Wolverine ran down the stairs, desperate to stop whatever was supposed to happen. Mesmero had been defeated and he laid unconscious upstairs. He knew Sabertooth would shred him apart, and destroy any chance they had to learn more about Apocalypse. At the moment, however, stopping the brute wasn't a priority.
Rogue was to unlock the final key to release Apocalypse. Mesmero's defeat should have freed her from his control by now. That could be great, or terrible news. There was no telling what was down there with her. Mystique, her foster mother and an ally to Mesmero, was no more. Logan had found her frozen in stone, her hand stuck in a pillar, her face a twisted mask of silenced terror.
The smell of decay poisoned the freezing air. Every instinct of survival was raging, prompting him to turn around and flee. The sense of dread was powerful enough to make him sweat, to turn his muscles into soft unresponsive masses. Only loyalty forced him forward; there was one of his own down there. He was gonna drag her out with him, or die at her side…
Finally, the stairs lead him to a room. Whatever had been built there laid in ruins. A narrow corridor, barely illuminated by faint fingers of light, cut the room in half. At its end stood Rogue.
Logan leaped the last few steps. The noise of his boots slamming against the stone floor echoed in the concave walls. He ran clumsily, heart hammering, his lungs struggling to get air. A faint but very insistent thought: don't you pee your pants. Why was he so scared? What was that horrible feeling tightening the pit of his stomach like a vice. Was the kid dead…?! Was this Apocalypse breathing down their necks...?
"Rogue?!"
Logan felt immense relief when she blinked. She was also breathing, strong steady gasps. Tears were rolling down her pale cheeks.
With his primary concern taken care of, Logan's mind finally assessed the rest of the information. They were not alone. There was a man laying next to them, resting on some sort of fancy casket. He was barely more than a corpse. His eyes were bleared by death. Logan could hear his heart, weak, irregular beats. One...two...three….
A smile. Barely there, but dripping with malise...Dead eyes flashed with inhuman hatred. And then nothing. No whistling breath, no agonic heart-beats. Whoever that was, seemed the Reaper had come for him. And Logan was sure the asshole would rot in hell. If such a thing existed at all.
"Rogue…?"
The girl was panting, staring at the dead man's face as if he had been the most important person in her life. A child facing a mauled parent….
"Rogue...What's the matter? What did he do…?"
As he pushed her back by the shoulders, shaking her gently in an attempt to snap her out of her trance, Logan noticed that she was holding onto the casket. No. The dead man's hand was latched onto hers, slim bony fingers closed around pale living flesh. A hideous spider attempting to choke the life out of its prey. In an impulse, Logan unsheathed his claws and cut Rogue loose.
"Come on...let's get outta here…" He coaxed, gently leading the girl to the stairs.
"Ah...Ah've seen….Logan….Ah've seen war….Every war...Every dying…"
Logan said nothing, hugging her close to him as he rushed them forward. He wasn't good with this sort of thing. If that old shit had messed with the kid's head, only Xavier could be of use right now. And if her soul was hurting, Ororo and Jean were best suited to apply "first aid care". For now, all he could do was get them out of there safely.
Rogue's legs gave out under her. Logan had sensed it happening. Without even stopping, he scooped her up in his arms and ran faster towards the stairs. There was no reason to fight his instincts anymore. All of him wanted nothing but to leave that horrid place behind and never think about it again. Rogue's heart-wrenching sobs spurred him on.