Amanda, Kurt - Sunday afternoon
Jun. 17th, 2007 03:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsKurt makes one of his regular visits and finds Amanda in a bit of a slump.
It had become a routine, almost, since they'd brought Amanda home from the clinic. At least every other day, and more often every day, Kurt would appear in the hallway of the brownstone, and there would be a knock at the door. He tried to come at roughly the same time every visit, so she knew when to expect him.
Today the response was a somewhat listless "come in, Kurt", and when he opened the door, he found his sister sitting at her kitchen table, the chair turned around so she wasn't leaning her back against anything. The teapot had obviously recently been filled - steam rose from the spout, and from the cup in front of her - and there was an empty mug at the other end of the table, obviously for him, and while she had a number of books on the table, it was obvious she wasn't studying, or working. Instead, she was staring blankly at the sunlight coming in through the kitchen window. She mustered a small smile as Kurt came in. "Hey, Blue," she said. In the bright light, dark shadows showed under her eyes and her face was pale, her hair unkempt.
He stepped into the room, reaching automatically for the teapot and cup to pour some for himself. His mind wasn't on the task, though, and he was paying far more attention to her. "Hello, jel'enedra. How are you today?" As if he couldn't see for himself.
"Been better," she admitted. She set her cup down as Kurt sat, reaching for the pill bottle sitting on top of her sociology books. "Not a good day. Back's been playing up, and I'm sleeping like shite."
"Is there anything I can do to help? Has the doctor or a nurse come to look at your back?" His eyes flickered to the pill bottle, then back to her face.
She caught the look, sighed and set it down again. Pain killers, but she was supposed to be easing off. The joys of a history of addiction. "I went for the check up this morning - everything's healing up as well a it can be expected." She rolled her eyes a little. "Considering it hurts no matter what I do right now, there's not a lot can be done, except trying to distract myself." There was a definite cranky tone to her voice. "Takes me forever to get dressed, can't sit or lie down properly... This got old after the second day, and they're telling me I've got another couple of weeks."
"It will improve before it heals completely", he told her gently, unhappy at her distress. "And perhaps there is a little I can help with... your hair, for instance."
"It's that bad, is it?" she asked, knowing it was. Marie-Ange had offered, but she'd been in a foul mood that morning and had waved her friend away. Her hairbrush was on the kitchen counter, where she'd tossed it in a fit of pique. "If you want to, you can?"
"I think it may make you feel better." It wasn't about what he wanted. He got up to retrieve the hairbrush.
"Well, it can't hurt," she allowed, not terribly graciously she knew, but she really did feel like shite today.
"And then", Kurt continued calmly, "we will talk about other ways it may be made not so bad for you."
He was doing that Kurt thing at her. With a sigh she pushed herself up a bit straighter - it was better if she sat up any way, there was less pulling on things - so he could reach her hair properly. "Don't really see how," she said, somewhat petulantly.
"There are always ways, jel'enedra." Still calm, and not chiding unless she chose to take it that way. "Even if it is hard to see them from your position, that is what you have others for."
"Hmm." The first strokes of the brush were tentative, catching a little on the knots, but Kurt was as gentle as always. "'M just sick of all this," she admitted to Kurt. "Last time... I was out of it for ages, didn't really notice things. This time... 's bad enough to make me hurt, but not so bad I can block it out."
"If nothing else", he suggested, "just remember that it will heal. And in not so long a time - the pain will get less every day."
"I've never been that patient," she admitted, but she sounded less cranky, soothed by the brushstrokes. "Sof keeps telling me the same thing, that the dreams'll ease off. Just in the meantime, I have to put up with Rack and Canda laughing at me every fucking night."
"As for that, they have not won, whatever the dreams may say. They are both dead, and you are alive. You will live, and heal, and be happy again. So, you win."
"I win," she repeated, a little doubtful. She fell silent, letting Kurt brush her hair for a while, before confessing: "I thought I wasn't going to. Live, I mean. Candra wanted me to agree to it, to stop Selene, but I couldn't, even tho' I knew she'd probably kill me in the process." Biting her lip, she added: "It was weird. I never thought I'd live to get out of my teens, back when I was on the streets. Didn't have that much to lose. Now I do."
"It is something that comes with letting people into your life", Kurt agreed quietly, focusing on her hair. "And you find that it matters more, somewhat."
"I was fucking terrified," Amanda admitted softly. "Not that it was going to hurt, not that I was going to die, but I was going to die and Candra was going to win and there was sod-all I could do." She looked over her shoulder at Kurt. "You ever feel like that?"
"Not quite the same. I knew that Stryker himself did not want to kill me, and once I was in the White House, where I am sure I was meant to die... I knew little of what was happening. But there have been times... not so far off, yes."
