Author's Note: I'm just amazed at how many people are still following my fics. Thank you all for the support. I haven't always responded to the PMs and comments, but I do see them and those occasional notes have been a huge encouragement over the last few years. You have no idea how much I cherish them.

(Also, for anyone who's wondering, I am chipping away at a Blind Sight chapter but please don't expect it any time soon.)

Chapter 35

Charles entered his study to find Remi standing at the wide windows, staring out into the night. Wind-driven rain splattered fitfully against the glass. A powerful sense of deja vu gripped Charles, tightening his stomach into a knot. Thirteen years ago he'd encountered this same scene, and Remi had spoken to him in Gambit's rolling Cajun accent.

Fear slithered down his spine. If he called Remi's name now, who would answer? After the day's events in the Danger Room, he was no longer certain.

Charles squeezed the handles of his hoverchair. "Remi?"

Remi started. He didn't turn, but he met Charles' gaze reflected in the dark glass. "Aban."

Charles wanted to wilt in relief. He touched the controls on his hoverchair and moved to his son's side. Outside, the storm grumbled, flickering with far off lightning.

He glanced over at Remi. "How are you feeling?"

Remi shook his head as if that were a question he couldn't hope to answer. Eventually, though, he sighed. "Every so often I catch my reflection in a window or a metal surface," he said quietly. He didn't turn, but once again met Charles' gaze in the blackened window. "It's like seeing a ghost."

Charles wanted to reach for him but wasn't sure if he should. "Gambit's ghost?" he asked.

Remi nodded. Then, with a heavy sigh, he turned around, leaned one hip against the window sill and crossed his arms. He stared at Charles, expressionless save for the yearning that burned in his dark eyes.

"Aban, what am I supposed to do with this… mess… in my head?" He made an impatient gesture. "I spent thirteen years living Gambit's life. Those things are part of me. I can't let them go without ripping out half of who I am." His expression darkened. "On the other hand, I grew up with the understanding that there was a sharp delineation between Gambit and I, and that that was a line I was never supposed to cross." He leaned forward. "Never. And all I have to do is look at Rogue or Renee to see the reasons why."

Charles ran both hands across his scalp, wishing he had some kind of sage advice to offer. Wishing he knew some way to ease the hurt for any of them, and wishing he knew how to silence the angry voice deep in his heart that wanted everything related to Gambit to just disappear so that his son could go back to the life he was meant to live.

Remi gave him a reproachful look. "It's not that simple."

Charles lowered his hands. "I know."

Remi straightened abruptly. "Come with me. There's something I should show you."

Before Charles could ask for details, Remi caught hold of his mind and pulled them both onto the astral plane. They arrived in a desert. Charles immediately recognized the core of Remi's psyche, but this desert bore little resemblance to the one he'd visited thirteen years earlier. That desert had been a flat place, stark but immense, with sweeping vistas to the horizon in all directions. The colors there had been muted dun and brown, with only the piercing blue sky and distant mesas striped in reds and ochre to liven the scene.

Charles stared around him in amazement. This desert had been carved into a living piece of art by the wind that whipped past Charles like a furnace blast. Beautiful, striated stone rose and fell all around him in spires and whorls, dips and crevasses. The wind alternately sang and howled through the carved rock, an eerie, alien sound. Where the sun struck the stone, the colors glowed in vibrant, earthy shades, contrasting starkly with the pools of deep, purpled shadows. The same brilliant blue sky arched overhead, half-obscured by the breathtaking architecture of Remi's core mind.

"Over here," Remi said, and Charles turned to find him standing a short ways away. As always, his astral self was dressed in the black Shi'ar armor with Gambit's worn duster over the top. Charles realized he should have understood the importance of that juxtaposition long before now. Behind Remi, a familiar skeleton of I-beams rose out of the rock like the frame of some impossibly tall building: Remi's memory structure. It only took one good look for Charles to register the scope of what Remi was dealing with.

It looked like a bomb had gone off somewhere in the middle of the tangle of pastel-colored beams. Though the structure was obviously sound, held up by a sturdy lattice of beams and joints, the ground around it was littered with mangled pieces. Higher up, sections of the structure had torn away from the main tower, impaling other structures or simply dangling from a few precarious contacts.

"It looks worse than it is," Remi said.

Charles shook his head, dumbfounded. "I'm not sure that's possible," he answered faintly and Remi flashed a grin.

Sobering, Remi looked up at the skeletal skyscraper rising over their heads. "Most of the damage is from the lockbox exploding. The one that held all of my original memories." He shrugged. "The Shadow King wasn't exactly surgical about it."

