Chapter 23
"Rogue said you left the day before the X-Men were killed." Jean drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. It made her look like a little girl curled up in the overstuffed chair. It was obvious the memories-- Remy's memories-- still haunted her. "Where were you?"
The Witness cocked his head, studying her. His expression was guarded. After a moment, he shrugged minutely. "Unconscious, mostly." Then he looked away.
"What happened?" The Professor leaned forward in his hoverchair.
The Witness stood abruptly, his cloak swirling about his legs. He walked over to the bay windows that lined one wall of the large living room and stood staring out at the grounds. "I'm going t' have t' start wit a little general information about time theory." He turned to face the room, and the X-Men assembled there. He nodded to Hank. "Jump in whenever, Hank. Dis all based on your work."
Hank's eyebrows rose in interest. "My work? I have done some theorizing on the subject, but I would hesitate to go so far as to call it work."
Another miniscule shrug. "Den it's still in de future. I never found a date on de journals."
"My... personal journals?" Hank seemed nonplussed.
The Witness' mouth hinted at a smile. "Y' were dead, Hank."
Hank sat back, frowning. "I suppose that's true enough. But I still find the idea a bit unnerving."
The Witness turned his attention to the X-Men at large. "You're already aware o' how easily de timeline can be changed." Several nods followed the statement. "Each change causes a new permutation. Generally, dese changes in de timeline are localized to one t'ing-- an event, a person, or, in de case o' de X-Men, a group o' people. Dat's called de focus."
He nodded toward Forge. "As far as we know, dere have been five permutations in de timeline wit de X-Men as de focus. In de original line, de X-Men were betrayed and killed just like you saw, except dat I was dere and ended up dead, too."
The Professor opened his mouth to speak, but the Witness held up a hand, forestalling him. "Dat's what would have happened if not'ing had interfered. Den dose events would have led t' de future dat Rachel came from."
Jean's head snapped up. "Rachel? The Rachel we knew?" She gestured toward Scott.
The Witness nodded. "Oui. De one who was a Hound an' den went forward in time t' become Mother Askani."
Scott and Jean both stared at him. "How do you know... ?" Scott began.
"Dat she was de one founded de clan Askani?" He smiled lightly. "Combine telepathy wit de ability t' travel in time an' eventually y' know jus' about everyt'ing."
Jean's eyes widened slightly. "I see."
Scott opened his mouth and then abruptly shut it. The Witness eyed him, his expression thoroughly amused.
"Did y' decide t' spare me de lecture on moral responsibility?" he asked.
Scott's lips thinned. "Something like that," he answered stiffly.
After a brief moment, the Witness mastered his amusement and went on. "De... event, f' lack of a better term... dat kept me from bein' killed wit de rest o' de X-Men created a second permutation. I get t' de details o' what happened in a bit. If not'ing had interfered in de timeline, it would have led to de future Bishop, myself and Forge come from. And, eventually, to de future Cable grew up in."
"Bishop's arrival here created de third permutation. I never looked into de far future o' dat one because no one ever came back from dere. An' I knew Legion was goin' t' change it all anyway."
The Professor stiffened. "Legion?"
"Legion's trip back in time is somet'ing of a constant. It crops up in almost every timeline."
Hank was nodding in understanding. "Then the fourth permutation would be the Age of Apocalypse, correct?"
"Oui. An' since dat one was cut off back at de beginning, it didn' have much effect on de long term. However, since dere were some carryovers-- like Beast's double-- we have de fifth permutation, which is where we are now."
"I have a question." Bishop stood toward the back of the room, arms crossed. "The Age of Apocalypse existed because Professor Xavier was killed twenty years in the past. How could Gambit possibly have existed in that timeline?" He glanced toward Remy. "He was there. I saw him."
Remy was taken aback by the almost accusing stare. But he had to admit Bishop had a good point, and he was curious, too.
The Witness seemed suddenly weary. "Dat has t' do wit de nature of paradox," he answered. "De physical laws dat govern time don' seem t' care if someone jus' suddenly appears from another time or dimension. De timeline jus' accepts dem an' goes on wit its business. De problems only occur when dat person is wit'in dere original time. In de case o' de Age of Apocalypse, it would seem logical dat I couldn' exist since my father was killed some thirty years b'fore I was born. But, because I was outside o' my original time, de timeline didn' care about dat. So y' have Gambit in de Age of Apocalypse.
