Remy

Dawn in Cairo, the sun barely kissing the horizon. Remy had taken a few more lumps thanks to Essex's dynamic duo, and stumbled down the aircraft's stairs. How the hell had he let this happen? He should have never come after Essex. His only consolation was that Rogue, safe and sound in Antarctica, should stay hidden from the long reach of the King, at least as long as Remy could hold out.

Havok shoved him from behind and Remy shuffled forward. The fabled palace of the Shadow King took shape in the grainy desert light. Too many guards to track or count moved around, even at the early hour. There were aircraft and other vehicles if he could get free and get his hands on them, but Havok had a glowing hot grip on the back of Remy's neck. He'd have to be patient, but Remy was panicking. If what Essex had said was true, he was running out of time.

It couldn't be possible, could it? His brain wouldn't let himself believe it. A host. How could someone take over another person's body? How did that even work? They lived in a crazy fucking world, no doubt about it, but what the hell? Would it hurt, Remy wondered? Would he know it had happened, would he be alive somewhere deep inside, or would his mind be erased, rewritten like an old VCR tape? He couldn't let it happen. Saving the world seemed like too much for the thief in him to fathom, but the thought of saving Rogue gave him strength. If Farouk took over his body and mind, it'd be possible that the King would know everything Remy knew, and he couldn't let that happen. There was too much at stake.

The power dampening collar still chafed his neck. If he couldn't get it off, he would have to fight his way out without his mutant abilities, or get them to kill him before the King got ahold of him. Suicide by cop, that was what the old timers had called it, only in this case the cops were evil monsters bent on destroying the world. His heart was hammering so loud he assumed everyone else could hear it. Remy LeBeau wasn't a praying man anymore, but he was game to take Essex's advice and give it a try.

There were mutants everywhere, more clustered together and rushing through the airy, tiled halls than Remy had seen for years. Sweat ran down his back though the chill of the desert night had yet to warm. Even if he could fight his way free, there was no escaping Farouk's stronghold. It felt like the rug had gotten yanked out from under his feet, and he stumbled again, but the boys each grabbed an arm and kept him upright.

Through a great gold archway they went, and into the belly of the beast. A crowd of at least a hundred mutants was gathered in the throne room, and oozed across a sofa on a platform lay the Shadow King, eating his breakfast. Remy had never see him in person, only old stock photographs and video footage. Essex hadn't been kidding when he said the King wouldn't be long for this world, but it looked like the son of a bitch was enjoying every god damned minute before he croaked.

Remy had never been so afraid in his life, the anticipation ringing through his ears, his vision tunneling down to a pinpoint, the rest of the room blurring in a black fog. It seemed he could only focus on Farouk, plopped on the embroidered couch that looked barely big enough to hold him, and the man's mutant entourage. Storm stood behind the King, next to two women who glared their direction when Essex strode forward. His personal escorts pushed Remy to his knees.

"Nathaniel!" Farouk's voice was the crawl of maggots on rotting flesh. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Your grace, the pleasure is mine." Remy heard Essex scrape a bow. "I bring…unfortunate news, my liege. There has been a minor…setback…in our endeavor."

The crowd collectively hissed. Remy lifted his chin. He couldn't bring himself to look directly at the King, but started in shock when he spotted another familiar face. Chained at Farouk's feet were two beauties – one, a girl his own age he didn't recognize with auburn curls and kind eyes, but the other was Alison Blaire, the Dazzler. At least Remy knew now what had happened to the mutants of Madripoor, and it was a fate he had merely delayed it seemed.

"Now, now," Farouk called out. "Let us hear what Dr. Essex has to say for himself. He has come so very far, after all, and he has brought a gift."

Cyclops wrenched Remy to his feet and forced his head up.

"Who do we have here, Nathaniel?" A smile pinched the dough of Farouk's cheeks and chins.

That nauseated wave crested in Remy's stomach again, and he struggled against the brothers.

"My lord," Storm leaned forward to speak. "He is one of the survivors of the New Orleans' Thieves' Guild. His name is Remy LeBeau."

