said, his voice quiet, but strangely firm. “OK, I swear it.”

“On you honor,” Stefan pressed. “On your immortal soul?”

Kurt hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. “Yes. I swear it, Stefan.”

Stefan seemed to implode then, closing his eyes and taking in a shaky breath as he let go of Kurt’s hand and collapsed back onto his elbows.

“Thank you,” he breathed, struggling to regain control over his roiling emotions. “Thank you, Kurt. I…it had to be done. And now it’s up to me to make sure you’re never called to keep that oath.”

“Huh? Stefan, I still don’t get—“

Stefan cut him off with a shake of his head, sitting back up with the slight, sad smile of a true seer.

“You will know so much pain in your life, my brother,” he said with distant eyes. “…see so much death. Yet you will never lose your capacity for love, or your ability to forgive. It’s your compassion that makes you beautiful, Kurt. Your quiet nobility. The priest at St. Peter’s will see that. Ask Mom to take you there. Tell her to enroll you in Sunday school with Father Gregory in preparation for your First Communion.” He stood up then with a wink. “If I’m right, he’ll confirm you too. When the time comes. Good night, brother.”

And with that, Stefan was gone, vanished into the blackness of the night.



*For more on Christian, see Excalibur #77: Lowest Common Denominator and/or the fanfiction inspired by that issue entitled “Echoes of Love.”

**These two lines were paraphrased from King-Size Annual X-Men #4: Nightcrawler’s Inferno, Part the Second.

*******

It had been three weeks since Kurt had sworn his oath to Stefan in the woods. Three weeks since he had asked Margali to take him to St. Peter’s. Yet the problem of his appearance still remained. Stefan insisted it wasn’t as big a deal as Margali was making it out to be, but Margali was unwilling to take the chance. Now that her circus was finally making money, she couldn’t bring herself to face the consequences if her star attraction was outted as a mutant.

Finally, Kurt couldn't take the frustration any longer. He had accepted one stall too many. Ultimately, he lashed out at Margali, shouting, "You're supposed to be some kind of sorceress, aren't you? Why can't you just work some magic or something? Because it seems to me that magic is the only thing that's going to get me into that church!"

Although he felt as though his angry words had been nothing more than a cry in the wilderness, they had struck a deep chord in Margali. Despite the fact she had pushed aside her mystical heritage when she had married, she was stunned to realize that she had never even considered her skills as a sorceress when contemplating Kurt's situation. Now, for the first time in years, she blew away the dust that had collected on the ancient texts that had once belonged to her ancient, Gypsy grandmothers, searching for a spell that would help her angry, bitterly frustrated foster son regain his former brightness. She soon became so engrossed in her reading that she even forgot to be angry at Stefan for revealing her long-buried secret to Kurt.

Some six hours later, she found Kurt high in the thick oak tree that grew in the center of the clearing where the circus had set up shop for the season. He was hanging upside down by his tail from one of the enormous tree's highest branches, his red T-shirt the only part of his dark form that she could clearly discern among the shadows of the leaves.

"Kurt?" she called up to him, her violet eyes darting around to make sure they were alone. "I took your advice. I looked in those old books my grandmother left me." Kurt didn't move. She wondered if he had even heard her.

"I found something in those books, Kurt," she called again, louder than before. "I think it's the answer we've been looking for. But I need you to take a look at it. I need to know what you think!"

This time, she caught a flash of motion. Kurt had turned his face to her; she could just make out his yellow eyes gleaming in the dimness.

"Please come down from there, Kurt," she called up. "Come see what I have to show you!"

Margali watched with more than a little motherly concern as Kurt nimbly descended from the tall tree at a lightening pace. Within seconds, the boy was standing beside her, his shoulders drooping and his brilliant, yellow eyes cast down.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Mama," he said, his voice soft with remorse. "I didn't mean to. It just sort of happened. I've been so short tempered lately, and I don't like myself when I get this way."

"No, Kurt, don't apologize," Margali said, lifting his chin until their eyes met. "Your feelings are perfectly understandable. And I’m sorry I haven’t been able to be more helpful to you. In a perfect world, we wouldn't have to deal with the fears and prejudices of ignorant people. But, as you're only just starting to find out, this world of ours is far from perfect. And it isn't fair."

Kurt snorted, his eyes sharp. "You can say that again," he muttered, kicking at a stone that was resting by his feet.

"But cheer up," Margali said with a gentle smile. "You can see now that I'm not mad at you for shouting at me. Actually, I'm grateful. If you hadn't snapped me into action I don't think I ever would have found that spell I was telling you about. I can't think why I never even considered my magic as a way to help you. I must be getting old."