"Now, if dat timeline had been allowed to continue-- an' if dey hadn' blown up de world-- eventually, we would have gotten t' de day I was born. Which is impossible since de professor was long dead, o' course. An' since it is de first day o' my original time, de paradox becomes a problem an' collapses.
"De collapse would probably be complete, meanin' dat de effects would be felt both forward and back. My existence would effectively have been erased, an' de timeline would have changed t' cope wit having all of my actions undone. When it all settled, not only would Gambit not have ever existed, no one in de timeline would even be aware dat t'ings had been different once."
Remy felt a cold stab as the Witness spoke. The idea of being erased was scary.
Bishop considered the Witness' words for a while, his expression clouded. Finally, he turned back. "Then the same thing will happen to me, once time goes forward to the day I was born. So what was the point of sending me here, if paradox will erase everything?"
"First of all," the Witness answered, "for you t' be erased, y' birth has t' be wiped out by somet'ing dat occurs in dis permutation. I've done what I can t' make sure dat don' happen. Dere still may be some small paradoxes, but dey usually don' collapse. Only de big ones do."
"Fascinating." Hank pushed his glasses back up on his nose. "Absolutely fascinating." He glanced at Remy and then back at the Witness. "However this does lead me to the rather ominous question of what--" He paused as the Witness held up a hand.
"Not yet, Hank."
Hank's expression was at first surprised, but after a moment that faded and was replaced by something indefinably sad. "I understand," he said. He seemed to withdraw into himself, sinking back into the couch. He crossed his arms and laid his chin on his chest. For all Remy could tell, he was no longer paying any attention to the conversation.
Remy glanced at the Professor to see if he had any idea what they were talking about, but the Professor was staring at the top of his hoverchair, brow drawn. Remy wasn't sure what he might be thinking. But then he looked up, and his expression was very troubled.
"Please, finish what you came here to say." He motioned for the Witness to continue then steepled his hands before him. It was obvious to Remy that, whatever the big secret was, both Hank and the Professor had figured it out and neither one was happy about it. Dread filled him. Whatever it was, it had to do with him. He tightened his grip on Rogue's hand and felt her squeeze back, but it was little comfort. He had the horrible feeling that the world was about to come apart again.
The Witness took a deep breath, as if even he needed to prepare for what he was going to say. "I did leave de house de morning before de X-Men were killed. It was routine-- I don' even remember what, now. I was plannin' t' be home f' dinner." He stared directly at Rogue. "Only, six guys wit stunners an' gas grenades jumped me. I was out 'til well after de X-Men died. Didn' know dat at first, o' course." Only the tightening around his eyes betrayed his pain at the memories. His voice remained even.
"De Gamemaster was waitin' f' me when I woke up. He said--" The Witness looked up to the ceiling for a moment as if gathering strength. "He said 'De X-Men are dead, an' I have a challenge for you.' I didn' believe him. De X-Men always manage to survive, right? Anyway, de Gamemaster's supposed t' be omniscient, so he knew about de betrayal ahead o' time. I guess he t'ought it was too ironic dat de same t'ing dat sent me back in time and made me who I am, also ended up killing me. So he offered me my life, an' a chance to save de X-Men. De only catches were dat de X-Men already dead, an' dat I couldn' do anyt'ing direct t' save dem because it would cause a paradox which would undo anyt'ing I did. De Gamemaster gave me a set o' rules to avoid de paradox-- turned it into a kind o' gamble. If I won, he agreed t' use his power t' protect de X-Men." The Witness turned to Professor Xavier. "So don' be shocked if he shows up every so often t' warn y' 'bout somet'ing.
"If he won, he would have de satisfaction o' provin' dat even Charles Xavier's son was unworthy o' facin' de High Lord Ascension."
Scott straightened in surprise, and the Witness turned to him. "Very different from your test, eh Scott?"
Scott nodded, his expression troubled. "Yes."
The Witness returned his attention to the room at large. "After dat, dey jus' disappeared, an' I walked. I really t'ought it was some sick joke... 'til I got home." He looked away and closed his eyes. "Dieu."
