Scorched
The reign of fire, Earth Scorched to bits. The sky bleeds napalm, mass graves, melted into this oven of bliss. A furnace of human garbage, as the Earth, your Earth, your Earth turns black... the Earth turns black. Digging into the graves, survival of the sick. The Earth turns black. Enraged and encaged by this bio mechanical foe. ~Scorched- In-Quest
July 2007.
He grins his best grin and takes her gloved hand in his, much to her reluctance. Her hair is still slightly damp from the shower she'd taken after the DR session, and he finds himself nearly hypnotized by the scent of her curls.
Meeting her for the first time is…different. It isn't one of those cliché 'movie' moments: his breathing rate doesn't soar to comical proportions, his heartbeat doesn't suddenly grow so loud that he can hear it, the world doesn't slow down around him. Her luscious curves and angelic face, while quite distracting indeed, do not make him want to kneel before her and confess his love. It's just different.
Seeing her for the first time is almost the same as seeing any other gorgeous woman for the first time. Almost, but not quite. Because even as he proceeds with his usual once-over, even as he spews his cheesy, half-baked one liners (which she does not take kindly to) he can tell that the woman before him is not going to be his very easily.
It isn't until she looks up from her thick novel and pierces him with her shattering eyes that he feels something other than sexual interest. Questions start running amuck in his mind. How old is she? Why is she filled with so much pain—and in pain she most certainly is. It radiates from every invisible pore. And most importantly: How has he never met her before now? In the weeks he's been at the mansion, why haven't they been introduced?
He's heard the occasional gossip of course. He knows all about her frosty disposition and life siphoning skin, he's caught glimpses of her by the lake or in the kitchen, but it wasn't until today in the Danger Room, that he finally decided to pursue her.
But standing before her, being in her personal space, it isn't the same as any other woman. He hadn't truly realized, hadn't comprehended, just how utterly perfect she is. How shy she's making him feel. And he knows, albeit subconsciously, that her allure isn't caused simply because of her body, or the challenge she represents, or even because her voice is like crackling logs on a fire and rustling leaves and honey and makes him shiver every time she speaks, it's because something, some small, nagging emotion is buzzing at the back of his mind and he's never, ever, experienced this peculiar sensation.
But he can't place the feeling, doesn't want to place it. It's too big, too soon, too irrational. Staring into her eyes is like staring into torment and ecstasy, damnation and salvation: all at the same time. There are sparkles in the depths of her green orbs, like a magical dream he's had and hasn't remembered until now. Somehow, her eyes are familiar.
He'd stopped pretending to make small talk some time before, and she's stopped trying to wriggle her hand free from his grasp. Instead, the mystery feeling wraps around the two of them and for a moment, all is quiet.
He can't help but smile, because he isn't crazy, it isn't just his heart that senses there is something more between them, she senses it, too.
"It was a pleasure meetin' ya, Remy." She slides her hand gently from his, frowning slightly at the sudden lack of warmth.
"De pleasure was all mine, chère," he whispers just as quietly as she has.
The southerners separate in a daze, Rogue turns to hide her flushed cheeks and retreats swiftly away.
But she can't help but sneak a quick glance behind her, and as she smiles a little smile, it hits Remy. He realizes what it is about her that makes him so flustered. It's because she feels safe, and he hasn't felt safe since Tante had plucked him off the streets and raised him like her own. It's almost as if he belongs with this mystifying woman, like they've known each other in another, happier life.
She feels like home.
The initial conflict seems so trivial. Now out of hope, out of hand, population depletes. Enraged by numerous diseases, is nuclear light the sun they see… The extinction, the plague of humanity... The extinction, the plague of humanity... ~Scorched- In-Quest
She feels like home.
Despite her glowing yellow eyes and chilling smirk, he still feels it: that undeniable pull that has always been between them, from the very first moment he ever set eyes on her.
But along with this familiarity comes horrible desperation on his part, because he knows. Behind his cocky swagger and constant jokes, Remy is quite the realist, and a realist would not pretend everything is going to end happily, or even decently, a realist would not try ignoring the truth; the truth being that even before Phoenix, things between himself and Rogue wouldn't, couldn't last. He loves her too much, too completely, sometimes he needs her so much he can't breathe, can't think. He doesn't deserve her, never has, he knows she was never his to have, and that things are soon coming to a close.
One of them is going to die this night, of this he is certain, and he prays with all that he is that he'll be the one getting the bad end of this particular deal.
Living without her isn't living at all.
"Your thoughts are racing," She smiles, the supernatural wind that is her power blows her curls over her smooth shoulders and across her creamy bosom. "Are you frightened?"
"Never been more terrified in my life," he murmurs, and it's true-no sarcasm taints his words.
Her expression changes suddenly, warming up in some places and softening in others. If at all possible, sincere pity fills her eyes.
"It didn't have to be this way." Even though she whispers, the power of her voice echoes around him and the field. "You could have lived forever, could have had unimaginable power. And you threw it all away, for what? For some misguided sense of honor?"
