X-Calibre Trilogy: Long Hard Road Out of Hell

"Unglaublich [Unbelievable]," Nightcrawler whispered as he surveyed the city from our vantage point atop the hill.

"A lot different from what you remember?" I whispered, eyes sweeping the skyline of New Berlin. "How was yours?"

"A lot more American." He sat back into his crouch and glanced over. "Apocalypse never bothered getting rid of the monuments he took down, so a walk through Washington D.C. was very depressing. Within six blocks you could see government offices, a Madri temple, the gutted remains of the Congress, and a decapitated Abraham Lincoln on his side."

I tried to picture this over the current architecture of stark gothic buildings emblazoned with the swastika and War Eagle, tried to see the Hitler Youth marching through ruins instead of the well-tended and manicured streets below us. It was impossible though -- no records remained of the history that had gone before and so the talk of white marble buildings and massive depictions of the former Presidents were nothing more than the hushed recollections of a demographic slaughtered for its memories . . . and for the inspiration those memories might have incited. I'd been born into a world wiped clean of everything except Hitler's vision; it was all I knew.

"I wonder how many times he saw this change," he frowned momentarily before heading back to our shelter.

"Who?" I got up and followed, lifting my skirt above the grass.

Nightcrawler gestured dismissively. "Bishop. He claimed to be a space-time traveler. My last mission involved confirming that my version of the world should never have existed."

"Should never have -- wait." My brain tried to wrap around that. It failed. "How could he know about should? And why would that matter?" I peered at him from across the pews -- we were in a dilapidated church tonight (much to Nightcrawler's dismay). "Your world exists. Why is that bad?"

"Existed," he corrected me tersely. Uh-oh, I touched a nerve. "And it was bad because it somehow meant the unraveling of all other realities, including this one." He teleported out of my sight and into a dark corner of the rafters. His voice echoed down, "A friend of the man lea the the X-Men was assassinated in my timeline. Because of his death, Apocalypse won and everything went to Hell. Bishop said it never should have happened but because it did, everything else un-happened. It all just disappeared."

I sat down heavily on the dusty wooden bench. How could I not notice something like blinking in and out of existence? Was I just put on pause somehow? I felt a headache coming on.

"Among the worlds that disappeared was one in which the struggle to live peacefully with regular humans seemed to be yielding fruit. It was decided that if this were indeed true and our sacrifice meant this world, with a real possibility for peaceful co-existence, would go on living that saving that world was infinitely better than to continue fighting our losing battle."

"But that doesn't make sense," I finally answered, rubbing my temples. "Either you succeeded and you shouldn't exist, or you didn't and I shouldn't exist. We can't both exist according to what you're saying."

"No, we can't," he answered from the shelter of the shadows.

"Then what happened?"

"Ich weiss es nicht [I don’t know]," his voice echoed from another portion of the ceiling. "My best guess is that where I go during a teleport is outside of everything else. When we achieved our goal, I was in the middle of a jump at the moment reality shifted."

"And you wound up here."

"Ja."

"Why here? Why not a different world? Why not one with mutants?"

"Perhaps God hates me." I spied a glimpse of him along the western wall. "Or perhaps this was simply the nearest reality and I had to go somewhere."

"Do not pass GO, do not collect two hundred Deutschmarks."

"Ja wohl [That’s true]." He'd come up and around so that he was above my pew. I didn't realize this until he dropped down and somersaulted into the space next to me. "I'll never really know; it's useless to keep thinking about it."

"But you do, and you're bothered by it." I turned to face him, tucking my feet under myself. My gaze slowly wandered over his unusual features, my mind memorizing them as though things would right themselves somehow and one of us would disappear. I fought the growing desire to touch him by walking to the long-ecteected altar. I examined it as I had him, desperate to ease my feelings of . . . of what? Whatever it was made me want to cry.

Hours later, as the sunlight beamed through the remnants of stained glass, I was still awake. I laid on my side, curled almost into a ball. The feeling hadn't gone away and once alone I let the tears slowly slide down my cheeks. It was stress, that's all it was, right? I mean, my entire life had been uprooted in the past few weeks; I wow aow a fugitive from the government; I was running to Canada with a battle-hardened assassin with looks that could kill all on their own. And I'd been really good about not going all girly on him, either. This was the first time I cracked at all. I sniffed and rubbed my nose, blinked out a few more tears, and began to let the worry through. Nightcrawler had gone out for some air a considerable amount of time ago and while I kept telling myself that he could take care of anything that came his way, I still worried.