Kurt grinned up at her, his yellow eyes shining. "Never," he said.

Returning his smile, Margali took his three-fingered hand as, together, they walked back to the trailer.

*******

"See," Margali said, gesturing to the ancient book of parchment lying open before her on the recently cleared table. "This is the only spell I could find that looked like it might be able to help you. But I need to know what you think of it first."

Kurt leaned over her shoulder and looked at the carefully hand-written passage she was pointing to. The richly colored ink was surprisingly vibrant for such an obviously ancient text.

The appreciation he felt for the manuscript was replaced with alarm when he looked past the intricately colored letters to read the words they spelled out.

"Spell of Illusion," he read aloud. He turned to Margali, his vibrant, yellow eyes narrowed. "What sort of illusion?"

"Well," Margali said, feeling very awkward. "If it works as it should, this spell should temporarily make you seem like an average little boy to anyone who sees you."

Kurt shook his dark head, sinking into the chair beside Margali. "I don't know if I like that idea," he said. "If God loves me the way I am, why should I have to look different when I go to His house?"

"You shouldn't have to," Margali told him. "But, Kurt, it's not God who would judge you, sweetheart. It's just....it's just...."

As Margali struggled to shape her thoughts into words, Kurt supplied them for her.

"I know," he scowled with a stinging bitterness Margali had never heard in him before and never wanted to hear again. "It's everyone else. No matter what Stefan said, I'll bet even the priest won’t want anything to do with me. He'd probably think I'm some kind of demon, anyway."

The boy rose to his feet and slammed his fist down on the table, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Why is it that no one out there can look past what they see on the surface?" he exclaimed. "I've been to towns all over Europe, but I've only left the circus once, and that was in secret! I don't want to have to hide in order to go out there. I don't like this spell. If I'm going to receive this sacrament, I want to do it as myself, not in some dumb costume!"

Margali straightened in her chair, her violet eyes widening in sudden inspiration. Something in what Kurt just said had given her an idea.

"That's it, Kurt! A costume!"

Kurt was confused. "What?"

"We've been coming at this the wrong way, don't you see?" Margali exclaimed. "We're assuming that everyone knows you aren't wearing a costume!"

Kurt was still confused. "But, I'm not wearing a costume. Only when I'm performing."

Margali waved the comment away. "No, no, no, I mean the audience that comes to see you. They all think that your skin and your tail and your eyes, that they're all part of some costume you're wearing. They don't know they're real."

Kurt's eyes widened in flabbergasted amazement. "They don't?"

"Think about it Kurt. When new acts first join up with us, what happens when you go to meet them?"

Kurt shrugged. "Their eyes get all big and sometimes they scream. Sometimes they pretend to go all nice, but most of the time they're scared. That one lady, the one with the beard, she actually fainted when I tried to shake her hand." Kurt smiled slightly at the memory, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "True, I was using my tail..."

"No, I mean before all that that," Margali pressed.

Kurt thought hard, trying to figure out what his foster mother was getting at.

"Well, when Zuzu first started to practice with me she asked me how I managed to make my tail move." Suddenly, his eyes widened. "Wait a minute," he said. "I get it now. She must have thought I was wearing a costume! All the new acts think I'm in costume until I go to meet them and they realize I'm not!"

Kurt sank back into his chair, overcome by his sudden insight. "I had no idea," he said softly. "I can't believe I never realized this before! No wonder they said I was a monster."

Margali's violet eyes flashed. "Who said that?"

Kurt looked up, surprised at her reaction. "Everyone," he said. "Well, except for you and Bethica and Woodhead and people. Not the people who knew me since I was a baby. Just the new acts."

"They said that to your face?"

"No, it was more after they thought I had left the tent. But tents are pretty thin, you know?"

Margali nodded slowly, her expression fuming. "I'll have to have a talk with those smug, self-satisfied—"

"Mama," Kurt interrupted, upset that his words had made her so angry. "What was it you were going to say before, about people thinking I was in costume?"

Margali blinked, turning her attention back to Kurt. "What? Oh! I was saying that you wouldn't have to go to church in disguise at all. We could say how difficult it is to get you into your 'costume' every morning and that we'll have to leave it on during the ceremony to make sure you'd be ready for the show. You could walk right in, just as you are now, and all that would cross anyone's mind is that you are the wonderfully talented acrobat they saw at the circus."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, starting to cheer up. "Wonderfully talented?" he asked.

"Superbly talented," Margali added.

"The greatest acrobat the world has ever seen!"

"The amazing boy who manages to have such energy even though he only sleeps for three hours a night?"

