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Clack.
A breathy mumble, quiet enough that only Kurt could hear it. Pinched between his fingers was a wooden rosary. He rolled one of its beads in between his fingers, focusing on its smooth texture as he finished his prayer.
“—bitte für uns Sünder jetzt und in der Stunde unseres Todes. Amen.”
He shifted a bead up. Clack.
“Gegrüßet seist du Maria, voll der Gnade. Der Herr ist mit Dir.…”
A breath. Kurt rolled a bead of the rosary between his fingers. He stared at the floor below through slitted eyes. He shifted to another bead. Clack.
“Gegrüßet seist du Maria, voll der Gnade…”
Searing heat and suffocating ash. His eardrums pounded as he frantically grabbed whoever, whatever was closest to him to port them somewhere, anywhere. Anywhere that wasn’t here.
He shook his head and screwed his eyes shut. He took deep breaths, trying to slow his racing heart. His voice trembled slightly.
“Gegrüßet seist du Maria…"
There wasn’t anywhere to escape. It was everywhere. This destruction. This massacre. In the smoke, he spied Rogue, her face lit by green as she stared down death. He hardly remembered breathing as he ported desperately to her.
“—voll der Gnade…” He pressed the rosary against his lips, eyebrows knitting together.
Faces stained with tears and grit. Blood-soaked bodies, mangled, broken. Wails, cries, screams, all echoing off the stillness. He had lost his voice from how many times he repeated the dying’s last rites. How many had he seen? How many more would he see?
He swallowed hard. He shifted the rosary in his fingers to hold the crucifix. He pressed the metal cross against his forehead. It was cool against his fur. He took in a rattled breath.
“Gegrüßet—” he started again.
“Talking to yourself, elf?”
A gruff voice pulled Kurt away from his thoughts. He glanced at the entrance of the hangar. Logan leaned against the door, dressed in full uniform with his mask off.
“I am merely praying, Logan.” Kurt pulled his hands down, glancing at the rosary intertwined between his fingers. His thumb drifted across the crucifix. He lifted his gaze towards Logan. “What brings you here?”
“Outside of waiting around?” Logan nodded to the Blackbird at the other end of the hanger. “Looking for you.”
“Searching for some solace, mein Freund?” Kurt patted the space next to him on the bench.
Logan pushed off against the door frame, striding over. He plopped down next to him with a grunt. “Could ask you the same thing, elf.”
“That is what praying is for,” Kurt murmured.
Logan raised an eyebrow. “Normal for you to talk to yourself alone?”
“I am not alone, Logan—“
Logan stifled a sigh. “Right, you’re with God?”
Kurt let out a breathy chuckle. “I meant that young Jubilee is here.”
“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Jubilee ain’t anywhere here.”
Kurt blinked. He quickly scanned the hanger. Outside of him and Logan and the jets, it was empty. When did she leave? How much time has passed? Kurt nervously fiddled with the beads of the rosary.
Logan leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. “Praying working out too well, I take it?”
“Quite the opposite, if I may be honest,” Kurt murmured, his gaze dropping down to the floor.
“Be as honest as you’d like. Doesn’t matter to me.”
Kurt opened his mouth but made no sound. His eyes were locked to the ground, eyebrows knit together. He turned one of the beads over and over between his fingers.
Logan sat by him, arms still folded, one eye open. The short-tempered man was hardly a model on the virtue of patience, but in this moment, he could rival that of a patron saint.
After what felt to be an eternity, Kurt finally spoke, his voice small.
“It is hard to forget what happened. Sometimes, my body reacts as though I am still there. Praying only seems to serve as a reminder of what I am trying to forget.” He paused, lifting his gaze to stare through the wall. Logan watched out of the corner of one eye.
“It was hard, those first hours. We were completely on our own. Those of us who could manage dug for survivors. For every one we found, there were dozens more dead. After a while, we stopped finding anyone.” Another pause. Kurt fiddled with the rosary beads, repetitively rolling them back and forth between his fingers.
“Rogue was a shell of herself. She did not leave Gambit’s side once. At the time, I did not know the depth of her grief. If I had, I would have stayed closer to her. She must have felt so alone, so frightened, so angry. If I stayed with her, then perhaps—“
“You can’t put that on yourself, elf,” Logan interrupted.
“You heard her yourself, Logan. ‘None of you were there.’” Sorrow tinged his voice as his gaze dropped to his hands. “Whether it is anger or grief clouding her memories, the fact remains that when she needed someone, I was nowhere to be found.”
He deflated as he spoke. His shoulders slouched, as if he was caving in on himself. His voice was heavy, eyes tired.
“So, she runs off with Magento who’s barely been there from the get-go? Didn’t see him risking his hide to beat off a buncha sentinel zombies while she was conked out like sleepin’ beauty,” Logan muttered.
Kurt straightened, frowning. “Logan, while I appreciate your candor, you are simplifying it far too much—”
“And you’re overcomplicatin’ it. You were in Genosha, and you were there for her. She should give a bit of a damn about that,” Logan shot back.
Kurt fell silent. He folded his hands together, pressing the rosary into his palms. “Grief is a powerful emotion that drives even the most rational to irrationality. Perhaps if Gambit were still here, he would know how to quell her rage…” Kurt trailed off. His fingers tightened, pressing his palms harder together. “I fear that the path Rogue has chosen amid this will be one she regrets.”
“And what about you?”
“Myself?” echoed Kurt, blinking. He paused a moment, his eyes sweeping over the pair of jets that sat in the hanger. A jet that he would soon be boarding to reverse the effects of Magento’s global EMP and to face his sister who departed with him. The sister whom he guarded with his life and watched over to ensure she would not be alone when she finally stirred.
“I do not wish to fight her,” Kurt finally murmured. “But what Magneto did must be reversed. We cannot wield our suffering and grief in a way that creates more of it. That much I am sure of.”
“What I’m sure of is you’re not gonna want to bring this with you if that’s the case.” Logan reached over to Kurt’s hands and plucked the rosary from his palms. The metal crucifix dangled in the air.
“If my crucifix is your concern, perhaps we should reconsider bringing you, Logan,” chuckled Kurt as he reached for his rosary. Logan moved it out just out of his reach.
“Difference between me and your damn necklace is that the glorified magnet needs to put effort in keeping me down, while he just needs to flick his pinkie to jam this into your jugular.” Logan made a stabbing motion with the rosary towards Kurt’s neck before dropping it into Kurt’s hands.
“A fair point, mein Freund,” chucked Kurt as he neatly wrapped the rosary around his palm.
A comfortable silence settled between the pair. Logan leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes fully. Kurt leaned forward, his thumbs tracing the bumps of the beads.
“Logan?”
Logan grunted, barely twitching at the sound of Kurt’s voice.
“Thank you.”
Another grunt. Don’t mention it.
A smile twitched on Kurt’s lips. He brought the rosary up to his lips and closed his eyes. He silently continued his prayers. In the company of Wolverine, they were finally met with silence.