He only grins, and she frowns, taken aback. "Y' seem to have misunderstood, p'tite."
Her eyes narrow, her hand goes to her hip in the perfect stance of tried patience. It reminds him so much of Rogue that he feels physical pain at the back of his head.
"Oh? I've misunderstood? Well, then. Please enlighten me with your mortal wisdom."
"Gladly. Y' see, when I said I've never been more terrified in my life, I meant it. But I ain't scared of you, p'tite, an' I ain't afraid of dyin'. Lord knows, I shoulda been dead years ago, I've been on de edge my whole life. Non, it ain't dyin' dats makin' my stomach clench. It's her, it's Rogue. It's de thought of me failin' her, of lettin' y' win. It's de thought of y' killin' all she loves, all she knows. Dats what terrifies me, p'tite."
"Brave words coming from a dead man," she snarls, and the tips of her hair begin to rise and become flame. A golden glow envelopes her body and the raw power builds and builds until even her voice rings with sheer energy and majesty.
"None of you, not Jean Grey, or your foolish mentor, or even The Empress herself fully understands just how powerful I am. I am Phoenix: Goddess of Fire and Chaos, Provider of Warmth and Peace. The Creator, The Destroyer. I can give life, I can take life." She floats closer, and her glowing arm raises to cup his cheek in her hand. He can feel her incredible strength buzzing around him, like static.
"I, The Guardian of the M'kraan Crystal, I, who am older than your Sun, I, who was brought into existence before multi-cellular life even existed."
She spins from him, her lip trembles with poorly concealed rage. "It is I who watched the evolution of your species. It is I who knows your kind for what it really is: a horde of unintelligent, crude, barbaric meat sacks, unfit to live in this beautiful universe. Earth is, by far, the most primitive of all the planets in the galaxy. You don't deserve the precious gift of life."
He ventures a step closer, and lets the tips of his fingers touch the small of her back. "Who are y' to decide," he asks softly. "What would y' accomplish by destroying us? Is it de energy y' want? To feed off of our life forces, our planet?"
Her jaw tightens. "My intentions are not selfish, and you are impudent to suggest such. I wish only to cleanse the universe, and, someday, perhaps a millennia or so, I will rebuild this planet, I will create more humans, different humans. I myself will teach them the right way to live. No war, no famine, no drought, no pestilence, can you imagine? A race with few flaws, like that of the Shi'ar. Perhaps that is why I served them for so many thousands of years, because their race is so stable, so modern…yes, yes I think that's why. I will make the humans more like the Shi'ar, still human, but improved. Human beings… 2.0!" She heard that phrase off of the 'television', and she laughs at her own joke.
He stands in front of her, his face remains somber. "Mais what if dose t'ings can't be taught? True, de Shi'ar are probably more advanced in some ways, but not completely! We have free will, and democracy, we can choose. An Emperor or Empress rules over dem, dey decide for everyone. An' what about D'ken? Was he so stable? If humans hadn't worked together, Jean wouldn't have been able to seal de crystal's power."
He isn't good, he doesn't deserve life, but he isn't fighting for himself. He's fighting for the Professor, for Tante, for the X-men, for all the people who've ever shown him an ounce of kindness. And for Rogue, his belle ange, the love of his life. He's fighting for her more passionately than he's fought for anything in his twenty-seven years of living.
"Dere is good an' bad in all humans, p'tite. Sometimes deres more good; like Rogue, sometimes deres more bad, like…like…"
"Like you?" Phoenix smirks at his resulting grimace.
"Oui, like me. Mais I'm willin' to give my life for dis planet, dat has to count for somethin', right? Don' judge us all based on what you've seen from a few, try to see de good."
"The good?" The light around her increases, flames lick out from around her. "Was there 'good' when your kind was enslaving each other? Or what about the massacres that were just for sport, because they could? And the wars, so many wars, all those lives…lost. For what? Wealth? Power? Land? There are threats now of nuclear warfare, threats of deadly, airborne viruses being unleashed on the general population! You humans live on this planet with no respect, as if you're entitled to reside here! You and I both know that not everyone has good in them. Look around! Think of the harshness of your life! Most humans are evil, selfish creatures!"
"Y' wrong, Phoenix! No one can be completely bad!"
She raises a delicate eyebrow. "Would you be able to look Rogue's bastard father in the eye and see good?"
His mouth flops open, he gets hot.
"Just as I thought. You feel nothing but hatred, disgust. You want revenge, you regret that he's dead, but only because you want so badly to kill him yourself!" Her hand goes to her forehead suddenly, she sways precariously. However she recovers within seconds, her calm and cool demeanor back in place.
"I can feel it all, you know. All thoughts, all emotions, from all times and all dimensions. Jean Grey bonded with me, and nearly lost all semblance of sanity. But Rogue, precious Rogue, she bonded with me and she waded through the fiery seas of my mind and survived, she did not lose her mind, she understood. For once, I could share the burden of an all-knowing mind with someone else. I no longer had to explore the universe in solitude, I could…love. And of all the human emotions, that is by far the most difficult to imitate." She pauses as if startled, and swipes away the moisture beneath her eyes with an expression akin to disgust.
