The lungs contracted and then stopped. A beep of machinery, then silence.
"Well, aren't ya a scary lookin' one?"
The goth chick jumped down from the window sill where she had been sitting and flashed Kurt a bright smile. She was young. She was perky, though decked out all in black.
Kurt hadn't noticed her before now. Well, his eyes at had been closed. He had been lying in bed.
He still did.
And he was lying still and Logan was still, sitting next to him with shoulders hunched and with both of his hands clasped, locked into each other.
Yet, here Kurt also was. Standing on the floor in front of a girl dressed like she was going to a Siouxie and the Banshees concert.
"I'm - I mean - You're - ! " Kurt couldn't help but exclaim. "Lieber Mensch!"
She laughed gently.
"Nein, my sweet. You see - no wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold -" she reached out her hand to shake Kurt's
"My name is Death."
Kurt took her hand, hesitantly. It looked small, pale, almost white, but it felt like nothing. Or maybe it was simply him who couldn't feel anymore. His real hand was over there, in that bed, getting colder by the minute.
"You look nothing like what I'd imagine."
She sent him a crooked smile.
"Well, you should know not to judge a book by it's cover, my dear gentle Nightcrawler."
She looked him over, casting her eyes on his dark blue skin, yellow eyes, pointed ears, teeth, tail... All what humans described as "demonic".
Kurt gathered his three fingers into a gun shape and "shot" her.
"I see your point."
Death snickered and clicked her tounge.
"All of this - it's a comfort thing. I could arrive all billowy cloak and spooky skeleton, but this -"
She gestured down her own person, her numerous bracelets rattling as she pointed at her pointy boots, fishnet tights, corset top, that big silver Ankh.
"It's a bit more disarming."
Kurt sighed. She could see in his eyes what he could see in theirs. Always that one moment, perhaps just a second, when people met him for the first time. Even friends. Allies. That flash of shock on their faces.
That instinctual jab to flee or fight. Before he opened his mouth of course, and spoke his kind, softly accented words. Always. Except once.
"Sometimes, when someone has been really nasty and I feel like it, I come to them all Fourth Horseman-ey, complete with firey swords and eyeballs rolling all over the place."
Death lifted her arms in what would have been an intimidating pose had she had been a bit more Death-like.
"It's glorious! You should see their face!" She added quickly:
"- But of course I have a choice..."
Kurt had wandered to the window, away from the girl and the bed and what was in it.
He looked out. He heard laughter and shouts from Xavier's students was on the lawn in front of the Institute, trying out their powers and playing in the sun. He remembered the refrain of an old sappy song.
Of course he wasn't young. It had already been several years ago since grey had began creeping in his fur, making it all look more twilight than night.
Oh, but it still was hard to die on such a sunny day.
She had laid that intangible hand on his shoulder, but Kurt didn't feel Death's presence by his side before she spoke.
"Come on Kurt, it's time to go."
He turned quickly, anger suddenly flaring up in his eyes.
"How do you know my name?! Why me? And why if I don't want to go?!"
"Hey!" she exclaimed annoyed. "I know everybody's name! And I come for all! It's nothing personal."
She continued, now wagging her finger impatiently.
"You can't teleport out of this one! But you don't have to go."
"I don't?" Kurt said with surprise.
"You don't. But." Death lowered her tone. "You'll be a ghost. And not like Kitty. You won't be able to touch anything... Speak with anyone. You'll just be floating by. Existing. But it won't be life. And there won't be another chance to come with me."
Kurts face had darkened, the yellow eyes dull, far away in his own thoughts.
Then he finally said: "I don't need to touch. I don't need to speak. I just need to see."
See him, like he saw me.
Death lowered her head.
"He saw you without fear. Even the very first time. He saw you."
They stood in silence, but then she raised her eyes, looking gaze with him.
"Fine. Then turn around and look at him now."
Kurt hesitated, his face, stoic before, twisting into a mask of pain.
"Nein... Nein. Nein! Nein!"
"Look at him Kurt! Look at you!" The voice was not a girl's voice, but a chill command that tore through his soul.
And so Kurt did look, for real this time.
He looked at the white pressed linen sheets on which the corpse rested. He looked at the iron bedframe, the machinery and blinking lights, he looked at sunken in cheeks and curled up fingers.
He looked at the creamy color of the wall, at the chair, at the man who sat in it.
He looked at broad, strong shoulders, shaking. Were they finally confronted with a burden they couldn't bear?
He looked at bushy hair, with not a single speck of grey in it, wild as ever, every attempt Kurt had done trying to tame it gone without a trace.
He looked at a face. He looked at lines that weren't there before, lines of loss. Despair etching his eulogy on Logan's face. Had he been visited by despair, by sorrow before? He must have. Did the healing factor count his heart?
Kurt heard a whisper in his ear: "My sister is not a pretty one."
"You- You said you come for everyone. Is that true?!"
"Yes." She said. "Eventually."
She added: "Some are just more stubborn than others. But it's a guarantee. Everybody gets rest."
"Ach so." he paused. But even though he was silent, his spirit's solemn song filled the air, a parting message from the soul - a chorus fading:
Not goodbye, mein Liebling. Auf Wiedersehen.
"Then you can take me."
"I'll be honored to, Kurt."
She reached up and embraced him.
"You know," she said, right before they left. "You could've asked me about anything. Heaven - Hell?
"I know." Kurt said. "But I've realised that it doesn't matter."
"It doesn't matter as long as -"
And then they were gone.