PART THREE
GAMBIT
He stared out through her eyes onto a world that was frighteningly different from their own, thrown by its hostility and danger. Uncomprehendingly, he - she - they tried to focus on what someone close by was trying to tell them, but the words waxed and waned about them without their ability to understand.
He blinked privately and tried to adjust once again to the miasma of confusion that writhed through her to him. One of them had to keep their head, because it was becoming increasingly apparent that Rogue was losing control. The longer they stayed away from their origin point, the more her memories faded and became vague, and the murkiness had begun to transfer into Remy's head.
A wave of fear rushed through her to him as her mind tried to adjust to its new placement in this existence. The ground seized beneath them and the body rolled out of instinct, Rogue's arms clutching over her head and curling into a fetal position just in time to avoid a huge beam that crashed down mere inches from their collective face. Wide-eyed, they stared at their near brush with death, stunned into blankness, until a hand reached out from the corner of their vision and grasped one of Rogue's arms. It pulled her gently up, another hand at her back.
Remy gazed wordlessly into the face of their saviour - its familiar aquiline profile, the proud grey eyes softer than he had ever seen them, the betraying mane of silver hair straggling and dirty now. In shock, he lost his concentration, and felt Rogue's mind settle firmly into this present. As she turned to address the man, a shuddering explosion threw both once more to the ground, and a tremendous force propelled Remy deeply into Rogue's subconscious as she sprawled once again on the floor, victim both to the impact and a strange, sick feeling that roiled up from her innards. Trapped within a dark cage in her mind, Remy reached out to her, desperate for the slightest contact. Just as he managed a slender connection with her, a violent flash of light seared through him, and he yelped in pain as darkness fell.
ROGUE
Bombs shook the rickety building providing their shelter. Erik looked over at her in intense concern as she lay on a cement floor, dizzy and weak from their latest encounter with Holocaust. She didn't want to say anything to him, but the illness that she had fought for more than a month now was beginning to rear its ugly head again - and at a most inopportune time. Swearing viciously, she tried to control a wave of nausea, but Erik heard her anyway.
"We've got to get you out of here before this thing collapses," he whispered urgently. Ignoring her protests, he hauled her to her feet and into his arms. Then, summoning his reserves, he reached out and formed a magnetic shield around them. Slowly, they edged out of the building and around into a wrecked alley. Human remains littered the cement and Erik winced in horror.
"Damn," he cursed fervently. She understood. Their mission to liberate this slave pit had come far too late - evidently one of their sources had been playing both ends against the middle. Again. When were they going to learn that "trust no one" meant exactly that?
Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, and she tried mightily to ignore it. They needed to keep moving before they were caught by another roving company of Madri. Their little band of rebels had been moving steadily up-country, trying to reach what might be their last safe haven, a deserted manor house that had once belonged to a friend of Erik's - one who had escaped the hellish existence that had come to pass with his death.
A wave of dizziness hit her and she leaned her head against Erik's chest as they moved soundlessly through the terrible channel of blood. Their bubble of safety hovered a few feet above the ground, moving forward under Erik's guidance as he pulled energy from the magnetic field of the earth itself. He smoothed a hand over her forehead and murmured, "I shouldn't have let you come. You've been ill for too long - something's wrong. We'll be to Blink in a few more minutes." She nodded against his chest and opened her eyes, attempting to at least scan for danger and not be completely useless, her mind wandering a bit.
How odd that even in the middle of hell, love still existed.
As alert as she could be, she swept their path watchfully, looking for signs of Apocalypse and his goon squad. She wasn't sure that she could face them in her condition, but she would fight to the last if it would buy some time for Erik. If only her body could fight off this - whatever it was, she could return to being a team leader. Damn Beast and Sinister! They had strayed from human experimentation into mutant genetics, and had begun using gene-enhanced biochemical warfare against the few remaining pockets of mutant resistance in the bombed-out Northeast. Rogue was sure her current condition was a direct result of a Sinister bomb, though she couldn't remember when she had been first exposed. Unfortunately, the good guys were limited to the old-fashioned methods of antibiotics and field medicine - and it was costing them.
