After the Merge

Author: Jenskott Summary: What if when Cyclops merged with Apocalypse, he kept accidentally any of the power?
Notes: Thanks for the reviews! I want more! I need more! Please! Diaz F: In the first chapter was seen his eyes won't stay that way, I'm sorry.
Rating: PG-13 for some language, violence and innuendo.
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, but they shouldn't belong to Marvel either. Theirs legitimate creators are Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, who obviously I'm not. Argue me THAT.
Feedback: To I need opinions, please. They will be read, reckoned with and worshipped.

Part Five. Leopard's Spots-

The day was cold and damp despite the pale glowing disc shimmering on the sky.

Rivulets of grey smoke floated on the air drawing odd, spectral shapes. Gambit took a long drag of the cigarette, letting the nicotine soothed his senses, and contemplated peacefully the shades the smoke wove, wondering about their meaning. He was glad of having shoved to Piotr out of his brooding spot on the roof. Nowadays it was the only place in the mansion where he could be alone.

He stubbed his cigarette on a red shingle and sighed wearily. "Good morning, chére. What do you want?"

Silence. Then a giggle. "I'll not ask how you knew I was here. Hi, Remy." The X-Woman known as Rogue drawled heartily. She navigated gingerly amidst rows of loose tiles and kneeled beside him. Her fingers starting to pick idly dirt specks glued to her green costume. Gambit could tell she was uneasy. "I was looking for you."

"Oh?" He smirked mockingly. "Is this a social call? Or do you want discussing anything else, Ms. Storm's Successor?"

She blushed, brightening even better his mood. "No jokes, please." She mused. Inwardly she hadn't decided which her feelings regarding her promotion were, but she questioned seriously Professor's sanity. What was he thinking when he chose them to lead the new teams? Incredibly nobody had objected. Neither of the old field commanders had complained either. Ororo seemed glad or relieved. And Scott...

"How do you feel about it? She queried casually. Remy sighed, suddenly wishing for a deck to keep his hands busy with. His eyesight drifted towards the green pasture below.

"I think I'm up to the job, chére, if that's what you want knowing." He muttered. "But I don't think the Professor consider us like the better options, but he's trying out alternatives."

"True." She meditated. "Perhaps he thinks he can't count on Scott for now..."

"He shouldn't." Gambit uttered, and immediately he wished that he'd not said those words out loud. Rogue was giving him a disbelieving, bemused gaze was twisting in an enraged frown. "Look, chére, it isn't-"

"Remy Lebeau! How can you be so callous?"

Remy groaned. He rotated gradually his body until he was facing Rogue. "When was the last time you saw Cyclops, chére?" He queried.

"Well..." She mused. Seeing the slightest hint of Scott Summers was rare those days. He spent the most part of the time in the Z'Noxx Chamber, learning how to handle his budding telepathic abilities with Jean. And when he went up, he was as a shadow lurking on the grounds. "This morning in the Danger Room."

"Exactly. Do you remember his performance?" Rogue bit his lip, grimacing with the remembrance. A squad of Nimrod sentinels, killer futuristic robots armed with the finest weapons to track, neutralize and slay mutants had surrounded him. And he... "Summers torn them apart, chére. A swept of his arm and they were shredded in scraps of metal, like if they were built with sandpaper and glue. And do you know what was the scariest thing? His face, chére."

Despite of his carefree countenance, Remy shivered inwardly, remembering Cyclops' expression. Aloof, emotionless. He barely spoke monosyllables, stared with mute nonchalance to the robots, obliterated them using fire, ice and electricity simultaneously, and marched quietly out of the Danger Room. And his face never shifted or wavered, ever stony and bereft of emotion during the entire ordeal. No pride, no satisfaction, not even resigned and bored disgust.

"I don't know what broke Blue-Lips in his head, but he isn't the same old Cyke." Gambit went on. "He's now nearly as powerful as the whole team. Such power and that frosty attitude are NOT a good combination. Power corrupts. Jean knows, the Professor knows."

"But" Rogue protested. Appalled, incredulous. "This isn't any crazy super-villain! He's Scott!"

Remy Lebeau arched back his head and laughed bitterly. They trusted on Cyclops implicitly, not matter how weird he acted, but they were ever suspicious of him, not matter what. It wasn't that he gave them any reason to trust on him, of course. His red eyes wandered briefly around the clouds, and he wondered, wistfully, where his life had gone so wrong. And when.

"Rogue, my love, take word of someone who knows: leopards can change theirs spots. To good or to bad. Remnants of Apocalypse are drifting in Scotty's head. Beast says he's dumbfounded right now, trying finding back his self. Who may tell what spots he'll choose to cover his pelt with? His? Or Nur's?"

Rogue shook her head in plain refusal. "Are you sure of you aren't afraid of he can now read minds? Including yours?" She mumbled. Though she hugged herself strongly, feeling sudden shivers freezing her. Because she couldn't deny what Gambit had several valid points. But the X-Men had given her a chance to change her spots to good...

"That too." Remy chuckled. Abruptly his laughter died, and his eyes narrowed as he peered sharply at the ground below.

Rogue followed his inquisitive stare. And she saw Jean walking resolutely towards the graveyard.

"Hi. I had the feeling of I'd find you over here." She greeted.

"Of course. I can't scare away the dead ones, can I?"

A pregnant silence followed.

Glacier wind arose, waving her rich hair as a wild red flare and grazing her face with the grass blades and sand it dragged. As she covered her smooth face, her eyes perused his husband, a lonely figure amidst the sea of grey marble tablets. He stood quiet, rigid, contemplating numbly a slab worn off by the wind and the rain, and corroded by verdant moss and lichens. She knew what name was etched on it.

She meandered among the headstones and approached to him. Hesitantly she laid her soft hands on his shoulders and leaned tenderly on his back. He stiffened with the touch.

