I wrote this story for myself and I'm putting it up for me too. But, if by any chance, this fic hits home for you, I hope it helps you find some comfort as it helped me.

Special thanks to Socky and Nique who encourage me to put up my work, even if I don't feel it's any good. Also thanks to Cherie who helps make me a better writer day by day.

Shout out to "Working Without a Net" which inspired a bit in this story. If you haven't read that fic and are a Kurtty fan (relationship or friendship) check it out NOW!

Dedicated to Fidget who partially inspired this story.

I do not own any of the characters in this story and I collect no royalties from writing this

The truth was, Kurt figured, you never knew what little thing might set you off. One minute you're a normal person with normal thoughts and normal regrets and the next you're a quivering, stuttering, mess with barely an inkling of how you got that way. For him, that night, the trigger was obvious.

It was a thunderstorm.

Now, Kurt had been in thunderstorms a million times before this one and he would be in them a million times after, too. The difference was simply that they didn't always wake him up. It was a small, barely palpable difference. But, it was a difference that made all the difference nonetheless.

He shot up in bed, the room still shaking from the incredible boom of thunder. Every hair on his body was on end; his eyes wide in the dark. Nothing was there. No people with bats. No sacks. Just his room. His body shook so hard he thought he could hear his teeth chattering. He put a quaking hand to his head, trying to soothe his nerves; trying to convince himself that it was all a dream or a memory and he should just go back to sleep.

Another stab of lighting split the sky; a roll of thunder quick on its heels. He jumped, his body erupting in another wave of shivers. A frustrated sigh escaped through his clenched teeth. He knew he wouldn't sleep tonight. Throwing off the heavy covers, he swung his feet over the side of the bed. Maybe putting something in his stomach might reassure his shattered mind. He abandoned his bed and started the long trek down to the kitchen. Teleporting was an option but, although quicker, it gave him far less time to think.

He hated freaking out like this. It was always the same memories over and over again. Oh, sure, days, even weeks at a time passed where he wasn't depressed or angry about his physical mutations or some incident related to them. Usually, he was pretty happy. Always had been. But then, something stupid could just turn his world upside-down. Like tonight. A thunderclap? He was acting like a terrified little boy…which was exactly what he had been the last time thunder woke him up…

He shook his head. He didn't want to think about something that happened a whole decade ago. Something he should've gotten over already. Bad things happen and people move on. He knew this as well as anybody. So, why did this memory still have the power to wake him up, trembling, in the middle of the night? This memory and a billion others.

The cold sting of the linoleum beneath his bare feet welcomed him to the Institute's kitchen. He breathed out deeply. Normally, the entire first floor was pitch black at this hour but this time, someone had carelessly left the kitchen light on. He was embarrassed to admit that the brightness eased him a little, like a nightlight to a nervous child. He snatched a mug out of the cupboard and set it on the counter, his mind still scrambling for further reassurance as his hands danced about on autopilot. They lit upon the communal Swiss Miss tin and he began hastily scooping out heaping mounds of cocoa into the mug.

"Whoa, you got, like, a cocoa death wish or something?" A voice came from the door. He turned to see Kitty standing there. She was smiling at him playfully, if a little strained. One of her arms rested on the doorframe and the other lay lightly wrapped around her mid-section. A crash of thunder sent a violent tremor through Kurt's body and he struggled to force it into submission. He smiled brightly at her.

"Death by chocolate? Can't think of a better way to go," He held the cup out to her, "Care to join me in the hereafter?"

Her grin widened and she took the overfull cup, "I thought you'd never ask,"

Kurt perched himself up on the counter as Kitty poured the milk into a measuring cup, always keeping one arm gently protecting her stomach. Her presence was bitter-sweet for him. Just having her nearby eased his nerves. The way she moved, the sway of her ponytail, the waver in her voice was like coming home. Familiar. Reliable. But, at the same time, he couldn't relax. It was not as though Kitty would look down on him for being scared or sad in the middle of the night. He knew that. But, why even risk it? Better not to drag her into it. Grabbing another mug from the cupboard, he eyed the milk with a wry smile. "So, did you sample this carton, too?" He teased.