Maybe his aversion to churches was actually stronger than his one to sunlight.

A smile tugged at my mouth; it grew wider as I tried to picture him actually attending a church service. I giggled at the mental image of the scraggly demon-man in a suit and tie, hymnal in his hands, paying rapt attention to the Catholic priest who once gave his sermons here.

As quickly as the silly thoughts hit me, they left. The melancholia resumed its hold and I sighed sadly again. I felt the lack of people in this once-holy space quite keenly and longed for Nightcrawler's return. And right as I wished for it, he came back. He'd teleported inside on the far side of the church probably out of courtesy; he knew I was supposed to be asleep, and he was aware of the smell he left when he did that. I tried to hear him cross the room but I couldn’t. He didn't want to be heard. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, listening for some sign that would tell me where he was.

"You're still awake, Miriam?" his voice was hushed, but nearby. I opened my eyes and saw him about a meter from me, crouched down to see me better.

"How did you know?" I asked his sideways form.

"Your breathing is too fast and your muscles are tensed. Is everything alright?" His tail moved behind him as he watched me.

"Yes." I sighed. "No . . . I don't know." A wave of sadness washed over me as I looked into his eyes. He seemed to have aged during his walk outside. "I don't know," I repeated and stretched out on the floor. "I started to worry about you."

His eyes widened for a split second. "Nothing to worry about. I just needed some time . . ."

I nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He moved from the customary crouch to sitting cross-legged next to me. "There's nothing really to say, except -- forget it."

He sat pensively, his own muscles visibly bunched in tension. I bit my lip and decided to sit up and move behind him.

"What are you doing?" he started to turn, keeping me in his field of vision.

"You need to relax a little," I said, laying my hands on his shoulders. He somehow managed to bunch together more than before; I slowly ran my hands along his shoulders, palms open and flat against him. "I won't hurt you. If you don't believe me, wrap your tail around my neck and squeeze."

There was silence for a heartbeat before he chuckled and turned back around. His tail stayed away from all parts of me, opting instead to lightly tap the floor as I began kneading the muscles under my hands. The tension gradually melted away, and I continued my ministrations as the silence lingered between us.

"I'll do your neck for you if you like," I offered softly some time later, running my fingertips lightly against the grain of his fur. He accepted silently, lowering his head and exposing his neck to me. "What were you going to say earlier?" I kept my voice as soft and soothing as I could while I delicately worked along this part of his spine.

"Just something that occurred to me before," his voice was a bit muffled. "I've not yet decided which is more disturbing to me: being told that I should never have been, or the fact that I somehow was, anyway."

My fingers stopped their movement as the profundity of his words hit me. My God, no wonder he was depressed. I licked my lips and forced my fingers to move again. "I would be hard-pressed to choose between those," I admitted, making small circles along the sides of his neck where his shoulders started. "But I, for one, am glad that you exist." I laid my hands against him as I had when I first started the massage, and then did something that probably surprised me more than it did him -- I straightened up from kneeling and softly kissed the back of his neck. He didn't move for a moment, but when he did it was to slowly turn all the way around and sit facing me.

"Thank you," he said softly, watching me. What did that funny look in his eyes mean? "Now, what was bothering you so much that you couldn't sleep?"

"I . . ." I stammered. I blushed. I'm an idiot. "I felt lonely."

He nodded sympathetically. "Would you like me to stay with you?"

I nodded dumbly, my face burning like a brand. He wordlessly reached for me with his right hand, caressing my cheek with the backs of his fingers. I moved closer and he folded me in his arms, tucking me close to him.

"We all get lonely," he whispered, slowly reclining. "It's alright."

My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I laid next to him. Panic began to surface from out of nowhere when I wondered just how lonely he thought I was. But no, if he were interested in me he would have made a move long before now. It was platonic; it meant nothing.

"I won't do anything you don't want me to," he soothed, petting my hair as though I were a child. "You helped me to relax, now let me help you do the same."

"Thank you," I murmured, face still hot as I laid my head on his shoulder. His arms tightened pleasurably around me while he draped his tail over the both of us.

"Sweet dreams," he murmured into my hair before placing a light kiss on my forehead. I closed my eyes and let the rhythms of his breathing and heartbeat lull me to sleep.