Chapter 13

Madelyne Pryor, known to both Rogue and Scott as simply Jean not that long ago, stood before them encased in a huge glass tube. Her beautiful long red hair floated in the green liquid that surrounded her framing her delicate face. Her eyes were wide open but one couldn't read them. The vision of her naked body awakened mixed feelings in Cyclops' heart and for that, he felt guilty, ashamed even. Jean, the woman he loved, was right there, just next to him, while the woman who had given birth to his only child maintained an unreadable stare. Without uttering another word, her eyes were fixed right into his. No glasses or visors could ever deter her, he felt as if she could see right through him and into his soul.

"So, what do we do now?" Scott asked Rogue, which was definitely an uncharacteristic move for him. He was usually the one telling others what to do, a natural leader. It was clear that the situation made him feel helpless and confused.

"Well, Remy… I mean, Death," she started, pausing for a heavy sigh. "He told me that if we were to break the glass and stop the transformation, that could mean the death of the creation," she stated as she remembered his words when she was preparing to try and break the glass to break Wolverine free.

"And do you trust his words? Do you trust him and what he has become?"

Now that was a good question, one she hadn't had the time to focus on yet. Death was not Remy; that much she knew. But still, deep inside, she hoped there was a little bit of the man she loved like crazy inside him. She closed her eyes for a moment, squeezing them shut, which led Jean and Scott to exchange worried looks.

Death was the one who had touched her skin. It was Remy's body, his fingertips, the little contours of his face, his lips, lips she longed to kiss again for so long. Instead of sharing loving kisses like the one they shared when they had been imprisoned and rendered powerless in the Savage land, those lips had kissed her body all over in a rough, crude manner. It was not Remy who sucked on her, who slammed himself hard into her with no hints of love, no signs of the adoration the real Remy felt for her. Even so, there were small moments when she was sure it was her Remy looking into her eyes, conveying his love and feelings for her. But for most of the time, it was just Death, that odious persona that emerged after Apocalypse changed him. That was all that was left, a cruel, seemingly emotionless essence that was commanding his body.

Did he lie to her? Would he even know how to lie to her? At the time, she felt he wouldn't. After all, it seemed to be his utmost pleasure to torture her with his unpleasant truths. But now, thinking about it, she couldn't be so sure.

"I don't know," she finally replied. "I felt that he wouldn't, he seems so distant, so… robotic, void of any emotion, so I assumed he was uncapable of lying. But with all that has happened to him, what do I know, sugar, really?"

Jean's jaw tightened as she listened to Scott and Rogue's debate, their hesitation gnawing at her patience. She had enough of that. With a sharp inhale, she stepped forward, her eyes glowing with renewed determination. She could feel Madelyne, all of her. Her feelings, her essence, they were connected. Not only genetically, but also by the force of the love they both felt for the same man. The copy of hers felt trapped, suspended in forced metamorphosis. Jean wouldn't allow it. If she ever wanted to hate her for unknowingly taking her place, her life, her man, she knew she couldn't really blame her for anything. Madelyne had been as much a victim as she was.

Raising a hand, she reached out with her telekinesis, her power wrapping around the thick glass with unrelenting force. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, the liquid inside trembling under the pressure. With a final push of her will, the containment shattered, sending shards cascading to the ground as the fluid gushed out. Rogue let out a shriek in surprise, while Scott let out a breath, one that he hadn't know he had been holding. Madelyne's limp form tumbled forward, and before she could collapse, Jean caught her with invisible hands, lowering her gently to the ground.

"No more," Jean murmured, kneeling beside her. Scott was quick to join her, wrapping Madelyne's form in his long, strong arms. "You won't have the same fate that Remy had. You've suffered enough. We both have. Now you're free," Jean completed.

Scott reached out for Jean with one hand, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. What could he do? The reality was that he loved both dearly. Certainly not in the same way, but they couldn't just pretend that everything that had happened between them was a mere twist of fate, or that it had meant nothing at all. For starters, their relationship produced a child, a man they all knew well. Something told him that Jean understood that, despite the fight they'd had on that fateful day when Rogue and Remy left for Genosha with Magneto.

