X Men Silk And Velvet

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Disclaimers apply. Nyx/Dara Gibson and Tigress/Nikku Sita Cheng © Kara Senecal, 2005.

It was the same pattern of images that continued to assail Nightcrawler for months; the moment where he had rushed forward, with Magik--his beloved Amanda--at his side, and Nyx, beautifully ferocious, swooping overhead, snarling at the renegade demons that had happened upon the gypsy band.

The X-Men had closed in on the demons, escapees from Magik's hell-dimension, predators drawn to the reek of blood and rot that the Pontiff had left in his wake, tracking down the gypsies who had sheltered the mutants in their midst.

It had been a horrible coincidence that the Pontiff's men and the demons should meet at the campsite. The mercenaries stood no chance against the slavering, grotesque beasts as they rushed forward. And the gypsies stood no chance against either of them.

Nightcrawler, though, had not been frightened. Not by much. These gypsies, an extension of his mother's tribe, were hardy and admirably stubborn, standing their ground to hold the mixed hoards off until the wagons--or the occasional motor home--were ready to roll.

He remembered bamfing over the demons heads, striking them as hard as his knuckles were able to stand. Magik cleaved her way through the throngs of men and monsters, her massive sword cutting them all down like weeds. Nyx had roared and rushed the stunned demons, bowling them over as she slammed her rocketing body into their boulder-like hulks. She easily sprang away from the shambling creatures, so Nightcrawler was not afraid.

Nearby, Wolverine had all but gleefully torn into the demons and men, not caring a pinch what his adamantium claws sliced open. His beloved, his fiancée, the sensually feline Tigress had his back, going between mercenaries and demons with brain rattling roars and devastating strikes.

Cyclops blasted aside whatever had been foolish enough to charge the gypsy band, clearing the way for Nightcrawler's people to flee. Iceman encased man and demon alike in massive ice columns, as Storm's whirlwinds slapped all of the monsters aside, holding them all off.

Nightcrawler didn't remember looking up from the soldier he was pummeling when he heard the rumble. He didn't remember seeing the demons shriek in terror and turn to flee.

He remembered seeing the ground heave and crack beneath them all. He remembered feeling the earth tremble. He remembered seeing the small pit several feet away from him suddenly grow into a larger pit, then a massive one.

Nightcrawler didn't understand what happened. All he could remember was rushing forward as his fellow X-Men fled. Wolverine bellowed for Nightcrawler to turn around and head for firmer ground, but all Nightcrawler could hear were the tortured screams of the gypsies as their homes were suddenly pitched into the yawning chasm, the Pontiff's men and the demons shrieking in terror as they were sucked downward, towards hell.

The bright gleam of white and silver armor was slowly disappearing in the mass. Magik had shouted, or maybe screamed, for Nightcrawler. The demons were clinging to her, weighting her down, dragging her with them. She could not free herself.

Nightcrawler remembered crying, "Christ in heaven, help us!", and he remembered praying fervently as he charged towards Magik, Amanda, as she was slowly being crushed by the monsters' bodies, as the ground gave a groan and shuddered again, splitting itself open and widening the gap.

"Gott, NEIIIIIN!!!"

Nightcrawler screamed, diving for Amanda's hand, throwing himself into the pit with her.

He didn't remember feeling the arms wrap around his waist, painfully tight, or the slap of leathery wings as Nyx beat them as hard as she could, pulling Nightcrawler out of the abyss.

He didn't remember fighting her grip, screaming wildly in German as Nyx dropped to the ground, to solid ground. He didn't remember ripping free from her arms and clawing his way back to the pit. Nightcrawler didn't remember Nyx launching herself for him, tackling him, yanking him back, and fought him as he fought her, shouting desperately as Nightcrawler screamed and swore and cursed God.

But he did remember collapsing against Nyx's warm chest, sobbing hysterically into her suit as she cradled him, held him to her, and cried with him.

******

Checking the serving tray once again, Nyx allowed herself to smile weakly; Nightcrawler had brought her breakfast almost every day when she first came to the Institute.

She carefully trotted up the stairs, stepping aside as a grim-looking Cyclops stomped downward, as Jean wearily followed.

Their eyes met, and Jean smiled, though it was forced. Nodding once, she continued after her husband, and Nyx's shoulders sagged. While she couldn't read minds like Jean could, Nyx could sense people's emotions, reading them like newsprint.

Jean's demeanor had dropped; she was saddened and hurt for her friend upstairs.

