A Candle in the Darkness
by
Lamashtar



Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Don't make money off 'em. Marvel does.

Setting: Comic, between panels of Uncanny X-men #165 (before Nightcrawler and Wolverine's scene together)

Archive: http://www.geocities.com/althea6302/Unmasked.html

Feedback: Fanfic writers need encouragement. If somebody writes a good story, tell them it was a one-time fluke. That way they get a good feeling, like luck was really on their side that time. -Deep Fanfic Thoughts, by Valeria

Notes: This sucker was beta-ed. My thanks to the FCA list for their comments, and to Taz for the in-depth help. Any errors remaining were done deliberately and with malice aforethought. Kurt's story is from the Herodotus' version.



Space is very quiet. You never realize how much noise the world makes until it's gone. Or perhaps it is just that I'm dying and paying more attention as the seconds tick by. We are light-years away from Earth now, lost in the emptiness between stars. None of us is sure we want to go home anymore--if we could even get there in time.

The X-men had been kidnapped by Deathbird, the mad sister of Lilandra, the Professor's beloved. She gave us to the Brood, a race of alien mercenaries, for services rendered. They implanted an egg within each of us. The eggs will live and grow until they hatch and we are subsumed into the young Brood's personality. There is no cure because the embryos are attached to our nervous systems. Only Logan, with his healing factor, has managed to destroy his implant.

After an escape filled with daring-do and high adventure, we'd fled the Brood homeworld, stealing Lilandra's Imperial Shiar flagship in the process. All part of the usual X-men fun and games. Not that it matters now. Wherever we go, sooner or later, the Brood embryos inside us will hatch.

So what is the point of going anywhere? Logan wants us to return to Broodworld to destroy their Queen Mother in revenge. Ororo has run away in a scoutship with no explanation, after ripping off her costume and leaving it behind. My God, even Scott confessed that he would like the Brood to pay, blood for blood.

We are so lost, Lord, and I do not know if we can find our way back from this one.

"Kurt."

I didn't turn around. Though the room lights were off, the radiance outside the observation deck left my deep blue skin clearly illuminated. Logan joined me at the window where I'd been watching the soft aurora that surrounded the ship.

"Wunderbar, nicht war?" I whispered. "Look at it...The ship's instruments say this nebula has the conditions for stars to be born. A celestial cradle!"

"It's just fire and dust."

"How can you say that?" I cast him a quick glance. "It's the glory of creation out there. Doesn't it humble you to think that we are all made of such star-dust?"

"Brood's made of the same stuff." Logan looked down at his hand where his claws would come out, and clenched it. He turned away and the shadows seemed to swallow him up.

"Do all roads end in death for you?" It pained me what I found comfort in could not break his despair. "Where I see a miracle, you see only a reminder of horror. Is nothing left that surprises you, mein freund?"

"Friendship...Family...Love. Never expected to find 'em." I could feel his intent gaze, watching me watch the nebula outside. "I'd do anything for you and the others, Kurt. You won't become one of those things. You got my word."

-Snikt!-

Not a hair on my body moved as I realized what he meant. Only my death would prevent the Brood inside me from hatching.

"Logan--let me tell you a story."

There was silence and I waited tensely, unsure if he could stab me before I could teleport to safety. I began to speak slowly.

"Once, a thief was caught and brought before his king to be sentenced for execution. As he was taken away, the thief offered the king a bargain. In one year, he would teach the king's favorite horse to sing hymns. If, at the end of that year, the horse did not sing, the thief would be executed. The king accepted the bargain."

Logan hadn't made a sound.

"People laughed to see the thief singing to the horse. 'It is impossible!' they told him. 'You cannot succeed. No one can.'"

My ears strained in the darkness. I thought I heard him breathing just behind me.

"To this the thief replied 'Who knows what may happen in a year's time? The king might die. The horse might die. I might die.'"

Still nothing.

"'And perhaps the horse will learn to sing.'"

There was a catch--his claws retracting. His hand fell to his side.

"Heard that one." His voice was defeated. "I'm too old for miracles, Elf. We're born, we grow, eat, kill, and die. That's the truth of the universe. There're no surprises left for me."

I turned away from the window and looked at my friend. There's an American expression, 'When all you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail'. That was Logan. We'd gotten drunk together, played together, but this wasn't the first time he'd threatened my life. Despite that, Logan was the one who'd jarred me out of my depression, when I was feeling bitter about my monstrous appearance and the prejudice I faced. He'd dared me to walk down the streets of Salem Center in my true form. I still treasure that memory.

"No?"

I leaned in and kissed him. Firmly. Insistently. And Logan's jaw dropped. If he was trying to say something, it was lost as I took advantage of it to lick his tongue, darting in and out, before drawing back to give him a demon's grin.

"Tag. You're it!"

Then I vanished, to leave him staring dumbfounded at the dissipating smoke.

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends--
It gives a lovely light!
--Edna St. Vincent Millay




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