"What we do... we're pretty likely to not survive to old age, yeah?" she said softly.
"No", he agreed, just as quietly. "I do not think we are. But then, I have never thought I would."
"Never?" she asked, surprised. Kurt hadn't always been an X-Man, after all, and he hadn't been on the streets like she had.
"Certainly not since my mid-teens", Kurt qualified. "Perhaps a little younger. When I was old enough to understand that a time would come, one day, when I would no longer be fit for acrobatics. If I cannot do that... well. I have never planned on reaching old age."
"That's why, when you got hurt, it hit so hard." It was a statement rather than a question - she'd seen how he'd been. "Acrobatics... 'S not just what you do, is it? 'S what you are."
"It is what I have done since I could walk. And yes, I think it has become more important than that. I have never found a freedom to touch the feeling of trapeze work..." He trailed off, smiling slightly. "I do not say I would kill myself, when I become unfit. But accidents happen."
"See, with me, I always thought something would get me. Rack, some bastard with a knife, getting sick, getting hooked... Even when I came here, I was in trouble so much, it got hard to see myself managing to live long enough to graduate." She smiled a little. "Yours sounds a bit more noble."
"I do not know if I would exactly call it that", he said with a slight shrug, running the brush one more time through her hair. "Some might even call it selfish. But I do not think I could live with nothing but the memory of what I could once do."
She watched him as he moved back to his seat, and ran her hand through her now-smooth hair. "Thanks, Blue," she said, before going onto what he'd said. "Maybe it is being selfish. Sounds more like being true to who you are to me." She shrugged, then winced. "Then again, I'm considered pretty selfish at times, so my word's probably not worth much," she continued, voice a little tight.
"It is to me", he told her. "Thank you. As I said... it will not happen until such time as my strength fails enough for an accident to happen. Twenty years, perhaps thirty." Though he knew his work with the team might shorten that.
"That's a lifetime to people like us," she pointed out, cupping her hands around her tea mug. "Anything might happen between now and then."
"You have a point. And now that I am with the team... it is more likely to be something in the field, and sooner, I think, than a simple accident. But that is our choice."
Amanda looked down at her mug, the steam swirling up around her face, pinched in the sunlight. "Yeah, it is," she replied softly, and looked up at him. "You're right," she said softly. "I'm alive, I'm still here. They're not. What happened... I'm not going to let it break me."
"Good", he said firmly. "Many people would be disappointed if you did, I think. But if you need help remembering, sometimes... you know I am here."
It had become a routine, almost, since they'd brought Amanda home from the clinic. At least every other day, and more often every day, Kurt would appear in the hallway of the brownstone, and there would be a knock at the door. He tried to come at roughly the same time every visit, so she knew when to expect him.
Today the response was a somewhat listless "come in, Kurt", and when he opened the door, he found his sister sitting at her kitchen table, the chair turned around so she wasn't leaning her back against anything. The teapot had obviously recently been filled - steam rose from the spout, and from the cup in front of her - and there was an empty mug at the other end of the table, obviously for him, and while she had a number of books on the table, it was obvious she wasn't studying, or working. Instead, she was staring blankly at the sunlight coming in through the kitchen window. She mustered a small smile as Kurt came in. "Hey, Blue," she said. In the bright light, dark shadows showed under her eyes and her face was pale, her hair unkempt.
He stepped into the room, reaching automatically for the teapot and cup to pour some for himself. His mind wasn't on the task, though, and he was paying far more attention to her. "Hello, jel'enedra. How are you today?" As if he couldn't see for himself.
"Been better," she admitted. She set her cup down as Kurt sat, reaching for the pill bottle sitting on top of her sociology books. "Not a good day. Back's been playing up, and I'm sleeping like shite."
"Is there anything I can do to help? Has the doctor or a nurse come to look at your back?" His eyes flickered to the pill bottle, then back to her face.
She caught the look, sighed and set it down again. Pain killers, but she was supposed to be easing off. The joys of a history of addiction. "I went for the check up this morning - everything's healing up as well a it can be expected." She rolled her eyes a little. "Considering it hurts no matter what I do right now, there's not a lot can be done, except trying to distract myself." There was a definite cranky tone to her voice. "Takes me forever to get dressed, can't sit or lie down properly... This got old after the second day, and they're telling me I've got another couple of weeks."
"It will improve before it heals completely", he told her gently, unhappy at her distress. "And perhaps there is a little I can help with... your hair, for instance."
"It's that bad, is it?" she asked, knowing it was. Marie-Ange had offered, but she'd been in a foul mood that morning and had waved her friend away. Her hairbrush was on the kitchen counter, where she'd tossed it in a fit of pique. "If you want to, you can?"
"I think it may make you feel better." It wasn't about what he wanted. He got up to retrieve the hairbrush.