Charles didn't doubt that for an instant. The Shadow King had intended his blow to shatter Gambit's mind so he could pick whatever information he wanted out of the pieces. Instead, he'd encountered the psi bolt defense Charles had built, but the Shadow King's attack had been so violent it had destroyed the box he'd trapped Remi inside and unwittingly given Charles back his son.

"Did he know what was likely to happen?" Charles asked hesitantly. "Gambit, I mean." The decision had been tantamount to suicide on Remy's part. Charles had been trying not to think about it.

Remi's expression abruptly narrowed. "The question you should be asking, Aban, is, 'Did you know what would happen?'." Around them, the wind rose to a shrieking gale. Hot, acrid air stole Charles' breath away and he blanched at the anger in his son's tone.

"I'm sorry." Dismayed, he held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Did you know?" he repeated cautiously, then held his breath as he waited for Remi to answer.

The wind died down to its original level. Remi nodded. "I knew." He shrugged expressively. "Was counting on it. The Shadow King is the only telepath with the power to do what was needed."

Charles digested that. Frightening questions clamored inside him. Was it possible for a single psyche to identify as two separate people? Was that even what Remi was doing?

He braced himself. "Was… were… you scared? Of becoming someone different?"

Remi nodded again. "Terrified." He looked out over the windy desert, his gaze distant. "At the time, I really expected everything that was me to just cease to exist. Like dying." He came back to himself with a grimace and a rueful shrug. "But, it didn't. I didn't." He waved a hand overhead at the towering memory structure. "Instead, I have this."

Charles looked up, studying the expanse of Remi's memory structure in detail. Tentatively, he reached out to touch the nearest beam. It was warm beneath his fingertips. Fleetingly, the scent of cinnamon filled his nose.

"Do you mind?" he asked with a glance at Remi.

Remi shook his head. "Help yourself."

Charles began to climb. As always, his astral self had full use of his legs and he relished the half-forgotten feeling of his muscles straining to propel him upward. Remi followed.

Charles paused in his climb when his hand fell on something hard and cold. He inched himself upward in order to properly see it, and was startled to find a heavy metal strut melded into the structure. It looked like stainless steel, and it most definitely wasn't a natural part of Remi's mind. The bar stuck out of Remi's memory structure at an odd angle and Charles realized in dismay that it had been torn away by the force of the Shadow King's psionic attack. The portion of structure it had once been attached to dangled some distance away, a knot of bent and twisted beams.

"What is this?" he asked when Remi came up beside him. He was more than a little afraid to touch it.

To his surprise, Remi reached over, grabbed the strut and yanked it out of the structure with a grunt of effort.

"Sinister did this," Remi said as he studied the piece of shining metal in his hand. He didn't look up at Charles.

Charles' stomach curled into a hard knot. "Sinister? When?"

Remi didn't answer immediately. His brow knit in concentration and then the metal strut in his hand dissolved into oily gray smoke. He waved his hands through the greasy cloud, dispersing it.

"If you recall," he said a moment later, his voice flat, "the previous version of me once worked for Sinister as a willing accomplice. He suffered one betrayal too many and ended up discovering just how much evil he was capable of."

Charles' breath froze in his lungs. A chill swept across his skin, raising goosebumps, and left him terrified. He had known what condemning Remi to live Gambit's life would entail. So had Remi. But that was so much different than seeing the damage firsthand and knowing he had done this to his son.

Remi raised his head, his dark eyes smoldering with old pain. "It wasn't quite like that with me." He broke away, looking out over the arid landscape. "I already knew what I was capable of. I murdered the Shadow Queen when I was fifteen years old."

Charles opened his mouth to contradict that characterization, but closed it again at a warning glance from Remi.

Remi leaned one shoulder against the beam nearest him and crossed his arms. "We really were fools to think we could replicate the timeline exactly. Even with my memories traded out, I wasn't quite the same person as my previous incarnation, just like you weren't quite the same as that other Charles Xavier. He wasn't susceptible to the Shadow King while you were. I wasn't susceptible to Sinister the way my previous version was."

Charles struggled to follow him, even as his stomach heaved and whirled. "But the Massacre happened."

Remi winced. A tremor ran through the reality around them, a ripple of guilt and horror that passed through Charles like an icy wave.

"Yes," Remi answered. "My memory structure had started to disintegrate under the strain. The lockboxes are… heavy. Too heavy." He shook his head. "I kept remembering things that hadn't happened or that I thought hadn't happened. I couldn't put events I remembered in chronological order." He shrugged. "I thought I was losing my mind. So I went to Sinister, and recruiting the Marauders was his price for reinforcing my memory structure to keep it from completely coming apart."

