APOCALYPSE
For all useful information, such as summary, disclaimer, my own personal notes,
or feedback instructions (hint, hint) see the prologue.
CHAPTER ONE
REDEMPTION.
On the limits of Xavier's land, rest the ruins of the first church in Salem
center. It's silent walls have seen the funeral of too many X-men, to many
casualties of a war they desperately try to stop. But on that calmed afternoon,
there was only one visitor to the chapel. A visitor that didn't even believed in
praying anymore. His God had abandoned him too many times. He figured his Lord
had seen into his diabolic soul and decided to forget he was ever born. He could
not blame him. After all, maybe people in his home town had known the truth
about him before himself. He was "Le diable blanc". He'd live his all life
proving them right.
Right now, he was looking for redemption. A redemption he thought he'd get as an
X-men. But his past still haunted him.
He still had to encounter the same faces from his past, over and over again,
without being able to bare his soul to anyone, and frightened out of his wits
that one day one of those faces would say something inappropriate and uncover
his lies to the people he now considered family.
They would know, eventually. He could feel it in his bones. The time was coming.
But he still couldn't bring himself to tell them.
There was more though. He had always felt haunted by his sins. But lately, they
were in his mind, his dreams, every breathing second. He was always waiting now,
unsure of what, but knowing that the truth would reveal itself. Something inside
of him was growing. The unmerciful breath of fate was on his back at all times.
Then there was his "charm power". He'd always joked about it, never paid much
attention to the ability he had to coax people into doing what he wanted. He had
never even considered it as a real mutant ability. He'd regarded it as a great
intuition and a charming personality. But now he knew better. That hint of
perception he'd always had about people's feelings was growing stronger;
catching him by surprise, and making it almost impossible for him to hide. He'd
noticed for the first time when he'd seen Joseph waiting by Rogue's window. The
unbearable naive, white haired guy was in loved with her. He'd felt the pure,
overwhelming emotion and he just couldn't bare it. It had been even stronger
than his own feelings for the southern beauty. Joseph loved her more than
himself, and it wasn't fair. Not after all he'd gone through, all he'd fought
for their seemingly undying love.
After that, he could feel it all. Scott's stress of having to take care of
everything now that Xavier was gone, Stormy's sorrow on that dreaded
anniversary. Rogue's confusion about her feelings, Logan's fight with his wild
side, Beast's joy about being free...he could feel it all.
Just a few hours ago he'd felt the pain in Bobby's soul after almost loosing his
father, and it had been too much for him. Somehow he remembered the horror on
the Morlocks' faces, almost being able to feel their pain when they had to see
their sons and daughters, their brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, being
slaughtered by the Marauders, and knowing they would be next.
Creed. He hated the name. The sole sound of it sent shivers down his spine. It
was evident now that the sadistic animal had passed his evil seed onto his son.
The powerful candidate was nothing but a tamer version of the monster. And he
could still remember Victor Creed's claws on his guts, still remember the look
on Genevieve and Henri's faces. If he hadn't been an X-men, the monster would be
dead by now.
Maybe, he thought, he shouldn't be an X-men anymore. His thirst for revenge was
too great at that moment, but that wasn't the reason. Just that morning he'd
seen Jean's suspicious face. He'd gotten up in a good mood, unaware of Bobby's
tragedy, and walked inside the kitchen feeling great. Jean, who'd already heard
and was feeling miserable, had somehow picked on his good mood; not from seeing
his face, she'd felt it. The startled look on her face spoke volumes. In any
other circumstance, she wouldn't have noticed he was broadcasting, but the
contrast of emotion left no place for doubt. She suspected, and it was a matter
of time before she knew what he was hiding. And with her, everyone else.
He ha so much going on in his head, that he felt it was about to burst. He just
knelt infront of the altar, and slowly, almost frightened, rose his hand, first
to his forehead, then to his stomach, pausing a moment to remember whether it
was the left or the right shoulder first, and cringing. Something that had been
a second nature for him, he now had to think over to get it right. It was a long
lost habit, he'd lost all the good things Jean-Luc had taught him, clinging to
the bad ones, because it was convenient.
He remembered having seen Peter signaling his right shoulder first the only time
he'd seen the huge man praying, something that had surprised him greatly knowing
that Colossus had been an atheist. So it had to be the left. He remembered as
much.
He begun mumbling what he remembered of the "Hail Mary" half in French, half in
English, but desisted half way through it.