"Well, it can't hurt," she allowed, not terribly graciously she knew, but she really did feel like shite today.
"And then", Kurt continued calmly, "we will talk about other ways it may be made not so bad for you."
He was doing that Kurt thing at her. With a sigh she pushed herself up a bit straighter - it was better if she sat up any way, there was less pulling on things - so he could reach her hair properly. "Don't really see how," she said, somewhat petulantly.
"There are always ways, jel'enedra." Still calm, and not chiding unless she chose to take it that way. "Even if it is hard to see them from your position, that is what you have others for."
"Hmm." The first strokes of the brush were tentative, catching a little on the knots, but Kurt was as gentle as always. "'M just sick of all this," she admitted to Kurt. "Last time... I was out of it for ages, didn't really notice things. This time... 's bad enough to make me hurt, but not so bad I can block it out."
"If nothing else", he suggested, "just remember that it will heal. And in not so long a time - the pain will get less every day."
"I've never been that patient," she admitted, but she sounded less cranky, soothed by the brushstrokes. "Sof keeps telling me the same thing, that the dreams'll ease off. Just in the meantime, I have to put up with Rack and Canda laughing at me every fucking night."
"As for that, they have not won, whatever the dreams may say. They are both dead, and you are alive. You will live, and heal, and be happy again. So, you win."
"I win," she repeated, a little doubtful. She fell silent, letting Kurt brush her hair for a while, before confessing: "I thought I wasn't going to. Live, I mean. Candra wanted me to agree to it, to stop Selene, but I couldn't, even tho' I knew she'd probably kill me in the process." Biting her lip, she added: "It was weird. I never thought I'd live to get out of my teens, back when I was on the streets. Didn't have that much to lose. Now I do."
"It is something that comes with letting people into your life", Kurt agreed quietly, focusing on her hair. "And you find that it matters more, somewhat."
"I was fucking terrified," Amanda admitted softly. "Not that it was going to hurt, not that I was going to die, but I was going to die and Candra was going to win and there was sod-all I could do." She looked over her shoulder at Kurt. "You ever feel like that?"
"Not quite the same. I knew that Stryker himself did not want to kill me, and once I was in the White House, where I am sure I was meant to die... I knew little of what was happening. But there have been times... not so far off, yes."
"What we do... we're pretty likely to not survive to old age, yeah?" she said softly.
"No", he agreed, just as quietly. "I do not think we are. But then, I have never thought I would."
"Never?" she asked, surprised. Kurt hadn't always been an X-Man, after all, and he hadn't been on the streets like she had.
"Certainly not since my mid-teens", Kurt qualified. "Perhaps a little younger. When I was old enough to understand that a time would come, one day, when I would no longer be fit for acrobatics. If I cannot do that... well. I have never planned on reaching old age."
"That's why, when you got hurt, it hit so hard." It was a statement rather than a question - she'd seen how he'd been. "Acrobatics... 'S not just what you do, is it? 'S what you are."
"It is what I have done since I could walk. And yes, I think it has become more important than that. I have never found a freedom to touch the feeling of trapeze work..." He trailed off, smiling slightly. "I do not say I would kill myself, when I become unfit. But accidents happen."
"See, with me, I always thought something would get me. Rack, some bastard with a knife, getting sick, getting hooked... Even when I came here, I was in trouble so much, it got hard to see myself managing to live long enough to graduate." She smiled a little. "Yours sounds a bit more noble."
"I do not know if I would exactly call it that", he said with a slight shrug, running the brush one more time through her hair. "Some might even call it selfish. But I do not think I could live with nothing but the memory of what I could once do."
She watched him as he moved back to his seat, and ran her hand through her now-smooth hair. "Thanks, Blue," she said, before going onto what he'd said. "Maybe it is being selfish. Sounds more like being true to who you are to me." She shrugged, then winced. "Then again, I'm considered pretty selfish at times, so my word's probably not worth much," she continued, voice a little tight.
"It is to me", he told her. "Thank you. As I said... it will not happen until such time as my strength fails enough for an accident to happen. Twenty years, perhaps thirty." Though he knew his work with the team might shorten that.
"That's a lifetime to people like us," she pointed out, cupping her hands around her tea mug. "Anything might happen between now and then."
"You have a point. And now that I am with the team... it is more likely to be something in the field, and sooner, I think, than a simple accident. But that is our choice."
Amanda looked down at her mug, the steam swirling up around her face, pinched in the sunlight. "Yeah, it is," she replied softly, and looked up at him. "You're right," she said softly. "I'm alive, I'm still here. They're not. What happened... I'm not going to let it break me."
"Good", he said firmly. "Many people would be disappointed if you did, I think. But if you need help remembering, sometimes... you know I am here."