Forge stood up. "Leave it, Remy. They know what happened." His expression was sympathetic.
The Witness gathered himself. "Not everything," he said. Then he turned to Remy.
"De game was rigged from de beginning," he said, and the cold in Remy's stomach turned to ice. "Dere's no way for me to win."
"But, de X-Men are going t' live now, right?" Remy felt like he was holding his breath.
"Oui." He smiled bitterly. "So officially, I win. But dat's not how it works." He pulled his cloak more tightly about him. "Follow de logic: Because o' what you know now, de X-Men won' allow Colossus t' betray dem. An' if he don' do dat, he won' try t' kill you."
Remy stared at the Witness in stunned silence as understanding hit him. If the X-Men weren't betrayed, then Colossus would never try to kill Remy, which would in turn mean that his powers wouldn't be awakened then, and he wouldn't transport himself back to New Orleans thirty years in the past. He would never grow up on the streets of New Orleans or be taken in by the Thieves guild. In short, there would never be a Remy LeBeau-- never be a Gambit.
"You said dis would cost me my life." It came out as a choked whisper.
The Witness' face was completely expressionless. "So I did."
"But I'm still here now?" Remy couldn't help but glance down at himself to make sure that was, indeed, the case.
The Witness nodded. "Remember, paradox only occurs in y' original timeline. De X-Men would have been betrayed about ten years from now. Dat's when de paradox will collapse."
Remy could only stare at him. He was going to die in ten years. No, worse than that-- he was going to be erased. Everything he had been, everything he had done, would be gone. And no one would ever know that he had been there. Not his guild, not the X-Men... not even Rogue.
"Nooooo!" The cry echoed the pain in his heart, but it was Rogue who voiced it. She leapt to her feet, fists balled. She crossed the distance to the Witness in three steps, and slapped him, hard. "Why?" she demanded hoarsely.
Anger and confusion flared in the Witness' eyes. Gingerly, he touched the blood that welled at the corner of his mouth. "Why what?"
Rogue's next breath was a sob. She wrapped both arms about her waist, and knotted her hands in the fabric of her shirt. Her soul was in her eyes, wounded and bleeding. "Why did ya teach me ta love, if ya knew it could only break mah heart?"
Remy felt the knife stab in his heart, saw it reflected on the Witness' face. It was just too much. All of his dreams were shattered, and the hope he had clung to so grimly was useless. With a wordless cry, he ran out of the room. He kept running, heedless of where his feet took him. The pain in his heart weighed heavily, seeming to draw him further and further down into the lower levels of the house. His footsteps echoed mockingly in the empty halls.
#
Warren Worthington rested one hand lightly on the danger room controls, debating whether to adjust them. The control room windows were darkened, making him invisible to the man below. Not that he was likely to notice anyway, considering the level the danger room was running at. Warren continued to watch, and continued to debate with himself. He was concerned-- there was no argument there. He just wasn't sure he had any right to interfere. Or any responsibility.
Finally, he hit the intercom button and told Cerebro who he wanted to talk to. The Professor's com badge beeped several times before it was answered.
"Professor," Warren said, "would you come down to the control room?"
"What is it?" The professor's voice was strained.
Warren took a deep breath, hoping he had made the right choice. "It's Gambit."
The com link shut down immediately. Warren might have smiled under different circumstances. Today, any mention of Gambit was enough to bring the Professor running. Not that that was surprising. After he'd run out, Gambit had flat disappeared for nearly twenty-four hours. Though Bishop and Wolverine were fairly sure he hadn't left the grounds, Cerebro hadn't been able to locate him. As far as he knew, Warren was the first person to have seen the Cajun since then.
The door behind Warren slid aside. The Professor moved into the room, the hum of his hoverchair louder than usual. Warren suspected he had been pushing it rather hard to get down there so quickly. He spent a moment wondering what the chair's top speed might be then pushed the thought aside. There were more important things to worry about.
Charles looked out into the danger room and breathed a sigh of relief. "At least he's all right."