"Or," with a flourish, Essex stood between Remy and the King. "As I prefer to call him – Plan B."

The women at Storm's side came out from behind Farouk's couch and glided down the steps – an icy blonde and a woman with purple hair – their eyes staring straight through Remy. He felt the twitches of telepathic fingers in his brain picking at the edges like a scab.

"Nathaniel, Nathaniel," Farouk's voice was muffled to Remy, far away, like hearing him underwater. "This 'setback' as you call it, vexes me greatly. You know I do not tolerate…" Farouk stopped midsentence and closed his eyes, concentrating. "Nathaniel," he breathed, his eyes opening and landing on Remy. "Wherever have you been hiding this one?"

The clawing, grabby fingers were joined by one solid telepathic thrust to the center of Remy's brain, a rock smashing against a plate glass window. Unable to hold back the screams inside or out, Remy fell to the floor, fighting desperately to hold the intruders at bay, but a crack had formed in his defenses. Three against one. Remy gnashed his teeth and held on, but they were suddenly everywhere, in his thoughts, rifling through his dreams, crawling up the back of his spine like a swarm of spiders. Pain shot through his eyeballs, through his fingertips, his limbs jerking uncontrollably. Darkness poured into him like black ink into water. The throne room disappeared, replaced in his mind's eye by an endless starry sky.

Remy rolled onto his stomach, and the unexpected scrape of rock ground against his face. Impossible as it seemed, he was floating on an asteroid in the middle of a psychedelic nightmare. Laughter echoed off of everything and nothing. Movement brought the ripple of rainbows and the sick drop in his stomach of zero g. He curled into the fetal position and dug the heel of his palms against his ears. What was happening? Was he dead? But, he had a sneaking suspicion where he was – the astral plane.

The rock beneath his head was replaced by the warmth of flesh and silk, and a hand caressed his forehead, a curtain of perfumed hair tickling his cheek.

'There, there,' a woman's voice crooned. 'It will all be over soon.'

Remy jumped back and scooted away from the woman on his behind. It was the blonde from the throne room, and her eyes cut him to ribbons, her icy voice ringing deep inside his brain instead of through his ears. He didn't get far, crashing backwards into the purple haired beauty who snaked her arms around him from behind.

'But, not too soon.' The woman nipped his earlobe.

Remy flinched away, but the blonde pressed against him, making him the meat of a telepathic sandwich. Hands, lips, breasts rubbed and teased while he struggled. Their laughter rebounded across the unending sky, the touch of their minds digging deeper, memories and emotions long buried churning to the surface. Belladonna, Jean-Luc, Tante Mattie, Henri… the women shuffled through his thoughts, desires, and dreams like a deck of cards.

It was all in his mind, Remy tried to tell himself. Somewhere, outside all this, his body was still his own.

'Is it?' The blonde bit his bottom lip. 'Or is it ours?' Her hand made its way to the front of his pants, but her touch turned his stomach. Never in his wildest dreams would Remy have thought having two women touching him at the same time would be so repellant. He worked to ignore them and free himself, but his strength seemed to have left him. Icy blue eyes snapped open and burned cold into his, dredging up a stew of anger, remorse, sadness, guilt, lust, betrayal, every horrible, nasty thought and deed he had ever had or done swirled through his head like a pot full of gumbo, drowning him in a swamp of his own making.

With a roar, he freed an arm and shoved the blonde away, kicking back at the purple haired woman. On his knees, he squeezed his eyes shut and dug his fingers into his hair.

'Get out!' He screamed, but his guts kept churning, the emotions swirling faster, the stars twirling in tornado circles.

'But, why?' The blonde giggled and rolled onto her side. 'We have seen the heart of you!' She crawled towards him, the nipples of her overly perfect breasts winking at Remy from the top of her silk dress. 'You will be perfect. A king among men!'

Around them the landscape changed, the circles slowing to a lazy stop. The infinite galaxy remained, but an image of the throne room appeared, though not quite as they had left it. Instead of Farouk the slug, it was Remy dressed in silk and draped across the King's couch. Behind him stood Storm and the telepaths, and chained at his side were Jean and Rogue, the latter offering him a goblet of wine.

