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This Mortal Coil	By : fuzzybluelogic Category: X-men Comics > General Views: 1450 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men comics, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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They reappeared miles away, at least
six jumps worth -- enough to leave Storm and her blood soldiers far
behind, and enough to have Gambit retching as Kurt watched, his hand
splayed on the Cajun's back,. Nightcrawler ignored his own pain and
studied what splattered on the grass.

No blood.

Sehr Gut.

Taking advantage of Remy's weakened
state from the 'port, Kurt gripped his arm and hauled him to his
feet, shoving him against a tree and gripping his chin with one
tri-digit hand, as his tail snaked over his shoulder to hand him a
small bottle. Biting the cork out of the tiny flask that was engraved
with a frosted cross, he squeezed Remy cheeks, forcing his lips to
part, “Drink.”

Gambit – sicked and dazed –
did as he was bid, and nearly choked on the stale water Nightcrawler
filled his mouth with, but managed to swallow...and not immediately
throw it up again.

Then he was roughly stripped, the
entire time with a crucifix pressed against his cheek, his only
thought -- beyond the pain and the anguish of losing Rogue and seeing
the demon that Stormy had become -- was that this would be a mite
more difficult if Bleu didn't have himself a tail.

Without expression, Kurt went over Remy
body; his throat, his thighs, his wrists, even his most intimate of
places...all the favorite hiding places of vampire feeding.

“I ain't been bit.” Remy
coughed, but knew that it didn't matter what he said. This here was
standard protocol. And he tried to convince himself that Kurt was
being so rough because it was necessary, and not because he knew that
Gambit had failed, and that failure had cost Rogue her life...and her
soul.

“Open.” Nightcrawler held
up a Eucharist and Remy complied. It tasted like cardboard and
nothin' as it melted on his tongue.

“Okay, we're done.”
Finally, there was a touch of tenderness, the tone of a worried
friend in Kurt's voice, and his clipped accent softened. Gambit was
too tired – of body or spirit – to offer any resistance
or complaint as Kurt carefully helped him redress.

“Where we be?” It looked
like some lightly wooded field. And Remy just wanted to have
something normal to say. He slid down the tree, sitting on his heels
and staring at the darkening sky.

“Upstate.” Kurt let a smile
touch the corner of his mouth, “Here. I have a treat for you,
don't tell Jean.”

He held out a small cigarette case and
popped it open, and seeing at how badly Remy's hand were shaking, he
lit it himself, and blew out a small swirling plume of blue smoke as
he held the expensive cigarette to Remy's lips.

Gambit blinked, feeling worse at the
small kindness, but took a deep drag anyway, closing his eyes as the
nicotine and smoke worked its magic, dulling the razor's edge just a
little bit. He closed his fingers around it and exhaled, casting his
red-on-black eyes downward, studying the way the first ash fell. “She
gone, Bleu. They'd tracked us and had us cornered...shot her with
some net, took away her powers. There was jus' too many...too many.”

“I know.” Kurt said softly,
sinking into a crouch and resting an arm around the man's shoulders,
“I know...you did what you could, the only thing you could. You
stayed alive. If you had done anything else. We'd be mourning you,
too...and fearing what you'd become.”

What Kurt didn't tell him, because he'd
find out soon enough, and he didn't want to add to the man's obvious
pain, was that Kitty was missing.

He'd spent night before in their
makeshift chapel on his knees before lit candles and the cross,
begging God to spare her, to end this, to show him a way to fix this.
To save those who'd been infected.

Anything.

He couldn't afford a crisis of faith
right now.

The fact that the vampires did
react to holy items gave him some hope that God really was
still there.

But right now, that's all he had. But
it was enough. It would have to be.

Even his sorceress mother and sister
believed in God, and that magic was part of his design.

So, to his faith he clung.

Even when the Soul Sword appeared to
him, and broke his heart.

A piece of Illyana soul that had become
a tangible thing, a weapon of enormous power. It had passed to Kitty
upon the girl's death, and now...

He could feel it burning inside him
even now.

But the darkness of the blade's
influence was nothing to how he'd felt since humanity had fallen to
this plague. He knew a secret, whispered to him by the mother who
raised him when he'd gone to her for help, and reaffirmed by the
mother who'd flung him as an infant to his death – he wasn't
entirely human. And perhaps it was that strange bloodmix of mutant
and other that offered him some protection against them.

And against the Soul Sword.

It offered him a second scrap of peace.
Why would there be a need for a devil or his demons if there was no
God? So one proved the existence of the other.

And by Christ Jesus, he would find a
cure.

Even if it cost him his soul.

If he had one.

“Bleu, I'm ready.” Gambit
straightened and crushed the spent butt into the heel of his boot.
Kurt nodded and slipped the case into the Cajun's pocket. He was
gentle this time, teleporting carefully, allowing Remy time to
recover between jumps. It took two hours and as many cigarettes,
before they were in the wood that belonged to the Were.

“I want you to see Hank.”
Kurt said as the final smoke of his last teleport cleared, “And
Remy?”

Gambit turned back, “Oui?”

“Don't give up on Rogue...or
Storm just yet.” He pressed his hand over his heart, where the
sword stung the sharpest. “It's a virus, it can cured.”

Gambit just shook his head, confused
and exhausted, “I'm gonna go see Henri...maybe you should, too,
non?