Giant gouts of flame rolled toward the danger room ceiling, briefly obscuring Charles' reflection in the darkened glass. The sound from the explosions was like miniature thunder, and the floor beneath them vibrated in time. The danger room was filled with assault robots that dove and maneuvered around the lone X-Man. Gambit fairly glowed, his power dripping from him like lurid streamers. He leapt and turned in the midst of the chaos, with the bright streaks of charged objects flying out from him at regular intervals. The huge explosions nearly buried him in flames, but he always emerged again, seemingly unaffected. Warren knew from experience that Gambit was pushing his powers hard, something he rarely did because he could be as deadly to friends as enemies that way.
"Take a look at the counter, Professor," Warren said.
Charles did as he was asked, and his expression went from relief to alarm. Warren nodded. "That's why I called you." The counter read just under six hours. "He's got all of the safeties off. I didn't want to interfere, but he's got to be getting tired. If he makes a mistake, the room will kill him."
Charles closed his eyes, reaching out with his mind. Warren watched in concern. This could very well be enough to cause that mistake. Gambit didn't react well to telepathic contact at the best of times. But he was reassured when Charles opened his eyes again after only a moment.
"Leave the safeties off." He looked suddenly old and drawn. "Just be ready to shut the room down instantly."
Warren nodded. He already had the controls set for that. "Is he all right?" he asked after a moment.
Charles sighed. "Not really. But how would you react?"
Warren shrugged. "I don't know." He was silent for a moment as the things he had been turning over in his mind for the past hour coalesced. "He'll manage, Professor. Don't worry." Charles turned to him, a questioning look on his face. Warren smiled. "Remy survives everything."
"I just hope this isn't the straw that broke the camel's back." Charles went back to watching the war taking place in the danger room. It wasn't a war between man and robots, but between one man's heart and his will. The first wanted to die, the other refused to give up.
"You know, it's strange." Warren stared at the billowing flames. "I used to look down on Gambit. I always thought he was a loser-- " He didn't dare look at the Professor for fear of his reaction. "Like he could have done something with himself if he'd tried." The heat in his face had nothing to do with the fires below them. "Now, I don't think I could have done as much."
"Remy has proven himself to everyone, I think." Charles caught his breath as Gambit stumbled. Two of the targeting drones locked onto him in that instant. Warren's hand was halfway to the emergency kill button before Remy managed to dive out of the way of the laser beams that scored the metal floor where he'd just been.
Something changed in the Professor's face. He turned his hoverchair around. "I have to go," he said quietly. "Call me if anything changes." He didn't look at Warren as he left the room.
Warren stared after him in stunned silence. He didn't want to believe that Charles had just walked out on the one person who needed him more than any other. Frightened and worried, he turned his attention back to the danger room. At least Warren could make sure Remy didn't kill himself while he was watching.
#
Remy gritted his teeth and threw the charged scrap of metal in his hands. The release of power felt like acid being poured down his arm. He didn't care. In fact, he welcomed the pain because it helped drown out the other pain, the one he had no cure for. He cleared the sweat from his eyes with a quick shake of his head, and picked up some more scrap metal. The robots swarmed around him like bees, but his mutant power kept them all separate. One turned for a strafing run. Remy leapt out of the way. He landed neatly, but the impact made his ankles scream. He was pushing his body to its limits, he knew. Eventually, he wouldn't be able to move fast enough. He hadn't yet decided if that was a bad thing.
Most of the past twenty-four hours was a blur. For a while he had reverted to the most basic thing he knew-- hiding. He knew the places in the house where even Cerebro couldn't find him, and he was telepath enough to make himself invisible that way, too. But skulking through the shadows of the lower levels had left him with time to think, which was not good. The more he had considered his situation, the angrier he'd become. Eventually, helpless rage drowned out rationality, leaving him with only the desperate desire to lash out and inflict some kind of pain on the agents that had brought this on him. Only the memory of Tanya's screams kept him from destroying the heavy supports and bringing the entire house down with everyone in it.
Instead, he had gone to the only place he could think of that might be safe. There he spent his fury on assault drones and let the reinforced adamantium alloy walls absorb every ounce of power he could throw at them.
Exhaustion made his muscles burn, slowed his reflexes. He stumbled, and the two drones that were currently engaged locked on. Instinct took over, dragging him out of the way before he could consciously command his body to move. Remy had worked hard to hone those survival instincts, and they'd kept him alive many times. Now he cursed them. It would be so much easier to let the drones hit him. At least it would end the pain.