Anna. At the sight of her, Remy's heart lurched into his throat.

'It will all be yours,' the purple haired woman whispered beside him. 'Wealth, women…power…more than any thief has ever dreamed of.'

Money. Fame. Top of the heap, King of Thieves – this had been his dream for as long as he could remember, the orphan finding acceptance and adulation at last. But, they were old dreams, made obsolete the day gloved hands had mopped spilled whiskey from his shirt. Rogue. She was his new dream, and the love he felt for her, uncertain but strong, gave him renewed strength.

'You can keep it,' Remy spat and stood on shaking legs, backing away from the tainted beauties whose expressions twisted the pretty right out of them.

'How quaint.'

A booming voice pushed down on him from on high. Remy staggered but kept his footing as the world twisted itself inside out around him again. The image of Remy the King disappeared, replaced with a figure in shining black armor - Amahl Farouk, lean and mean and youthful.

'Love conquers all?' Standing twice as tall as Remy, Farouk raised a hand. White hot current punched a shot straight through Remy's chest. He screamed and pitched onto his back, spots of red blooming across his vision while he fought to stay conscious. Farouk's shadow fell across him.

'Flesh is fleeting,' the King thundered. 'The excitement of carnal pleasure will grow old, as will she. The lust for power is eternal!'

Farouk raised his hand to strike again, but over his shoulder a sudden explosion of white light. A wave of energy barreled over them all, knocking Farouk and his pets to the ground. The women screeched and Remy gnashed his teeth against the flash fried pain. Every nerve, inside and out, screamed. The explosion left behind a rip in the silky fabric of the astral plane, a bright contrast against the dark. There was a soothing energy that poured through the hole alongside the brilliant light.

'Remy!'

It was Rogue's voice, panicked but clear as day. Through the gash, Remy could see her face, and her hand reached for him. Behind her stood a young man with no hair and kind blue eyes.

'YOU!?'

Farouk's stunned howl was the last thing Remy heard before the astral plane disappeared.

Magnus

"What have ye done!?"

The roaring face of Sean Cassidy shook Magnus back to consciousness, the Banshee's voice barely dampened by the wail that was Charles Xavier flatlining.

"I did what was…necessary." Magnus pushed all the force he could into his own voice, but he dropped back to his knees when Sean let go of him in disgust.

"Saints preserve us," Sean muttered and stepped to the hospital bed. Rogue's body was still lashed over top Xavier's. Banshee angrily flicked off the machines monitoring the man's non-existent vital signs. "Was it necessary to burn out the girl's mind? To sacrifice Charles and almost the whole lot of us as well?"

There was a trickle of blood running from Sean's ears and nose, despite the telepathic dampener he and all the X-Men habitually wore. Magnus licked his lips and tasted the salty heat trailing from his own nostril. The girl had absorbed Xavier's telepathic powers and the resulting release of psychic energy must have overwhelmed them all. How far had that energy travelled?

Muscles straining, Sean grunted and wrenched apart the bed rails with his bare hands. Once she was free, he cradled the girl in his arms, feeling along her covered neck for a pulse.

"Is she…?"

If looks could kill, Magnus would have been dead on the floor.

"Alive? Aye, no thanks t'ye." Sean hoisted Rogue into his arms like a blushing bride and stepped around Magnus. "Same can't be said for Xavier, but ye figured that, didn't ye?"

Magnus forced himself to stand and wedged himself between Sean and the door. "Where are you taking her?" he demanded. If the process had worked, if she had truly absorbed Xavier's powers on a more permanent basis, she was their last hope for defeating the Shadow King.

Sean's face reddened to match the blood spilling from his ears. "Down t'the White Room. Should give the lass a bit o' peace and quiet, a chance t'get her head together while I check her over."

Nodding, Magnus stepped aside and followed, Sean shooting daggers over his shoulder every few meters. A still woozy Magnus entered the code into the room's keypad, but when the white door swished open, the room wasn't empty. Curled into a scarlet headed ball in the middle of the carpet was Jean Grey. She lifted head when they entered.