Kurt laughed at her implied scolding. "Right! That's me, the Incredible Night-Crawler!"

Margali pulled him into her arms, relieved to see him back to his old, cheerful self.

"That you certainly are, my sweet Kurt." Releasing him, she smiled warmly. "Come on. I'll take you to that church. We're going to have a little chat with the local priest about getting you your first Holy Communion."

*******

"But do you really believe that what you are suggesting will be conducive to the dignity of this sacrament?"

"Look, Father," Margali said, leaning forward over the priest's wooden desk. "It's not like I'm one of those parents who has to drag their kid, kicking and screaming into the church to go through this ceremony. This is all coming from him. Kurt wants to receive this sacrament. What does it matter how he's dressed?"

The priest considered the small, indigo boy seated on the chair before him. "Son, it's clear to me that your mother has no sense of propriety," he commented. Margali glared at him. The priest didn't seem to notice, his attention focused on Kurt. "So I'll ask you," he said, "since this was apparently your idea. Can you see the inappropriateness of wearing a demon costume to receive one of the most sacred sacraments of the Catholic faith?"

"I'll wear a suit," Kurt said softly, beginning to feel like coming here hadn't been such a good idea after all. He sank deeper into his chair as the priest directed a stinging glare in his direction.

"Somehow, I get the impression that you are both missing the point."

Margali rose to her feet. "No, Father. With all due respect, I think it's you who is missing the point. Can't you understand how much this means to Kurt?"

"If it really meant as much as you say, he would be willing to forego the costume and put his faith in God before his activities at the circus. He would be willing to go one performance out of costume—or even to miss one—rather than to insult the dignity of this sacred institution by mocking its holy sacraments. Even if he weren't dressed as a demon, of all things, the Church does not look kindly on the type of irreverence you have shown in this office today, Frau Szardos."

Every word the priest spoke was like a knife stabbing through Kurt's heart. The pain went too deep for tears. Words like “mocking” and “irreverence” were spinning around his head. Did the priest actually view his appearance as “insulting” to the Church? Did a boy with the body of a demon have any right to request a holy sacrament at all? Was it possible that, if this priest found his appearance offensive, God might as well? Could it be that he actually was a demon? If so, could he ever even hope to know God?

Kurt could feel his foundations crumbling all around him. Somewhere far above he was distantly aware of Margali and the priest continuing their argument. But, Kurt wasn't listening anymore. He was lost and frightened, he was falling and there was nothing left for him to hold on to…

Slowly, out of the dark fog that had enshrouded his mind, Kurt became aware of a gruff voice. It was a memory, someone speaking to him, comforting him, saying something... Kurt struggled to catch the memory, to recall the words the man had spoken. Perhaps if he could remember who the man was...?

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. "Woodhead," he said aloud.

Margali and the priest turned to him. "What did you say, Kurt?" Margali asked, still to angry to smooth the edge in her voice.

"I was remembering," Kurt said softly. "Something Woodhead said to me when Stefan was receiving his own First Communion."

"And who, may I ask, is this 'Woodhead'?" the priest sneered. Margali silenced him with a glare.

"I wasn't allowed to go," Kurt said, his voice growing louder as the strong emotions flooded his mind, overcoming his embarrassment and self-consciousness. "I was only three and I couldn't understand why I couldn't go. Mama said it was because she didn't want to cut Stefan's trousers to make room for my tail. She said that you had to dress up when you visit God at His house, to show God the proper respect. And I know that that's a very good thing. People should try to show their respect for God, especially when they go to worship Him.” He frowned. “But, if they can't dress up the way everyone else does, they shouldn't be told that they can't go! Mama said that since I couldn't wear Stefan's trousers, I couldn't go. But, Woodhead, he said Mama was wrong!"

Kurt turned his blazing yellow eyes to the priest, his back straightening with the strength of his convictions. "Just like you're wrong now. God loves us for who we are on the inside! His love is unconditional. He even keeps on loving us even when we sin against Him, allowing us to confess our sins and get absolution. He doesn't care what we look like or how we're dressed. Woodhead told me that in the old days the poorest people, the outcasts from society, the people who looked different from everyone else, were thought of as children of God. That just proves that it's your faith that's important, not how you look. If you love God and you always try to do what's right, that's all that matters!”

He sniffed sharply, pointing at the priest with a thick, blue finger. “If you won't let me receive Holy Communion here because of how I look, I'll go to another church. And if they say no too, I'll keep on looking, even if I have to go to the Pope!"