First Psylocke had died, followed closely by M and Rahne - that particular plague had focused on females, presumably to wipe out breeders. As a result, Pietro had cooked up a close-fitting haz-mat suit that each of the women wore day and night, until they were sure that particular nasty had dissipated. Their numbers were already so low-
Ahead of them, a shadow stepped away from a building and held up a hand. "Incoming!" it shouted, and Rogue was relieved to hear the familiar voice of Blink. She also heard the sounds of multiple weaponry being safetied and peered a little closer into the shadows. Gradually, more shadows detached from the murk and resolved into Quicksilver, Storm, and Morph
"What's with the metal?" she asked as another wave of nausea hit. She spared a moment to concentrate on breathing, and almost missed the answer.
"Works as well as anything else," Morph shrugged, unusually somber. The sickness of their situation repressed even his incorrigible humor. He looked around in disgust and pity. "Didn't have to use them, anyway, and Petey thought it would be good backup."
Pietro shrugged uneasily. Erik gave him a hard look but refrained from commenting; his hatred of artillery was well known.
"Time to go home, kids," Blink announced. "All aboard, ladies first. You look terrible," she added in an undertone to Rogue.
Rogue cracked a smile. "Thanks a lot, kid. Think I may have gotten a bit up ol' Sinister's latest creation."
Blink's face paled and she reached out a hand involuntarily, which stopped at the barrier of the magnetic shield Erik had imposed around them. Recovering, she turned and concentrated on an area of wall behind her, and with a BLINK!, a teleportation doorway manifested.
Erik moved smoothly forward and entered with Rogue. As the light flared briefly about them, Rogue felt a sudden panic attack. What was happening to her? She had teleported with Blink a thousand times; why would this trip suddenly feel menacing? Closing her eyes, she clutched at Erik's armor and waited for the anxiety to ease.
A bump later, they had stepped through the doorway and Erik stood still, looking down at her. She raised her head and looked out around a forest clearing. Through the trees, she could make out the shape of a building not too far away.
"Is that it?"
Erik looked out. "Yes." Adjusting her long body against him, he set off carefully through the wood.
About ten feet from the edge of the rear wall of the building, he stopped and set her gently on her feet. Drawing her hand into his, he led her to the remains of a storm cellar and moved aside a panel. Beneath the rotten wood gleamed a metal door, on which he concentrated. With a creak of long-unused hinges, the door raised off its mounting and slid aside into the concrete foundation. Cautiously, Erik descended a long flight of stairs, Rogue close behind. At the bottom, they faced another bank of closed metal doors, over each of which blinked computer panels.
A loud humming filled the room as Erik stepped up to the panel and let it scan his eye.
"Identity: Erik Lensherr confirmed. Access granted," a computerized voice informed them as one of the doors slid smoothly aside.
Before them lay paradise.
Rogue caught her breath, taking in a real, honest-to-goodness, functional, well-kept, operational base. "Erik, who..."
"It was a pet project we were working on when Charles died. We had already drawn up the plans, and after Charles willed the mansion to me, I went ahead with construction. I never had a chance to use it before Apocalypse came to power, but I'm glad to see it seems to have survived intact."
Rogue continued to study the area with delight. It had been a good ten years since they had been able to live in anything more luxurious than hidden encampments. She was barely aware of anything as Erik took her hand again and led her down a long hallway, she was so taken with the various computer readouts and glimpses of living spaces that they passed. When he stopped, she nearly ran into him.
"Sorry."
He grinned at her. "It's a bit overwhelming, I know."
"Why did you stay away from this for so long?"
A shadow crossed his face. "This area has been heavily scanned and guarded until now. There were many human hideouts up here, but my guess is that Holocaust and the Madri have finally overrun even the last outposts. They no longer see this area as a problem."
Rogue turned and cupped his face. "We're doing all we can. Don't blame yourself."
His lips tightened, and she knew that she had caught him in a guilt trip again. Shaking her head, she stepped away and took in the new room. It seemed to be a medical facility.