"Mon Dieu..." he begun, lowering his eyes to the ground. ""Mon Dieu, I hope...I
wish mebbe I will get y'r pardon. Non? Will y' let me join you when de time
comes? S'il vous plait, mon Dieu. Je suis dèsolè. Know I don' deserve it. Haven'
thought about y' much..." he let out a embarrassed smile, he was definitively
rusty. "Mon Dieu,...will y' show me how to make amends? I promise I'll try, mon
Dieu. Can' promise I'll be good at it, but I'm tryin' to be a bon fils. I need
y' to show me how..."
The floor behind him squeaked slightly. A less trained ear wouldn't have
noticed, but he froze in place. He couldn't help to be a little paranoid. But
this was a church. And the feelings he was picking up spoke of nothing but
kindness and sympathy.
"Mon Dieu, will y' teach mes amis not to spy on ol' Remy while he prays?" he
said with a sly smile. The footsteps became louder and he turned around,
catching a glimpse of a furry blue skin a little darker than the one he was used
to.
"I'm very sorry mein friend." Came a guttural voice. Remy sighed in relief. This
man was practically a stranger to him, and he could talk with a stranger.
"C'est bien, mon ami. How much of Remy's prayer did y' hear? Have to remember to
do it quietly."
"Zat's ok. It was my bad. I should've let you know I was here. It was a
beautiful prayer, an honest one."
"Merci Kurt. I'll leave y' to y'r prayers now." He rose from the bench, but Kurt
seized his wrists gently.
"You know, when two or more people are gathered on his behalf..." Remy smiled
and sat back down
"He's dere wit' dem. I know. Y'r a pere, n'est ce pas?"
"Yah. Would you like to confess?" He said kindly. Remy winced.
"Can I do dat without tellin' y' my sins?"
"Nein. But you don't need to be specific, and I can't tell anyone what you tell
me. You look like you need to talk anyway." Remy sighed and nodded.
"Here goes not'ing...I..." he paused, and rubbed his eyes. Kurt noticed his
hands where shaking, and felt sorry for the man.
"Take your time. I have it to spare. No one even knows I'm here. I just felt
like visiting this place. I do zat sometimes."
"I lied..." Remy said bluntly. Kurt nodded.
"About what?"
"'Bout moi. I'm not what dey t'ink I am."
"What are you?"
"I'm evil. A traitor. I don' deserve to be deir friend, I..."
"Have you tried to hurt them? Did you willingly betrayed dem?"
"I don' know. I didn' wan' to hurt none, mais I did. Remy's done a lot of
horrible t'ings, hurt a lot of people. And den he lied 'bout it, hid it from his
friends."
Kurt felt guilt, self loath and confusion washing over him, and grabbed the
bench to steady himself. He frowned, recognising the source of the feelings. He
had a lot of control over his own emotions, and he easily recognised the alien
ones.
"Remy? Are you an empath?" Remy went abnormally pale.
"An empath?...Non! Non, Remy...Remy ain' no empath!" Remy cried desperately,
breathing faster. Kurt just smiled.
"You really shouldn't lie to your father confessor, Remy. It's...honestly, it's
silly." Remy looked down, embarrassed, and nodded.
"Oui, I'm an empath...but please! Please don' tell dem! Dey'll hate me... dey'll
t'ink I play wit' dem. S'ill vous plait?"
"I told you, Remy, nothing you say leaves this church. I promise."
"Merci." He whispered.
"Why are you hiding like this? Why don't you trust them? We all have skeletons
in our closets Remy. None will judge you."
"I can' tell none. Dey can' know."
"These things you've mentioned, the sins you've committed, they are from your
past, yah?"
"Oui. Long time ago."
"Have you done it again? Hurt people like zat?"
"Non! Non, I...I'm so sorry...I can' sleep at night rememberin' 'bout it, an'
when I sleep, I see it all over again in my dreams. I jus' wan' peace."
"Then let it go, Remy. If you hold on to your past, you'll make the same
mistakes all over again. It's over. Think about the future now. You've proved to
be a loyal friend, I know they trust you. Stop torturing yourself."
"I can' forget, there's...too many faces...memories here." Kurt stood up, and
placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You have to find a way to let it go. Not to forget, because that's as harmful,
if not more, than to hold on like you are doing. But for what is worth, I
absolve you, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. God will
show you how to do penance. Don't forget about Him, Remy. He loves all his
children, and wants noting more than to forgive you, if you let him."
Remy stood up as well, and shook Kurt's hand.
"Merci, mon ami. Y' don' know how much it means to me. I'll leave y' alone to
pray now."
"It was a pleasure Remy. If you ever feel like telling someone..."
"Merci...mais I don' t'ink I'm ready."