His tears were flowing freely now and his nose was running into his fur, but Kurt didn't care. He jumped up onto his chair and shouted at the top of his lungs, too overcome with emotion to care who heard him. He was shouting to convince himself more than anyone, to assuage his own terrors.

"I am not a demon!” he shrieked, his face flushing until it was almost purple. “I am not mocking or insulting anything! I don't want to insult God, I just want to do what's right!!!"

Margali and the priest both stood completely still, stunned by the power of Kurt's unexpected outburst. Then, slowly, the priest blinked.

"He—he's not actually wearing a costume, is he?" he asked, his previously smooth and authoritative voice shaky and uncertain.

Kurt glared at him through his tears, a dangerous expression on his face.

"Do you want to know something?" he asked, his voice hoarse from his screams. "This whole thing happened because I didn't want to have to wear a costume when I received my first Holy Communion."

The priest was still staring at him, his face pale except for two slowly spreading spots of red on his cheeks. Bringing a hand to his mouth, he sank into his chair.

"God forgive me," he whispered.

"Come on, Kurt," Margali said, reaching out a hand to help him down from the chair. "Let's get out of here."

"No, wait!" the priest called from his desk. "Please, don't go. I didn't understand. Kurt!" he called, his arm outstretched toward the boy. "I'm sorry."

Kurt turned to face him, but did not speak. The priest went on. "You were right," he said. "What you said about God."

The priest paused to take a shaky breath. "You're a remarkable boy, Kurt Wagner," he said, his voice sincere. Kurt took a step forward, caught off-guard by the priest's sudden shift in temperament.

"Your refusal to disguise yourself before God, your open faith.......Never, in all my years as a priest, have I ever met a boy who had more reason to hate God more than you. But rather than resenting Him, rather than resenting yourself, you stood there on my chair and proclaimed your faith in Him to the world. It must be very difficult for you, having to live among people like me."

Kurt favored the contrite priest with a small smile. "It's not that bad," he said, a trace of humor in his voice.

The priest returned the smile. "Kurt, I would be honored if you would agree to take my Sunday school classes in preparation for your first Holy Communion. I'm sure the other children would learn a lot from you."

Kurt didn't even have to consider the invitation. With a loud whoop of joy, he leapt high and somersaulted in the air, executing a perfect landing right on the center of the priest's desk. Folding the startled priest into a powerful embrace, Kurt favored him with his brightest grin. "Thank you, Father!" he exclaimed.

Margali signed Kurt up for Sunday school on the spot, though she made it clear to both of them that Kurt's true mutant nature should not be revealed to the other children for fear of how their parents would react. They both readily accepted her terms. Kurt left the ancient, stone church with his very own copy of the Bible, filled with an elation that knew no bounds.

As the priest watched Margali and Kurt climb into their circus van and drive away, he was struck by the irony of what he had just experienced. Despite his own discomfort and fear when he had realized that the boy was a mutant, the priest couldn't help admiring him. He had just met a demon with the soul of a saint. Moving back to his desk he made a vow to never judge a person based on appearance ever again. It was a vow that, although it was at times very difficult, Father Gregory ultimately kept for the rest of his life.

*******

"When's the ceremony again?" Margali asked, hurriedly attempting to pin her unruly hair up in a tight bun, a style which made her sharp features seem even more regal and striking than when she let it fly loose.

"Four thirty," Stefan supplied, combing his black hair straight back.

"Stefan, I wish you would comb it to the side," Margali sighed. "You look so much more handsome that way."

Stefan shot his mother a brief glance, then silently set about parting and combing his hair to the side. Margali finished pinning up her own hair and spun around to check on Jimaine's progress.

"You almost ready, Jimaine?" Margali called to the curtain her daughter had hung from the ceiling of the small trailer to create a make-shift dressing room.

"Have you seen my nylons anywhere?" Jimaine's slightly muffled voice came from behind the curtain. "They don't seem to be back here."

Margali turned to her son. "Stefan, help your sister find her nylons. I've got to go see if Bethica's finished adjusting Kurt's suit. Twenty minutes before we leave, you two, don't forget!"

Kurt's suit was actually a hand-me-down of Stefan's that Bethica had been frantically adjusting for the past four hours. As Margali burst into the trailer, Kurt was trying on the dove gray jacket, stretching his arms out to check the length.

"Yeah, that's much better," he grinned. "You can see, they're the same length now."

Bethica nodded, pulling the trousers loose from the sewing machine. "Good," she said. "Now try these—Oh, hi, Margali!" she greeted her employer cheerfully. "We're just finishing up here. Kurt just has to try on these trousers so we can figure out where to cut the hole for his tail."