"For some reason I'll never understand, this body still aches for you. She sees something redeemable in you. To her, you're still savable. She loves you unconditionally."
God, it's what he's always wanted to hear. Rogue loves him for him. Not out of obligation, or because she feels sorry for him, but because to her, he's still something, he can still be loved. If only…if only he'd been able to hear Rogue herself say it in her honeyed voice: lovely and warm.
Thinking of her fills him with a second burst of strength, and he's more determined than ever to hear her once more, see those blazing emerald eyes again. He drags the back of his arm roughly across his eyes, removing the tears he hadn't noticed forming, and takes one step towards her; two. "Do de right t'ing," he swallows and pleads with all his heart. He kneels before her, knowing that this is his last chance to stop this and still ensure everyone's life. If this doesn't work…well, they don't call him a human bomb for nothing.
"I beg y': soar de skies, devour stars, protect de crystal, mais give me ma cherie. Leave us all alone, let humans be humans, let us make our mistakes and commit our evil, let us learn from dose mistakes and show kindness upon others. Let our race evolve naturally! Please, show us mercy!"
The smile she gives him wavers, more tears fill her eyes. "This body wants nothing more than to grant your wishes, to wipe away your tears, to kiss you even!" She shakes her head, pressing her lips into a line, and the swirling fire of her strength returns with a fierceness and if anything he's been saying made an impact: she's undoing it all now.
"But I can see inside your mind and inside the minds of others, and I know you, Remy LeBeau, I know you better than you could ever hope to know yourself! You have what they call a 'silver tongue', and you've gotten yourself out of some pretty impossible situations with that charm of yours."
She steps from the ground and levitates higher in the air. The fire around her increases and becomes the shape of the Phoenix, she lets out a fierce cry heard throughout the entire planet, and even beyond. Her pupils dilate, overtaking the irises and sclera. The entirety of her eyes become soulless, black pools. His stomach goes cold.
"If y' can really read my mind," he shouts over the wind, "den y' know I'm telling' de truth-"
"Pathetic human, you will not fool me! I am PHOENIX!" With a flick of her wrist, Remy is swept in the air, only to land on his stomach some two miles away. He feels sick, paralyzed, he can't move. Murky, fleeting pictures of Rogue fill his vision.
"This body!" She shudders, and lets her eyes flutter closed. "This body is like none I've ever inhabited! So many powers…and so much energy!" Her fingers curl into fists and she raises them to the sky, light shoots from them and brightens the night, for an instant it's like the morning sunrise.
Trees blow over and grass billows harshly around his prone form. He's afraid he'll be blown away, but she stands solid in the middle of it all, a dark figure in the sea of golden light, her face turned towards the sky. The vegetation near her is burned to ash, revealing cracks in the dirt. The very air heats to a boil and it causes her image to distort.
Even at his far distance, his skin flushes from the heat, like a prequel to sunburn.
She looks to the east, sensing the Blackbird, and laughs almost giddily. "Ah, the X-men have arrived. Now, the battle for Earth shall truly begin."
-Fifth Avenue, Hellfire Club.-
"Perhaps I did not hear you correctly: you want us to risk our lives to try and destroy a being that can't be hurt physically, or controlled mentally, and could kill a human in a matter of seconds? Am I correct? Or did I hear you wrong?"
Emma Frost slams her fist into the mahogany table, her sunken cheeks and dead eyes tell the story of the pain she's been through. Life without Bobby has made her hard and brittle, and she dedicates all that she has left into work and the Hellfire Club, because she has nothing else. Sometimes, when she exhausts herself with paperwork and guzzles five shots too many, she can rest, finally. But even then, her sleep is riddled with nightmares of his azure eyes going grey, of his hand slipping from hers…she doesn't hate the X-men because they couldn't help Bobby, she hates them for letting his murderer go unpunished.
"You always were a cheeky bastard, Wyngarde. Shut your damn mouth."
Of course, the small, still-sane part of Emma's brain keeps telling her that Rogue is not really to blame, and that Phoenix is too powerful for any human being to control. She's had contact with the Phoenix, she realizes how impossible it is to fight that fire and brimstone that is its mind.
Her heart, however, her torn, broken, frozen heart does not want to listen to fact or reason, it does not want to differentiate between Phoenix, her enemy, and Rogue, her friend. Her heart wants revenge for Bobby's untimely death, and, unfortunately, Rogue has to die for Phoenix to die.
"On the contrary, White Queen, Jason is simply voicing the fears that all of us have." His various chins move as he chuckles, "After all, what would we gain if we did indeed bring about this creature's destruction?"
"You are a greedy, stinking pig, Leland!"
"How dare you!" Leland rises swiftly from his chair, quite surprising for a man of his size, his face goes red. "You have forgotten yourself, Frost-"
"I think it is you who has forgotten them self, Harry."