"Ah. You plannin' on giving me a check-up, doctor?" she asked with a grin.
A spark gleamed in his eyes. "As a matter of fact, my dear wife, I am. Come here - I want Cerebro to test your blood to see if he can isolate any pathogens."
"Who?"
"Cere - the computer. Come here," he ordered again.
She tried to saunter over to him, but halfway there her legs collapsed and she crumpled to a heap on the floor. Instantly, Erik was there, gathering her close and carrying her over to a gurney. She lay quietly as he took a blood sample and inserted it into a slot in the wall for the computer to analyze. Then he turned back and clasped her hand tightly in his, worry lines etched into his forehead. Rogue lifted a hand and smoothed back a long strand of long silver hair from his cheek, her fingers lingering there.
"I'm sure whatever it is, my invulnerability will handle it sooner or later," she soothed. He didn't look convinced until she smiled reassuringly and stroked his cheek. After a moment, she felt his muscles relax and he touched his lips briefly to the palm of her hand.
A strange sensation suddenly swept through her - almost a jealousy of Erik, but not originating from her. She frowned and shook off the odd feeling. Probably just a side effect of whatever bug was having a field day in her body. From a console, the a computer pinged attracted their attention, and Erik rose to study a screen. He stayed frozen for so long that Rogue started to feel the first prickles of fear.
"Erik?"
He didn't move. With some difficulty, she swung her legs over the side of the gurney and staggered to him. "What is it? Am I that ill? What's wrong with me?" Her voice rose, and she fought a panicky feeling that threatened to engulf her.
The stress in her voice brought him around and he grasped her shoulders, his eyes flashing oddly.
"You're not sick. I mean, not with one of Sinister's creations. You're not even really sick -" he stopped, and she thought that he looked remarkably close to crying and laughing at the same time.
"WHAT?!" she bellowed.
He stepped aside so that she could read the diagnosis on the screen. It took three attempts before the words penetrated.
"I'm pregnant?" she whispered. Somewhere in her mind, she thought she felt a terrible wrench of loneliness and did not understand it. Distracted by the alien feelings in her head, she forgot a moment about everything else. Who was in there?
In reply, an achingly familiar face materialized before her inner eye. What pierced her the most were the eyes, so full of a love and compassion she did not remember. She concentrated harder until the face came into focus, and she gasped. She knew him, but this was not the face that she knew. The hair was different, and the hard lines she had traced with a glove once upon a time were only beginning to show. It was slightly older than the face she remembered; but most of all, this face was full of a suffering its counterpart had never known.
Thoroughly rattled, she gasped and opened her eyes, to find Erik holding her tightly and murmuring her name into her hair over and over again. Dazed, her arms wrapped around him of their own accord, and she blinked, confused. Without warning, her body collapsed into uncontrolled shivering.
"C-can't b-b-believe this," she stuttered to Erik, trying desperately to control her rebellious body. Trying to take deep breaths only worsened the situation, and she raged silently at her betrayal. Stop, she commanded herself sternly, fighting the growing anxiety that ate at her chest, tightening it. From out of nowhere, the memory of her first touch reared up before her mind's eye. Erik had pretty much told her powers the same thing as he sheathed himself in a mere atom's-breadth of magnetic shielding, and reached out a hand. She remembered her incredulity, her fear, and the same emotions washed over her now at the thought of a child - her child. How could it ever be safe in this world? How would they protect it? By the very virtue of his parentage, its life would always be threatened. How -
Again, a strange pressure in her mind told her that whatever else was up there was moving around, and then some of the panic lifted, and she was able to breathe again. Blinking a red miasma out of her eyes, she came back to herself as a flood of sudden, intense joy cleansed the last of the fear away. A baby!
She caught a soft brush of loving melancholy and thought unexpectedly of Remy LeBeau, onetime protege to Magneto - and -
Lover, a quiet voice named him for her. Once upon a time. With an effort, she pushed him back into a quiet corner in her mind. They had all made their choices, choices based on survival of mind as well as body. If she had elected for a "safer" route, so be it: it was done. There were new choices to be made now.