"The hole must be high enough to ensure decency yet low enough to allow maximum maneuverability," Kurt quoted, mimicking Bethica's voice. It was what she always muttered to herself when making the measurements for Kurt's costumes.

"Just put on the trousers and don't be smart," Bethica said, tossing the gray pants at him with a wink.

"Erg," Kurt grunted in discomfort as he forced his tail down his trouser leg. "These things are so constricting!"

"Allow me," Margali said, picking up Bethica's scissors from her worktable and moving in behind Kurt. In less than a minute, the hole was cut and Kurt was able to free his tail once more.

"Yeah," he grinned, flexing and curling it to get the kinks out. "That's much better." Then, looking to his foster mother, he rushed over to her and wrapped her in a warm embrace. Though simple, both Kurt and Margali knew that what she had just done was a symbolic gesture, a symbol of deep apology and forgiveness. It was a gesture Kurt would never forget.

"Thank you, Mama," he said.

"Oh, honey, I'm so proud of you," Margali smiled, looking into her foster son's dark, shadowy face. "You knew what you wanted to do and you went for it, in spite of everything that stood in your way. You impressed that priest so much! This is your day, sweetheart. You're the one who made it happen."

Kurt grinned, but he averted his eyes, suddenly shy in the face of such heartfelt praise. Margali turned slightly and reached into her purse, pulling out a carefully wrapped present.

"I got this for you," she said, holding the small, rectangular package out to him. "I was going to give it to you afterwards, but I can't imagine a better moment than right now."

Curious, Kurt took the package in his three-fingered hands and unwrapped it. It was a copy of Captain Blood, by Rafael Sabatini.

"I think you'll like it," Margali said, smiling slightly at the confused expression on Kurt's face as he contemplated the book's title. "It shouldn't be too hard for you. After all, if you can read the Bible, you can read anything.”

Kurt smiled, then went back to his inspection of the book. “What’s it about?”

“It's about pirates," Margali explained. "It's action packed, and it has lots of climbing up ropes and sword fights and things in it."

"But Captain Blood?" Kurt asked, his eyes narrowed. "What kind of a name is that?"

"Read the book and you'll find out," Margali said simply, turning to the door. "We leave in five minutes, you two," she called as a parting shot as she left the trailer. "Bethica, you have just enough time to get that tail-hole squared away. We wouldn't want it to rip during the ceremony, now would we?"

As Bethica reached for her needle and thread, Kurt opened the book and started to flip through its pages. By the time he and Bethica had piled into the van along with the rest of the circus performers, he was already deep into the first chapter and his imagination was soaring.

*******

The small church was decorated just as it had been for Stefan's first Holy Communion. This time, however, Kurt wouldn't be hiding in a disused balcony. This time, he had a special seat at the front of the church among his fellow Sunday school students. Because they were seated according to alphabetical order, Kurt was last. But that didn’t bother him. It didn’t seem that anything could mar this special day—until Oskar Uhrmacher, the boy he was seated next to, leaned over to him.

"I can't believe they're letting you wear your costume!" he whispered in amazement. "My mom wouldn't even let me wear my favorite shirt under this jacket, even though no one would be able to see it. Well, hardly."

Kurt just shrugged, unsure how to answer. His neighbor went on. "But seriously, don't you ever take that stuff off? Don't you think it's weird when everyone keeps staring at you?"

"Yes," Kurt replied. Oskar nodded, then looked confused. "Wait a minute, was that a yes to my first question, or to the second one?"

Kurt just nodded, pulling a Bible out from the small shelf on the back of the pew before him and pretending to read it.

"It must be so cool to live at a circus," Oskar muttered, pulling uncomfortably at his tie. "You get to wear whatever you want to and you don't care what people think."

"I'm wearing a suit," Kurt pointed out in an attempt to show he did care. Oskar just snickered.

"Yeah. You look kind of funny with that tail of yours sticking out of the trousers. Hey, how does that thing work, anyway?"

"Very well, thank you," Kurt replied shortly. Trying not to let his hurt at Oskar's comments show on his face, Kurt turned back to his Bible, attempting to make it clear through body language that he didn't want to talk anymore. He was saved in any case by the start of the ceremony. Kurt slid his Bible back into the shelf and both boys straightened as the priest began to speak.

The ceremony was long, but Kurt found himself fascinated. When it came his turn to walk down the aisle—firmly ignoring the ripple of comment that followed his progress—he felt a deep emotion he could not name swelling in his chest. It was more joyful than pride and more contented than satisfaction. Reaching the altar, he spoke the words he'd been taught and cupped his hands the proper way, holding them out to the priest. Father Gregory favored him with a wink as he placed a sacred wafer in the boy's blue palm. Kurt grinned broadly in response.