Kurt just patted his arm and headed
toward his tent, leaving Remy shaking his head, “Least I ain't
the only one who's losing his damn mind over all this.”

*

Jean yelped as the socket wrench
slipped, skinning her knuckles for about the third time. Godammit!
She kicked at the chassis of the jeep in frustration.

“Why don't you just use your
telekinesis?”

“Shut up, Emma.” Jean
muttered, glaring at the legs near her head.

“I'm just trying to help.”
Emma said coolly, amusement only barely held in check. “It
seems a waste of energy to continued to ...do whatever it is you're
doing, instead of using your perfectly capable power.”

Why was it no matter how nicely Emma
Frost worded something, it sounded like a damn insult?

“You're welcome to come down here
and offer your expertise, Emma.” Jean snapped and sucked at her
injured knuckle. To her surprise – and irritation – Emma
slid beneath the jeep next to her instead of wandering off to annoy
someone else.

“Alternator?” The once and
probably future White Queen asked, peering up into the mass of wiring
and

and grease.

“Yeeeah.” Jean drawled,
unsure of Emma's motivation. Surely she didn't really expect to
help...did she? Wasn't her only purpose to trot around in her
lingerie and be a big bottle blonde asshole?

“If you think this is
lingerie,” Emma gestured at her jeans and long sleeved
tee-shirt, “I shudder to think what you think is proper --
Prairie dresses and denim jumpers? A little Big Love, don't
you think?”

“Get out of my head.”

“Of course, darling...I can
understand how that can be disconcerting that can be now that you are
bereft of your own telepathy.” Emma's smile was as sweet as
cotton candy and just about as substantial. Jean sighed. She didn't
feel like arguing with her. Not now. Not after what had happened.

And she didn't care one damn bit that
she'd lost her telepathy.

Much.

“Kitty's missing. Rogue's been
taken. Could you pretend to have a heart for five seconds.”
Jean said flatly, forcing the bolt free using her TK, even though it
wasn't as satisfying as using her hand and the wrench.

Emma was silent for a few minutes, “I
didn't know.”

“Yeah, well now you do.”
Jean yanked on the old alternator that was wedged firmly in place. A
slim translucent hand slid up and pulled the part loose. Jean turned
her head, Emma had taken her diamond form, her face was noticeable
lacking its superior smirk.

“Now you do.” Jean said
harshly and instantly felt bad, Emma knew loss. Her students had all
been killed at one time. And she'd been headmistress at the Mass
Academy long enough to develop loyalty among several young mutants.
God, why was she being such a bitch? “Thanks.” She added
awkwardly.

“The connections are corroded,
they'll need to be replaced before you put the new alternator in.”
Was Emma said before sliding out and leaving Jean alone.

Great.

Now who was the bad guy?

Fuck.

*

Scott Summers
leaned back in his chair and scanned over Ororo's report. Ah, well.
It would have been nice to bring the Cajun into their fold, but they
had time. He was only mildly frustrated at the near miss of
Nightcrawler, but really...could fledgling vampires even hope to
compete with one of the Chosen?

Kurt Wagner would
find his place among them.

As would she.

Kitty Pryde was
sleeping, he'd brought her over himself, and given her to Shinobi
Shaw as guardian. Their powers were similar, perhaps they could learn
from each other. He wanted her to be trained as a Companion first,
but her temperament was such that instant conversion was necessary.

Rogue, however, was
a different – and challenging – new problem.

Eric had staked his
claim on the beautiful Southern girl, so he left her conversion in
the capable hands of the man who once called himself Magneto.

Shadowcat and Rogue
were great prizes, and sure to flush Nightcrawler out. His best
friend and his foster sister had been taken into their family, and
knowing what he did of the elfin mutant, the German wouldn't sit idly
by, he'd make a rescue attempt.

As would the Cajun.

Gambit and Rogue
had been looking for Wolverine.

So had Scott.

Their paths crossed
and he had been delighted to bring Rogue home to her rightful place
among them. While he'd never really cared much for Remy LeBeau, the
man would be an asset once brought over. It was a shame that he'd
slipped from Storm grasp, but then that was the difficulty when the
other side had a teleporter.

But Bobby had asked
for him, which had surprised Scott, but who was he to deny his
brother's only request, that Nightcrawler be reserved for the one who
once called himself Iceman.

Maybe it was the
ears.

Beaubier had been
his first conversion, but it had gone bad. Northstar retained all of
his humanity and fled, to Scott's astonishment. Bobby, however,
seemed unaffected, claiming his only real concern was Nightcrawler.

Speaking of Nightcrawler, Kitty let him
in on a little secret...perhaps a heartbeat too late, but still
useful information. Kitty's Soul Sword went to Kurt upon her “death”.
He knew little of the Soul Sword, until Kitty had converted and told
him all she knew...including a few secrets about the German mutant
she once called friend.

He passed that information onto Bobby.

Iceman had just smiled and walked out
of the room, Scott could only imagine what he was thinking. Maybe he
found that an exciting challenge.

Bobby was the strangest and cruelest of
all of his converted family, he didn't even bother attempting to
guess what was going on with him. If he wanted Kurt Wagner, he could
have him. That was his right as one of the Four Chosen. Just as Scott
would take Jean.

It was what was supposed to be.
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This Mortal Coil