Chapter 12

Despite Apocalypse having called out his name, Death, or shall we say Gambit this time, couldn't look away. He stood tall, in awe, completely mesmerized as he watched Rogue fly away from him. There was a familiarity to that scene, her beautiful body soaring high with speed and grace and leaving him behind with a heart heavy with longing. She turned her head, just briefly, those gorgeous green eyes of hers casting one last glance over her shoulder. That look, he had been on receiving end of that kind of look many times before, he recognized it. Whether during missions or back at the mansion, whenever she couldn't handle him and his relentless flirting for too long, she would fly away, just like that.

That vision made Remy resurface to consciousness for a fleeting moment. It was a shame she never saw it, filled with resolve and a hint of sorrow as she was. She didn't dare to look back and see who she was leaving behind: the body of the man she loved and had vowed never to abandon or disappoint again. In that split second, it was him, Remy LeBeau, her man, watching her increase the physical distance between them. His heart filled with anguish and longing for her that threatened to swallow him whole. His mind was foggy, unable to fully recall all the pain Death had inflicted on her. Seeing her leave struck him harder than any weapon could. Not only that, he also saw it in her eyes as clear as day, she was terrified.

There would be no time for him to ponder, as Death was right back in the driver's seat when he heard Apocalypse call him one more time. This time, his voice was more commanding. The time had come. Apocalypse's voice echoed through the crumbling remains of the tower.

"My creation, I believe I have failed you. I have mistakenly given you a goal that was too unattainable at this stage. Rogue was a mistake; it was counterproductive. You are still too fresh from your transformation. You need to taste the joys of killing, to learn how to wield your new powers. But for starters, perhaps we should have you focus on those your old self already despised," he said, "Follow me," he commanded at last.

He beckoned Death with a simple gesture, leading him through the shattered halls of what was once a grand structure in Genosha. The walls, now cracked and weathered, bore the scars of a still recent but forgotten war. The rest of the world was quite happy to move on from it as it never happened. Mutants fighting amongst themselves, as usual, that's the information the media sold. Dust still hung heavy in the air, swirling around them with every step.

At the end of the corridor, Apocalypse pushed open a metal door, revealing a smaller room, its roof partially collapsed, allowing faint streams of light to filter through. The remnants of old machinery and broken furniture were scattered around, casting shadows against the rubble.

Apocalypse turned to face Death, his gaze as unrelenting as ever.

"I may have overestimated your readiness," he began, his tone steady but laced with an edge of reproach. "The bonds you share with that woman have clearly not yet been broken. I see the way you look at her, the way you sexed her up, how attached to her you were. It may not have been exactly like Remy LeBeau would treat her, but it was still special for you, I can tell."

Death looked down in shame, and didn't utter a word. He knew Apocalypse was right in everything he said. That might be it for him, he thought. The same way his master had given him another chance at life; he could just as easily take it away as well and have another mutant to become the horseman of death in his place.

"Fear not, my child, I'm giving you another chance to prove yourself to me. But do not mistake this for mercy. You are mine, and you will serve."

He moved across the debris-strewn room, his presence imposing amidst the desolation. "I will give you a simpler task to begin with. A chance to prove your allegiance, to fully embrace what you have become. Your first kills will not be strangers, nor will they be random. They will be people Remy LeBeau already knows and that he deeply despises."

Apocalypse stopped and fixed Death with a penetrating stare. "I have seen the hatred within you, the pain and the grudges you have nursed. These mutants have wronged you, betrayed you. You have lived many years since your path crossed theirs, hating yourself for what you were made to be a part of, because of the role you played in the Morlock massacre." Death listened to the words in silence, but he sighed deeply when the Morlocks were mentioned, giving away how that affected him. "They are relics of a past life you no longer need," Apocalypse continued, satisfied that he managed to hit a nerve. "Killing them will be your first step in shedding what remains of Gambit. They are yours to eliminate."

The weight of Apocalypse's words pressed down on Death, heavier than the ruins around them. A flicker of anger and shame stirred deep within him, but it was quickly drowned out by the void that had grown inside. After all, Death was a hollow vessel.

Even so, he was surprised to see the people brought to his presence: Sabretooth, Scalphunter, Arclight, and Vertigo were right before him. His master had gone to great lengths to present him with such a feast. The extent of Apocalypse's knowledge about Gambit's past and misdeeds was far greater than he had ever imagined. His power truly knew no limits.

The four odious mutants lay unconscious, subdued by some sort of drug. If Death were honest with himself, this gift felt patronizing. He could hunt them and take them down on his own; he didn't need them to be this easy to kill.

He gazed at their prone bodies and flashes of memory surfaced. He saw those mutants mercilessly killing innocent people, he felt what Gambit had felt in that moment. The despair, the regret, the anger. He hadn't signed up for that, and the hatred he had harbored for them had only grown over the years. His master's mission was clear and simple.

This time, there would be no hesitation, though. No lingering doubt. Death was ready to fulfil his purpose amidst the ruins of Genosha, and that he did.

-o0o-o0o-

While Remy LeBeau's body was reduced to nothing but a killing machine, Rogue took her time, roaming the remains of the tower desperately. She was looking for Madelyne Prior all the while trying hard to keep her mind clear and focused. Maybe she would have another one of those visions, and perhaps those would lead her to Jean's clone, a telepath just as powerful as her source material. Pryor was someone who could help her bring Remy LeBeau back to himself, she believed.