GAMBIT
He floated restlessly within the confines of his prison, sending spurts of vague comfort Rogue-wards both to ease her confusion and to cover his tracks. It had struck him as important that he let no more of his own emotions permeate her consciousness, for both of their sakes - the consequences could be catastrophic. He did not understand what had thrown him into her mind, or where his own body was, or what cosmic force had dumped them into this situation. After hours of frustrated attempts to break out of whatever force had vanquished him, he had given up to rest and regroup; but ideas escaped him and he groaned and leaned his head against a figurative wall.
Rogue, Rogue, how we gon' get you home? I know dis ain't the place we s'posed to be, but you, chere - you move so easily from time to time...Whoever messin' wit your head - our head - we got to stop 'em before dey hurt you more.
Detached, he took a moment to examine his handiwork; the fright and pain and joy and all other manner of emotions which had threatened to overwhelm Rogue had subsided with his help, and her mind had settled into a calm unease - if that was possible.
Why you doin' dis t'us? he roared suddenly into the silence. Why you torture us like dis? Haven't we been through enough?
A wave of apprehension from her distracted him and he stopped, realizing suddenly how "loudly" he must have been thinking in his frustration. Awkwardly, he concentrated on blankness and hoped that his intrusion would fade quickly enough not to worry Rogue further. Abruptly a force knocked him deeper into darkness, though he fought wildly, but to no avail. The stream of impressions from Rogue diminished to a sporadic drip-drop of vague impressions that wound slowly across the gloom. He watched angrily, grasping at the bits and pieces of information and trying to connect them into some kind of pattern that made sense, but they were too disparate.
A parade of images passed, blinking in and out with no accounting for between-times. Indeed, he felt that somehow he had stepped outside of the timestream entirely; it simply had no meaning this far into the subconscious. Periodically, he was able to focus long enough on a picture to follow the event; otherwise, circumstances ebbed and flowed so quickly that he could barely catch the inkling of one before another had replaced it.
From the rare tidbits he gleaned, he pieced together that this world had been decimated in an unholy war launched by Apocalypse. A few straggling bands of mutants were in the midst of allying themselves to overthrow him, but their valiant struggles paled in comparison to the horrors inflicted by Apocalypse's army. Rogue had stepped seamlessly into her role as second in command of her outlaw band, but even her inimitable strength waned over time as hope for an end to the atrocities gradually dimmed. At last, he could do nothing but wait.
ROGUE
"Father, I respectfully disagree," Pietro told Erik evenly. "With the loss of Jean, Weapon X, and Gambit we simply don't have the people to organize this kind of assault, especially on a unit as large as the one stationed near the genetics plant."
Rogue sighed quietly and sat back in her chair, rubbing her enlarged stomach absently to soothe its twisting. Lately, it seemed as if Pietro and his father argued more and more frequently on the fine points. To Erik's left, she saw Ororo shift in her seat, a sure indication that she was about to intervene. On the one hand, Rogue was grateful that the windrider had taken it on herself to mediate; it took some of the pressure off Rogue. On the other, Ororo tended to side with Pietro.
Across the table, Nightcrawler cleared his throat, and the debaters turned to him in surprise. "While I agree that we have yet to replace the assets that our departed friends took with them, I believe we have the resources to infiltrate that gene factory and shut it down. However, I don't think this can be accomplished through the plan you outlined, Erik. An infiltration force would be far more effective than a full-on frontal assault."
"What do you suggest?" Erik asked.
"A small team consisting of Pietro, Ororo, Clarice, Victor, and myself. Storm can summon a fog to cover our entry, and use an electrical strike to short out the perimeter fence. Blink and I can port us to the main facility. Quicksilver and the rest will disperse the bombs while Clarice and I knock out the main communications terminals from an auxiliary access pointhere," he finished, indicating a concealed alcove on the schematic displayed on a monitor in the center of the table.
Erik nodded reluctantly. "Pietro?"
"It seems sound. As a smaller unit we have a better chance at a strike and fade" he trailed off.
