Okay Kurt, it's all right. Maybe her abilities are inhibited, like yours and Logan's. Stay where you are and I'll come find you.
Wes stuffs his Fluid in his pocket and moves quickly to close up the shop where he's been tinkering with a few new recipes. Plunged into darkness, the shades of gray become a muted black that makes the equally monochromatic man shudder with displeasure. It's a disorienting thing, to find the world so flattened around him. But as he makes his way to the party, he finds small signs of life. A burst of foliage here, or a mailbox spotted with color there. Little clues that the world is waking up again, somehow.
And Kurt, of course. It's easy to spot his partner for the swath of familiar blue. His fur might not shine as brightly as Wes remembers, but his partner is a rainbow of hope in a cloudy sky. He waves to the man from across the party and makes his way near. When he's within reaching distance, Wes takes Kurt by the elbows and kisses him on the lips.
I hope your mother wouldn't be so quick to do that.
By the time Wes arrives, the party has gone from a pleasant distraction to an almost suffocating space. Knowing that he's on his way is the only thing that keeps Kurt grounded; he paces back and forth over the grass of the golf course, trying to keep one eye on the patchwork grey-and-coloured crowd for the source of a fear he can't quite define. Having Mystique appear, suddenly, in a world that had almost started to seem safe feels like a knife levelled at his back. He can't stand to remain still and wait for it to plunge into his heart.
When Wes appears amongst the partygoers, Kurt holds back the urge to go to meet him, already checking him over for unfamiliar movements, the small signs that his mother is testing him. Without the reassuring presence of a telepath somewhere on call, he finds he has to resort to instinct. The kiss, though, feels real enough, tasting of home and the cabin, so he finds himself leaning into it and by the time they part caution has melted away into weary unhappiness.
You would be surprised at what she's capable of, he replies, the wry humour of the remark not quite making its way to his eyes. He lets out a breath, tired in a way that seems to sink into his core. Fireworks bloom and fade overhead, lighting up their conversation. Let's go. Did you bring the car?
Don't tell me that. Wes makes a face of displeasure, but it's apparent that he still isn't taking this as seriously as he should. The idea that Kurt's mother is lurking about remains more curiosity than danger to a man who simply doesn't know better. He can tell in the little bit that his partner has shared with him that the woman in question is more adversary than matriarch, yet he views Kurt with such an incredible heart that he can't help wondering about the person from whom he has come.
After Blake's doppelganger gave me... Wes's hands stall in the air, and he twitches his fingers like he's reconsidering his words. Something he didn't want me to have, we developed a code word. Maybe you and I should do the same? Overhead, a burst of fireworks lights up the sky, and Wes instinctively looks up. The little flashes of color still seem strange, reminding him of the muted quality of his own world. He nods his head at the question.
Not safe to walk around like this, especially at night. You ready to leave?
Please, he replies to the question, all to eager to return to the safety and comfort of the home they've built together.
As they head off into the shadowy edges of the golf course, Kurt feels a need to explain a little more, to fill in gaps that he knows Wes will want to explore. The strange flatness of the colourless night doesn't lend itself well to being understood, especially when his own proclivity to blending in with them makes him almost invisible in the darkest areas. He digs in his pocket for his Fluid instead, navigating to the familiar notes app that bridged understanding between them so many months ago.
A code word would be a good idea, he writes. she's very advanced shapeshifter, she can perfectly mimic almost anyone. He pauses briefly, then tabs down and adds:
she abandoned me when I was a baby, she threw me into a river to save herself. or the both of us. she didn't raise me. I didn't meet her again until I was an adult, and she was fighting against the X-Men. she's a very damaged person, I can't predict what she will do here.
Gratitude and frustration swell equally in Wes when Kurt turns to his Fluid to continue their conversation. So many months ago he was glad for his new friend's willingness to let technology mitigate what could have kept them apart. Now, it feels like a wedge between them, and a reminder of what's gone wrong with the city and how unsafe it all feels. He walks close enough to feel Kurt at his side, chancing his arm around his partner's waist until it's his turn to form his own reply.