Rogue watched the scene before her feeling like an intruder, and anxious to know if Maddie would be herself or not. Something told her that her true self was still in there, if all those visions she sent her mind was an indication of anything. Just then, Madelyne's eyes opened up and her body soared in the air, then along came the transformation. Her damp skin dried instantly, replaced by a glowing crimson hue that pulsed with raw power. Her body was spinning in the air, and it was magically wrapped in a black, jagged leather bodice that clung to her form like a second skin. Her thighs were wrapped in high-cut straps, leaving just enough bare to remind them all of the woman she once was, before she became something else entirely. A sweeping, tattered cape unfurled from her shoulders, fluttering as if alive.

Madelyne tilted her head back, letting out a sultry, satisfied sigh as the change completed. Her fiery red hair cascaded in wild waves down her back, framing her face. It held no longer that soft vulnerability, but a unique beauty that was spiced up with some sort of wicked delight in her smile.

Oh, yes! The Goblin Queen had risen again. It both thrilled and terrified Scott to see her like that again. She hovered above them, a smirk curling her lips as she stretched out her clawed fingers, relishing the dark power coursing through her veins.

"Now, Rogue," Madelyne purred, her voice layered with seductiveness and wit, "thank you for coming to the rescue, my darling. I know how you feel, I've shown it to you, right? You lost the love of your life, just like I did," she said, eyeing Scott out of the corner of her eyes. "It hurts like a bitch, doesn't it? Now, let's have some real fun and bring your man back, shall we?"

Rogue's lips stretched into a wide grin, but it wasn't just relief that filled her chest. It was something deeper, something close to exhilaration. The weight of uncertainty that had been suffocating her lifted, replaced by hope. She had seen Madelyne's power before, but never like this. So, this was the Goblin Queen everyone had been talking about that day. She didn't get to witness her beauty and power, but she decided it fit very well what Remy had described to her. The pranks she played in everyone's minds, yes, she could see that devilish one doing that. And for some unknown reason, she was digging it. Yes, if someone was about to help her, it would be her. This wasn't just some clone of Jean, this was something raw, untamed, and fearless. Just what she needed now.

Rogue's fingers twitched at her sides, she smiled despite herself and for the first time in a long while, she didn't feel powerless. "Well, sugar," she drawled, "reckon it's about time we raise some hell. And girl, you look hot enough to wake the dead."

The Goblin Queen smiled back at her and nodded. She liked that fiery one, liked her much better than Jean, that was for sure.

-o0o-o0o-o0o-

Not very far from Rogue and her newfound allies, Death stood over the smoldering remains of his past enemies, his crimson eyes glowing with eerie satisfaction. His white long hair covered almost all his face as he looked down at the corpses on the ground.

He had killed them with his new set of powers. Fate had its ironic ways. The girl his past self had loved was said to have poisonous skin, a touch that drained life, stole powers, and acquired her victim's memories. Now, interestingly enough, he wielded a poison of his own but his was somewhat worse, more sinister and less forgiving.

Death could taint the very air, turning it into a lethal gas, and that included the breath within his enemies' lungs. He let it happen slowly, let the poison settle inside them, corrupting them from within. He watched as they convulsed, choked, and finally fell, their last moments drawn out in agonizing futility.

It added a new depth to Death's being. It added a new layer on his persona, something darker, something final. Shadows coiled around his fingertips, writhing like living things, their whispers carried in the toxic smoke swirling from his hands. The gas seemed to dance in approval, curling in the air as the last traces of life faded from those who had dared to corrupt him, to take the lives of innocent ones, leaving him with dread and guilt that clung to him all those years.

A slow smirk played on his lips as he exhaled, relishing the weight of his actions, the certainty that there was no turning back. All that hesitation, the inner turmoil, the conflict that once gnawed at his soul, was gone. As it turned out, it had been fairly easy to shed the last layer of humanity within him, and it satisfied him immensely. Death does not second-guess. Death does not regret. Most importantly, Death definitely does not love. This brand-new Death would surely not think twice before offering the same fate the Marauders had just faced to Remy LeBeau's lover. He hated Rogue, he specifically hated how he made her feel. The need he felt for her body, the desire, that burning flame... it all had to go. Rogue had to die. That was his ultimate goal, and final proof that Remy LeBeau was no more.

