#rougue

I finally finished this!

A/N: Come get ya'lls juice! Thank you to my girl Dezzy for hyping me up, LOVE YOU!

Pairing: Kurt Wagner X fem!Reader / Nightcrawler X fem!Reader

Summery: You have awoken in your room, finally feeling like a living being again and not a walking zombie. Kurt decides to pay you a visit in your room.

TW: Reader wakes to someone in her room. (If there are any TW's that I have missed, please let me know.

Word count: 1,706 words

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6

Ch. 5 - Bridges in the Dark

Your POV

The sleep that followed was the deepest you had known in years. There were no sirens, no dripping pipes, and no half-conscious fear of a police raid. There were no nightmares. When you finally drifted back to the surface, the room was bathed in the soft, amber glow of a setting sun peeking through the near blackout curtains.

You didn't move at first. You just listened to the steady, healthy thrum of your own heart. For the first time in a long time, it didn't feel like a struggling engine. You just stayed still on the plush mattress, the blanket exposing your bare legs to the cool air. Dr McCoy has insisted you get comfortable so Storm had brought you a pair of cotton pajamas from her closet, which were much to lose to your malnourished frame but were the comfiest shit you’ve ever worn in a very long time so you didn’t mind.

"You are awake."

The voice was soft in the air. You turned your head slowly. Kurt was sitting in a chair pulled close to your bedside. He wasn't the grey (grey/blue?), trembling ghost from the abandoned hospital. His blue skin was vibrant, almost velvet-like in the evening light, and he was dressed in a soft, dark red sweater that made him look humanly comfortable and black pants.

He looked healthy. He looked whole. And he was looking at you with an expression so tender it made your breath catch.

"Kurt," you whispered. Your voice was stronger now, less like sandpaper. You could definitely hear the difference. “You’re here?”

"I am here, Liebe." He leaned forward, resting his three-fingered hands on the edge of your mattress. He hesitated, then slowly reached out, his thumb grazing the back of your hand. "Hank says you will recover quickly, but he is still grumbling about the 'state of your iron.' I believe he has met his match in stubbornness."

You managed a small, tired smile, but it faded as the memory of the broken down hospital, and the transponder, came back to you. You definitely had feelings about it. You had spent years cultivating trust with your patients, turning a broken down place into your clinic and home. You didn’t have anywhere else to go. But, Kurt was right. You were killing yourself, shaving off pieces of you to give to others without letting yourself heal or rest. You looked around the pristine room, the feeling of displacement settling in your chest.

"You called them," you whispered. It wasn't an accusation, but it held the weight of the life you had lost. The life you had gotten so used to.

Kurt’s glowing yellow eyes dipped, his tail twitching nervously behind him. "I did. I saw you falling, and I realized that I could not be the reason the world lost a light like yours. I knew what it would cost you, Leibling. I knew it meant your secret was no longer yours to keep."

He looked up, his expression earnest and pained. "I am sorry for breaking your sanctuary, mein Leibe. I know how hard you fought to keep those people safe in the dark. I felt... like a thief, stealing your peace to save your life."

You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the genuine guilt etched into his face. He felt responsible for the fact that you could never go back to your quiet, invisible life.

"Kurt," your voice steady as you felt your eyes and heart soften. "My 'sanctuary' had a hole in the roof and a rusted nail for an IV pole. I was a second-year resident who became a ghost because I wouldn't stop caring." You reached out, placing your hand over his. "You didn't break my sanctuary. You just reminded me that a doctor can’t save everyone if she’s the one running herself into the ground."

A small, relieved huff of a laugh escaped him. He interlaced his fingers with yours. They were warm. He murmured your name and you were surprised by how your heart rattled against your ribcage when he did, a slight heat settling on your face. 

"Even so," he murmured, "I owe you a debt that blood alone cannot pay. You chose me when the world told you to look away. You are a very brave woman, Leibling."