"Oh!" Jean scrambled to her feet, her green eyes red-rimmed. "Sir, it's Charles…he's…"

Sean laid Rogue gingerly on the couch. "Aye, lass. We know. He's gone."

Magnus closed the door and slumped back against it, his stomach churning. Dead. After all of these years, Charles Xavier was finally dead, but why did it only feel like Magnus had failed Moira one final time? He had wagered the risk of Rogue absorbing Charles Xavier's telepathic power would be high. It was a dangerous thing for the girl to suddenly become a mind reader, for her and for those around her. Ideally, it would have been something they had prepared her for. If he had more time, Magnus would have explained to her how her powers could save the world and defeat a tyrant, and convinced her that the right decision was using her gifts to claim Xavier's. Unfortunately, time was something they had run out of.

Charles Xavier would never wake, Magnus had known that for years, but the power that resided in the man's DNA could give them the edge they needed against Amahl Farouk. The girl had given Magnus a chance to salvage that power, but it appeared to have all been for nothing, Rogue one more unnecessary sacrifice, along with Lorna and Pietro.

"No, Sean," Jean knelt next to Rogue. "You don't know. Charles isn't gone…he's here." She reached out and tugged a tangle of white curls free from Rogue's forehead. The girl stirred at the touch. Magnus stood over Sean's shoulder when Rogue's eyes fluttered open, a startling blue instead of their usual emerald.

Sean inhaled sharply. "Rogue? Are ye all right, lass?"

Rogue pushed herself into a sitting position. "Yes. She's…I'm fine." The voice was hers, but the charming accent had all but diminished.

Jean gripped her hand. "Charles?" she implored, and Rogue smiled weakly.

"Yes. I'm…he's fine."

Sean turned and shoved Magnus back with a strong palm against his chest. "You 'n me? We're gonna have words about this, but now is not the time. I'm needin' t'check the other students, and then we'll deal with…whatever this is. I trust ye can't do any more damage before I get back?"

Magnus straightened his spine and met Sean's ferocious glare. "Remember your place, Banshee. I will continue to do whatever is necessary to end the reign of the tyrant Farouk. If my actions today have bolstered our strength…"

"Don't," Sean growled. "Just…don't. One more word from ye, and I won't be responsible." He shoved past Magnus, but called back to them. "Keep an eye on him, Jean. I'll come back as quick as I can with a med-scanner."

With his exit, silence fell over the White Room. Rogue had made space for Jean on the sofa, and the girls were holding hands. Those haunting eyes, now more teal than blue, followed Magnus across the room when he took a seat in the armchair across from them.

"Would I be addressing Charles Xavier?" he asked.

There was still so much he didn't understand about Rogue's power. Though he would never admit it to Sean, Magnus was afraid it may have been a reckless mistake to transfer Xavier's power to her, at least without further study of her gift. His actions had placed them all in considerable danger. But Farouk was vulnerable, old and physically weakened. If Essex's clones came to fruition, they may never have another chance. Now was their time to strike, and Magnus had seized the opportunity.

Rogue let go of Jean's hand to straighten the sling around her other arm, yet another reminder of the abuse Magnus had inflicted on this girl in pursuit of victory. How many innocents would he sacrifice? Guilt shot through his heart, but he closed a fist of ice around it. The needs of the many would always outweigh the needs of the few, he had learned that several lifetimes ago.

"No," Rogue chewed around her answer. "But…Charles is here. More than anybody else's ever been." She closed her out of place eyes and breathed out through her nose.

"Charles is helping you, isn't he?" Jean asked and grasped for Rogue's hand again. "Like he helped me?"

Magnus started. "I beg your pardon?"

Jean ignored his question. "He'll help, if you let him," she said quietly, "he can show you how to build the walls, and close all the doors…"

Leaning forward, Magnus rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands in front of him. "Jean," he snapped, and the tone of his voice finally got her attention.

"Yes, sir?"