Mimic language too? He hopes that at least might not be true. That it could still give them an advantage over the woman who is seeming less motherly by the moment. Kurt's next explanation solidifies that sense, and Wrench feels his anger mounting. The glimpses he's seen of his partner's childhood have been complicated at best. Terror and isolation permeate many of the memories they've shared. But there was hope there, too. A sense of childlike joy at times. Knowing it's been in spite of his mother's influence makes Wes realize how very precious and fragile it is.
The arm around his waist is received gratefully, the warm weight reminding Kurt in more ways than one of the good things that the dream has given him alongside the bad. He lets his tail wind across Wes' hips in response as he considers his reply, keeping one eye on the dark grass and the glimpses of the town ahead.
she can only copy someone's physical form. their body, their voice, but not their mind or their abilities. I don't know if she knows how to sign but she has been alive for a long time, almost as long as Logan, and she has infiltrated many lives. she may have learned it. it's a good idea to assume she is capable of anything.
Discussing the possibilities makes his mood dip even further, but he faces it with a certain pragmatism. Better to talk about these things and make a plan than hope they don't happen, and if there's anyone who knows how to face the unfaceable, it's Wes. He leans on that faith and strength almost as much as the other man's shoulder as he continues writing.
she's angry. and ambitious. sometimes I think she just wants to destroy as much of the world which has hurt her as she can. He sighs, glancing over and up at his partner, then back down at his Fluid. The next few words are written more slowly, almost reluctantly.
Do? Wes repeats the word with a furrowed brow, hands carving out the act of rousing motion, of spurring something to life. He shakes his head and as they walk, nudges Kurt with his shoulder. What can you do? You aren't responsible for your mother, Kurt. It's a thing more easily said than felt, he's sure, but the uncertain response leaves too much in the hands of a man who bears no responsibility to fix it. As they approach the car he shuffles forward to open the passenger's side door for his partner, and leaves the man's side only when he's safely behind that closed door.
Inside, Wes reaches briefly for Kurt's knee, and sets them in motion quickly. If the distance between them and the golf course could do anything to put the man's worries to rest, he drives as if he wants them as far from there as quickly as possible. But Wes is still ruminating on what he's been told and the influence the woman has had in Kurt's life, and the lives of others. Ambition and anger he understands. Pain, he understands too. It's not so difficult to imagine why someone would want to turn the hurt they've been given back around, and he knows that's not a thing easily healed. It strikes him once again how incredible Kurt's grace and compassion are.
There's only so much destruction she can cause here. You told me this place could be my second chance. Do you think the same is true for her?
Abstaining from responsibility has always been a difficult thing for Kurt. Brought up to be self-sufficient, he's never been the kind of person to ask someone to do something that he would not be willing to do himself. Learning to become a teacher and a leader of others has only reinforced this idea; it's far easier for him to imagine himself shouldering a burden than asking someone else to take it on. The idea of sitting back and letting Mystique run amok jars with everything he's been taught. But at the same time he can't deny that Wes has a point, and after all it's not as if he's ever been able to control her in any way, even with all of the resources of the X-Men at his back.
He considers the idea in silence as they approach the car, letting Wes guide him in, glancing up gratefully at the weight of his hand. He's glad to set the party behind him, but the weight of what's come out of it still sits heavily on his shoulders. Distantly, he feels his Fluid buzz against his palm; responses from Logan and Jean-Paul, more reminders that he's not alone here.
Turning his head slightly to follow Wes' question, he slips the phone back into his pocket.
Possibly, he agrees after a moment's thought, not enjoying the way Wes has linked himself and his mother in the argument. But she's had a lot of second chances. I've given her too many. I want to believe she can change.
Without a way to finish that thought, he lets it hang in the air and sighs, dropping his head into his hands for a moment or two, before glancing back over at Wes.
I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not very good at dealing with things I can't plan for.
When Kurt bows his head and covers his face, Wes sets a heavy palm on the back of his partner's neck. He's good enough at hiding himself away to know how to reach through the distance, but he doesn't force the other man to look up until he's ready. Doesn't nudge or urge or insist on eye contact, but rather just lets the weight and the warmth of his fingers act as a promise that he's still there, and that he'll be there when Kurt feels like coming back around again.
To him the parallels are all too apparent, and for that reason it feels easy to know that Kurt has no reason to blame himself. Wes knows that he deserves all of the blame for what he's done in his lifetime. It would be foolish to think anyone else failed by not trying hard enough to stop him, or not being something different for him. He smiles a little and relaxes at Kurt's words.
