What's Wrong?

Who: Kurt/Natalya
When: Afternoon
Where: Natalya's place

It was around noon by the time Kurt walked his way back up Natalya's gravel driveway. He'd gone out, spent the money needed on a new t-shirt -- also white, like the one he'd had on; he didn't discredit her intelligence -- and cleaned himself up a bit in the restroom of a gas station that he'd walked through very quickly. Then he'd wolfed down a very disgusting white-bread sandwich. It was terrible, but it was food, which he needed. Once he felt presentable again, he decided it was time to face her. The problem was ... Kurt didn't have a story. The bite on his neck was undeniable. There was no hiding it. If it had just been his chest, that would've been different, but ... it wasn't. He knew she would be up, but he tried to be quiet anyway as he walked through the door. He asked himself (again) why he was back at all. It might be better for all involved if he just ... disappeared.

Natalya was indeed up, and had been up the entire night. It wasn't like Kurt to just disappear without saying anything to her; she'd grown worried when he hadn't returned, her anxiety rising with each hour that he was still missing. Her first thought had been to call the police, but remembered just before she dialed that Kurt... wasn't exactly a normal missing person. If the officers picked him up with no identification, he might have to answer some difficult questions. So she'd replaced the phone in its cradle and spent the night pacing and waiting - to no avail. Five am found her retching her nerves - and what was left of her scant dinner - into the toilet. When morning dawned, she'd tried to go about her routine, but every little sound real or imagined had her jumping. When the door opened, she was in the kitchen scrubbing countertops that already could be used as surgical tables. She turned quickly, wide eyes taking in Kurt's face before her knees went weak with relief and she found herself grabbing at the counter to keep from falling.

His eyes lifted as he stepped into the house proper and landed on her. That was why he was back. Despite the wave of guilt that hit him. Guilt he wasn't sure that he should be carrying. He remembered well enough that he hadn't been in his right mind. Still though ... her eyes were so innocent, and she'd ... kind of said, before he'd confessed to her ... He closed the door behind him and took a step or two toward the kitchen before stopping again. "I apologize for my absence," he rumbled softly, watching her face.

Natalya waved that away, locking her knees to stop their shakiness as she made it a few steps nearer to him. "Never mind that," she said; he could apologize later if he wanted. "A-are you all right?" He looked haggard, and she found herself inexplicably near tears, though likely it was the result of her sleepless night, stress and how strangely guilty she was feeling. "I was so worried." She swallowed, looking fairly stricken. "Did... did I do something to offend you? I apologize. If you'll tell me what, I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

The look on her face and her words brought an actual lump into his throat. What in heaven's name was he going to tell her? He was nearly raped? Jesus, he was a powerhouse, that was ridiculous. Kurt knew she'd given him the benefit of the doubt before, but this was really pushing it. At least he thought so. Everything was so insane, he wasn't sure if there were actually levels of insanity anymore. "No. No, Natalya, it wasn't anything at all that you did," he assured her in a voice that wasn't quite steady. "I'll be fine. Please don't apologize." He made a pained face and raised one hand to run over his short hair.

Natalya felt like her insides were being twisted into knots of guilt, anxiety, and fear. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly, pressing shaking hands to her stomach as she ventured a hesitant step closer. She was careful not to move too fast or aggressively; it was an unconscious habit by now but one that she couldn't kick. She gestured towards the kitchen table. "Please, sit. Would you like something to eat? Drink?" She was falling back into her old habits, offering service as unspoken penance for whatever she'd done to drive him out - and then she saw the bite mark on his neck. She went pale, jumping immediately to the wrong conclusion, and covered by pulling sandwich makings from the refrigerator.