All eyes turn to watch the entrance of Sebastian Shaw. He outright laughs at the inhabitants at the round table, and takes his own place in the tallest chair located at the head of the massive table. He makes a dashing figure in his velvet vest and blue dress coat. His blazing dark eyes sparkle mischievously, his raven hair curls handsomely about his temples.
"Ms. Frost is the White Queen, and you are nothing more than a bishop, or have you forgotten?" He throws his feet on the table and laughs heartily. "And you really are a greedy bastard, you know. If your tiny, pea-brain hadn't been thinking of what you could gain out of this, you would have figured out that unless we defeat this…Phoenix, then we are all doomed, and nothing: not your wealth, or your mother, or even your layers of excess fat can save you."
Emma smirks at the humiliated Black Bishop, who simply falls back into his chair.
Selene, the Black Queen, promptly throws her head back and chuckles at the red-faced man, her black bodice tightening distractingly across her breasts. "Shaw, my darling, you have such a way with words." The humor leaves her face almost instantly, she's never one to smile for too long, and she turns her full attention back on her counterpart.
"And now, Emma, dear, please finish telling us what we have to do to defeat this thing."
"I am in agreement with my queen," Shaw says. "And do not forget, all of our wealth is at your disposal.
For the first time in a long time, Emma really and truly smiles.
…
She raises her hand to eliminate the X-men in one, fell swoop, but a flare of fuchsia explodes in her face and before she can recover, two heat-seeking missiles have slammed into her and she's plummeting to the ground, where she hits with startling impact.
Gritting her teeth, she uses her stolen telekinesis to lift the missiles high into the atmosphere. She sits on the edge of the crater her descent has created, choking on smoke, and rubs dirt and burning fragments from her shredded dress. It reveals even more of her pale, smooth skin. She wonders how man-made cloth has managed to stay together after that.
She soars into the sky as if nothing's happened, heading straight for the Blackbird. "Nice shot, X-men. Too bad the Phoenix is inde-"
Two beams of concentrated, red energy hit her in the back, and she swirls to find the X-men on the ground, far, far below. Tanks and foot soldiers litter the space around them: none other than SHIELD. She frowns in confusion, and figures out their plan too late. The full force of the Blackbird pummels into her body and she hears the 'craaack' that is her spine snapping in half.
She falls towards the earth once again, though now her body is contorted in a broken heap. Before she can even hit the ground for a second time, helicopters appear and plow bullets into every part of her body, and finally, she lands in the prairie, and remains still.
For an immeasurable moment all are still and silent. Only the pop and crackle of the burning prairie and the whir of the helicopters accompany the night.
And then:
"Thanks for the distraction, Remy." Cyclops offers Gambit his hand, the cajun ignores it and stands on his own. He shuffles along at first, but then his legs gain strength and he's running through the tall grasses to where Rogue has landed.
He slides across the dirt into the bottom of the crater. "Chère…oh chère, non." He falls to his knees beside her, his hands hesitate just above her shoulders. He wants to hold her so very badly, but there isn't a part of her that isn't broken. Her neck is bent at a strange angle, the bones are showing through parts of her arms, and all the bullet wounds are bleeding. Her eyes are still black, he wants to see the emerald one more time…
He slams his fists into the dirt over and over again. It can't be…she isn't…they can't have…
"Remy!" He hears Jean cry, and then the feeling of telekinetic fingers tugging at his trench coat. "Remy get out of there now! She's not dead!"
Before he can react Wolverine grabs him by the collar and scoops him out of the hole, away from his chère, away from the person he wants most. Farther and farther they retreat, he struggles against his captor's adamantium hold with all his might: looking to the teammates running along with them and begging in every shout and protest for them to leave him be.
"Put me down, Logan! I-"
Whatever he's about to say jams at the back of his throat and dies there. Because floating above the crater, encased in a red hue, is the Phoenix. As they watch in horror, she twists her neck back to rights and pops her spine back in place. Her stolen healing ability restores her missing flesh and shoves the bullets to the ground. In a matter of seconds she is completely restored. And undeniably, throughly enraged.
Glowering as she hovers in midair, she looks herself over and shakes her head, as if scolding herself. "I had forgotten that the bodies of humans have limitations that I myself am not accustomed to." She rises higher in the sky.
Nicolas Fury shouts into his com-link, and the pilots release another shower of bullets in the Phoenix's direction. "That's it, boys! Don't let the bitch recover!"
"Peons. Do you think you can pull the same trick twice?" She curls her fingers inward and the helicopters crumple into balls, crushing the pilots and equipment inside and instigating a shout of rage from their captain. She throws her arms forward and the two spheres of metal go hurdling towards the soldiers and X-men on the ground.
Remy ducks, and Cyclops throws his arms over Jean. They wait for the smoking hulks of iron to make impact and undoubtedly their impending death.
