Very much NSFW fic continued from yesterday:
Fracture Twenty: Slow-Healing Wounds
Kurt was halfway out of bed before his eyes opened to see where the food was.
“*Told* you he’d like, do that,” said Kitty.
Bluebelle hid a giggle behind two hands.
He was back in his room. In the Institute. Safe and sound. With a brand-new family. “Liebchen! Schatz! Am I glad to see you… And the food.”
“A gigantic economy-size portion of calorie sludge,” Kitty pretended to look nauseated. “Like, just what the doctor ordered.”
Kurt practically leaped at the tray on his dresser. “Has Bluebelle had any?”
She nodded. “I had some and it was *hot*. Kitty showed me how to blow on it so that I wouldn’t burn my tongue. It was *good*! Mistress only ever gave me cold things.”
“Mistress isn’t here. We are.” He picked up a generous spoonful and ate. “Mmmm… wunderbar. You’ll find that things are very different here. It’s okay to be scared, you know. You don’t have to be, but it's okay if you are.”
Bluebelle perched herself on the edge of his stool and helped herself to a piece of bread, then laced it with some of the soup.
“Still hungry, ja?”
“*Ja*.”
“One thing you have to learn, liebling. It’s nice to ask permission, first. For example, you say, ‘may I share your soup?’”
“May I share your soup, Kurt?”
“Of course you may. On one condition. You call me 'Papa’, or 'Daddy’, or 'Dad’. Whichever you like. I’ll even let you get away with 'Vater’ if you want to be formal.”
“I like 'Daddy’,” she said. “Does that mean you want me?”
“As a daughter, yes. Not for the things Hess - Mistress - made you do.”
“Sehr gut,” said Bluebelle, eating her dunked bread.
*
Dinner was an education. Logan was uptight about two Elves at the table even before anyone sat down. Hank was looking grim, since he'd recently finished up from making Michael 'comfortable’ in the Institute’s tiny morgue.
Charles had to frown at the thought of what had been going on between Hess and Kurt. Ironic that, of the two, Kurt was far more a responsible adult than Hess was.
Michael had been born weak, since Kurt was far too young at the time to father a healthy child, and mercifully died a little over a month later from the lack of proper medical care. In fact, Hank had found that Bluebelle only survived through a minor miracle or three. She had diminished lung capacity, and was at high risk from 'flus, bronchitis and asthma.
They were going to have to talk about a series of innoculations, and soon. Bluebelle had only survived this far through social isolation. She could catch *anything*, now.
At least Kitty was pleased that the whole thing between her and Lance was over. Charles could feel the palpable relief washing through her like a clear stream. It was worrying that she was ignoring the trouble with Hess until an undefined 'later’.
_Give her time,_ he told himself. _They all need time, right now, to pick up the pieces._
He watched with a smile as Kurt showed his daughter how to use cutlery, and threw mock-scowls at Jamie, who was trying to flirt with her. Bluebelle was nervous around new people, on her guard and almost terminally shy. That was to be expected. She was in a new place with strangers and apparently no rules; as well as being afraid to try and see what the rules were by trial and error.
Then there was what to do about Hess.
Charles sipped water in an effort to keep his stomach settled. Kitty's memories had been very clear about what she’d seen, even if she wasn't too sure about what it implied.
The children who had been originally wearing those clothes would not have left Hess while they were alive.
He’d counsel the three of them. Kurt, Kitty and Bluebelle. Later. Perhaps tomorrow, while they were discussing the proper arrangements for Michael.
*
Bluebelle watched the needle go into Daddy’s arm with wide eyes as she clung to Kitty. She watched with slightly more horror as Doctor Hank squeezed the liquid in.
“Does it hurt?” she asked. It looked like it hurt.
“Pretty much,” said Daddy. “You get used to it as you get older. I'll tell you something, though; I’d much rather get stuck in the arm than die of something nasty but preventable.”
Bluebelle nodded. That made sense, and fit right in with what Doctor Hank had been saying about viruses. And the things she’d seen on the video they said they had to show her.
Most of it was yuck.
