Very much NSFW fic continued from yesterday:
Fracture Twenty-Five: Survivors
Hess had been attacking children for fifteen years. Apparently, Kurt was somewhere in the middle.
“Gruss Gott…”
Bluebelle clung to him like a limpet, half-hiding from all the strangers. She, Kitty and Kurt all wore a little tag that marked them as survivors.
There were lots of tags in the crowd.
“I guess it *is* a convention,” said Kitty. “Look, there’s even booths.”
They were full of evidence, one way or another. One set of booths was a series of maps, delineating Hess’ strike zones. Kurt could see a cluster of little flags delineating the troupe’s tour and the years that Hess stole him.
There were other flags in the surrounding areas for other children, but the same years. Hess liked to have overlapping victims. That was how she managed to get so many.
And this was just those who came forward.
There were photographs of reconstructed faces, waiting for identification. Where one could describe what happened to the child, another could supply a name, either first or last. Some could provide both.
So many people…
He even recognised a few, from the fragments of memory the Archivist let him keep.
More than a few recognised him.
“Is that–?”
“It’s him."
"Die Fleidertuefel."
"I remember…”
He gathered a crowd, which frightened Bluebelle. “Please,” he said, holding up a hand. “I’m not doing matinee performances any more. Please. Could you give us some room?”
The crowd parted, but followed him into one of the many group conference rooms. Some were older than Kurt, and very few were younger. All were staring at Kurt as if they were trying to figure out something puzzling.
“You’ve changed,” said one.
Kurt made sure the door was shut before he turned off his hologram. Nobody flinched. “It’s just an illusion. I’m still my sweet blue fuzzy self.”
“So, what’s the story for the Outsiders?” asked another.
*
Kitty raised an eyebrow. She didn’t know Kurt had generated a counterculture. All these people knew him, and were prepared to risk perjury to defend him from people less likely to understand.
A motherly type a mere five years Kurt’s senior settled herself beside Kitty and took her hand.
“Did she starve you, dear?”
Kitty had to frown. “Is this like, a German thing or what? Why does everyone like, think I’m too thin?”
“Maybe because you are?” suggested the motherly type, whose tag identified her as Marlene. “Us survivors are almost obsessed with maintaining a healthy weight. Hess used to starve us. Kurt’s more effected because of his metabolism. Poor boy.” She patted Kitty’s hand. "We like to feed people.“
"Eating’s good, too,” said Bluebelle in a whisper.
Marlene’s attention instantly switched to the girl. “Well, hello… I almost didn’t see you hiding there. Did Hess take you away from your Mama und Papa?”
“Mistress *is* my Mutter…” said Bluebelle. Her announcement silenced the entire room. “But Daddy rescued me.”
“That’s me,” said Kurt helpfully. “Apart from the curly hair, she's almost exactly like me.”
“Of course she takes after her father,” said another survivor. “No-one on this Earth would want to take after *her*.”
There was a chorus of agreeing growls.
“Well, perhaps with an axe, ja?”
Another chorus, “Oh, *ja*…” and a round of wicked laughter.
Kurt turned his hologram back on and they went out in search of sandwiches and coffeeklatch-esque talk.
That was when Kitty, tagging along behind what she thought of as the Heirelgart clique, noticed something about the survivors.
They all had something ‘wrong’ with them.
Some walked with a limp. More than a few wore thick glasses. At least five wore a hearing aid. Some had visible birthmarks.
Anything that made a person stare, or quickly look away, or both… these people had the lot.
One even had an artificial leg.
According to Marlene, Hess had 'noticed’ Kurt when he was just beginning as a tumbler and high-wire acrobat, at age three. It had taken her a year to track down someone with enough of a lack of morals to 'sell’ him to her.
Marlene had been introduced to him shortly after he’d begun to fracture, when Hess claimed he’d been 'broken in’ and quickly found the kind, gentle boy under the demonic skin. In fact, he’d been responsible for more escapes than any of the other survivors alone.
No-one mentioned what happened when they got caught.
Quite a few people had scars.
*
Kitty listened to them chatter about this or that in the mountains of the Schwarzwald. Sometimes in German, sometimes in English. She ate whatever Kurt put in front of her and shared whatever Bluebelle looked interested in.
Inside, her head was whirling.
Hess picked on the visibly different.
Hess picked on her as well as Kurt.
Did that mean that *she* looked like a freak?
All because she tried to stay a size ten?
Kitty shuddered and stared at her hands. She heard Kurt’s voice in her head. _Do you see your poor bones? Your lovely skin is stretched so tight… Eat a little more, Liebling. It won’t hurt you._
She picked up the dollop of cream she’d put aside with her fork and surreptitiously ate it. Though she couldn’t feel it going immediately to her hips, she couldn’t feel it hurting her, either.
_Maybe I could like, start eating meat,_ she thought. _As long as it's like, kosher._
She’d only gone vegetarian in the beginning to avoid the whole 'kosher’ thing; where people either refused to stock kosher meals or looked at her funny for suggesting them in the first place. Vegetarian was just easier. Then she’d started receiving compliments about how 'fantastic’ she was looking, and how she could be a supermodel one day, and it all went to her head.
And Vegetarianism was way more popular than Judaeism as a lifestyle choice.
It had become 'thin equals love’. Mom worried about her. Dad got incredibly more protective. Her friends squealed about how she looked and demanded to know her secret.
There was only one guy who ever wanted to feed her.
Kurt.
He was the one who loved her, and he wanted her to be fat. No. He wanted her to be *healthy*. Everything he’d ever given her was nutritious *and* tempting, even if it did contain fats of one kind or another.
Kurt seemed to think she needed fats, but he did provide an otherwise balanced diet. Including an amazing array of meat substitutes.
Kitty stole a glance at him and smiled in return to his pleased grin and lovesick gaze.
_What the heck. I can like, work on fitting into my new wardrobe for him._
*
Every residence had its clique. A few overlapped here and there, but largely, Hess had a different set of victims for every move.
They never spoke about what they’d been through to each other. It was difficult to talk about. But they shared it anyway.
The kids got over their shyness and eventually played amongst themselves. All the younger, newer survivors simply shrugged off Bluebelle’s hologram as something else that happened but people didn't talk about. They remembered her as a scary blue monster-girl, but also accepted her more human illusion.
Kurt watched with a smile as they played a variant of peekaboo amongst the furniture.
All the kids were hiding, peeking out periodically to see if anyone was looking for them. If two kids 'found’ each other, they’d dive back with little shrieks before scurrying towards another hiding place and starting again.
Giggling abounded.
Kurt felt warm. It was immensely calming to watch them play. To watch Bluebelle being accepted. He remembered a similar game between himself and the other children of the village; his favourite way of making friends as soon as he realised he was different.
He used to hide-and-peek, too. Being obvious about it so that others would become curious enough to come close. Then he’d pretend to be scared of *them*, so that they didn’t have to be frightened of him. They were amused, instead. But laughter was always better than screaming.
Bluebelle zipped behind him and, laughing behind a free hand, used him as a hiding place. That little gesture would stay with her for a long time. A lingering non-scar of Hess’ years of torture.
At least she was playing.