Nyx drew in a steadying breath, then carefully made her way up to the next floor, winding her way through the halls. She gave the professor a soft "hello" as he rode past her. Xavier's wheelchair was making more noise than the professor was.

Telling herself not to pay attention to it, Nyx continued on, finding the room she was headed towards, and to the group of mutants who had gathered uneasily there.

Hearing her approach, both Wolverine and Tigress' heads turned to her. Tigress smiled at the tray in Nyx's hands. "Gonna try again?"

"He needs to eat," Nyx said, sounding almost apologetic. She glanced worriedly towards Wolverine. "He's not talking?"

His brow furrowing, Wolverine shook his head. "Not a peep."

Nyx nodded, feeling bad for her mentor; Wolverine might not show it, but Nyx could feel how sad he was for his best friend.

Rogue stood rigid before his door, her arms crossed in frustration over her chest. She had nearly lost her temper with her brother's silence, and Gambit had almost hesitated before gently taking her aside; he didn't want Rogue to rip his arm off.

Rogue raised her eyes, bagged with exhaustion, as Nyx almost cautiously edged to the door. The elder mutant sighed heavily, admiring Nyx's persistence and yet somewhat disgusted with her.

Clearing her throat, Rogue reached out and carefully tapped the wooden door, restraining herself just enough so she wouldn't punch a fist straight through. "Kurt, sugah? Dara's here ... she's got breakfast ...?"

Acid burned in Nyx's stomach as she mentally reached out and touched the twisted emotions swamping the room.

It was all too familiar to her.

"Kurt, please," she said, stepping closer to the door. Her heart sank for him. "Let me in."

An agonizingly long moment passed. Gambit shifted nervously and Tigress drew in a long, steadying breath, clinging tighter to Wolverine, letting him crush her against him.

The click of the lock sounded like thunder in the hall. Rogue all but jumped. "Kurt?"

Something in the room snarled. "Leave me alone, damn it! I'll only talk to Dara!"

Nyx actually

did

jump at the words. Confused, she glanced at Rogue, who stared at her, opened-mouth.

Seeing her confusion, Wolverine quietly cleared his throat. He tried to smile at Nyx's wide eyes, but she could see the strain on him. "Go on, kiddo; he wants to see you."

Bewildered, Nyx started, then turned to the door, and hesitated again, drowning in the agony Nightcrawler felt. Tears stung her eyes, but Nyx wasn't willing to let them fall. Straightening her shoulders, she balanced the tray against one hip as she twisted open the doorknob.

Sliding quickly and silently inside, Nyx nudged the door closed behind her. For some odd reason, she didn't want any of the X-Men to see how grief-stricken Nightcrawler was.

The long drapes on his window were only opened a crack, hardly illuminating anything in his bedroom. Nyx waited only a second or so for her eyesight to adjust. Seeing the disaster that used to be Nightcrawler's room, Nyx wanted to break down and weep.

Nightcrawler had crept back into bed after unlocking the door. He lay with his back to her, his arms wrapped around himself, as though he were cold. His devilish tail lied lifelessly on the tangled sheets.

Nyx bit her lower lip hard, tasting blood as she struggled to assess the situation. She shouldn't be so uneasy. She had lived like this for a long time. She knew how Nightcrawler felt.

Pain flashed through her, and, ashamed, Nyx looked back to her serving tray.

No.

She didn't know what he was going through.

Dragging in a breath of stale air, Nyx started forward, back straight, head held high. Picking her way around the mess of papers and clothes, Nyx kicked an overturned chair aside and set the breakfast tray on the desk.

"I brought you some cereal, Kurt," she said, trying to busy herself with straightening the fork and knife. "I didn't think you were totally hungry, but I didn't want to give you anything too sweet either." Nyx glanced over her shoulder, trying to smile as he lied on his bed, hidden in the shadows. "Might give you a tummy ache."

Her cutesy words didn't even bring a flinch from Kurt. His glowing eyes stared dully out from half closed lids. Nyx inwardly grimaced; she couldn't tell if he was looking straight at her.

She swallowed, tearing her gaze away from her friend, back to his breakfast, then back to him again. "I don't want to sound cold or uncaring or anything, Kurt, but I'm so sorry."

He didn't move, and somehow, that hurt Nyx. Not pausing to think about it, she crossed his room, sitting down beside him on the bed.

He did not turn his face to her.