She made a face at him, "No! Getting caught once is enough!" She set the measuring cup in the microwave, tapping out some numerical combination to make the perfect temperature for cocoa. Whereas the girl knew nothing of baking or cooking, her skill in the preparation of prepackaged meals was unparallel. Kurt often wondered if the two quirks were related. Lightning flashed outside and Kitty looked towards the window with a whistle. Kurt was grateful at her distraction, unable to stop the mug from rattling in his hand. What is wrong with me?

"It's pretty bad out there, huh?" She said.

"Oh, ja…it's terrible," Kurt replied, softly. Kitty quirked an eyebrow at him.

"You ok?" She studied his eyes carefully. Kurt grinned a little too wide. He had always been horrible at disguising his feelings. While physically, he was in constant hiding, emotionally, he was as easily read as a picture book. That didn't mean he couldn't try.

"Me? Oh, no I'm far from ok. I'm dying from lack of sugar over here. What did you set it for? Half an hour?" Kitty started to object when the microwave beat her to it, beeping in protest, "Oh," Kurt laughed, "I think I hurt its feelings,"

She giggled a little, "I think it'll get over it." She took the milk out and gently blew the steam off of it. "But, seriously, you're alright?" Her eyes had locked his again.

He shifted nervously, the goofy grin still on his face, "Me alright? What about you? I'm not the only one down here seeking refuge in chocolate," He pointed out.

"Yeah, but mine is for body therapy," She said pouring a generous dose of milk into Kurt's cup and an equally sizable amount into her own.

"Hmm?"

She shifted a little, an arm still wrapped loosely about her mid-section, "Well, like, you know," She coaxed, plucking two spoons out from the silverware drawer. Kurt cocked an eyebrow, having an idea but not daring to give voice to it, "I'm…well, never mind," She shook her head quickly as she handed him a spoon, "if you don't know, I'm so not going to tell you," She placed the other spoon into her cup and started stirring the chocolate lumps into a smooth drinkable beverage. "So…what's up?"

Kurt sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to escape the Kitten-quisition. She had somewhere gotten it into her head that she was untouchable. Not just in a physical way but that emotionally things would pass right through her. Kurt suspected this notion came from toughening up her heart against Lance's repeated assaults. The idea had led her to a sort of "friend therapist" phase. Everyone was sure she would move out of it as quickly as she had gotten over her need for pyramid hats and school plays. But it was still something that Kurt, rather amused, had listened to Rogue rant about on numerous occasions. He simply never thought he would find himself on Kitty's rather uncomfortable therapy couch. "Oh, well, you know," He cleared his throat, "I…kind of had a bad dream. I guess you could say,"

"What about?" She asked.

He smiled thinly, "A…It was about something that happened a long time ago when I was a kid. Something really stupid,"

"Couldn't be that stupid if it got you up," She continued ruthlessly, attempting a sip of the cocoa but finding it still too hot. "So, what happened?"

"Well…I got…in trouble," He started, "like I always do. See, there were these kids in town…they were probably our age now, I guess. Kind of funny when you think about it like that, right?" Kitty nodded, "Yeah…well…I got into a scrape with them and the next day they…they came…came to my home in the middle of-of the night and tried…they tried…to," his hands were shaking so violently he had to put the mug down, cocoa spilling over its sides, "I…I'm sorry. I can't stop them," He smiled helplessly, holding his hands out to her. She almost dropped her cup, grabbing his hands. Her hands were warm from the cocoa, warmer than his.

"Kurt…what did they do to you?" Kitty asked; the 'psychiatrist' quickly abandoned for the best friend he'd been missing lately. He found himself shamefully grateful she wasn't as emotionally impervious as she had thought. "Kurt, what happened?" He shrunk back a bit.

"That's just the thing! It was nothing! It was really nothing! They just…t-t-t" He closed his eyes tightly and just said it, "took me out of my home and roughed me up, you know? Worse things have happened to me! I've been chased by my whole town before but…sometimes I guess I just…I don't know," He wrenched a hand from her and put it to his head again. Kitty just stood in front of him, the look on her face screaming pity. Kurt felt his heart constrict in his chest. That was the worst look in the world to him. He'd rather have her hate than her pity. He broke into a weak smile, "Don't look at me like that. You asked. You have no one to blame but yourself,"

"It's not funny," She said, "This is important to you," The therapist again.