However, seconds later, they peek open their eyes, knowing they should have died instantly from the impact. They stand, and gasp at the miracle that has occurred and they see the helicopters hovering mere feet away.
Faster than any of them can blink, the balls change their course and head straight back towards Phoenix. She manages to break one in half with a swipe of her hand, but the other hits her with full force, sending her flying back.
Gritting her teeth, she gathers her bearings and uses her stolen telekinesis to bring herself to a grinding halt. Getting a secure grip on the intrusion, she flings it away with a blood curdling screech of frustration.
She looks to her side in murderous rage, and there hovers Magneto, crimson ensemble stunning against the orange and indigo night behind him. His returning grin is full of jollity.
"I do not even attempt to hint at the possibility of being any match against you, but perhaps I can provide you with a bit of entertainment?"
Red beams shoot from her eyes, but Magneto throws up a shield of electricity, and the beams reflect harmlessly off.
She's beside herself with anger, her body shakes from rage. The radiance surrounding her grows hotter and more brilliant. Fire crackles and illuminates the sky in red and orange. Even the X-men, located far away on the ground, are forced to back away and throw their arms over their faces to shield themselves from the blistering heat of her power.
He chuckles, helmet swelling the sound and causing his laughter to grate that much more on her nerves.
"As you wish."
…
Far below the battle taking place in the sky, one lone woman—unnoticed by anyone save the professor and Wolverine, decides that now is the time to make her intentions known.
"Hello, Raven." Xavier swivels in his hover chair, reading the thoughts she sends his way.
"Charles," she responds curtly.
The rest of the X-men face her, all in various forms of disarray and suspicion.
Snikt. "Don't remember sendin' you an invite." He puts himself between Mystique and his mentor.
"Logan, don't. "Jean places her hand on his shoulder, picking up on the mental conversation between Xavier and the blue mutant. "She's our salvation."
…
'Raven, I wondered when you would show yourself. If I'm not mistaken, your thoughts seem to indicate you have a way of helping us?'
'There isn't much time to explain. Erik is our only distraction and his sacrifice must not go to waste. Charles…'
He senses shame and indecision.
'Charles, many years ago I fell in love with a human.'
And with that, she opens her mind in ways she never has, and Xavier leaves the astral plane and goes back in time to witness her memory.
1990.
Raven has always known, since she was old enough to know anything, that humans are not to be trusted. She lives her life by this knowledge, using her mutation only if it's needed to avoid confrontation or provides some benefit directly to her.
But somewhere, somehow, she breaks this very sacred vow and falls in love. With a normal, plain-jane human, of all people. An ignorant, bigot of a man that makes her feel hatred, disgust and all-consuming love simultaneously.
Never feeling shame for her appearance, promoting mutant self-love for her many years on the earth: all of this changes when she meets the man. And when she discovers she's pregnant she prays to a God she knows does not exist that her daughter will be a normal, plain-jane baby. She does not want this dream: the little house down south next to a river, the friendly neighbors, who, if ever seeing her true appearance beneath the red hair and creamy skin, wouldn't be so friendly; the cherry pies cooling in windows and town gatherings in the square and the perfect, fake, façade of a life she's created—to ever end. And whoever, whatever, is up there answers her prayers and when she gives birth it's to a pink, crying, normal baby.
Like her baby's father: her little one is everything she hates rolled into someone she loves so violently she can't stand it. But they're so happy, and sometimes she likes to imagine that the man loves her so much that when her secret is finally revealed (Raven is a realist, or a pessimist—she isn't sure, but she knows there will be an end to this fantasy) that he will give up his prejudices and just love her for who she really is.
She laughs aloud at her own silliness. She knows the man she married—and acceptance is not his way.
"You have the same eyes as your daddy," she muses, playing with the tuft of auburn and white atop her daughter's head. "This white streak, though—that's something all your own."
Raven lifts her baby, bringing her close and burying her nose in the rolls of her little neck. She tries not to break into a million pieces.
"Your daddy loves you, you know. More than he loves anything in this whole world." Tears burn her eyes, and the sensation is so foreign and she feels so helpless that she laughs aloud again. "But your baby brother—"She turns with daughter in hand, to the bassinet next to the window.
Inside lays the end of this happy little dream. From the very instant that adjacent line appeared on the pregnancy test there was no doubt that she would not be blessed (lucky?) for a second time, and this next child, though undoubtedly the man's, would not be accepted by him and that her reprieve from the harsh universe would crumble into dust.
"You, my darling daughter—have a chance." She's only eleven months old. Not even a year of life: she'll forget the woman that gave birth to her as if she'd never existed. "He does not. He needs me. And where we're going…you can't follow. I can't give you the life your daddy can."
If there is a God he's a cruel child and the people of earth are nothing more than his playthings—and her next actions will be the most selfless, excruciating thing she's ever done and it's not fair but life isn't fair and if she'd never had children she'd never be faced with the dilemma of loving someone more than she loves herself and it's breaking her.