Nyx was almost certain Kurt could hear her heart cracking to pieces. Her breathing turned ragged, but she managed to keep her composure. She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm, on the warm, velvety blue fur.

"You helped me," Dara whispered, feeling her throat swell. "Let me return the favor, Kurt. Please?"

A moment passed.

The stony face suddenly shattered, and Kurt wept, reaching for her, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her shoulder. He trembled, sobbing loudly as he clung to Dara. One hand buried itself in her hair, holding tight, yet somehow gently at the same time. His tears soaked her shirt, but Dara didn't notice. Letting a few tears run over her cheeks, Dara held her friend, stroking his back, his hair, rocking him slowly.

"Help me, Dara," Kurt choked, his eyes squeezed shut and his fur damp from his tears. "I can't do it ...

I can't do it!"

"You won't be alone!" Dara murmured, cradling him in her arms. "I won't let you be alone."

***

Leaning back in her chair, Dara watched Kurt sleep.

Dara knew he hadn't been sleeping well. She knew, because she hadn't slept well after her return. She knew he had nightmares, like she had, and Dara sat close by, ready to gently shake him awake when the dreams began.

While he slept, Dara silently cleaned his room, tucking all of his letters in his desk, finding all of the CDs that had rolled under furniture, sorting his clothing, and agonizing over the torn Bible and bent cross necklace Kurt had flung into the corner.

Dara had sat there for a moment, sitting back on her heels. She stared at the book and the necklace, feeling the bottom of her stomach fall out: God and the Church had been everything for Kurt. He had tried to seek comfort there, and learn how to comfort others as well.

Dara was aware of the fact that Kurt had begun to struggle with his trainings, putting all of his beliefs into question. Tigress had gently suggested that he might have been burnt out, and maybe a little worried about leaving his friends to fight the mutant-hating world.

Kurt had nodded, then shrugged, believing the theory. Why not? But this was the path the Father had chosen for him. It must be the right thing to do.

The disaster in Bavaria put the final kibosh on Kurt's priesthood. Seeing innocent people--his flock--being dragged down into oblivion with gruesome demons and monstrous humans ... seeing the woman he had loved with all his heart, Amanda, disappear into the abyss ... had virtually caused Kurt to snap. Dara had been horrified and frightened by his screams as she instinctively dove after him, catching him before he could disappear into the pit. She, although being much stronger than him, was barely able to control him. Kurt had actually struck her several times in his desperation to save Amanda and the gypsies.

The X-Men had rushed to her side, Wolverine helping Dara pin Kurt down while Tigress tore open one of his sleeves, plunging a hypodermic needle into his arm and administering a massive amount of sedatives. It was a painfully long time before Kurt lost the strength or will to keep fighting. He had fallen asleep, his head in Dara's lap, his face tightened in agony.

In the Blackbird, on the way home, Kurt started fading in and out of consciousness. In his half-coma, Kurt had muttered, almost incoherently. He had said some rather blasphemous things about God and Christ, and as Dara watched on, she hadn't been sure whether to take his ramblings seriously.

The destroyed Bible and cross was ample proof of that now. Dara sighed, looking down at the book and necklace. She, herself, had struggled with God when she had returned to her family. She had been furious, demanding to know why God had let this happen to her. Did she do something wrong? Why did God make her a mutant? Maybe there wasn't any God anyways.

Still, she looked at the Bible and cross, and decided to keep them, should Kurt ever want them back. Dara began to reach down, then hesitated, her hand hovering over the holy objects; she had been burned one or twice by things of the Church, because of the vampire DNA in her body. The holy water had burned, rejecting the demon in her. Someone else had swung a cross in her direction, and Dara had instinctively bounded aside, fearful of the sizzling pain it would bring.

But then, sometimes, she hadn't been affected at all. Dara had theorized that things that were in the Church itself, or somehow blessed or holy, were the only things that could actually hurt her.

Kurt had brought his Bible and his cross to church all the time. Did that make them blessed?

Deciding to try her luck, Dara slowly reached down and laid a finger on the cross.

Feeling only cool metal, Dara had sighed in relief. Gathering the cross, the Bible and its torn pages, Dara placed them on a table, reminding herself to take them with her later.

Now she sat in Kurt's room, in his desk chair with her chin resting on her fist. Dara watched her friend sleep, his chest rhythmically rising and falling beneath the sheets.

Seeing him sleep, seeing the sheets and the bed suddenly brought an unexpected image to Dara. It was several seconds before she realized she was daydreaming, and she shook herself furiously out of it.