I haven't noticed much of anything you're not good at, he admits earnestly.
She's a grown woman. Whatever she does, it's her decision. We can all stay alert, but you don't have any responsibility. You understand?
It feels like a shame to dislodge the warmth and closeness of that contact; as soon as it's gone, Kurt feels the need to chase after it, no matter how reckless it would make Wes' driving. He suddenly longs for that comfort, wants the raw and jagged edges of his encounter with Mystique to be blunted by his partner's patient compassion.
I understand, he agrees, forming the words with some degree of reluctance. I just wish I could believe it. I don't think I can be rational about her.
She's your mother, Wes reasons. And you just found out she's here. He signs casually as they drive, sometimes with one hand off the wheel and sometimes with both, but always focused on the road ahead of them. The path back to the cabin has gotten more treacherous lately, and having only a muddled view of a murky gray world doesn't help things very much. But Wes still considers it like a beacon. It's the first place he's ever been that he thinks truly deserves the word "home."
He can't imagine what he'd do if his own mother showed up. He's not even sure she's still alive. You don't have to be rational right now. You don't have to be anything but surprised, or hurt, or confused. It's okay.
Wes pulls into his usual spot, parking the car on a clear path of escape from the cabin with an easy getaway. He turns to the passenger's seat and urges Kurt in for a kiss. I'll make you tea, and you can tell me whatever you want to say.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
she talked about waking up and seeing the letter before I could tell her about it. if it's a copy, it's a convincing one.
no subject
Wouldn't be the first time this place has pulled that kind of thing. Assuming it is real, what does she know about you?
no subject
I don't know how long she's been here. she could have been here months and we wouldn't know. she's good enough to even fool Logan now.
[ A pause, then: ]
please come, yes
when you get here tell me something that only you and I could possibly know, so I know it's you
no subject
That's a lot of pressure, peach, but I'll think of something.
no subject
but she's been doing this for a long time, she lies as easily as breathing at this point. you can't believe anything she says or does.
(action)
Wes stuffs his Fluid in his pocket and moves quickly to close up the shop where he's been tinkering with a few new recipes. Plunged into darkness, the shades of gray become a muted black that makes the equally monochromatic man shudder with displeasure. It's a disorienting thing, to find the world so flattened around him. But as he makes his way to the party, he finds small signs of life. A burst of foliage here, or a mailbox spotted with color there. Little clues that the world is waking up again, somehow.
And Kurt, of course. It's easy to spot his partner for the swath of familiar blue. His fur might not shine as brightly as Wes remembers, but his partner is a rainbow of hope in a cloudy sky. He waves to the man from across the party and makes his way near. When he's within reaching distance, Wes takes Kurt by the elbows and kisses him on the lips.
I hope your mother wouldn't be so quick to do that.
no subject
When Wes appears amongst the partygoers, Kurt holds back the urge to go to meet him, already checking him over for unfamiliar movements, the small signs that his mother is testing him. Without the reassuring presence of a telepath somewhere on call, he finds he has to resort to instinct. The kiss, though, feels real enough, tasting of home and the cabin, so he finds himself leaning into it and by the time they part caution has melted away into weary unhappiness.
You would be surprised at what she's capable of, he replies, the wry humour of the remark not quite making its way to his eyes. He lets out a breath, tired in a way that seems to sink into his core. Fireworks bloom and fade overhead, lighting up their conversation. Let's go. Did you bring the car?
no subject
After Blake's doppelganger gave me... Wes's hands stall in the air, and he twitches his fingers like he's reconsidering his words. Something he didn't want me to have, we developed a code word. Maybe you and I should do the same? Overhead, a burst of fireworks lights up the sky, and Wes instinctively looks up. The little flashes of color still seem strange, reminding him of the muted quality of his own world. He nods his head at the question.
Not safe to walk around like this, especially at night. You ready to leave?
no subject
As they head off into the shadowy edges of the golf course, Kurt feels a need to explain a little more, to fill in gaps that he knows Wes will want to explore. The strange flatness of the colourless night doesn't lend itself well to being understood, especially when his own proclivity to blending in with them makes him almost invisible in the darkest areas. He digs in his pocket for his Fluid instead, navigating to the familiar notes app that bridged understanding between them so many months ago.
