Back so soon? Well, it appears this Blood of Apocalypse arc just continues to inspire. I actually expected a lot worse from #185 than we got, but I couldn't let the idea that Death is not completely brainwashed go without elaborating a little. Just a short, little one shot.

And no, unfortunately, I don't own the characters. Oh, but if I did... dreamy sigh

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"Love."

He let the word roll over his tongue again, feeling it out. How could one word and the meaning behind it feel so foreign, yet at the same time, elicit such strong feelings of familiarity? The image of her pleading with him, covered in blood, was burned into his brain. So beautiful, so haunting; she made him feel, made him remember. He wanted to touch her, kiss her, crush her, kill her. He still loved her, and he loathed her for making him remember that love. Death was not supposed to feel anything but the complete gratification of taking life.

She had struck a cord, bewitched him; she'd made him remember who he was... who else he was. It had been true, what he'd told his master: he was Death, and he would continue to fulfill his requirements, but he was also Remy LeBeau, Gambit, and could not complete ignore the responsibilities that came with that identity either.

He remembered now, the moment he had made his decision. He had wanted to tell her, explain his reasoning, but he knew she would've tried to stop him. She would have done everything she could to keep him from going to Apocalypse. Even now he couldn't let her know; he couldn't tell any of them his true intentions. Now, more than ever, because he was no longer certain what his true intentions were. He was at odds with the X-Men, at odds with Apocalypse, but above all, he was at odds with himself. He felt loyalties to both sides of this cause, and couldn't just choose one without betraying part of himself. To completely denounce the X-Men and follow Apocalypse blindly would destroy what remained of Remy LeBeau, the man. To turn on Apocalypse and crawl back to the X-Men would ignore Death, the monster.

No, for now, he would make no choice. He would play both sides. He would be both Death and Gambit. Apocalypse saw great potential in him, and offered the opportunity to grow, to be part of something great and to gain the respect he deserved, but the X-Men, no matter what their shortcomings, were his family. They were his family, but he had lied to them. He'd had to lie. They would have torn holes in his plan, elected someone more worthy of the task; maybe that was part of why he did this, to prove that he was useful to the team and not just another pretty face in the background. He couldn't remember. He remembered making the decision, but the details behind it remained unclear. Was it a ploy, or did he really believe in Apocalypse? Gambit was still an X-Man at heart, but Death was a horseman. They'd never understand. Even now, he had to keep his inner battle secret. He'd already shown his hand and it had almost been his undoing. No, nobody could know.

Nobody, save one. The one person he had gone to with his plan; the one person he knew would back him up, would help him. There had been only one person that would understand his position.

Feeling an odd niggling in the back of his brain, he smiled a grim smile before opening the telepathic link she was trying to establish.

Emma? Dere was a bit o' a setback, but everyt'in' back on track now. Got an update fo' y'...