"The factory needs to be taken out now," Ororo reminded him gently. That seemed to decide him and he gave a brisk nod of agreement.
"Then it's decided. Kurt, I leave you and Pietro to hash out further details and report to me in the morning. That is all." Erik stood and the rest followed suit and filed out, breaking up into small groups and they left. Rogue remained seated, a faraway expression on her face.
"What is it, love?" The question popped her out of her trance and she smiled guiltily.
"Oh, nothin', really. Just a little stir-crazy after months of bein' cooped up. And the little guy's been pretty active lately." To prove her point, her stomach twisted again.
"Well, you're very close to the delivery date. Just a few more days, from what Kurt has told us." He crouched down in front of her chair and held a hand to her cheek.
"I know," she replied, giving his hand a squeeze – one whose pressure suddenly increased as the twisting in her middle sharpened.
"Oh, my –" she gasped. Erik stood up, alert and worried. She gasped again as realization and another contraction hit simultaneously. "I think our time's up," she managed.
With a wild look of mixed joy and anxiety, Erik fairly leapt over to the communications board and shouted for Kurt to prep the medical bay. The baby was on his way.
GAMBIT
The silence got to him the most. The tedious wait for even a tidbit of information, the teasing slip of a thought that managed to slip through the mysterious barrier that prevented him from dipping into her consciousness. It was enough to drive him crazy.
To keep himself occupied, he reviewed their situation over and over again, committing every detail to memory. Hopefully, it would be useful to someone when and if they ever got out of this mess. At the moment, though, he couldn't fathom a way out. Even reaching out with his limited telepathy did little more than give him a roaring headache as he smashed up against the shield between his mind and Rogue's.
Slumped in a "corner", he was dozing when the darkness in front of him rippled. Suddenly wide awake, he concentrated, searching for the cause. Something was happening to Rogue, some sort of pain. The wave pulsated more strongly the second time, and he felt the wall weaken beneath its onslaught. Bracing himself, he reached out again with his mind, met the shield, and pushed. With a soundless groan, the barrier crumpled and Remy shot through the gap into the forefront of her mind, his emotions narrowing to a straight arrow of anxiety for her safety.
Suddenly, Remy realized that he had fallen directly into her body. A searing pain threatened to split their loins and back, an unbearable pushing - sweating and cursing and screaming. With great effort, he ripped himself out of her sensations and managed to stand apart. It took a moment for him to realize what they were going through – he had half forgotten about her pregnancy.
With excitement and a little fear, he shook off the paralysis of surprise and moved quickly, quelling her pain centers. He took a moment to hide himself; he didn't want her to sense him and become anxious. Once concealed, he continued to send nebulous feelings of love and encouragement.
Hours passed. Remy was alternately wild with expectation and patient for Rogue's sake, waiting for the baby to come. He knew his presence had relaxed Rogue, and that she was too weary from the long labor to question the relief. A part of him was secretly impressed with Erik and his steadiness throughout the whole situation – although it did little to dispel occasional jabs of jealousy. Privately, he soothed himself with, It's not real. Not in the way dat matters. Not if I'm still here. We goin' through somethin', but it's still only some kind o' illusion. I hope.
Suddenly, he felt her body gather for a final effort. At the business end of things, Kurt looked up and gave a supportive smile. "That's it! Only a little bit more, liebchen. One more push."
With a final heave, her body twisted and lay limply; there was an expectant silence, broken a moment later by the healthy yell of a baby. Exhausted, elated, Remy huddled near to her, touching the child with her fingers - their child. He rode a wave of tired emotions as Erik kissed and held his wife and child close. Even so, he caught the faint, wistful thought before she pushed it aside –
Oh Remy, this could have been us
Startled, he thought for a moment that she was referring to him, and almost replied in kind. Just in time, he realized that she was referring to the Remy of this time – a man she was trying desperately to forget for reasons unknown to him. The tinge of sadness surrounding the wisp of dream seared him, and the slow taint of guilt colored his thoughts. Even in this place, he – or a version of him – had managed to hurt her. But there were other things to dwell on now, not the least of which was the amazing, tiny infant nestled in Rogue's – their – arms.