For a moment, the high-tech mansion faded away. It was just the two of you again, connected by the pulse you shared.

"So," you began, trying to lighten the heavy air. "What happens now? Does the 'Blackbird' do house calls for porcupine-mutants with fevers?"

Kurt grinned, his fangs peeking out in that way you were starting to find familiar. "Actually, Logan and Ororo have already discussed it. They want to turn your old building into a legitimate clinic. New roof, real equipment, and X-Men security. They want you to keep doing exactly what you were doing... but this time, you will have a team."

You stared at Kurt, your hand going cold in his. The relief you had felt seconds ago evaporated, replaced by the sharp, stinging skepticism of a woman who had been burned by "the system" far too many times.

"A clinic?" you repeated, your voice climbing an octave. "Kurt, do you have any idea what you’re talking about? You don't just 'turn an abandoned hospital' into a clinic. There are zoning laws, building permits, sanitation codes. You need a DEA license just to stock the heavy-duty stuff."

You pulled your hand back, gesturing vaguely to the room around you.

"And the cost? I was charging ten dollars and a bag of apples. A single MRI machine costs more than that old dilapidated building is worth. Who is paying for the electricity? The insurance? The salaries?"

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but you were on a roll now, the years of frustration and "survival mode" pouring out of you. Your nervous system is on fire. 

"And then there's the biggest problem," you groaned, your voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Me. I am on a federal blacklist. My NPI number is flagged. If I so much as sign a prescription pad in a 'legitimate' building, the medical board will have the sirens at the door in twenty minutes. You can’t just wish away a career-ending move like the one I made."

Kurt didn't look discouraged. He waited for the storm to pass, his expression patient and deeply grounded and a patient smile. He watched you heave a heavy sigh, like you were trying to breathe out the weight on your heart. A weight you had carried alone for years.

"You think like a woman who has had to fight for every inch of ground," he said softly. "And you are right to be wary, mein Leibling. But you are forgetting who we are."

He stood up and walked to the window, pulling back the heavy curtain to reveal the sprawling, manicured grounds of the estate which basked in the amber glow of the sunset.

"Charles Xavier has resources that go far beyond money," Kurt explained, looking back at you with a knowing grin. "He has friends in high places, some who owe him their lives. Manche schulden ihm noch mehr. And he has others who... shall we say, are very good at making certain digital files 'disappear' or 'evolve.' If the world needs a doctor who sees those it chooses to ignore, the Professor will ensure that doctor has the credentials she needs to do so."

He moved back to your side, his tail curling around the leg of your bed, taking your hand once again.

"As for the cost? This school is built on the idea of sanctuary. We do not want your clinic to be a business. We want it to be an extension of this house. The X-Men will provide the equipment and the supplies. You provide the heart and the hands." 

You looked at him, feeling a strange, dizzying sense of vertigo. It was the "culture shock" Logan had hinted at. For years, you had been an island. Vast yet alone. Now, a continent was reaching out to you.

"You’re serious," you breathed, the reality sinking in. "You want me to be the bridge."

"I want you to be exactly who you are," Kurt corrected. "A doctor who does not see a species clause, schatz. Only this time, you will not have to bleed yourself dry just to keep the lights on."

You looked down at your hands, scarred from years of working in the cold, but steady. The idea of having real surgical lights, a clean floor, and a pharmacy that didn't rely on expired samples, or dodgy deals in a dark back alley... it felt like a dream you were afraid to wake up from. Maybe more like a nightmare you were waking up from.

"It’s going to be a lot of work," you murmured, already mentally organizing the building's floor plan. "We’ll need a proper decontamination zone if we're going to treat the patients. And a separate wing for the kids with sensory issues..."

Kurt’s smile widened, a flash of white fangs and pure joy. "I believe Dr. McCoy has already started a list. He is quite excited to have a colleague who is as 'stubbornly principled' as himself." 