Or maybe he had never been more ready than now. He'd gotten his answer, he just
needed to know what to do now.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
For all useful information, such as summary, disclaimer, my own personal notes,
or feedback instructions (hint, hint) see the prologue.
CHAPTER ONE
REDEMPTION.
On the limits of Xavier's land, rest the ruins of the first church in Salem
center. It's silent walls have seen the funeral of too many X-men, to many
casualties of a war they desperately try to stop. But on that calmed afternoon,
there was only one visitor to the chapel. A visitor that didn't even believed in
praying anymore. His God had abandoned him too many times. He figured his Lord
had seen into his diabolic soul and decided to forget he was ever born. He could
not blame him. After all, maybe people in his home town had known the truth
about him before himself. He was "Le diable blanc". He'd live his all life
proving them right.
Right now, he was looking for redemption. A redemption he thought he'd get as an
X-men. But his past still haunted him.
He still had to encounter the same faces from his past, over and over again,
without being able to bare his soul to anyone, and frightened out of his wits
that one day one of those faces would say something inappropriate and uncover
his lies to the people he now considered family.
They would know, eventually. He could feel it in his bones. The time was coming.
But he still couldn't bring himself to tell them.
There was more though. He had always felt haunted by his sins. But lately, they
were in his mind, his dreams, every breathing second. He was always waiting now,
unsure of what, but knowing that the truth would reveal itself. Something inside
of him was growing. The unmerciful breath of fate was on his back at all times.
Then there was his "charm power". He'd always joked about it, never paid much
attention to the ability he had to coax people into doing what he wanted. He had
never even considered it as a real mutant ability. He'd regarded it as a great
intuition and a charming personality. But now he knew better. That hint of
perception he'd always had about people's feelings was growing stronger;
catching him by surprise, and making it almost impossible for him to hide. He'd
noticed for the first time when he'd seen Joseph waiting by Rogue's window. The
unbearable naive, white haired guy was in loved with her. He'd felt the pure,
overwhelming emotion and he just couldn't bare it. It had been even stronger
than his own feelings for the southern beauty. Joseph loved her more than
himself, and it wasn't fair. Not after all he'd gone through, all he'd fought
for their seemingly undying love.
After that, he could feel it all. Scott's stress of having to take care of
everything now that Xavier was gone, Stormy's sorrow on that dreaded
anniversary. Rogue's confusion about her feelings, Logan's fight with his wild
side, Beast's joy about being free...he could feel it all.
Just a few hours ago he'd felt the pain in Bobby's soul after almost loosing his
father, and it had been too much for him. Somehow he remembered the horror on
the Morlocks' faces, almost being able to feel their pain when they had to see
their sons and daughters, their brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, being
slaughtered by the Marauders, and knowing they would be next.
Creed. He hated the name. The sole sound of it sent shivers down his spine. It
was evident now that the sadistic animal had passed his evil seed onto his son.
The powerful candidate was nothing but a tamer version of the monster. And he
could still remember Victor Creed's claws on his guts, still remember the look
on Genevieve and Henri's faces. If he hadn't been an X-men, the monster would be
dead by now.
Maybe, he thought, he shouldn't be an X-men anymore. His thirst for revenge was
too great at that moment, but that wasn't the reason. Just that morning he'd
seen Jean's suspicious face. He'd gotten up in a good mood, unaware of Bobby's
tragedy, and walked inside the kitchen feeling great. Jean, who'd already heard
and was feeling miserable, had somehow picked on his good mood; not from seeing
his face, she'd felt it. The startled look on her face spoke volumes. In any
other circumstance, she wouldn't have noticed he was broadcasting, but the
contrast of emotion left no place for doubt. She suspected, and it was a matter
of time before she knew what he was hiding. And with her, everyone else.
He ha so much going on in his head, that he felt it was about to burst. He just
knelt infront of the altar, and slowly, almost frightened, rose his hand, first
to his forehead, then to his stomach, pausing a moment to remember whether it
was the left or the right shoulder first, and cringing. Something that had been
a second nature for him, he now had to think over to get it right. It was a long
lost habit, he'd lost all the good things Jean-Luc had taught him, clinging to
the bad ones, because it was convenient.
He remembered having seen Peter signaling his right shoulder first the only time
he'd seen the huge man praying, something that had surprised him greatly knowing
that Colossus had been an atheist. So it had to be the left. He remembered as
much.
He begun mumbling what he remembered of the "Hail Mary" half in French, half in
English, but desisted half way through it.