As he returned to his seat, the special wafer melting slowly in his mouth, Margali, Stefan, Jimaine, Chester, Sabu, Bethica, and Woodhead rose to their feet, clapping their hands with pride. The applause was contagious. Kurt took his seat to a standing ovation, his glowing eyes filling with tears. He had never been happier in all his life.




And now, here’s a sneak peek from Part Five!

Exhausted and drained in a way he had never thought possible, Kurt collapsed to his knees, drawing in deep, gasping breaths, trying to force the overpowering nausea to leave him. From the looks of things, Amanda felt little better. Her blue eyes were wide with amazement and fear as she focused on the exhausted mutant before her.

"K-Kurt!" she stuttered, her voice trembling with trepidation. "Wh-what just happened? How did we get up here?"

Kurt shook his head, his yellow eyes just as wide and fearful as her blue ones. "I don't know!" he panted, his adolescent voice cracking with emotion. "I have no idea, Amanda! All I know is that Stefan was going to drop you. I—I couldn't just sit there, I couldn't let you die!" He shuddered deeply, fixing her with a terrified glance.

"I know I did something, Amanda," he said. "I know I did it on purpose, that it came from me. But I have no idea what it was!"

Stay Tuned! :D
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by HoodedMan »

I love it! I love how all of this story conforms to the history of Kurt, but it's so incredibly detailed! The characters are superb; you can really tell that as an excellent writer you can assume the character of your characters, so to speak, while you're writing and turn out an excellent story!

I'm looking forward to Part V. From the preview, it looks like it's somewhat based on the X2 special, am I right? But I don't remember whether or not it was Stefan that couldn't catch Amanda...
ACHTUNG! Alles touristen und non-technischen looken peepers! Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sichtseeren keepen das cotten-pickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

:love
:love
:love
You know how to please me, Rowena...I love you! *bear hug* I just love how you introduced the bestest book ever CAPTAIN BLOOD!!!

I don't think I'll be able to go to bed now. I'm too excited after reading the sneak peak....:monkey...<<<that is me right now.
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by Rowena »

This chapter isn't done yet, but it's been so long since I posted anything to this story that I felt I had to do something. So, here's a brief taste of Part Five. The rest will be coming soon! :D



Small Steps, Great Leaps
Part Five
By Rowena

Margali was frantic. The show was scheduled to start in fifteen minutes and still there was no sign of their star.

"Jimaine!" she called out, spotting her daughter heading towards the main tent. The costumed girl was hard to miss, bedecked as she was in a high, feathery headdress and a skin-tight costume scaled all over with fluorescent pink sequins.

"It’s Amanda, Mom," the sparkly girl corrected, the annoyance in her expression obvious even through her heavy make-up. "My name is Amanda. I’ve told you a million times that—“

"Amanda then," Margali interrupted brusquely, too preoccupied to argue semantics with a sixteen-year-old. "Have you seen Kurt anywhere?"

Amanda blinked her glittered eye-lids. "You mean he hasn't come back yet?"

"Come back from where?" Margali demanded.

"From where else?" Amanda snorted. "The old movie house had a triple feature tonight. Douglas Fairbanks Jr., Tyrone Power, and Errol Flynn. Do you honestly think he'd miss something like that? Those corny old guys are like his heroes or something."

Margali turned her violet eyes to the heavens. "Give me strength!" she cried, clenching her fists so tightly her long nails made painful dents in her palms. "I should never have given him that stupid Captain Blood book. He's become completely obsessed!" She turned her sharp gaze back to her daughter. "When are the shows supposed to end?" she asked, suddenly feeling very tired.

"How should I know?" Amanda shrugged. "I wouldn't be caught dead at one of those dumb swashbuckler flicks."

Margali pursed her lips, drumming her fingers against her hip in a distinctly edgy manner. "Fine," she said. "Fine! If he doesn't turn up in five minutes we'll just have to do the show without him. Stefan can take his place."

Amanda stared at her mother, aghast. "You're joking, right?" she said. "There's no way Stefan can fill in for Kurt."

"Don't talk like that, Jimaine," Margali snapped. "Your brother's very talented."

"It's Amanda. And no, he's not. He hates acrobatics. He only does it because you make him."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's true, Mom. He told me so. He was saying just yesterday how as soon as he's finished with high school he's going to blow this crummy circus and join some monastery or something.” She made a face. “Don't ask me. You know how weird he can get sometimes."