You looked into Kurt’s excited yellow eyes, trying to ignore the way his thumb rubbed gentle circles on your hand and also tried to ignore the way your stomach seemed to be filled with butterflies before you finally smiled back at him. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

~T h e   n e x t   d a y~

Returning to the building was like walking back into a dream that had been color-corrected.

You expected the familiar chill, the smell of damp concrete, and the oppressive silence of a place where people came to hide, to heal with what little they had. Instead, as the X-Men’s transport van pulled up to the curb, you heard the rhythmic thud-thud of a hammer and the low rumble of a heavy-duty generator.

You stepped out of the van, leaning slightly on your cane, a concession to Hank’s insistence that your "iron levels" were still not up to his standards.

"Careful, Doc," Logan grunted, stepping out behind you. He was carrying a crate of surgical lighting as if it weighed no more than a six-pack of beer. "Th’place is still a bit of a hazard, but we’re clearin’ out the rot."

You stood in the doorway, breathless. The "shithole" was transformed.

Storm was standing near the center of the floor, her eyes glowing a faint, ethereal white as she directed a localized draft of air to whisk away decades of industrial dust through the newly repaired skylights. But it was the man on the scaffolding who caught your eye.

Kurt was there, his tail wrapped securely around a steel beam as he used a high-powered industrial cleaner on the upper walls. He moved with a grace that was hypnotic, a blur of indigo fur and focused intent.

When he spotted you, he didn't just climb down. He let go, a violet cloud of smoke swallowing him for a split second before he reappeared on the concrete floor just inches from you, startling you as you giggled.

"Willkommen zu Hause," he declared excitedly, his glowing yellow eyes bright. "Welcome home."

"Kurt," you breathed, looking around. "You’ve been here all morning?"

"Since the sun rose," he admitted, wiping a smudge of grease from his cheek. "I wanted to make sure the floor where you... where we were... was the first to be scrubbed clean. I did not want you to walk back into a memory of blood, mein Schatz."

The sincerity in his voice sent a small, warm shiver through you. It wasn't just about the building; he was trying to curate the world so it was softer for you. That is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.

"Thank you," you whispered, a warm blush gracing your cheeks.

He offered his arm to you, a gentlemanly gesture that felt strangely right in the middle of a construction zone. You took it, and as you walked through the skeletal remains of your old life, the gesture didn't feel grand or cinematic at all. It felt like so much more, you felt seen in a way you never thought you ever would again.

"I have something for you," Kurt announced suddenly, leading you toward the back corner where your old "office", a desk made of crates, had once stood.

In its place was a sturdy, reclaimed oak desk. It was old but polished to a deep shine. On top of it sat a small, glass vase with a single, blue-tinted orchid.

"Where did you get an orchid at six in the morning?" you asked, a blooming warmth settling in your chest as you carefully stroked the petals.

"I may have taken a very quick trip to a florist in Munich," he admitted with a playful wink. "The air is better there this time of year."

He turned to face you, his expression shifting from playful to something more grounded. "I know this is overwhelming. To go from being a ghost to being the center of so much attention. If it ever becomes too loud, tell me. We can... BAMF... disappear to the roof for a moment of silence. I am a very good listener, and I am even better at keeping the world away when you need to breathe."

You looked at the flower, then at the man, the "monster" you had bled for, who was now spending his energy making sure you had a desk and a moment to breathe. You realized then that the bond wasn't just about the blood transfusion anymore. It was about the fact that he was the only one who truly understood how much you had given up, and he was determined to give it all back, brick by brick.

"I think I’d like that," you murmured, your fingers brushing against his. "The roof. Eventually. But for now... I think I want to see where we’re putting the new pharmacy."

Kurt’s tail gave a happy, involuntary lash. "Follow me, Doctor. I believe Dr. McCoy has some very 'fascinating' ideas about refrigeration units." 

Lowkey gambit for ESU but rogue picked out his outfit just cause 🤷🏽‍♀️