"No, it's not! Just sometimes I…I freak out. I just…think about it and it's like I'm there again," He shook his head, the shivers putting his fur on end, "Look at me! This is what talking about it does! This is what it does to me!"

"It's why you should!" She snapped. He sighed loudly. He just wanted to end the conversation with some witty retort he'd yet to think of but, instead, he suddenly found himself ensnared in her arms. A tight, awkward hug that felt like a strange mix between comforting and absurd. He was still sitting on the counter and her head barely cleared his chest, her body in between his legs. Gently, he put his hand on her forehead.

"Oh, Kitty, don't--"

"Kurt," Her voice was low, "you always listen to me. Always. Even if I just want to talk about my day, you're listening. But, when it's something important, like it is now, why won't you let me return the favor? Why not let me be a good friend too? Please?" The thunder dully howled again, fading with the falling of the storm. His arms found their way around her and they held the uncomfortable embrace.

God, how he loved her. He kept trying to push those feelings away, down further and further into the secret recesses of his heart. If he stuffed them down far enough, as far away from his mind as possible, Kurt figured they might never resurface again. It might have worked too. But then she had to go and do things like hug him or talk to him or be near him and he was humming with the need for her all over again.

In a way, Kitty was very much like the memories: flitting in and out of his mind, seemingly at random but always with a deep, powerful hold on him. Only, it would be fairly awkward to talk to her about how she made him wake up trembling in the middle of the night. "Please, Kurt, tell me about it," She begged again.

He sighed, "It's just so stupid," He paused, to try to find a good find a decent starting place, "I was sleeping when they came. In my room. The…uh…the p-part that really, that I remember best is just waking up from the storm and seeing…a…this guy. He was big…I guess he was actually normal but I was really young so he seemed huge but he was this guy at the foot of my bed and…and he was just so unfamiliar," He laughed uneasily, "I remember thinking for…for a split second I thought that he was just a big pile of clothes," He laughed a little more, "A big pile of clothes with a baseball bat!" Kitty didn't laugh. She just held onto him, her head pressed into his chest. He stroked her head a little but she didn't look up. He cleared his throat again,

"Anyway…a different guy, not the guy with the bat, grabbed me…and I called out but…you know it was…bad timing. It was a thunderstorm too…you know? I…I don't remember where my dad was but my mom was home and she should've heard…should've heard something. I didn't have my powers then, I was way too young so, I mean, he really caught me. I fought though! I did try anyway. At least I can say that. In town, the day before I fought them too and that's a better story, you know? I won that time but…not this time. I tried so…hard…" He fell silent, his voice just quitting to work. Kitty's arms became tighter.

"Kurt," She said gently.

His eyes stung and he wiped at them unconsciously with the back of his hand, "No, don't worry about it…its fine. The rest I…don't remember so well anyway. They…threw me in…in this…horrible sack like…like I was a…a thing, you know? Gott that bag…I…then they just…roughed me up…a-a bit and I kind of passed out. The rest I'm not so sure of. At one point I think I was in the rain but I was so hurt and confused I couldn't figure out which way was up. My mother said she found me lying on our kitchen table. She didn't know how I got there, neither do I, but there I was. I guess I got away," He shrugged, "Maybe I have some secret ninja power I didn't know about,"

She looked up at him with a slight smile, "I think we'd know about that,"

"No, my ninja powers are far too stealthy to be caught,"

"I doubt it," She teased gently, letting go of him and backing up a little. She brushed back a wisp of her hair from her face, "Is that…everything you remember?"

He nodded, "Yeah, about that night. I woke up the next morning with a killer headache. Lots of minor injuries. My doctor said I broke a couple of ribs too but, really, I was ok. I was always a pretty scrappy kid; with or without the help of others,"

"Have you ever talked about that before?" She asked, one hand creeping into his and the other retreating back to a snug fit around her mid-section.