From the edge of the room, Apocalypse watched, arms crossed, a satisfied gleam in his ancient gaze. His Horseman had finally accepted his purpose. The transformation was complete at last. Death was ready and whole. He was no longer a reluctant servant, but as an instrument of inevitable ruin.

"Come," he commanded, "Follow me. It's finally time for you to fulfil your destiny. This," he said, pointing at the bodies on the ground. "This was just a starter. The others have arrived, and you know just what needs to be done. Those flawed mutants who disgrace our kind have to be eliminated, don't you think?"

Death nodded in agreement. His red irises gleaming bright with anticipation.

"Look at all the mess they've made," he offered.

"Exactly. They don't know their place in the world, they are weak. And evolution doesn't forgive the weak," Apocalypse completed as he stepped away from the scene, Death followed him without hesitation. They would soon be in the presence of the newcomers, and it wasn't going to be pretty.

-o0o-o0o-o0o-

Rogue was adamant that she knew the way back to him, leading her companions through the ruins with steady determination. Jean and Scott followed closely, their eyes scanning the crumbling structure, taking in the remnants of what once stood in dark splendor. They had never seen the tower in its prime, but even now, they could see its decay and imagine all the chaos and horrors the mutants present on that fateful gala night in Genosha had experienced.

Jean shuddered as the echoes of past horrors filled her mind. Fear, death and suffering clung to the air like ghosts, whispering of the pain that had seeped into those walls. It sent a chill down her spine, but she pressed on. Ahead of them, Rogue moved with newly found confidence, her steps sure and unwavering. She wasn't just walking, she was reclaiming.

Madelyne Pryor took a step forward, her lips pressing into a thin line.

'So this is what I looked like?' she thought as she took in the scene before her. Tubes ran from Logan's arms and back, feeding into his system, mutating him. His signature adamantium claws were extended, but they looked somewhat different. Sharper! The raw rage on his face, barely concealed behind a breathing mask, and it told them time was running out.

"He ain't lookin too good," Rogue murmured, eyes darting toward Scott. "Definitely worse than when I last saw him, and it was mere hours ago. We got a plan here, or we are just winging it?"

Cyclops adjusted his visor, his jaw tightening.

"I think we don't have time for a plan. Jean? Any ideas? "

Jean Grey closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind. She knew that man better than most, had a special connection with him that she just couldn't explain. Scott most definitely didn't appreciate it most times, but at that moment, it could be the differential factor between losing him completely and pulling him out of that dreadful state, back into himself. Her expression twisted in pain, sweat forming at her temple.

"It's as if, he's almost gone," she said through clenched teeth. "They've been breaking him, twisting his mind. If we don't stop this now, we're losing Logan for good."

Rogue listened to Jean's words and hugged herself tight. Remy had been subjected to that too, and he went all the way into the other side. Had she also lost him for good this time?

Suddenly, Jean cried out loud as if in pain and the other three mutants exchanged worried glances. A low, distorted voice echoed in her mind.

"You're too late."

"Jean!" Scott called out, rushing to her side just as she began to collapse. He caught her in his arms, holding her close, his grip firm yet gentle.

Apocalypse's presence had invaded the telepath's mind.

"You seek to reclaim what is no longer yours. War has already begun to awaken," he announced.

"No!"

As if on command, the machinery hissed and the liquid inside the tube started draining. Logan's body convulsed, and his eyes snapped open, burning with fury. The three mutants couldn't look away or make a move, mesmerized as they were when the test tube cracked.

Madelyne raised a hand, dark energy crackling in her palm. "Jean, get in his head! Scott, Rogue, get ready for whatever comes next!"

The glass shattered, and with an earth-shaking roar, Logan, no, not Logan, War, lunged forward.

But Jean wouldn't let him, she wouldn't allow his essence to slip away. She could feel him, he was still there and only someone like her could reach him.

