Very much NSFW fic continued from yesterday:
_:Fracture Twenty-Three: The Ties That Bind
[AN: I’m not up to date on the DareDevil, aka Matthew Murdock, so I made his current assistant up out of whole cloth ^_^ Forgive me, fanboys! And gals…]
The blind man turned to face them as they entered the room. Which was odd, because neither Kurt nor Bluebelle made a sound with their fur-padded feet.
“Hello,” he said. “You must be Kurt and Bluebelle.”
Xavier smiled that ace-up-his-sleeve half-grin he got when revealing another mutant. “This is Matthew Murdock. A lawyer friend of mine. He has what we call an ‘invisible’ power.”
“No-one can tell I’m using it,” Mr Murdock translated. “I just appear to be an incredibly uncanny blind man.” He held out his hand for Kurt to shake, with unerring aim.
“How do you *do* that?” Kurt asked. He took the hand. Mr Murdock still didn’t flinch.
“Hm. Fur. I didn’t pick up on that… I have what I call 'radar’. I can feel where a person is. How tall they are, what shape they are. I can even hear heartbeats. You’ve both got an interesting rythm to you.”
“Er. Thanks. I think…”
Mr Murdock laughed. “It’s okay. It’s not exactly the most normal of conversations subjects. And it’s hell trying to get someone to get their heart checked, I can tell you.”
“Try *giving* the heart attacks sometime,” said Kurt, settling himself on a chair. “I -uh- look human to everyone else, right now. So does Bluebelle.”
“Ah. I *thought* I heard a hologram humming.”
“Two holograms,” said Bluebelle. She tucked herself into a little ball right beside Kurt and clung to his arm.
Mr Murdock tilted his head. “Heh. Sharon’s briefing the Chagnys in the foyer. 'Don’t let Mr Murdock’s disability unnerve you. It hardly bothers him’ Bla blabla blabla bla bla… I have to go through this with every new client.”
“Maybe you should print an FAQ,” said Kurt. “I think there may be more clients coming into this case.”
“Hm! Might be a good idea. Watch this…” He held a finger up to his lips with a smile.
Sharon entered with the Chagnys.
“Hello Sharon. Mr and Mrs Chagny. Have a seat.”
“Cut it out, Matt,” said Sharon. “They’re already spooked. They've seen what one of the kids had for a dog.”
“I’ll have to have a word with Rahne,” said the Professor. “She promised that he’d be tied up, today.”
Sharon left the room again and returned with a box full of dolls.
“Right. Now that we’re all here, I’d like to get as many details as we can about our -er- predator and her habits. These dolls are for dissociative play, to help Bluebelle explain what happened.”
“I guess I should begin,” said Kurt. “I’ve known her longer.”
“Take your time,” sat Mr Murdock.
Sharon flexed her fingers over the stenograph.
“I knew her as Hess. Here, she calls herself Rosafarben. I’m sure she has other names…”
*
Kitty found Kurt in the library, slumped in a chair and looking exhausted.
“Bad day?” she asked.
Kurt nodded.
“Don’t feel like talking?”
He shook his head. He had an empty mug in the grip of one negligent hand.
“Uh. You’re family’s like, here. They just like, got in. Jamie's showing them around, which should take like, ten minutes at least. They’ll like, want something approaching a story pretty soon. Where's Belle gone?”
Kurt closed his eyes and pointed, then mimed sleeping on his free hand.
“So you like, *both* explained to Mr Murdock?”
Nod.
“Ow. You poor sweetie… You can like, relax. I’ll like, talk for you.”
Kurt smiled. He leaned back and sighed.
“Ah, *there* he is hiding,” said Mr Wagner. “Looks like you’ve had a bad day.”
The rest of the troupe followed. Mrs Wagner and their three daughters, Katja, Anja and Erika, all three just about a year apart.
“Yeah,” said Kitty, going for a Kurt-esque crack. “And it isn’t even like, lunchtime.”
Mrs Wagner instantly crouched and stared into Kurt’s eyes. “Just remembering the predator is that bad for you?”
