Chapter 27: We've Come This Far

A blue figure crouched in the white. "Kurt?" she asked unthinkingly, belatedly realizing that Kurt couldn't be dead. The figure stood, resolving into a much larger, furrier person – Beast.

"They sent me to talk to you," he said with a smile. "They need you to go back."

"I want to go back. I want to make sure everything worked – that I died for a reason."

"Who said you've died?"

Sabere remembered who she was talking to – a warrior who had fallen in battle – and guilt flooded her. "You died well – can you come back with me?"

He laughed. "I've seen what I was there for, and what I accomplished, and I won't go back. I've found something better. You, on the other hand – you and the others still have a fight. You need to go back."

"How?"

"Just go." He smiled and held up a hand – paw. "Goodbye, Sabere. It was an honor."

Then, suddenly, she was alone in the white.

Go back.

She turned around, closed her eyes, and opened them to the blues and grays of the infirmary.

For the first time, she felt how exhausting living was. Every beat of her heart was a strain; a mask on her face helped her weary lungs take in breath after breath after breath. And she was alone…

"Kurt." It came out as a muffled half-whisper. No one would hear…Kurt…

/I've sent him down. Jean will come after to check on your progress./

/Professor?/ Her heart soared with relief.

His mindvoice smiled. /With all thanks to you, yes./

"Sabere?"

She was too weak to turn her head and see the face she loved…and she wanted to, so badly…

"Sabere, it's me, it's Kurt." He sat cautiously on the edge of her bed.

"I know…" Again, the barely audible whisper. He smiled a little, tears in his eyes, and bent to kiss her forehead. There were needles in both arms…she couldn't squeeze his hand like she did...she couldn't move…

/Let me help you./

And suddenly it was just them, in a comfortable room with sun streaming in through the windows and Kurt smiling.

/A meeting room,/ she realized. /We can talk./

More than that – she felt every ounce of his love, and realized he felt hers just as much. They had words now, but didn't need them – not when their strongest emotions were flowing between their linked minds.

And finally, finally, she wrapped her mental arms around him and kissed him. And between them mingled all the love and relief and sorrow and joy, joining them together, imparting far more intimacy than either of them had felt before. The meager reassurances and comforts just flowed as swirls of emotion – only the most important words were articulated.

/I love you./

And when they parted, Sabere found herself back in her weak body, smiling under the breath mask with tears trickling into her hair. Kurt lifted the mask just long enough to kiss her briefly, then stepped back to let Jean do her work.

"Hey," she said quietly. "How are you feeling?"

She couldn't talk anymore – a small gasp left her lips but she was so exhausted –

"I'm going to give you a shot," Jean told her. "Your body has repaired itself quite a bit, but it's had a lot to do. This will put you under long enough to finish what it needs to do. After that, you should be able to take care of it."

Sabere wiggled her fingers a little, trying to reach Jean's sleeve. Immediately she felt Jean in her mind.

­/Will I come back?/

The astral Jean smiled. /You're already back. The only place for you to go from here is back to where you should be./

Sabere felt the faint prick of a needle in her shoulder and immediately dozed backwards into a warm blackness.

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As soon as she opened her eyes, she found herself amazed by the details of her clock. The red rectangles that joined into numbers, which meant a time – specifically, 4:17, nine rectangles, two dots, all telling her when she was in time and space. Now 4:18.

The Phoenix was gone, and into the empty openness it had left behind Sabere was throwing detail. The weave of her sheets, the dust on her lamp, beyond to the clouds out the window with its stained wood frame.

Her own mind again…the Phoenix had kept its promise.

She sat up, inexplicably feeling tears in her eyes. Gratefulness, she supposed – or just amazement that it had all happened as it should. Xavier was healed and the Phoenix had spared her. Still dazed, she swung her legs over the bed, absorbing the feel of fabric pajamas against sheets and her bare feet into slippers. One step, two steps, towards the door, watching the carpet move and feeling the cold dusty brass of the doorknob. Memories of this room – the hole in the wall from the drug attack, her shredded mattress, knives stabbed into the doorjamb – and Kurt, the anchor through all the chaos…

Out into the quiet hallway, doors on all sides, more of the burgundy carpet, lamps on the walls. She kissed Logan at the end of this hall, by the stairs…

"She lives," a soft voice said.

Logan was a distant, locked-up memory, and Kurt, the shadow by the door, was everything real. She felt his arms fold around her waist, hugged her own around his shoulders, and idly fingered the thick indigo ponytail.

"So," she asked finally, as the sense of detailed infinity faded. "What did I miss?"

"It's a stalemate," he told her. "Apocalypse has not budged since the battle, other than to shield New York City. No one has gone near him, and demand for the cure is dwindling."

"Do we have a plan?"

"Not yet. Although," his eyes sparkled. "You could go ask Xavier."

She smiled, kissed him, and went downstairs to find the professor.