"Logan, my dear Logan, listen to me. It's me, Jean," she spoke inside his mind, her voice gentle and sweet reaching through the chaos.

Her physical body lifted, levitating effortlessly as Scott watched her in silent awe. She drifted away from him, beyond his reach, beyond his protection, guided by her own power. Telekinesis carried her forward until she hovered directly in front of Wolverine.

His eyes, wild and burning with fury, locked onto hers. He still looked at her like a beast ready to snap, to strike, to claim its prey. But Jean didn't waver. She held her ground, reaching for the man beneath the rage. Ignoring the million warning signals, she tried calling out his name again.

"Logan," she all but whispered in a velvety voice. Boldly, she touched his face lovingly, ignoring the state he was still in. Feeling her warm skin trace a pattern in his jaw, his eyes slowly softened.

"Jean?" His voice was finally heard.

"Yes, Logan. I'm Jean, your friend, your… your Jean."

Madelyne stole a glance at Scott, relishing in the pain she saw in him. He knew Jean and Logan had something unique and special going on. And the mischievous Goblin Queen inside of her couldn't help but enjoy watching him so uncomfortable at the scene unfolding before their eyes.

For a fleeting second, it seemed like it had worked, that it had been that easy. Logan's rage flickered, his eyes softening as if Jean's voice had reached the man buried beneath the beast. But then, just as quickly, the moment was gone. His expression hardened, and the fury returned, washing over him like a tidal wave, drowning any trace of recognition.

Rogue knew that pattern all too well. She had seen it before. She had been in the exact same position as Jean. When she first found Remy again, she watched him fight against the darkness consuming him. For a few precious seconds, his eyes, those unique eyes of his, the window to his soul, had been his own. She knew when it was him, she just knew. But at every passing moment, those moments grew fewer, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. Each time he resurfaced, it was like a cruel gift, a reminder of what she was losing.

Her heart clenched at the memory. She felt herself falling to pieces. Feeling tired and overwhelmed, it had all been too much ever since she accepted Apocalypse's offer, knowing the risks, knowing the cost. She told herself it was worth it. Of course it was, she would do anything in the world for one last moment with the man she loved. But the path she had walked since then had been nothing short of a nightmare. Heartache, abuse, trauma resurfaced, trauma that she had never healed from. All of it came crashing down on her.

She had left everything behind: her brother, Nightcrawler; her friends, Beast and Xavier; even Magneto, the man who had once had a hold over her. She abandoned them all, without hesitation, without regret. Because in the end, only one thing mattered. Only he mattered.

Remy.

The only person she had thought about since the Gala to the point of exhaustion and obsession. He had been the only and he was gone. The only person who still had a hold on her soul.

Remy, she had to bring her man back. And Logan, he also needed salvation. Wolverine stood poised to strike, claws extended, and before him, unflinching stood Jean. Cyclops was ready to fire his optic blast at him, and somehow, she knew that wouldn't help any of them. Her trail of thoughts went back to the present moment, she was finally focused and determined to put an end to the suffering of her friend. In fact, Logan was much more than a friend, he was the father figure she had chosen for herself. And as it turned out, he needed saving for once in his life. And she was it, she had to take matters into her own hands. Jean couldn't do it all alone.

She turned to Madelyne, urgency in her eyes.

"Lend me something, sugar, won't you?" she said quickly, though she left the truth unspoken. That something was her everything.

She wasn't going to take much, just enough. Without hesitation, she leaned in, pressing a swift, almost reverent kiss to Madelyne's cheek. A surge of warmth, then power, rushed through her as she absorbed just enough to be able to use her telepathic powers, but not enough to weaken Madelyne completely.

The connection broke, and she stepped back, energy buzzing beneath her skin. Time was running out. Cable's mom felt slightly dizzy and sat on the ground, looking up to see the girl with the white streak on her hair use the powers she had stolen from her.

"And that's why they call her Rogue," she murmured to herself.

"Jean! I'm going in too," she called out to her red-headed friend.

Rogue walked to Jean's side, both women focused on going past the mental walls and reach Wolverine, whose mind was drowning beneath that odious persona. His body was rigid, his claws twitching, his breath ragged with fury as she succumbed to both women's powers.