An enfant, Rogue! You a mama...A slow realization crawled over him. This was what he wanted, with her. Ororo had been right - they were blocking each other by not trusting, by not having faith in the other person. But no more, Rogue, I promise. No more secrets - dey not worth the pain we been puttin' each other through. I'm s'posed to protect you, and now I watch the bébé with you, too. Somehow we gonna get you back, den we gonna tell each other some truths.
They held the squalling newborn close, sharing the same joy tempered by a great fear: could this tiny life survive in a world on the brink of chaos? Even as the thoughts snaked from one mind into another, Remy felt a brutal tug that ripped him away and hurled back into his prison. Cursing in three languages, he threw himself at the barrier, willing it to break down.
At last he made a hole large enough to link with Rogue, and found to his disquiet that many months had passed. The global situation had plummeted. Apocalypse was planning a final strike against the human High Council, Magneto was readying a counterattack, and things in general were coming to an inevitable end.
Night. Rogue had wrestled away five minutes to play with the baby – nearly a toddler now – and was reading him a story, cuddling him close to her. The little boy tangled the fingers of one hand in her hair, sucking his other thumb sleepily, lulled by her steady voice and the warm safety of being with his mother.
A noise distracted them, and Remy experienced a sudden wrenching and then a sort of double vision. It was so strong, that for a moment, he was unable to shield it from Rogue, and she looked up and around, trying to find the source of her discomfort. One of the shadows in the darkened room detached from the wall and walked quietly up to her. She shook her head to clear it as the foreignness inside abruptly winked out, leaving only her own puzzlement.
"Remy." The figure drew into the weak moonlight filtering in through the unshaded window.
"Chere," a rough voice replied.
Gambit studied himself through Rogue's awareness. Homme, what you done to y'self? Abruptly, a flash of anger seared him. And what you do to Rogue, huh? Why she so sad b'cause of you? Me? Whoever?
He calmed slowly. Ain't nothin' I can do bout it now, anyway. You so cold, but I see the love you still hold for her. So does she. We alike, you an' I, but we diff'rent, neh? Those lines, the pain I see -
Pensive, he withdrew further into her mind to observe the proceedings.
ROGUE
"...Erik ask me t'meet him. Said it was important, non?
Blankly, Rogue told him, "I don't know - he never said anythin' to me." She stared at him, unable to speak further, her mind presenting and discarding scenarios. Why now?
The snap-hiss of an igniting match distracted her, and she watched as he lit a cigarette. Then she blinked and remembered where they were.
"Gambit, smoke out here." She led the way through a sliding glass door that opened onto a stone verandah. They took up positions on either side of a stone ornament carved into the porch railing.
Gambit blew a smoke ring, looking out across the grounds. "L'enfant, he's-"
"My son. Erik's." She found that she could not look at him. "Almost two now."
"Iffy thing, bringin' a bebe into dis world. "
"I know. We've done all right so far. And we got some help." She jerked her head back into the room, and Gambit turned to look. A metal nanny droid stood next to the baby's crib, monitoring him. He knew of their amazing protective capabilities - they were nearly indestructible, even by mutant standards, and were programmed to defend their charges beyond their own obliteration. Charles probably was quite safe.
Rogue looked at the moonlit-dappled lawn below them. Strange shadows criss-crossed the grass as clouds blew across the moon as she stood in disquiet. Never, not once, had she questioned her loyalty and love to Erik - and she had known when Gambit left that her choice was the right one. But not now. She remembered the very moment that the strangeness had started - the feeling that she was not quite alone in her head. The foreign consciousness that occasionally surfaced was benign and somehow familiar. She'd even seen its face once - its double stood beside her now.
"Rogue."
"Hmm?"
"You a million miles away. "
She sighed. "We're synchronizin' a strike against Apocalypse's stronghold. Erik's been tryin' to coordinate with the human high command overseas; but with all the suspicions they have, we don't know that they won't bomb the hell out of us instead o' cooperatin'. I got a lot on my mind."