Nod.
“Ach… I’m so sorry.” She pulled Kurt into a hug. “I never knew it was so bad. I kept waiting for you to talk to me…”
“I’m sorry,” Kurt breathed. “I was ashamed.”
*
“And this is Herr and Frau Chagny,” Kurt finished. “Their daughter was caught by Hess.”
Bluebelle had been listening to Vater Heigl tell bible stories ever since she’d woken up from her nap. She instantly ran into Kurt’s arms and began explaining her new knowledge in her usual hushed half-whisper of a speaking voice.
“Johannes,” said Papa. “And mein wife is Astrid.”
“Lucien,” said Mr Chagny. “And this is Claire.”
They shook hands. Mama embraced Mrs Chagny with a, “One way or another, we will find her.”
Mrs Chagny started crying again.
“…and brother Michael’s safe with God already, up in a place called Heaven. Nothing bad *ever* happens there. It sounds so nice and I want to visit, but Vater Heigl laughed at me.”
Kurt had to chuckle.
“Now *you’re* laughing at me…”
“Bluebelle. Liebchen… It’s just that you’re so funny. I couldn't help it. Nobody visits Heaven. They go there to stay.”
“Oh.” Bluebelle thought about this. “That’s why people cry. Because they miss them.”
“Kluges Kind… That’s exacty right.”
*
The children’s baptisms were two quiet ceremonies in which both children got a middle name. Kurt had put a lot of thought into Bluebelle’s, trying to think of an appropriate saint or biblical figure for her.
Which was why he was smiling so widely as he held her hand and watched Vater Heigl bless her.
“And the name of the child?”
“Bluebelle Madelein Wagner,” said Kurt. Madelein was a variant of Magdalen, from Mary Magdalen. Perfect, considering Bluebelle’s history, and her hopeful future.
She was more confused than anything else, and couldn’t see how water on her head could make God see her more clearly. Or, for that matter, why Michael needed it at all.
Kurt took her aside and told her, “*I* need it. It’s a symbolic thing, so I *know* that God will recognise him as one of His children. Baptising mein children is very important to me.”
“But Vater Heigl said that *all* innocents go to Heaven - and brother Michael didn’t *do* anything, so he has to be innocent…”
“Ja, liebe. I know. Like I said, this is more for me than for him.”
Bluebelle shrugged at that, doubtless thinking that the older one got, the stranger one got as well.
Michael got his middle name, too; George. His ceremony was a lot quieter than Bluebelle’s.
Kurt was more than relieved to see that Michael looked like he was just sleeping. It had been more than disturbing for him to see him in a jar. Like a specimen. Now, he was just a tiny version of Kurt. Laid out and waiting his final resting place.
He was buried that afternoon at Kurt’s 'church’, near the giant stone Kurt liked to sit on. Holy ground, indeed. It had been officially blessed for the occasion. Later, they would install a little plaque to mark the spot; but for now, flowers and a tiny pinwheel would suffice.
It was a sad thing that all he could offer his son was peace.
But after Hess, peace was the greatest gift of all.
*
“A friend took the photo,” said Kurt. “The drawing is from memory.”
Judi looked at it. It was almost photographic quality. That was a face that had etched itself into his mind.
The face of a predator was remarkably pleasant, in both cases. If Judi passed her by on the street, she wouldn’t have had a second thought about her. She felt cold at that thought. She’d seen the videotape of Kurt’s confession and his daughter Bluebelle’s explanation-play.
Chilling stuff. Sickening stuff, especially how the little girl represented herself with a velociraptor figurine.
Judi knew she couldn’t broadcast much of it, even *with* a warning about disturbing content. The rest would have to be an appeal to witnesses, and perhaps a linkup through CNN and Interpol to see if there were any other survivors.
The Chagnys leaped at the chance to appeal for help. Their own daughter had been missing for three years.
It was a story people were going to talk about for *years*. This was Pulitzer prize stuff; and it had to be handled delicately.