Remi uncrossed his arms, rolling his shoulders as if trying to ease tense muscles. "Hank likes to talk about lynchpins in the course of history when he gets onto time theory." He paused and Charles wondered which version of Hank McCoy he was remembering. "I think he's right. The Massacre is one of those lynchpins. It keeps happening even when the surrounding circumstances change."

Charles didn't really want to discuss time theory. Remi's story brought out a new and frightening possibility. "Then Sinister was inside your mind at one point," he said. Deep inside it. Into the core structure. "Is it possible he found out-?"

"The truth?" Remi waved one had at their surroundings, then shook his head. "No, I don't think so. The lockboxes are invisible unless you know they're there, and even if he'd found them he wouldn't have been able to get inside. I think he saw the damage and tried to repair it, but didn't particularly care what the source was." Remi shrugged. "He did plant a compulsion- making me suggestible- which, without my powers, took me a while to work my way out from underneath. But I agreed to lead the Marauders before then." His voice fell. "I can't use that as an excuse."

Sudden fury swept through Charles for all of the horrible, impossible decisions that had been forced on his son. He caught Remi's shoulder, squeezing hard. "Rem'aillon Neramani, you do not need an excuse. Not for any of it. Do you hear me?"

Remi rocked back in surprise at his vehemence, but the ache in his eyes only intensified. Charles could feel Remi's turmoil, his private agony, like a faint vibration through the structure beneath their feet - not mechanical, but like the shudder on the end of a sob.

Charles couldn't take it any more. He dragged Remi into a crushing hug. "I am so sorry I couldn't protect you from this." He could barely force the words out through the emotions that closed his throat and knotted his hands into fists. Tears burned in his eyes. This was the worst pain of all - to have failed to keep his child safe - and Charles hated himself for every one of those mistakes.

Remi returned the hug briefly, but then pulled back, his expression closed. "It's not your fault, Aban. You did as much as you could."

Charles shook his head in unconscious denial. "That doesn't change anything. I'm your father… It was my responsibility and I failed you."

Remi hunched his shoulders. "No, you didn't."

Charles barely heard him through the seething pain in his heart. "You don't understand-"

Remi's head snapped up. He whirled, his eyes glowing like molten metal and his face pale with fury. "I don't understand?" he snarled. "My son is dead. Don't tell me I don't understand!"

Charles recoiled in shock. Cody… Charles only had a few fragmented images of Renee's twin, who had died before Remi jumped into their current timeline. He and Remi had been as close as brothers, though, he remembered. Charles' stomach lurched and went into freefall. Now, with the added dimension of having lived Gambit's life these past years, how much worse had that loss become?

Remi staggered a step away and braced himself with one hand against the nearest beam. His long hair fell forward, hiding his face, but Charles could see his chest heaving as he fought to gather himself.

Silently, Charles crossed the space separating them and laid a hand on Remi's back. "Is that how you see them now… Renee and Cody?" he asked. He pushed his own feelings into the background as much as he could. That, too, was part of a parent's responsibility. Remi needed him.

Remi's shoulders hitched in a shrug. "Sometimes." He straightened, clearing his throat and brushing the moisture from his eyes. "And it's not because of what happened this morning in the Danger Room." He glanced at Charles as if gauging his reaction. "Those future memories are leaking some, but that's not the reason."

Charles didn't need to ask what was. "Rogue."

Remi nodded.

"Do you love her?" Charles asked.

Remi laughed raggedly. "Yes." He paused. "No. I don't know." He tipped his head back. "At this point, the most I've managed to decide for certain is that it isn't incest." He glanced sidelong at Charles. "And if that doesn't tell you just how messed up all this is, I don't know what will."

Remi heaved a sigh. "I just wish she'd talk to me."

Charles found his sense of humor returning. "That's a tall order with Rogue," he answered dryly and Remi gave a pained snort.

"Don't I know it."

Charles paused, struck by how much he'd sounded like Gambit just then.

Remi had obviously heard his thought, because his expression sharpened. "That's the thing, Aban," he said. "I am Gambit." He pointed outward, to where a massive chunk of memory structure dangled from the main body by a lattice of twisted girders. "See all that? Those are my previous version's memories from his childhood. They don't really belong any more because my real memories have been restored and make up the structure of my mind now, but they're necessary to give context to things I thought or decided or did later on. So they're just hanging on there, too thoroughly intertwined with me to get rid of, but not a linear part of my experiences."