Kurt didn't sit, couldn't sit. He was still famished, he knew he hadn't given his body enough fuel for it to repair the damage that Regan had done, but the thought of sitting down to be served by Natalya just ... He couldn't do it. As he was staring right at her, he caught the way the color drained out of her face. Before he could over-think things, he went to her, gently taking what she had in her hands and putting it on the counter. He took them in both of his and tried to catch her eyes. "I was attacked," he said softly. She was very perceptive, he was learning, and this at least had the ring of truth. Because that's what it was. "Unconscious all night." Though when they got to what attacked him, then she would really think he was insane.

Natalya was surprised when he took her hands, but she didn't pull away. She met his eyes fleetingly, but her own was drawn towards the bite mark on his neck. It disgusted her, though she was even more surprised to find herself capable of that emotion. She looked up at him again when he spoke, eyes wide. As far as she knew, he didn't have any reason to lie to her; he'd certainly shared enough of his secrets. "You were what?" she echoed, looking shocked. "What happened?" Her urge to care for him flared up again and she tried steering him into a chair. "Please, sit."

He allowed himself to be steered, backing into a chair and sitting down. But he didn't let go of her hands. He didn't want her bustling around to try and do for him right now. "I was out walking," he said. "Trying to clear my mind so I could sleep, and there was a woman. She ... asked for a phone, said she'd had a date go wrong." He frowned a touch, eyes ticking off to one side. That much was also true, but ... he made the last-second decision not to tell her everything. It was the way her eyes looked when she glanced at his neck. "It was dark, I offered to walk her home ... and I don't remember anything after that." His eyes were a very dark blue as he watched her face.

There was a ring of truth to what she was hearing, but Natalya couldn't throw her instinctive doubt as what he was saying rather contradicted common sense. Kurt was so big; how was it that a woman would be able to attack him? "W-were you drugged?" she asked hesitantly. "We should probably go to the police, Kurt. You're hurt, maybe they could find the person who did it."

He hadn't quite worked out what had been done to him, but drugged seemed a true enough answer. "I believe so," he answered the first question. He put a faintly-frowning ponderous sort of look on his face. Had she ... drugged him? Was that possibly all it was? He was living in a time he didn't know, with all their technological marvels, perhaps some sort of mind-altering substance with those sort of effects could've been developed ... Kurt's eyes ticked back to her. "I'm not sure I would be able to go to the police," he answered. At least that was still a reasonable excuse. "They would require my own identification." He thought it might be coming, but he didn't have it yet.

"Yes, of course," Natalya said, mentally berating herself. "That's why I didn't call them, last night." She didn't know what to do, and tugged lightly at his grip so she could get back to making the sandwich. "You should try to eat something," she said, "and sleep for a while. I'll get my first-aid kit and clean that up a bit for you." And add a bandage so she didn't have to look at it, though the thought shamed her.

Kurt wanted to hang onto her, to keep her from having to do all that, but he knew that she'd feel like she had to regardless of what he said. "I'm sorry I worried you," he said again, holding on to her hands for at least that long. Then he let her go and sat back in the chair. He didn't want to lie to her, but how much more could the girl take before the brain's self-defense mechanism kicked in and she stopped believing anything he said?

"It's all right," Natalya said, taking advantage of having her back to him to blink away a few tears. "I'm just glad you're safe now." She bustled around, making him a sandwich and a cup of juice, setting it in front of him before heading to her bathroom to pull out her first-aid kit. "May I?" she asked as she set it on the table, drawing a chair up to sit beside him, on the side that had been bitten.

He'd taken one rather despondent bite by the time she came back. Not that it wasn't good, he just felt ... bad. Like he'd been violated and he let it happen and was hurting someone because of it. He was attempting to keep those feelings muted and off of his face. He nodded his assent and adjusted his position to make himself easier to reach for her. He'd cleaned most of the blood off in the restroom, but by far hadn't disinfected it.