"Mon Dieu..." he begun, lowering his eyes to the ground. ""Mon Dieu, I hope...I
wish mebbe I will get y'r pardon. Non? Will y' let me join you when de time
comes? S'il vous plait, mon Dieu. Je suis dèsolè. Know I don' deserve it. Haven'
thought about y' much..." he let out a embarrassed smile, he was definitively
rusty. "Mon Dieu,...will y' show me how to make amends? I promise I'll try, mon
Dieu. Can' promise I'll be good at it, but I'm tryin' to be a bon fils. I need
y' to show me how..."
The floor behind him squeaked slightly. A less trained ear wouldn't have
noticed, but he froze in place. He couldn't help to be a little paranoid. But
this was a church. And the feelings he was picking up spoke of nothing but
kindness and sympathy.
"Mon Dieu, will y' teach mes amis not to spy on ol' Remy while he prays?" he
said with a sly smile. The footsteps became louder and he turned around,
catching a glimpse of a furry blue skin a little darker than the one he was used
to.
"I'm very sorry mein friend." Came a guttural voice. Remy sighed in relief. This
man was practically a stranger to him, and he could talk with a stranger.
"C'est bien, mon ami. How much of Remy's prayer did y' hear? Have to remember to
do it quietly."
"Zat's ok. It was my bad. I should've let you know I was here. It was a
beautiful prayer, an honest one."
"Merci Kurt. I'll leave y' to y'r prayers now." He rose from the bench, but Kurt
seized his wrists gently.
"You know, when two or more people are gathered on his behalf..." Remy smiled
and sat back down
"He's dere wit' dem. I know. Y'r a pere, n'est ce pas?"
"Yah. Would you like to confess?" He said kindly. Remy winced.
"Can I do dat without tellin' y' my sins?"
"Nein. But you don't need to be specific, and I can't tell anyone what you tell
me. You look like you need to talk anyway." Remy sighed and nodded.
"Here goes not'ing...I..." he paused, and rubbed his eyes. Kurt noticed his
hands where shaking, and felt sorry for the man.
"Take your time. I have it to spare. No one even knows I'm here. I just felt
like visiting this place. I do zat sometimes."
"I lied..." Remy said bluntly. Kurt nodded.
"About what?"
"'Bout moi. I'm not what dey t'ink I am."
"What are you?"
"I'm evil. A traitor. I don' deserve to be deir friend, I..."
"Have you tried to hurt them? Did you willingly betrayed dem?"
"I don' know. I didn' wan' to hurt none, mais I did. Remy's done a lot of
horrible t'ings, hurt a lot of people. And den he lied 'bout it, hid it from his
friends."
Kurt felt guilt, self loath and confusion washing over him, and grabbed the
bench to steady himself. He frowned, recognising the source of the feelings. He
had a lot of control over his own emotions, and he easily recognised the alien
ones.
"Remy? Are you an empath?" Remy went abnormally pale.
"An empath?...Non! Non, Remy...Remy ain' no empath!" Remy cried desperately,
breathing faster. Kurt just smiled.
"You really shouldn't lie to your father confessor, Remy. It's...honestly, it's
silly." Remy looked down, embarrassed, and nodded.
"Oui, I'm an empath...but please! Please don' tell dem! Dey'll hate me... dey'll
t'ink I play wit' dem. S'ill vous plait?"
"I told you, Remy, nothing you say leaves this church. I promise."
"Merci." He whispered.
"Why are you hiding like this? Why don't you trust them? We all have skeletons
in our closets Remy. None will judge you."
"I can' tell none. Dey can' know."
"These things you've mentioned, the sins you've committed, they are from your
past, yah?"
"Oui. Long time ago."
"Have you done it again? Hurt people like zat?"
"Non! Non, I...I'm so sorry...I can' sleep at night rememberin' 'bout it, an'
when I sleep, I see it all over again in my dreams. I jus' wan' peace."
"Then let it go, Remy. If you hold on to your past, you'll make the same
mistakes all over again. It's over. Think about the future now. You've proved to
be a loyal friend, I know they trust you. Stop torturing yourself."
"I can' forget, there's...too many faces...memories here." Kurt stood up, and
placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You have to find a way to let it go. Not to forget, because that's as harmful,
if not more, than to hold on like you are doing. But for what is worth, I
absolve you, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. God will
show you how to do penance. Don't forget about Him, Remy. He loves all his
children, and wants noting more than to forgive you, if you let him."
Remy stood up as well, and shook Kurt's hand.
"Merci, mon ami. Y' don' know how much it means to me. I'll leave y' alone to
pray now."
"It was a pleasure Remy. If you ever feel like telling someone..."
"Merci...mais I don' t'ink I'm ready."
Or maybe he had never been more ready than now. He'd gotten his answer, he just
needed to know what to do now.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