He turned, pinning Charles with a frank stare. "I know everyone wants me to either be Rem'aillon Neramani or Remy LeBeau, but I'm telling you that isn't possible. Not anymore."

#

Renee wandered down to the graveyard, drawn, as she always was, by the stately peace that emanated from the little cluster of lichen-covered stone faces. She'd come to terms—more or less—with the fact that her father's headstone did not sit in its proper place. That she couldn't run her fingers along the marble edges or trace the scratches at the base where she and Cody had tried to carve their initials when they were kids.

She paused at the memory of her brother. The grief followed, a dull rumble in her heart. Maybe she could talk to Uncle Scott—no, just Scott, she corrected herself. They all got so uncomfortable when she called them that. Maybe she could talk to Scott about putting up a headstone for him. There was even a chance they could find his body. Surely the Cairo police would have investigated, and perhaps buried Cody wherever they put unidentified people.

The idea appealed to her at a fundamental level. She wanted to be able to be near him—to know that he was there beneath his headstone. She wanted something real, some piece of the life she'd lost, even if it hurt.

She'd barely reached the outskirts of the small graveyard when a figure appeared, perched atop one of the stones. Renee recognized Marrow after a moment and paused uncertainly at the predatory calculation in the pink-haired girl's eyes. She'd been warned not to let her guard down around Marrow; that merely her resemblance to Remi would be enough to make her a target. Her grandfather had explained Marrow's history, the Morlock Massacre and the reasons for her hatred. Renee didn't know what to think about any of it, particularly her father's involvement in her own timeline—and Remi's in this one.

"Hello, traitor's get," Marrow said in a bright, menacingly cheerful tone.

Renee instinctively reached for her pocket and the collapsed staff she no longer possessed. It no doubt still lay somewhere in Apocalypse's desert stronghold.

She drew a deep breath. "Hello, Sarah."

The girl hissed, her eyes narrowing angrily. "My name is Marrow."

Renee just raised her eyebrows. After Apocalypse, she couldn't find the girl too terribly frightening.

"Your name is Sarah," she repeated softly. "And mine is Renee. Pleased to meet you." She didn't take her eyes off the small figure, however. Apocalypse had taught her an abundance of caution, too.

Marrow narrowed her eyes. "Pretty words won't save you, traitor's get." She reached up to grab a long bone spike growing out of her shoulder and pulled it free with a moist, sucking sound. Blood and bits of tissue covered the razor sharp edges and Renee knew it must have hurt terribly to remove, but Marrow's face gave nothing away.

Marrow began to move, cautiously circling Renee, the bone dagger held ready. Renee turned with her and used the opportunity to better cement her surroundings in her mind. She debated calling out for Jean or Remi, but decided against it. Only if she were really in danger. Marrow had already suffered so much.

"Will it hurt him if I kill you?" Marrow asked, her tone musing.

Renee didn't answer. Sadness filled her. She understood too well how much this girl had endured. The Shadow King had drowned her in the same kind of pervasive, unending evil until it was hard to remember that anything good had ever existed. How much worse had it been for Sarah, who had never known the kind of love and security Renee had experienced for most of her life?

Renee took a cautious step backwards, and Marrow's gaze snapped to her. She hissed again, a hateful sound.

"Don't do this, Sarah," Renee said.

In response, Marrow leapt at her, knife extended. Renee dove out of the way. She rolled to her feet in a defensive crouch, but Marrow was already darting toward her again, knife slashing. Renee blocked her knife hand with one arm and felt the fiery sting across her forearm as the blade connected. She drove the heel of the other hand into Sarah's nose. Blood spurted, and Sarah stumbled back with a cry of pain.

Renee clamped her hand over the gash in her forearm and backed away. Blood trickled between her fingers.

Marrow snarled, the lower half of her face coated in scarlet. "Die, gene-traitor!" She launched herself at Renee, knife raised.

In her fury, she'd left herself wide open. Renee spun, intending to plant her foot in the other girl's chest to knock her away, but a golden streak of fire roared past her before she completed the move and slammed into Marrow, sending her flying.

"No! Sam!" Renee recovered her balance and took off running toward the other mutant. Cannonball had come to a stop a few feet from Marrow's crumpled form. His blast aura died away.

"You all right?" he called over his shoulder to Renee. He knelt to check on Marrow.

"Wait!" Renee yelled, but before she'd gotten halfway there, Marrow lunged off the ground, her knife sweeping toward Sam's throat. He jerked back with a cry of surprise, overbalanced and fell onto his butt in the grass. Marrow leapt at him.