"Great," Margali said, running her crimson-painted nails through her frizzy hair. "What a perfect time to tell me all this. Why is it that the mother is always the last to know what's going on in her kids' lives? Tell me that."

"Hey, I'm just the messenger here," Amanda said, holding up her hands in mock defense. "Go yell at Stefan if you want to vent."

That was the last straw. Margali whirled on her daughter, her violet eyes blazing.

"You know, I've had it up to here with your sass, young lady," she snapped. "Lately you've been showing me no respect, no--"

She was interrupted in mid-tirade by the distinctive clanking of Woodhead's beat-up old rust bucket of a car pulling up just outside the circle of trailers. As the two of them turned to watch, Kurt leapt out through the open passenger side window. Grinning from ear to pointed ear, the skinny fourteen-year-old grabbed an errant stick from the ground and began wielding it like a sword.

"So,” he confronted his invisible foe, his reedy, adolescent voice crackling slightly in his enthusiasm. “You dare to challenge me, Kurt Wagner, the most daring pirate to ever sail the seven seas? Take that, and that!"

Amanda took that moment to make her escape, rushing into the main tent with a flurry of brilliant, pink feathers. But Margali had already forgotten about her daughter. She was now advancing her elated foster son, storm clouds gathering in her violet eyes.

“Margali!”

Woodhead slammed his door shut, distracting her from her intended prey just long enough for him to cut her off. Despite his lumbering gait, the aging hunchback could move with surprising swiftness. Shooting his employer a toothy grin that only intensified the warning in his eyes, he announced, “Well, here we are! And in the nick of time, too. Wouldn’t you say, Margali?”

“The dashing Kurt Wagner is never late for his commitments!" Kurt proclaimed, tossing his stick away with a flourish and taking a deep bow.

"Good evening, dear lady," he beamed at his foster mother. "A beautiful lady like yourself should not walk unescorted at night. Please,” he offered, his posture as straight and poised as a French aristocrat at a royal masque. “Allow me to walk you to the tent."

Margali had fully intended to scold him for making her worry so, but at the sight of his exuberant grin, she found she just didn’t have the heart. The moment she looked down into his bright eyes, she felt her fury fading to exasperation mingled with a special brand of parental tolerance. But even so, she couldn’t just let him go without a word.

"You sure you're ready for tonight?" she asked, shooting him a pointed look. "I noticed you missed rehearsal again."

"My dearest Margali, never fear. I invented all my moves myself. Besides, it was Errol Flynn! What is a mere rehearsal when compared to the opportunity to bask in the aura of such greatness!"

Margali rolled her eyes, but she found she was smiling despite herself.

"All right Kurt,” she said with a sigh. “You'd better get into your costume. There's only ten minutes left until showtime."

"Your wish is my command, fair lady," Kurt pronounced grandly, gently kissing her hand. As he bounded off towards the main tent, Margali called after him, "And Kurt! Check with me first the next time you get the urge to run off to the movies before a show!"

"As you wish!" Kurt called back, ducking into the tent and out of her view. Margali shook her head.

"He's such a happy boy," she commented, not looking at Woodhead but knowing the gnarled old man was there. "It truly amazes me sometimes. When I think how hard it must be for him, even here at the circus… How does he do it, Frank? Where does he find the strength?”

"Love."

The word was spoken lightly, but there was nothing simple about Woodhead’s answer. Margali turned to him, a question in her violet eyes.

"It is hard for him," Woodhead elaborated. "Very hard. I've often heard the boy praying among the trees when he thinks everyone is asleep. The words he speaks are searching; desperate and, often, angry. Yet, rather than give in to despair and allow his resentment to consume him, he has chosen to fight.”

He looked up then, catching her eyes with his as he went on. "It is this place that keeps him going,” he stated. “The knowledge that here, with you and Amanda and Stefan and me and all the rest, he is accepted for who he truly is. It is the love you've shown him, Margali, and the unconditional love of God that allows him to weather the coldness of the world so well. Our Kurt is a very special boy. And I don't just mean in the physical sense."

And with that, the bent, grizzled man turned away, hobbling off into the night. Margali watched him go, thoughtful and subdued, until a sudden burst of applause from the tent snapped her out of her reverie. Pulling herself together as quickly as she could, Margali rushed inside, already barking orders and encouragements to the performers within.



To Be Continued...