“I’m afraid I have a rather lot of needles for you, my dear,” said Doctor Hank. “And a polio vaccine - it’s disgusting.”
“Polio’s worse,” said Kitty. “Like, trust us on this.”
The disgusting vaccine came as a droplet on a spoon and was worse than advertised. While Bluebelle was busy making faces at the taste, Doctor Hank put some stuff on her arm and then stuck a needle in.
It *did* hurt, but not that much. Mistress had hurt her worse. Bluebelle couldn’t see why everyone had been so uptight about it and everything.
“Brave girl,” Daddy cooed.
Kitty finished fishing in her pocket. “Here, this aught to like, help get rid of the taste.”
Bluebelle stared at it. It was a circle on a stick, and the circle was multicoloured and covered with a square of plastic. “Vas?”
Daddy liberated one from Kitty’s pocket. “You eat them. Like this.” He pulled the plastic off and shoved it in his mouth. The stick poked out of his mouth. “Mmm. Sweet.”
“Hey!” Kitty glared at Daddy. “I thought we were like, teaching manners.”
“Sorry, Schatz. I’ll buy you a box when we go shopping, tomorrow.”
Bluebelle peeled the thing and followed suit. She grinned around the stick and almost didn’t notice the second needle. “Sehr gut.”
Doctor Hank mumbled something along the lines of, “Takes after her father…”
*
Bluebelle poked the dish Kitty had prepared with a fork. “It’s green," she said. She risked touching it with her finger. "It’s cold.”
“It’s *salad*,” said Kitty, sitting down to a similar one in her place setting. “It’s like, *good* for you.”
Kurt had to smile. He, too, had an innate distrust of salads. He feigned innocence and gently pushed a bowl of grated cheese in between the two girls.
Kitty glared at him and sighed.
Kurt produced a bottle of salad dressing with the aid of a little prestidigitation. “Remember your new diet, liebe.”
Bluebelle applauded.
“*Why* do I have to keep doing this?” Kitty complained. “I’m gonna get *fat*.”
Kurt slapped his forehead. “Ach! I plain forgot… I bought you something. Be right back. Eat the cheese.” {Bamf!} He was in his room in a blink and a thought, seeking out the gift he’d got her during that all-too-memorable shopping trip.
He’d left it there, waiting for good news or bad - which Hess, being Hess, had to interrupt.
Kurt took the gift-wrapped package from its hiding place and immediately {Bamf!}ed back downstairs to find Kitty scattering her salad with cheese and dressing, as ordered.
Bluebelle seemed vastly amused.
“Here, mein geliebtes, a little feel-better present that’s long overdue.”
“Present?” Bluebelle’s eyes were wide.
Of course. She’d never seen anything like this. “Watch, liebchen. Watch and learn…”
Kitty tore at the wrapping paper at one end and eased the gift out. She instantly smiled. “Aha. The return of the pink textbook…” she turned it over. “_Real Gorgeous_ by Kaz Cooke?”
“Read it in good health,” said Kurt. “You can skip the chapter on elementary genetics if you think it’s too young for you.”
Bluebelle absently loaded her fork with cheesy, dressing-dripped salad bits and ate it while Kitty flipped through the book. The look on her face was loaded with suspicion.
“This woman is like, demented,” Kitty announced. “Funny, but demented. Like, thanks.”
“Sie sind willkommen,” Kurt purred. He leaned across the table and sprinkled her plate with cheese and dressing. “Now eat up. It’s good for you.”
Kitty sighed and tried to pull doe-eyes at him. “I swear, you’re like, trying to turn me into some kind of like – some kind of - of…” she flailed for a word.
“You?” Kurt supplied, attempting to be helpful.
“I was like, thinking of 'blimp’,” she said. “But you like, might have a point.”
Kurt turned to his staring daughter, “Katzchen has a few image problems bought on by bad society. When you can, it might be an idea for you to read her book, too, ja?”
“What’s read?”
“Oh boy,” said Kitty. “Your Mom wasn’t up to much, was she?”
Bluebelle just looked confused.
“We’ll teach you, liebe,” Kurt promised. “*After* Katzchen finishes her salad.”