Curiosity peaked, her daughter squirms in her mother's embrace and turns to regard the creature within the bassinet. Upon closer inspection, she seems to accept his presence and begins giggling and cooing at the puff of blue fur that is her baby brother; taking delight in his pointy ears and tail. He's brand new, not even a day old, and by the time her excited, albeit ill-informed husband returns from his business trip to reunite with his family and welcome his son: Raven and the baby will be gone and Rogue will be motherless.
"Mah-mah." Her baby states, slapping her chubby digits against her mother's cheek. Not even her daughter has ever seen her true form. She shows it to her now.
And of all the pain that she's gone through and all the horrors she's witnessed, it's the complete love and acceptance in her daughter's smile upon witnessing Raven's true form that finally breaks her. Her fearless little Rogue.
Raven sobs for the first time since childhood when she learned tears accomplished nothing. During her sobbing her daughter regards her with true concern and she tugs at a lock of her hair. "Mah-mah nah-nah."
"Enough of your jibberish!" She plants her firmly down in the playpen where she'd previously set up a circle of stuffed animals and toys meant to provide her daughter company until the man returns home.
"Noe!" Her daughter shouts, obviously not appreciating the dismissal and sensing something is amiss in only a way that the very young can do.
"I will not be weak, do you hear me?" She's hysterical, she knows this, what clear-minded individual yells at their baby? "You'll grow up and be a normal, little brat and your shit father will find someone else and you'll think she's your fucking 'mah-mah'—understand?"
The tears are streaming down at this point and she gathers the satchel she's packed for herself and the baby and makes to leave because if she hears her baby cry—
"Noe!"
Raven makes the mistake of turning around right before she crosses the threshold of the doorframe. Her daughter is standing in the playpen: her chubby cheeks extra pronounced from anger and her emerald eyes are full of unshed moisture.
"I don't want to," she weeps. "Baby, please, please always remember that I love you and I'm doing this for you!"
"Mah-mah!" Her daughter is frantic now.
Raven steels her heart and biting down on her lip to keep the wails at bay, she readjusts her son and leaves her dream home. There is a car waiting for them in the driveway. Everything has been arranged: doctors have been entranced to remember her dying during the childbirth and the boy following soon after. She'll disappear like she's done so many times in the past.
"You promise me she'll be looked after?" She buckles little Kurt into the car seat. She imagines her daughter inside: alone and distraught. Do eleven month olds possess object permanence yet? Or will her mother's departure fade into subconscious whisps by the time her father reaches the house from the airport?
"I give you my word, "Irene lies smoothly, knowing that the pain the child will endure will all be worth it someday.
"Very well." She faces the floor. Because if she looks back right now she'll jump out of this car and run up that staircase and grab up her screaming daughter and ruin everything.
Present Day.
He returns to the astral plane mentally-speaking, physically his aura never left.
"Raven, I don't know what to say. Quite frankly, I'm shocked. Does Rogue—"
"No. I didn't feel that I had the right. Irene lied to me, Charles. About everything. She claimed she didn't know about the abuse until she took Rogue away from that…from that…"She composes herself. "And the vision she told me did not result in my daughter's death. If I had known…if I had had any inkling…"
"Of course," he soothes. "Raven, in a way, you've always been there—"
"—I do not need pity nor comfort from the likes of you, Charles Xavier. I assume you X-Fools have some sort of half-baked plan in place?"
He sighs. "We're no match for her. Not even all at once. Our only hope—and I do mean only hope—is that we reach Rogue in there long enough to weaken Phoenix and…it's so difficult to—"
"And kill my daughter." She finishes. "I know how this ends, don't patronize me."
...
Gritting her teeth, she brings down one arm, and a wing made entirely of fire knocks Magneto out of the sky.
"I tire of playing games." She lowers herself to the fallen master of magnetism, and lifts him by the neck. "You will pay dearly for what you have done, mortal." And with a face of stone, Phoenix proceeds to choke the life out of Magneto.
"Rogue!" She hears the Professor's voice, and then feels the cooling, gentle presence that is his mind. Rogue. I can still sense you in here. Help me gain access in her mind, help us, Rogue!
She does not let go of Magneto's neck, and her mental shields remain air tight. She chuckles, the dark sound fills the prairie. "Exhaust yourself all you want to, Charles Xavier. You know as well as I do that your puny mind is no match against the likes of Phoenix."
The words barely leave her mouth before another probe attempts to break into her mind, and she grabs her head with both hands, dropping Magneto carelessly on the ground.
She spins around, prepared to kill the Professor and Jean Grey, but she stops cold, because there, in front of them, smiling at her like he used to…
"No, no you're dead…They told me ya died, they said…Trickery! Foul trickery!" She zooms towards the man at full speed, but he only smiles and opens his arms.
"Marie, my beautiful Marie, such a good girl."
A third, white beam projects itself at the belle's head, Emma Frost has arrived.
Phoenix falls to her knees as they invade her mind. She screams, and the light and fire around her fades away as quickly as it had come about. Her tear filled eyes open and they're emerald, gorgeous emerald.