Hearing a dry laugh, she turned and glared at her companion. "What?"
"You. Always plannin'. Never knew a time when you weren't in battle-mode, chere." He paused and flicked out his cigarette butt, watching it float away into the darkness. "S'what I love 'bout you," he muttered.
"Remy - "
"Shush. Gambit knows you, girl, and his heart ain't changed even if yours did. It enough for me t'see you here in the moonlight and remember." He brushed a gloved hand across her cheek. "Gotta find Erik now, b'fore I do somethin' stupid." He gave her a piercing look, and then jumped easily over the stone banister, landing lightly on the grounds below. She watched until he vanished into the gloom, heading toward the front of the house.
It's too late. It's been too late for years, she thought; then a sad smile quirked one corner of her mouth.
I wish I believed that.
GAMBIT
They stood together, two minds compressed into a single body, each preoccupied with their separate thoughts. Rogue had sunk into a deep and distant reverie, so Gambit felt it was safe enough to risk some hard thinking of his own. They were in a very dangerous world, and he didn't know how they could leave it, or if Rogue even understood that she didn't belong there. The longer they remained in this place, the more her memories of the other places, especially of her own reality, slipped out of their mind. It was only a dream-like notion for her in the first place - the idea that what occurred now was not the only way that things could have happened. Gambit, having witnessed several probabilities now, found it an easier concept; nonetheless, he had to keep those thoughts shielded for Rogue's protection, and so had begun to forget little bits and pieces without really realizing it.
Poking around, he made sure that Rogue was firmly entrenched in her own contemplation before opening his mind to the diminished flood of his private memories. He sat in his non-darkness and remembered, reveling in the delusion of a solitary existence. Slowly, though, flashes of strong emotion began to appear in the midst of his meditations. After a particularly violent image erupted in the place of a picnic he and Rogue had once shared, he found himself once more free of his prison and wasted no time in tapping into Rogue's psyche.
A savage battle greeted his reentry. Disoriented by the bloodshed, he could not immediately process the sight of the slain bodies of half his pseudo-teammates. Rogue pushed them forward into a smoking wreck of a building, ignoring the carnage, intent on only one thing -
-Have to hold 'em long enough to disable the Atlantic shield. The bombs gotta get through - and then, a smaller voice cried piteously, - my baby's gonna die, my baby's gonna die, my baby's gonna die -
Gambit withdrew, thinking furiously as a tremendous explosion shook the ground. Bombs? The humans had launched after all, and that meant - Boom.
His heart in his shoes, he could only stand by helplessly as Rogue waded through the battle, searching for - there. Erik stood, bloody but defiant over the corpse of the monster, Apocalypse. She asked him a question and he pointed to a shard of brightly glowing crystal. Through her eyes, he saw the confusing image of three people disappearing into the glare, and one of them looked a lot like Bishop - but his Bishop - but how could that...?
Rogue looked away, taking him with, to take Charles away from Magneto. "It's too late -" she started to tell him, but his look of sadness silenced her. Remy saw such pain and defeat in the older man's gaze, that for once, his sorely-held animosity towards him faded. This could have been a man to respect and follow, not a raging egomaniac to defend against.
Quietly, Rogue accepted Charles into her arms, and Remy leaned in close, inhaling the little boy's sweet baby-scent. The terror she had managed to curb until now exploded once in a shower of agonized acceptance of their fate; then she firmly dampened it and turned into Erik's side. He murmured to her, something about a mission and returning the timeline to its rightful place - things Remy didn't understand, but apparently gave Rogue a small measure of comfort.
In the distance, bright stars flared, arrowing straight in toward them. The little family, and in the distance, the few survivors of the initial battle, turned to face the incoming missiles. His mind suddenly cleared of emotion, and for the first time, he could hear Rogue's thoughts clearly. In the distance, the first bomb immolated Ellis Island.
FLASH
...loved you ...
FLASH
-hold on to me -
FLASH
-my son, our son -
FLASH
...Remy, I'm so sorry...
FLASH
...goodbye -
The world ended.