He squeezed his hands together to keep from screaming. "Am I to understand that Charles Xavier aided you in learning to control your own powers?"

The girl nodded, and Magnus covered his mouth with a weary hand, the crust of dried blood at his nose a scrape across his finger.

Jean Grey had spent so many years locked within the cage of her own mind, Magnus and Moira standing by helplessly when she first came into their care, unable to reach her. It was so long ago now, but the memories rushed over him of another time, another place. Their new family, its bonds shaken by the appearance of the fragile red-headed girl and her unpredictable behavior. One moment the girl appeared normal, a delightful child, the next screaming, crying, lashing out with her psionic abilities to hurt those around her. Nothing he and Moira had done for her seemed to work, but over time, the episodes had diminished, and Jean Grey emerged from her shell, damaged but not broken.

"Child," Magnus whispered, "why didn't you tell me?"

"I did tell you," Jean insisted. "You just didn't listen."

The anger inside his heart drained. Jean was his oldest student, and despite her seeming brittle state, she knew him better than anyone. All of the sophisticated medical devices at their disposal had been wrong. More than Charles Xavier's body had survived the years, and somewhere, Magnus was sure, his beloved Moira was grinning with satisfaction.

He turned his attention from Jean. Rogue appeared to be in some sort of trance. "Rogue, are you…"

It was Jean this time who raised her hand to quiet Magnus. "Hush," she whispered.

For the first time since entering the White Room, Magnus took a long look at Jean. Staining her cheeks were the slowly fading trails of tears, and the faint smear of red below her nose. She had been affected by Rogue's absorption of Xavier's telepathic powers, the same as the rest of them.

"Are you hurt, child?" he asked Jean.

She frowned as if the question of her own well-being hadn't yet occurred to her.

"No, I don't think so." She closed her eyes and ran a pale hand across her forehead. "It was just so much to handle. I couldn't think straight, but I made it in here." She hugged herself, her eyes opening and darting around the room, and Magnus recognized her struggling to put the pieces together. "All that energy, all that power," she continued "it's been trapped inside Charles with nowhere to go. Rogue absorbing him was like pulling the pin on a psychic grenade. No…" she shook her head, tendrils of red hair falling and obscuring her face. "More like a nuclear bomb, detonated right over our heads! I saw him…" she muttered. "I saw him, and I'm pretty sure he saw us!"

"You saw whom?" Magnus asked. "Charles?"

Jean shook her head and dug her fingers into her scalp. "NO. Him. Releasing Charles sent up a flare…tore open a hole on the astral plane…"

The skin on his arms crawled. Farouk. Of course, who else could she be talking about? Magnus had assumed their protections would shield them, but could he have been so wrong? Sean was right, they must act at once to protect the students.

Jean was shaking. "The Shadow King knows where we are…I saw him…" she cried, "and I saw…I saw…"

Rogue's eyes snapped open. "Remy."

His heart skipped too many beats, and when Magnus tried to speak, his tongue was sandpaper in his mouth.

Jean raised her head, but her eyes were distant, unfocused.

"Oh, God," she whispered, "You're right." The green eyes snapped into focus. "There were so many people, but he was there. Remy's with the Shadow King, in Cairo! How is that possible? I thought he went with the team to Nebraska? Did they…"

No more questions, no more conscious thought. Through a haze of red rage, Magnus sprang from the chair, knocking it down behind him, and stumbled from the White Room, ignoring Jean's questions and pleas that followed him into the hall.

Free of the room's restrictions, Magnus felt the rush of his powers flow over him, giving him strength. If the monster Farouk had Gambit, the rest of the X-Men may yet have survived! His daughter, his son...! Magnus didn't want to believe it, but could it be true? Could his children still be alive? The secret hope he had been holding deep down inside flared too impossibly bright to ignore.

If they were alive, they would not remain so for long, not if they were in Farouk's clutches. If they were to be saved, he was the only one on Earth who could rescue them. He would not fail his family again.

With a burst of magnetic energy, Magnus exploded through the outer walls of the building and into the sky above.