"This isn't real, Ah won't believe it!" She wraps her arms around herself as the man saunters closer. Brown hair, cruel eyes. An average build, but those hands, those hands had always been so big…
No one ever discerns if it's shock or the telepathic attacks, but the belle seems to completely accept the upcoming events with little doubt. Her father disappears and is replaced with round curves and red hair and familiar porcelain skin. She goes from cowering from the man's image to regarding the woman with awe. Because she knows this woman and in a life full of doubt, in this moment there is nothing more than assurance.
"Mama?"
Phoenix screams from somewhere but she can't break through because this woman—this apparition…it's the woman in the picture.
Her mother gives her a watery smile, thinking how cruel fate is and that though everything has changed—so much has stayed the same. "Hi, baby. I'm sorry I've been away for so long."
All defenses are eradicated. The entity within her screams a warning with all her might but for Rogue: the world has stopped. There is no battle, the shrieks and crashes and the general orchestra of the damage caused on this night fades away. The boiling ground beneath her isn't burning her flesh and she seems to have a sudden immunity to the thick, rolling smoke polluting the air all around them.
Her vision tunnels and all she sees is the woman who gave birth to her. Questions and accusations flood her thoughts but ultimately the most potent sensation is the unbearable longing to be held and comforted by her mother.
The presence of yet another intrusion fills her head, Lilandra and Psylocke come to the aid of the other telepaths and deliver the final blow. Her shields shatter; everything speeds up and the numbing moment when time stopped comes to a screeching halt and she's all too aware of the goings on around her. They penetrate her psyche further-she screams at the pain of it, the ripping and tearing of her mindscape.
Tears drip from the woman's face and it's just like that day some twenty-two years ago, and Mystique returns to her natural form. "I'm so sorry, my daughter." She concedes to the impending death of her daughter in the same way she had her birth. There's no ending the inevitable. It would be all too easy to fantasize about 'what if's' and the other paths she could have went down but that's more painful than the reality that she brought Rogue into this world and now has a direct impact in her leaving it.
"Stop it!" Remy breaks from Logan's hold and makes his way to the writhing woman. "You're killin' her!"
But it goes on. Gambit screams, he even tries carrying her body further away, but their mental barrage doesn't stop. Don't they hear him screaming? Don't they hear her sobbing?
Eventually, Rogue stops moving, and her head falls to Remy's shoulder. He falls to the ground, clutching her prone form to his chest, and coughs as the brimstone and smoke fills his lungs. The fires have spread and grown so much at this point that it's hard to see anything surrounding them, save for a few inches in front of his face. Gambit looks around them desperately. The flames are inching closer and licking the lapels of his trench coat. They're so high at this point that it's as if they're in a house with fire for walls. How is he going to get them out of this one?
"Rogue? Answer Remy, chère." He shakes her softly, but there is no response.
Minutes later: Xavier, Jean, Emma, and Betsy nearly collapse from exhaustion. The Professor uses his last bit of energy to contact Lilandra in the skies above to relay the success of their combined telepathic raid, and then he slumps in his hover chair.
Remy hears the massive ship before he sees it, and when it finally appears out of the clouds, his heart drops and he lifts Rogue, and he runs. Tears stream down his face and he ignores the cries and shouts of his teammates. They promised…they promised to try and help Rogue! But they'd only wanted to weaken her, so that Lilandra and the Shi'ar can finish her off. He isn't selfless or noble like Scott, he can't let the woman he loves die for the greater good.
He kisses her forehead. "I won' let dem get y', chère. I'll never lose y'."
She groans, and her green eyes open to look up at him. He can't breathe, can't speak…he bows his head over her, his tears mingle with her tears.
"I knew y' were strong enough! I knew it didn't have to end like dat!"
She doesn't answer him, but simply lets her eyes wander over every shadow and angle on his face, as if memorizing every detail.
"Kiss me," she murmurs.
And with a watery smile, he complies with her wish, and kisses her with every ounce of love and passion he possess. As far as he can tell they're both about to be burned alive in this river of flame that was once a calm meadow. For some reason this does not frighten him. Hell isn't so terrifying with Rogue by his side.
"All Ah ever wanted," she breathes against his lips some minutes later, "is love. To love, and to be loved. To know what it was like, to be happy." She smiles, and cups his face in her hands. "Ya gave me that, Remy. And for that, Ah can never thank ya enough."
The thrum of the Shi'ar vessel drones overhead. The only visible thing through the fire and smoke.
The smile falls from his lips and he holds her tighter. "It almost…sounds like y' sayin' goodbye," he whispers.
She answers him with a final, soul searing kiss, and something dark and painful begins blooming in his stomach.
Sure enough, he peers into the night above and the Shi'ar aircraft appears above them.