Grimacing, Dara glanced guiltily to the sleeping Kurt; this was becoming a really

bad

idea. She should have known better than to go into his room!

But ... well, she had to admit; it was a

great

daydream.

'Hey! No! None of that!'

Dara snapped to herself.

'Get real, kid; you're too young, and Kurt just lost the woman he had loved for years! You know you couldn't ever fill that void.'

Dara sighed, slouching in the chair sulkily. The little crush she had on Kurt had started to intensify after the last few adventures, after Wolverine and Tigress decided to get married.

She smirked for a brief moment: Wolverine. The little twerp. As far as she knew, her mentor hadn't realized that she had fallen in love him so many months ago, but the fearsome Canadian found out pretty quick that she liked Nightcrawler. Sometimes, Wolverine would roll his eyes and give Dara a knowing smirk as Nightcrawler passed, making Nightcrawler glance at them curiously and making Dara's cheeks grow hot and red.

Wolverine

loved

to embarrass her.

The only mutant here that she had told about her infatuation with Nightcrawler was Tigress. Tigress was always around; there were plenty of pets around for her to put her veterinary skills to use. Dara had once stomped by Tigress as she treated a puppy's sore paw, and snapped at her, telling her to do something about her antagonizing boyfriend. Confused, Tigress had asked what happened, and Dara knew she was caught. She explained everything to Tigress, and, to make up for Wolverine's attempts at humiliating Dara, the beautiful tiger-woman frequently smacked her fiancé upside the head.

Her thoughts began to wander, and her vision unfocused as the dreams started coming back. She started seeing herself as though through another person's eyes, like watching a movie. She saw herself, but could feel and smell everything that was happening, shivering at the feel of Kurt's hand gently running on the inside of her bare thigh, moaning as his velvet lips trailed down from her throat, between her breasts ... Dara could feel a heat rising in her, and her pulse was hammering between her legs.

A soft grunt roused Dara from her reverie. She looked up, surprised to see Nightcrawler propping himself up on an elbow and groggily rubbing his eyes.

For a second, Dara froze; she had just been thinking about him again! She panicked for a moment, fearing that Kurt had somehow been able to see into those dreams, and was infuriated ...

Wait, that was stupid. Forcing herself to shove all of her mixed thoughts aside, Dara pushed herself out of her chair. "Kurt?"

Kurt paused in mid rub. Looking almost horrified to see her, he slowly turned his head to face her. "D-Dara? You're still here?"

"I cleaned up, remember?" Curious by the look on his face--and by the shocks of embarrassment blasting out of him--Dara started forward. "You okay?"

"Ja!"

Wincing, Kurt turned on his right side, keeping his back to her. He swallowed hard, then tried to smile at Dara, as she cocked an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Ser danke,

Dara. I'm all right." He shrugged a shoulder. "I think I'll sleep for a little longer, though."

Dara blinked. Was Kurt embarrassed to have had her watch over him? He hadn't protested before, but maybe ... argh, forget it.

Not knowing what to make of it, she shrugged. "Okay. Call me if you need anything."

"Of course."

Nodding, Dara smiled at him, gathering his Bible and cross before heading for the door. Dara tried not to look back at Kurt, hoping her cheeks weren't pink, hoping Kurt hadn't noticed how she ...

Hmmmmph.

**********************

As soon as the door clicked shut, Nightcrawler flung the damp sheets off of him and leapt to his feet. Horribly embarrassed, he glanced back at the door, fearing that Dara might come back for something and see him in this awkward state.

Almost angry, Kurt glared down at the huge bulge in his pants. He was ... so

embarrassed!

He had dreamed of Dara again. And, damn it all, got an erection.

Disgusted with himself--and infinitely happy that he hadn't humiliated himself any worse by actually

coming

while he slept--Kurt staggered for his bathroom, gasping at the shocking pain between his legs, at how damned aroused he was.

'Cold shower, cold, COLD shower,'

he thought fervently, slapping on the lights and almost throwing himself into the bathtub. Remembering that he had to take his clothes off first, Kurt rolled his eyes towards the bathroom ceiling, clenching his fists and shaking them to high heaven.

This was

so

embarrassing.

Clawing on the shower, Kurt all but ripped his t-shirt over his head. Tossing that wildly aside, he reached for the top of his red sweatpants and hesitated; he wasn't sure he wanted to see how ... err,

big

, he was.