:bamf
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by Rowena »

I wanted to get a lot more of this done this morning before I had to go (see FV&TTT Social Thread for details), but unfortunately, I got interruped a lot and this is all I managed to write. I thought I'd get it up here anyway, though, since the last bit was so short. Hope you enjoy it! :D



The performance was in full swing. Kurt, still energized from his movie binge, was having the time of his life as he swung and leapt from place to place before an astonished audience. However, behind the scenes, Stefan and Amanda were engaged in another of their increasingly frequent fights. Normally, when one of these fights broke out, Kurt was able to stop it with a few careful words or a well timed joke before it got too serious. However, this time he was unavailable, and the friction between the two siblings was growing hot enough to form sparks.

"Look, Stefan, what I do with Marcus is my own business. You're not my father. You have no right to judge me."

"Jimaine, you cannot allow this sinful relationship to continue. You are young. You can still redeem yourself if you change your path now."

Amanda rolled her eyes. "You sound like some dumb nut out of a bad horror movie. Give it a rest, Stefan. I love Marcus and he loves me."

"He's using you, Jimaine. He's nineteen, you're sixteen. If anything should happen, it is you who would be left to bear your shame alone. He will never do the right thing by you. He is just leading you deeper into a life of sin. You must realize the error of this path you are choosing!"

Amanda opened her mouth in outrage. "I can't believe you, Stefan! I mean, you've always been weird, but seriously! I live in the real world, Stefan, not the made up little universe you seem to inhabit. And in the real world, when people love each other there's nothing wrong with, you know, showing it."

"You're my sister, Jimaine, not some cheap slut from off the street!" Stefan's dark eyes were livid, his pale face twisted with fury. "If you fall, you will be condemning more than just yourself."

"It's Amanda!" Amanda shrieked, completely losing her temper. "You don't even know what you're talking about! You've never even had a girlfriend! If Kurt were here, he'd tell you where to get off. He knows an awful lot more about all that religion stuff than you, and he never talks to me like this! You're a pompous, frustrated know-it-all and I hate you!"

Stefan frowned, drawing himself up to his full, impressive height. "Kurt is blind to your sins,” he stated. “But you are even blinder than he is.” He shook his head, a strange quality…almost like regret…entering his deep voice as he went on. “Because you refuse to repent, you will be forced to face your penalty—if not in this world, than in the world to come."

Amanda gawped at her brother, her eyes wide. "Wow," she said. "You really are crazy, aren't you?" She curled her lip at him in disgust, then peered behind the curtain to check on Kurt's progress. "Our cue's almost up," she said. "After tonight, though, I'm telling Mom that I don't want to be partnered with you anymore. You're a freak."

Stefan's eyes flashed a black so deep that, for a moment, they stopped reflecting the light. His pale face contorted as he opened his mouth, but before he could make a reply Kurt burst into their enclosure, an elated grin fixed on his glowing face.

"You're up, you two!"

Noticing Stefan's scowl, he misinterpreted it to mean the older boy was upset about having to perform that night. It was common knowledge that Stefan disliked acrobatics.

"Don't worry, Stefan," Kurt grinned, placing a comforting hand on his foster brother's shoulder. "I left them in such a great mood they'd clap if you just sat on the trapeze and swung the whole time. Honestly, though, you'll do great!" He turned to Amanda, but she had already rushed out into the center ring. Forcing a smile to replace his dark scowl, Stefan followed her, turning a brief nod to his young blood-brother as he passed by his beaming smile. But even as he trailed Amanda up the ladder to the platform high above the audience’s heads, a vengeful plan was already forming in his mind…


To Be Continued...

:bamf






In response to Curlyy's comment below:

Thanks! But the chapter's still not done yet. :blush Oh, and to answer to your question: it was the big, chunky kind of glitter. :D
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei
CurlyyHairGirl
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Small Steps, Great Leaps (COMPLETE!!!)

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

Originally posted by Rowena
But even as he trailed Amanda up the ladder to the platform high above the audience’s heads, a vengeful plan was already forming in his mind…
Whoa:eek That kinda freaked me out. Stefan was totally creepy in this chapter. I wonder if this has to do with the way he turns out in the comic books. :thoughtfullpose. I can see why Amanda was getting so upset, and I'd have to agree with her about Stefan being freaky...*shudder*.

Despite the chills it gave me, this two section chapter was awesome. In the first section, I love how Kurt picks up the stick from the ground after returning from the Errol Flynn movies. That was so easy to picture the way you wrote it:clap. I also like how Margali sort of cools down when she sees how happy Kurt was.

Oh and, just curious:
Amanda blinked her glittered eye-lids.
Fine dust glitter, or big chunky glitter? I've gotten the big chunky kind in my eyes before...not spiffy, man. It also itches sooo bad if you get it dumped on you on your birthday, and it gets in you bra and pants....:yuck
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