"Just to my parents after it happened and to my doctor. After that it seemed kind of pointless. I turned out ok. My bones healed, I got home ok, and I never heard from those kids again. Whenever I go over it, in my head or…well, I guess now, it just upsets me. I have enough problems with school and training and just trying to feel normal to get upset about something I can't change,"

She gave his hand a squeeze, "Well, you know, you don't have to change it. Just…face it, kind of," She hesitated, "Everyone, like, has their own way of handling things. Rogue likes to push people away. You like to make jokes. I talk. That's my thing. Talking helps me and I do it a lot," Kurt opened his mouth to say something and she put a finger up in front of his face, "That wasn't an opening," He grinned widely, "What I'm trying to say is, whenever I'm not feeling one-hundred percent, I find you or Rogue or any open ear and talk through it. Hearing myself say it out loud helps me figure out what's really bugging me and I, like, get another opinion too. It's…therapeutic," She shrugged a little sheepishly.

"Well, I just talked to you. What's your professional opinion?" He asked with, what he hoped was, a playfully curious expression.

She paused, "I don't think getting kidnapped and beaten up is stupid,"

"Not when you put it like that!"

"What other way is there to put it?"

"I don't know," He shrugged, "In a 'not like that' way. How about 'getting an unpleasant house call?'"

She rolled her eyes, "Oh, yeah, that covers it. What if it was me and I told you that story? Would it be stupid?"

"No, of course not! But that's different!"

"Because it's not you?" She shot back, "Kurt, you've gone through so much in your life and you never talk about it! This kind of stuff just builds and builds until--"

"What, I explode?"

"Maybe! You take it out on yourself or your friends or your family. Who knows? It's just not a good thing!"

Kurt shook his head but didn't trust himself to answer. His defensiveness would no doubt turn the pity party into an all night verbal free-for-all and that was the last thing he needed.

Kitty sighed and leaned back on the counter, "Look, I'm sorry if I get a little, like, overzealous. I just want to know if you feel better at all? I mean, now that you've…talked it out a little?"

It was a fair enough question. How he felt…was a little hard to pinpoint. He was exhausted, that was true. At least he'd be able to sleep. His shaking had quelled away too which he was more than grateful for. He'd have to think more about what the two of them had said and what he had revealed but a part of his mind was overjoyed at having new ground to cover for the old memory.

"Yeah," He said finally, "It was nice to…well, actually, it wasn't, but it feels like something happened that's for sure." Apologetically, he added, "And I really liked having you here. To talk with me," They shared a small smile. He took a sip of the cocoa and grimaced at its new, cold and slimy texture. Kitty gave his leg a harmless push, smirking.

"So, wanna make it a club? We could meet here every night, tell traumatizing stories and drink cocoa?,"

Kurt laughed loudly, "Oh sure! Then we could spill the milk and cry over it!"

They both laughed, the feeling absolutely exhilarating after so much emotion. "Sure," Kitty said, calming down, "Sounds like a date,"

He tried in vain to keep the stupid grin from plastering his face. As they both tossed their useless mugs into the sink and headed up the stairs together (Kitty strangely, but peacefully, silent) he felt something stir in his chest. A flutter that made his body hum on a different level than the earlier tremors. A ticking he couldn't ever seem to push down deep enough.

His memories were still there, held behind a thin barrier of I'll-deal-with-it-later yet, they seemed a little more distant behind the beating of his heart. Tonight he had found something. Something to think about and to hold on to. Something familiar. Reliable. Tonight, he would close his eyes and drift off easily to sleep. Tonight, wouldn't be the last night he was plagued with memories but it was, hopefully, the beginning of the end. And, maybe the next stormy night, when he shot awake, eyes wide in the dark, he would not see piles of clothes with baseball bats and sacks, but a teenage girl with warm hands and another cocoa death wish.

FYI, Kurt is actually showing signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This usually happens to victims of a violent act such as war, child abuse, or rape. It can be as bad as very realistic flash backs or as mild as stuttering upon recollection. Kitty, in case you couldn't tell, is suffering from a severe case of "female". If you don't know what that is, as Kitty said, "I'm so not going to tell you" ;)