She grimaced, somewhat pained but filled with care and compassion. Her fingers started to massage and knead with soft firmness his shoulder plates. As her digits undid deftly the hard knots on his sore muscles, the tension released him gradually. Finally he relaxed, letting out an exaggerated sigh.

"Don't be afraid, Scott. Not from me, at least." Slowly to not alarm him, she circled his torso with both arms.

A silent, pregnant pause. He stared skywards. "Often I open my eyes and I see an unknown but familiar place. The land is a barren desert of rocks or sandy dunes. Ground and sky are red, but I realize that my vision isn't filtering the colors but the floor is doused in blood, and the skies are bleeding as well. Men and women screech and yell around me, fleeing or killing at each other. Then my hand turns into a long blade, or a lance or a saw, and I begin to slash, stab and cleave indiscriminately the people is near from me. All I see is heads, limbs and innards flying everywhere, sprinkled by a shower of blood droplets, and all I hear is moans and screams mixed with my own laughter. Then I came around, and meet face-to-face with you or some of our friends, and I freeze. I cling to my control to no snap, but then I sense it. Their fear, their doubts, their insecurity. Then I get angry and shut them out."

Her lips nuzzled his taut neck. "Open to me, Slim. Let me help. Erase the hurt."

He showed no reaction. "There's something wrong within me, Jean. Wrong, ugly, awful. Something broke in thousand shards when Nur shoved his essence into me. My head is twisted, shattered and screwed. His memories are tainting me with darkness. I'm scared of you see what there's inside now... I... don't want soiling you, wife. I wouldn't be able to bear it."

Jean blinked, and then burst out laughing. "God, Scott" She giggled. "Do you think you can sully me with darkness? To me?" She forced him to turn around. His eyes took surprised notice of her outfit. It'd blurred in her Dark Phoenix dress. "I AM Light and Darkness, sweetheart. You can't teach me anything else."

His hesitant, wavering hand started to stroke softly her face. Subconsciously his eyes were roaming along her body. Her darkness aroused him. "I need... I want... somebody helps me to forget the hurt. I want wiping it out, pretending it doesn't exist... But I'd be using you as a cheap..."

"Scott" She cut off with a wave of her hand "stop beating around the bush."

He stared at her glaring eyes and sighed. "I want fuck you. Hard. Now. I want to tearing your clothes with my teeth and listening to your lips moaning and begging and screaming my name."

She blinked, caught off-guard, and sputtered. "Is THAT your trouble? Go ahead, Scott."

"I can't, Jean!" He protested. It sounded suspiciously to a whine. "I'd be using you to satisfy my own pleasure, to fulfill my egocentric wishes, as if you were a cheap whore to my service! I don't-"

She whacked him telekinetically. "Don't spout nonsense, darling. You're my husband, and you need my help with a problem. What sort of wife I would be if I refused to help you? Besides, I've no inconvenient with it. In fact, I'm very willing to collaborate. Come to the boathouse..."

He regarded her, considering her words. "I can't wait so long."

With abrupt fastness he hoisted her in his arms and ran towards the woodlands. Jean held tightly on him, laughing all the way.

If you're feeling so horny, you could have stripped my clothes over my own grave

He allowed her see that thought sickened him but also intrigued him in a morbid way. It appalled her a bit, but she realized he was testing her. Trying if he could frighten her, push her away. She'd not let him.

A while later, when a drowsy languor had replaced the flaring passion and desire had burnt in them, both rested sideways on a bed of grass and leaves, their naked bodies snuggling up to each other placidly. Their clothes lay scattered among gnarled tree roots, promptly forgotten in the heat of a desire still warmed them despite of the chill pervading the air. As Jean kissed him fondly, she noticed an unbearable hotness where their skins brushed at each other, and grinned, knowing intellectually he was using his brother's thermic powers, but enjoying with the romantic notion nonetheless. Likewise she noticed she was filthy with mud, and pebbles and pin needles prickled her skin, but truthfully that itch couldn't care her less.

"I trust in you feel better now." She whispered jokingly. A salacious smile lit up her pretty strawberry lips, and her forefinger traced playfully his jaw line.

Scott nodded eagerly. "Yes. Can we do it again?"

She walloped him between laughs. "You're trying killing me."

"No. Seriously. Perhaps we can fetch our clothes -wherever they are- and..."

His voice trailed off. She was abruptly gaping, and her eyes had widened hugely as her stunned stare aimed behind them.

He followed his look to see Logan. He stood frozen among two oaks, dressed in his outfit and gawking stupidly at them. He resembled a petrified statue in the forest.

"GET OUT!" Both screamed, unleashing beams of force, waves of heat and bolts of telekinesis.

Wolverine came around in time to dodge the attacks by one hair's width, and he darted away towards the mansion with a rushed, frantic sprint.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I swear it!" He shouted as his legs leaped over rocks and fallen trunks.

He slammed violently the kitchen door and his back slumped over it. Sweat drenched his temples, and his blanched face showed signs of having watched something frightful. Slowly his heartbeats slowed down and his heavy, ragged breathing quieted and became more controlled and steadier.

A startled gasp sounded. Befuddled and somewhat scared, he looked up reluctantly.

Ororo, Jubilee, Kitty and Sarah were sat around the table, the first holding a steaming teacup. But as the windrider raised an eyebrow in silent question, Kitty and Jubilee were gawking, and Marrow barely stifled her snickers.

Storm looked at his face with her mesmerizing blue eyes, peeked at his groin and stared up again. "Have you seen anything interesting?" She quipped. Kitty covered Jubilee's eyes, ignoring her protests.

He slid down, plopping heavily on the tiles. "Don't ask, darling. Seriously, don't ask."

To be continued...