Renee tackled her mid-leap, twisting away the moment they hit the ground. She rolled into a ready crouch, but Marrow was diving toward Cannonball.

Sam's blast aura ignited and he rocketed into the sky before Marrow reached him. She skidded to a halt, eyes widening fearfully. With a massive crack, lightning struck the ground in front of her. Marrow dove away and Renee flattened herself against the ground, half-blinded by the brilliant flash.

"That is enough!" Storm roared. Renee climbed to her feet, blinking the spots away, to find Storm hovering twenty feet above the ground with Cannonball a few yards away. below them, Marrow crouched defensively, knife held ready.

The fury in Storm's face frightened Renee. She took a tentative step forward. "Aunt Ororo?"

Ororo didn't acknowledge her. She continued to stare at Marrow as the wind howled around them, blowing the grass flat and whipping Renee's long hair about her face.

"You have tried my patience one time too many, child," Storm told Marrow. Thunder rumbled on the tail of her words. "I warned you what would happen if you did not cease this vendetta."

Marrow threw the knife in her hand, forcing Ororo to dodge on a gust of wind, then turned and fled into the old growth forest surrounding the mansion. Her small form quickly disappeared into the deepening dusk.

"Stop her!" Storm pointed and Cannonball zoomed away in the direction Marrow had gone. He ducked and darted through the trees like some immense will o wisp, shedding golden sparks in his wake. Ororo rose above the trees and followed.

Feeling helpless, Renee sprinted after them. The sound of the nearby ocean mixed with the wind blowing through the leaves. Renee couldn't hear anything except the pounding of her own heart. Blood trailed from her fingertips, splattering her clothes as she pumped her arms.

Ahead of her, the trees thinned. Sam's golden fireball swooped downward and she heard Sam calling out, "Marrow, stop!" in a panicked voice, followed by a shriek and horrible, meaty crunch. Sam dove out of sight.

Renee broke out of the trees at the edge of a cliff. Frantic, she backpedaled, arms windmilling to keep her from catapulting off the edge. A hundred feet below her, waves crashed against jagged gray rocks and sent foamy spray fountaining upwards. A small form with a splash of pink hair lay splayed across one of the rocks, unmoving. Renee's breath froze in her chest.

Sam looked up at her from where he hovered just above the rocks. His eyes were filled with horror. "She just… fell. She wouldn't stop."

Well beyond him, Storm hovered over the ocean, her expression stricken. The wind that held her up whipped the waves into a frenzy beneath her. She would likely swamp Sarah if she tried to approach.

"Sam!" Renee called. "I need to get down there." If Sarah was still alive, she could heal her.

Sam stared blankly at her. Shaking her head, Renee backed up a few steps and then took a running leap off the top of the cliff, aiming for the darkest section of water. Sam caught her ten feet above the waves and they plunged into the water together. His blast aura turned the ocean the color of champagne and made the impact feel like landing on a foam mat.

They reversed direction and Sam carried them out of the water and over to the rock where Sarah lay. Renee clambered away from him, toward Sarah. The salty spray immediately drenched her in cold water and made the wound in her forearm scream. The jagged rock sliced her fingers and knees, but she hardly noticed.

Sarah lay face down on the rock, one arm twisted and obviously broken beneath her. Renee clapped one hand across the back of Sarah's neck, and nearly cried in relief when her powers ignited. She lost track of everything else as she concentrated on forcing her powers to find everything inside Sarah that was broken and right it.

#

The entity known as the Gamesmaster watched the rescue of the girl, Marrow, unfold with a vague sense of unease. Something had changed. Was changing. He could still see all of the possible paths the timeline could take from that moment fanning out in front of him, but it was as if all of those possible futures were contracting, shrinking toward him. No longer could he see the aeons stretching backwards and forwards, events and choices impossibly tangled in a web of cause and effect. Now, the timelines were like individual threads stretching away into a dimming distance, and he could see only a few weeks down them.

What did it mean? After so many lifetimes following the courses of history, of nudging this player or that to make different choices, of untangling the mysteries of identity and the knots caused by Neramani's many iterations through time, he was finally on the correct path to his destiny. The threads that spread away from him all glowed with the sublime iridescence he had been chasing for so very long. Marrow's fate did not impact his goal, and was therefore meaningless. The only threads that did not glow were ones in which the Lebeau child died or was critically injured.

It bothered the Gamesmaster greatly that he did not understand LeBeau's role in his path, but her importance became ever more apparent as time moved forward. Somehow, she was as critical to his goal as the Neramani prince, Apocalypse and the Shadow King.

Slowly, he let his awareness fade. Now, even he could do little but watch the future unfold.