A code word would be a good idea, he writes. she's very advanced shapeshifter, she can perfectly mimic almost anyone. He pauses briefly, then tabs down and adds:
she abandoned me when I was a baby, she threw me into a river to save herself. or the both of us. she didn't raise me. I didn't meet her again until I was an adult, and she was fighting against the X-Men. she's a very damaged person, I can't predict what she will do here.
no subject
Mimic language too? He hopes that at least might not be true. That it could still give them an advantage over the woman who is seeming less motherly by the moment. Kurt's next explanation solidifies that sense, and Wrench feels his anger mounting. The glimpses he's seen of his partner's childhood have been complicated at best. Terror and isolation permeate many of the memories they've shared. But there was hope there, too. A sense of childlike joy at times. Knowing it's been in spite of his mother's influence makes Wes realize how very precious and fragile it is.
I'm sorry, Kurt. Fighting against you why?
no subject
she can only copy someone's physical form. their body, their voice, but not their mind or their abilities. I don't know if she knows how to sign but she has been alive for a long time, almost as long as Logan, and she has infiltrated many lives. she may have learned it. it's a good idea to assume she is capable of anything.
Discussing the possibilities makes his mood dip even further, but he faces it with a certain pragmatism. Better to talk about these things and make a plan than hope they don't happen, and if there's anyone who knows how to face the unfaceable, it's Wes. He leans on that faith and strength almost as much as the other man's shoulder as he continues writing.
she's angry. and ambitious. sometimes I think she just wants to destroy as much of the world which has hurt her as she can. He sighs, glancing over and up at his partner, then back down at his Fluid. The next few words are written more slowly, almost reluctantly.
I don't know what to do
no subject
Inside, Wes reaches briefly for Kurt's knee, and sets them in motion quickly. If the distance between them and the golf course could do anything to put the man's worries to rest, he drives as if he wants them as far from there as quickly as possible. But Wes is still ruminating on what he's been told and the influence the woman has had in Kurt's life, and the lives of others. Ambition and anger he understands. Pain, he understands too. It's not so difficult to imagine why someone would want to turn the hurt they've been given back around, and he knows that's not a thing easily healed. It strikes him once again how incredible Kurt's grace and compassion are.
There's only so much destruction she can cause here. You told me this place could be my second chance. Do you think the same is true for her?
no subject
He considers the idea in silence as they approach the car, letting Wes guide him in, glancing up gratefully at the weight of his hand. He's glad to set the party behind him, but the weight of what's come out of it still sits heavily on his shoulders. Distantly, he feels his Fluid buzz against his palm; responses from Logan and Jean-Paul, more reminders that he's not alone here.
Turning his head slightly to follow Wes' question, he slips the phone back into his pocket.
Possibly, he agrees after a moment's thought, not enjoying the way Wes has linked himself and his mother in the argument. But she's had a lot of second chances. I've given her too many. I want to believe she can change.
Without a way to finish that thought, he lets it hang in the air and sighs, dropping his head into his hands for a moment or two, before glancing back over at Wes.
I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not very good at dealing with things I can't plan for.
no subject
To him the parallels are all too apparent, and for that reason it feels easy to know that Kurt has no reason to blame himself. Wes knows that he deserves all of the blame for what he's done in his lifetime. It would be foolish to think anyone else failed by not trying hard enough to stop him, or not being something different for him. He smiles a little and relaxes at Kurt's words.
I haven't noticed much of anything you're not good at, he admits earnestly.
She's a grown woman. Whatever she does, it's her decision. We can all stay alert, but you don't have any responsibility. You understand?
no subject
I understand, he agrees, forming the words with some degree of reluctance. I just wish I could believe it. I don't think I can be rational about her.
no subject
He can't imagine what he'd do if his own mother showed up. He's not even sure she's still alive. You don't have to be rational right now. You don't have to be anything but surprised, or hurt, or confused. It's okay.
Wes pulls into his usual spot, parking the car on a clear path of escape from the cabin with an easy getaway. He turns to the passenger's seat and urges Kurt in for a kiss. I'll make you tea, and you can tell me whatever you want to say.