He looks down at her, hurt and betrayal apparent in his glowing eyes. "Chère, don' do dis. We can help y', if we can do it dis time-"
"Ah'm holdin' her back with every bit of strength Ah've ever had. If it wasn't for the Professor and the others, Ah wouldn't have even been able to break free of the spell she put over me." Her lip trembles, and she buries her face in his sweaty neck. She breathes in his scent, one last time, one last time…
"Remy Ah don't wanna live like this forever! Ah don't wanna exhaust myself tryin' to keep her at bay. Ah don't wanna have to worry about wakin' up in space, surrounded by broken pieces of Earth…" She clutches the lapel of his coat, going pale. "Ah can't fight her anymore. Help me!"
Her watery, pain-filled eyes look up into his, and his heart breaks a million times. "Ah know it's cowardly…but the blast…Ah don't wanna go like that, Remy."
Right before his eyes, her irises begin filling with gold. He can physically see the strain in which she attempts to stay herself. And if he doesn't end this now she'll be blown into a thousand places and he'll truly be the most selfish, heartless individual known to man.
She screams her last wish.
"Remy, kill me!"
For a moment he can hear everything, see everything, feel everything in detail. The wind blowing harshly around them, the cries of the X-men, Lilandra's ship looming closer above them. He can see the blue shield that appears around him. He wonders distantly who put it there. Jean? Rogue?
He's shy suddenly, and uncharacteristically quiet. True, their lovemaking sessions are notoriously vigorous and physically trying, but her ragin' Cajun is an unending ball of energy and his sudden ceasing of afterglow conversation surprises her.
Rogue lifts her head from his chest and regards her lover with amusement. "Now don't tell me Ah wore ya out already, shuga. Ah was hopin' for another go-'round here soon." Her smile is not at all sheepish. "We'v got a lot of makin' up to do, ya know."
Remy hasn't taken his gaze from her, and he sees her grow concerned with is lack of response or reaction. He wants to put her fears to rest and explain to her that he's just so overwhelmed with the perfection of it all. He wants to ask forgiveness for not being eloquent enough to poetize their romance and the tightening of his chest.
"When dis is all over…when we get dis all figured out: M' gonna marry you. Shoulda done it de first time I saw y'—but we both know your man ain't de brightest." There is no uncertainty or hesitation or doubt in his statement and his composure is such that there is no denying he means what he says in complete absolution.
He can feel the softness of her skin, the bounce of her curls as they rest against his face. He feels his lips come down to mingle with hers. All his love and devotion, all his need and passion, all the hurt he's ever caused her, it all builds and forms into one last testament. It flows from his heart and leaves from his lips. It enters her, flows down her throat, and stops, caressing her lungs. She begins squirming, she cries into his mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut and keeps his hold on her, and, soon, the charge he formed implodes, destroying her lungs in the process. She's never…never asked for more than what he gave. Even though she deserved better, even though there are hundreds of men out there who wanted to love her and worship her like the Queen she is, she stayed with him. She loved him when no one else would, when he'd gone so long in the dark he'd convinced himself he couldn't love anyone, couldn't be loved by anyone.
And now, even though his heart shudders in pain and his head screams for him to stop, he'll do something selfless, he'll end her pain. Even if he destroys his sanity in the process.
"Y' gonna have m' babies. An' clean m' house and cook m' food. An' we'll have a little house somewhere down south where no one knows us. An' you'll nag me for leavin' m' laundry around de house and never cleanin' up after m'self, an' I'll get mad at y' for messin' wit m' tools in de garage." His hold around her tightens and he smiles down with bright assurance. "But we'll get us and de kids ice cream an' walk along de banks of de Mississippi and wit every step our anger will fade. I'll never let y' go to sleep angry wit me, even when we're old an' grey: sittin' on our porch watchin' our grandbabies tear up de lawn and screamin' like hooligans."
Rogue presses her face into the crook of his neck, and simply breaths him in. Words will not come just now. And that's ok—Remy doesn't need a response yet.
Her chest jerks once, twice, then goes still. Blood rushes up to fill her mouth and spill from her lips, but he pays no mind and keeps his mouth attached to hers.
When he ends the kiss, her green eyes are clear and open, watching him intently. He wipes the blood from her chin, screams and sobs grow rampant within him.
Something like peace envelopes the belle, he thinks she smiles at him. Thank you, he hears softly in his mind. And then her eyelids flutter closed, like the wings of a butterfly. And as the brilliant light of day explodes in the sky, the light of his life fades away quickly and quietly.
"When dis is all over—"
He looks to the sky, and finally, the Shi'ar beam of pure, white energy pierces them from the sky. He wills away the shield around him, he aches to die with her, he knows he can't make it in this life…but his wish is ignored, and the body of his beloved is incinerated in his arms.
When it's over, all that remains in his grasp is dust. And eventually, the wind blows that away, too.
He's alone.
The extinction, the plague, is humanity. Another raid, again the Earth trembles, the reign of fire has no end. Finding shelter beneath this crust of decay, forsaken by all hope. Infesting swarm of frail human beings, alternated by their grief. Where is your God now, as the sky, bleeds... Reign of fire...The Earth black. ~Scorched- In-Quest