Jean was using her telepathic presence to brush against the storm of rage within him. She pushed deeper, searching for the man beneath the monster, calling out his name through the psychic fog.

'Logan, come back to me… my friend, my love, you're stronger than this.'

But War fought back, his mind a battlefield of fury and pain, trying to shove her out with sheer, animalistic will. But soon enough, Rogue found her ways around Madelyne and subsequently Jean's replicated powers. The power she'd borrowed from Madelyne was overflowing within her, allowing her to weave into Jean's telepathic link. She wasn't just reaching for Logan, she was the muscle, the heavy hitter, allowing Jean to do the finest part of the job. Her mind grasped at his memories, his emotions, anything that was truly him.

Rogue gasped as she felt his pain, his struggle, and couldn't help but think that Remy was feeling the same, ten times worse, because his transformation had run all its course. She forced herself to focus on the task at hand. Following Jean's lead, she held onto what was real, what was Logan, and anchored him with it. Then, she showed him her own memories of happy moments, the three of them, Remy, Logan and Rogue playing snooker, drinking a pint at the local bar, laughing so much that tears would flow from her eyes and her belly would hurt. Those memories of hers were distracting him, soothing.

Jean appreciated the help Rogue was giving her, and she pushed harder, her voice a beacon in the darkness.

'You are not War. You are Logan. You are Wolverine.'

The resistance began to crack. The fury wavered.

And then, with one final psychic pull, the persona of War succumbed to the point of non-existence.

As the last remnants of War faded from Wolverine's mind, his body slumped with exhaustion. His claws retracted, his breathing steadied, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, his eyes met theirs with recognition. A small smile adorned his lips as well, that was a shocker, Rogue thought.

Jean let out a shaky breath, her relief overwhelming as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Rogue was right behind her, pulling them both into a tight embrace.

"I'm so glad you are back, Wolvie. Now we will have to team up big time to bring Remy back to us as well."

-o0o-o0o-o0o-

Death heard voices in the distance. It sounded like a commotion, urgent and frantic. He barely acknowledged it. His senses were honed for something else now. The thrill of the hunt, the promise of another kill. It was addictive and intoxicating.

He let Apocalypse's will guide him, trusting that his master had chosen new prey worthy of his attention. The hunger in him burned like a wildfire; now that his killing spree had begun, there was no stopping it. Why would he? The weak, the useless, the corrupt, to him, they were all the same. All of them had to face Death. And he was eager to test the full extent of his newfound power against them.

His steps were slow, deliberate, his presence a shadow creeping through the ruined corridors of the shattered tower. He walked into an open clearing within the wreckage, one of the many scars left on the place from the chaos of the Gala. The floor was cracked, walls torn apart by past battles, the air still heavy with the ghosts of destruction.

And there, standing amidst the rubble, caught in the middle of their own particular search, were four familiar figures. Some of them he knew to be friends of his past self, but not all of them. Cable, Madelyne and Scott's son, for one. He couldn't say he knew him too well. The time their paths crossed was not that pleasant, they hadn't met in good terms. But he knew he wouldn't just show up with a crew on that exact time and place if he didn't have a purpose, if he wasn't up to something bigger.

With him were other mutants that had just been rescued from the past timeline where they had been lost: Beast, his blue furred friend; Xavier, his mentor; Nightcrawler, a dear friend, and the adoptive brother of Rogue; and lastly, Magneto. That last one he knew to be a foe. The old man was cloaked in his flowing red cape, his helmet gleaming under the fractured light, magnetic energy in the air around him. They glared at each other, Erik taking in the change in Remy LeBeau's appearance.

"What has he done to you?" He asked in disbelief, voicing the same question all of the others were thinking.

To say that the atmosphere was instantly filled with tension was an understatement. Those were not just any mutants, nor were they mere survivors. They were warriors. Obstacles.

His next kills.

While the newly arrived mutants were shocked at the man before them, Death simply watched them with narrowed eyes. A slow smirk curled on Death's lips.

"Thank you, master. This will be fun."