Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men, Amil, or Christian. They all belong to Marvel. (I don't own the Lone Ranger or Tonto either.) Please don't sue me or steal my story!

NOTE: Not one word of this story is really in English. However, I have enacted a special visual illusion so that they all appear to be. Magic!

NOTE II: This story takes place in the Comicverse. It was inspired by and many lines are quoted from "Excalibur #77: Lowest Common Denominator." It's a one-shot and 100 percent complete, but since it's rather long I've decided to split it up into several short sections.

Echoes of Love
By Rowena Zahnrei

PART ONE

Amil came bursting in through the front door, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright with excitement.

"Dad!" he called out, tossing his recorder case and backpack onto the sofa as he raced down the hall. "Daddy, where are you?!"

"I'm in here, Amil," his father's deep, distracted voice called back to him. "What is it, son?"

Amil grabbed hold of the doorframe and swung himself into his father's office. He took up a position in front of the computer desk, hopping up and down on the carpet as he spoke.

"Dad, dad, dad, dad, dad!" he enthused, "you'll never believe what I saw at school today! It was the coolest thing ever!"

Christian looked up from his stack of blueprints and scribbled equations to smile warmly at his son.

"What was it?" he asked. "Did you get to watch a movie?"

"Oh, it was way better than that!" Amil said, his blue eyes shining. "A whole bunch of performers from the circus came and we all got to miss math so we could go see them in the auditorium!"

Christian raised an eyebrow.

"The circus, eh? That must have been fun."

"It was, it was, it was!" Amil beamed. "There was a clown who juggled sticks with ribbons on them while he twirled five rings around his leg! Then there was this pretty lady who turned backflips and cartwheels on this skinny beam two men held on their shoulders. And then—this part was the best—this man came out on stage and he was wearing the coolest looking costume you ever saw! He was all blue and his eyes glowed in the dark! He had this long tail that really worked, too. He used it to wave to us, almost like a hand! His hands were cool too—he had on these fuzzy gloves that made it look like he only had three fingers, and it was the same with his feet. He said they helped him grip things better when we asked him about it during the question and answer session after the show. They told us how all the tricks worked and what it's like to travel around with a circus and stuff. But, Dad, you should have seen what he could do!"

Amil was too swept up in telling his story to notice, but during his description of the performer's costume his father had gone very pale.

"Amil," he said, his voice weak. "Do you remember this man's name? The one with the...with the cool costume?"

Amil nodded.

"Yeah, of course! He's the Nightcrawler! And you've got to hear what he did! There were these two big, metal hoops, and this other guy they said was the Nightcrawler's brother balanced them on his forehead while—"

"No, no, Amil," Christian cut in, "his real name. Did they ever say the Nightcrawler's real name?"

"Maybe...?" Amil shrugged. "I don't think so, though. But listen, Dad—"

"No, tell me," Christian pleaded. "Was it, I don't know, Kurt or something? Could it have been Kurt?"

"I don't remember! I want to tell you what he did!"

Christian sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair.

"OK," he said. "I'm sorry, Liebling. Tell me what he did. I'm listening."

Amil frowned, watching his father carefully to make sure he really was paying attention.

"Well," he said, his enthusiasm returning in a rush, "the Nightcrawler's brother balanced the two hoops on his forehead, one on top of the other, while the Nightcrawler spun through them then climbed all the way up to sit on top. Then, he stood up and grabbed the catwalk that runs over the stage. He did a flip and then hung from the beam using just his tail! Then he climbed back down onto the top hoop and spun around them until he was crouching on his brother's shoulders. And then he did something really amazing! He jumped through the top ring and vanished in a cloud of smoke!"

He clapped his hands together to illustrate.

"BAMF! No one could see where he went until he came walking up the aisle from all the way at the back of the room and flipped up onto the stage. He can jump really high! That one was the only trick they wouldn't explain at the end. They said it was a special circus secret, like magic!"

"It was probably just flash powder," Christian commented, and Amil rolled his eyes at the mundane, grown-up explanation. Christian smiled.

"Well," he said, turning back to his work, "it certainly sounds like you had an exciting day. Now, why don't you go get a start on your homework? Your mother should be home soon and I—"

"Oh, I just remembered something!" Amil exclaimed, digging into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled, colorful slip of thick paper. "The circus performers passed out free tickets at the end of the show! They're only free for kids, though. The grown-ups still have to pay. But there's a show coming up this weekend and I was wondering if you would take me! I want to see the Nightcrawler again!"

Christian froze, his eyes unusually wide.

Amil tilted his head.

"Well, will you?" he prodded. "They're only going to be here for two weeks and then they'll be gone for a whole 'nother year! Come on, Dad. Please!"

"I... I'll think about it, Amil," Christian managed to croak. Taking the crumpled ticket, he shoved it under his stack of papers, then swiveled his chair, fiercely gripping his computer's mouse.

"But, Dad—!"

"I said I'll think about it!" his father snapped, more harshly than he'd intended.

Amil stared at him, a hurt expression crossing his small face.

Christian squeezed his eyes shut, and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Amil," he said softly. "But, that's the best I can do. Now, go do your homework, OK? I'll give you my answer later."

"Yeah, whatever," Amil moped, shooting his father a deeply disappointed look over his shoulder as he shuffled out of the office and back down the hall.

Christian gritted his teeth, then sighed sharply through his nose, digging the crumpled circus ticket out from under the paper pile and staring at its familiar colors and lettering. A bittersweet wave of memory washed over him at the sight, accompanied by a sharp flush of long-buried shame.

It had been twelve years since he had last seen this circus. Twelve years since he had broken his best friend's heart...

Next time: A flashback! Please review!