Then he cursed himself for being such a coward. But another part of him answered, Who cares?. He didn't really exist anyway. What would it matter what he did or how he died? In the end, no one would ever know the difference. After everything he'd done to survive, every struggle to keep going, to keep believing that he could build a life he could be proud of, and after finally, finally doing it-- it was all going to come to nothing.
Remy lost his balance, fell to his knees. The active drones had just finished a run and were beginning to turn back for another. His mind commanded his body to move, but there was no response. He didn't have the strength left to climb back to his feet. Time slowed. The drones completed their turn, began to accelerate. Remy knew he could kill the danger room program with a single command. He watched them approach and wondered what he should do.
#
Warren saw Remy fall and his heart skipped a beat. His hand hovered over the kill button, but he hesitated. Remy could shut the program down with a spoken command from inside the danger room. He watched as the drones turned and began their firing run. His fingers flexed convulsively.
"Come on, Remy," he muttered softly. "Shut it down." He knew he only had a second more to react, but he didn't want to have to. If he did shut down the program, it would confirm something he didn't want to be true.
"Emergency kill!" It was hardly more than a whisper from the kneeling man, but the drones immediately veered away, the undamaged ones returning to their cubbies. The damaged ones settled to the floor like a flight of ungainly birds.
Warren breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, Remy had fallen forward so that his fists rested on the floor and his hair hung down around his face. Sweat dripped from the tips, pooled on the floor. Warren took the opportunity to lock down the danger room so Remy couldn't change his mind and start the program up again. He'd have to come up to the control booth to get the room running. Then he hit the intercom.
"Hey Scott, it's Warren."
"What is it, Warren?"
"Where are you?"
There was a hint of concern in Scott's voice. "At home. Why?"
"Is anyone else there?"
"Only Jean."
Warren nodded to himself. "Good enough." Briefly he described what had happened, concluding with, "I think we need to make sure someone keeps an eye on him, just in case."
Silence answered him, then Scott said, "I think you're right. We'll take care of it."
"And Warren?" That was Jean.
"What?"
"Thanks."
Warren smiled at the warmth in her voice. "Sure, Jean. Since I'm already here, I'll just stick with him while you get things going."
She didn't say anything, but he could feel her smile. Warren shut down the connection and looked back down at Gambit, who hadn't yet moved. A rumble announced the opening of the danger room door. Warren craned his neck to see and was suitably shocked by who stood in the doorway.
#
Remy heard the door open, but didn't bother to turn his head. He was too tired to care. Still, that didn't affect his mutant power. A small corner of his brain catalogued the motion of the person who approached. The walk was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it. The footsteps drew closer, stopped beside him. Whoever it was then knelt beside him, and Remy glimpsed a knee, clad in some kind of black armor. He recognized it after a moment, and was startled enough to turn his head. Charles watched him silently. Remy looked back at the floor, oddly touched. The Professor hadn't worn the telepathically controlled power armor after he'd gone to Avalon. It brought him too many bad memories, too much regret for what he'd been forced to do to Magneto there.
Remy felt Charles' hand light on the back of his neck. It was a comforting gesture. Remy closed his eyes.
"How do you feel, Remy?" he asked.
Remy considered the question, and finally answered with the honest truth. "I want my life back," he whispered. Bitterness threatened to choke him.
He was startled to feel the Professor's arms slide around him, drawing him into a tight hug. Remy wanted to cry.
"We'll find a way," Charles said softly.
"How?" The last spark of hope flared in Remy. If he could trust anyone, depend on anyone, it was this man.
"I don't know." The arms tightened and he imagined a smile. "But this is the X-men, remember? Anything can happen here. Come on." Charles urged him to his feet. Remy complied, but leaned heavily on the supporting arms.
"Where are we going?"
"The jacuzzi."
This time Remy had to look at him. Charles was, indeed, smiling. "Why?"
"Because if you don't spend some time soaking, by tomorrow I won't be the only one in the house who can't walk."
Remy could only stare at him. He didn't have the energy to resist as Charles led him out of the danger room.