Natalya felt like there was something she should say to him, but couldn't for the life of her work out what it should be. All she knew was that her stomach was in knots, waves of emotions she could barely identify hitting her over and over. She got out the supplies needed to clean the wound, pouring disinfectant on a sterile gauze pad she'd unwrapped. Leaning forward, she dabbed at the mark on his neck, cleaning as best she could. Without really thinking about it, she blew softly on the bite mark as she removed the gauze to ease the sting, setting the pad with its traces of blood off to the side as she gently laid a bandage over it and taped it down. "There," she said, resting a hand briefly on his shoulder. "Try having a bit more to eat; you should rest after that."

The unexpected and cold feeling of her breath coiled something odd in his stomach, but he didn't let it show. He'd rarely ever been tended to like this; and the few times he had (aside from when he was a child), it had always been by other men. Kurt couldn't help but note -- and appreciate -- that Natalya's touch was infinitely lighter and more gentle. He nodded to her matronly suggestion and picked up the sandwich again. He'd eat it, and he'd rest, because his body was demanding that he do so, but it wasn't exactly what he wanted to do. He couldn't put his finger on what exactly that would be, but he didn't want to do it alone.

Natalya watched him for a moment, still rather at a loss. "Take my room when you lay down," she suggested. "It's bigger; you'll have more room to stretch out." She'd noticed the way he hung off the end of her couch and had felt bad for it, but had put off finding a better solution until she knew what Kurt wanted to do long-term. Throwing away the gauze, she started packing up the first aid kit.

Kurt finished eating while she did so. Even though it was a sizable sandwich, it didn't take him very long. He took his own dishes to the sink when he was done and turned to look at her, a little unbalanced. He'd been in her room before, of course -- it was a small house -- but he'd never actually touched anything, much less slept in her bed. He wasn't sure how comfortable he'd be, despite the extra room. Still, he didn't argue. But he also didn't know what to say, so he didn't, and just figured she would lead the way.

Natalya had opened her mouth to protest when she noticed him taking care of his own dishes but closed it right after, knowing he didn't need her reprimand on top of whatever else had happened the night before. Instead, she just picked up the first aid kit and dropped it off on her way. The bed was pristine, as she hadn't slept in it the night before, so she busied herself with turning it down while he did whatever he needed to get ready. When she was finished, she drew the shades to darken the room, then retreated to the doorway. "Rest well," she said quietly. "Call me if you need anything."

He didn't do much of anything but follow her and stand there while she moved about the room, staying out of the way of the door. He planned to sleep clothed, so nothing really needed taking off. "You look exhausted," he said softly as she made the offer he already knew was always present. "You should be sleeping here. I can take the floor in the living room." Okay, so maybe it was belated, but she did look very tired. And he felt vaguely guilty taking her bed when she wasn't going to be in it. ... which was a thought he put a mental thumb on immediately.

"I'm fine," Natalya said, shaking her head. She looked affronted at his suggestion to sleep on the floor. "Certainly not," she said, about as firmly as she was ever going to get (which wasn't very.) "You've been attacked. You're hurt, and you're going to take this time to get a decent rest. Enjoy it, and I'll be near if you need me."

Kurt stood and looked at her for another beat or two, then nodded. Now wasn't the time to try to argue with her. And he was still exhausted. He toed his boots off and went to the bed. He decided in a tired way that he needed to get some underwear so this wouldn't be a problem. "I'll wash the sheets after," he murmured to her as he lay down. Oh God, that was instant heaven. Kurt stretched out and sighed the sigh of the incredibly comfortable. He tucked the pillow under his head, tossed a blanket over his lower half, and tried it ignore how much like her everything smelled, even clean.

"Don't worry about that," Natalya said with a faint smile. She resisted the urge to tuck him in, instead closing the door all but a crack (in case she needed to hear him.) She headed out to the kitchen, cleaning up after her sandwich-making. She straightened a few things in the living room before taking a throw off the back of the couch and picking up a book from the side table. Curling up on the couch (where she fit much better than Kurt, that was for sure), she only made it a few pages in before her eyes slowly closed, hand lowering the book and head lolling back as she fell asleep.