As she tirelessly walked through debris, she lifted broken chunks of rubble out of the way, her strength making short work of the obstacles in her path, each movement driven by her unwavering resolve to find Madelyne. For some reason, she felt that she was the key to solving all her problems at that moment. She was her last resort, if maybe she absorbed her powers, she would use them, and both together could try to undo the brainwashing her love was submitted to and break the spell Remy was immersed in. It was wishful thinking, she knew it, but it was the only thing she could think of doing to help Remy out of that misery. She was basically the only resource left available. Then, it hit her, another vision. The piece of debris she was carrying fell to the floor as images flooded her mind.

They were back to the fateful night yet again, in the ballroom. Apparently, that was the last version of that night, she could see herself dancing with Magneto from a distance, a few feet over everyone else, floating gently. They were figures in the background. It made her stomach churn, even though they were nothing but white noise in the big scheme of things. In front of her was the most charming man she had ever seen, his beautiful red-irises in full display, so close to her. He was a few feet away from her in this vision. It was her! It was Madelyne! She had been close to him at that very moment, the moment he turned his back on the scene because he just couldn't watch it all unfold.

In all the other times that those images flooded her mind, in all previous visions of the ball, she was a mere observer. She was herself and Remy as if watching a movie. There was never a first-person perspective in those visions. But now, she was there, very close to the beautiful Cajun. His ever-present charm was still there, but his facial expression was giving away how broken-hearted he was as he was approached by her at the bar. That vision made her eyes well up with tears that streamed down her face effortlessly before she could stop them.

"A drink for my dashing Cajun?" Madelyne asked him. As much as she was still in love with Scott Summers, she couldn't help but see how devilish handsome her unexpected companion was. On top of that, she felt so immensely sorry for him, she could sense his feelings of unworthiness, the sadness of being relegated to being the second best. And all of those were very familiar to her. It was the exact same way she felt when she learned she was not Jean, but just a clone.

She wanted to give him a hug and tell him he would be alright. The love of his life had chosen another, but he would be okay. She knew he wouldn't, she knew that from experience. She wasn't alright either. She was still meeting with the father of her child in secret encounters psychically because she still needed him. It was too much, too intense for it all to end just like that.

"Not enough drink changes the fact that others be more dashing, chère," he commented sadly.

That was his clone, it was not him, but still, he carried all the essences, the knowledge and feelings of what had just happened. And that was purely the reaction Remy would have had, Rogue knew it. It broke her to witness that scene. All of that had transpired while she was up there, telling Magneto that some things were indeed deeper than skin, letting him know her choice was not him, but Remy. Seeing it all through Madelyne's eyes, being able to feel his pain, that was a reflection of the pain Remy felt too, she fell to her knees and shook her head in despair.

"I don't wanna see this, Madelyne. Please, stop it! I want to find you, but don't show me this. Not this! I can't take it anymore."
Suddenly, she heard footsteps a few feet away from her, and a familiar voice cut through the tension.

"Rogue?"

She spun around, her heart skipping a beat. Standing before her, emerging from the shadows like a dream, were Scott Summers and Jean Grey. Both looked as bewildered as she felt, their eyes wide with a mix of relief and confusion. For a moment, Rogue was speechless, unsure if what she was seeing was real or another trick of her strained mind.

"Scott? Jean?" Her voice trembled with disbelief. "How...?"

Jean stepped forward, her expression softening. "It's us, Rogue. We're really here." Her hand reached out, brushing lightly against Rogue's covered arm, a gesture of reassurance. She took in her appearance, and it told her a whole story: Rogue's tear-streaked face, a shirt for clothes, bruises all over her body and hickies on both sides of her neck. Whomever did that to her could either touch her, or maybe she was powerless? It didn't look good at all. None of them was having it easy these days, but Rogue excelled them in that department, she concluded.

"But how? Y'all were..." Rogue's voice trailed off, the implications too heavy to articulate.

"We were brought back," Scott interjected, his tone steady but filled with a quiet intensity. "By Cable, Nathan, my son, and Madelyne's. He pulled us from the future timeline where we had ended up and brought us here. "

Rogue's eyes widened. "Cable? Why would he...?"

Jean exchanged a glance with Scott, then answered the question, "He said we were needed. The X-Men needed saving, needed to be brought back together so that the balance of events in the future would be restored, and only by saving Madelyne and working with her could we achieve that."

Rogue couldn't help but notice the tension between the couple when Scott simply said Madelyne's name. After it all happened, she had been so absorbed in her own depression and desperation, feelings that easily had transformed into anger and a thirst for revenge, that she never knew what happened to the three of them in the end.

The weight of their words hung in the air, and Rogue felt a surge of conflicting emotions. Firstly, relief at seeing them alive, and having people to help her, that shared the same goal, but also a deep unease at the gravity of their situation.

"So, where is he now? Cable?" Rogue asked, her voice carrying some urgency.

Scott shook his head. "He's dealing with something else. He's looking for the others who were left stranded in another timeline. I honestly thought you'd be with them," he stated.

Rogue looked away for a moment. When approached by Apocalypse, given the opportunity of seeing her Remy alive, she didn't think twice and took the offer. Consequences be damned. Again, she had been selfish. She wanted her man back to tell him that he was right. Yes, some things were deeper than skin; their love was deeper than skin. She wanted him back no matter what. She had failed the X-Men time and again, and for that, she felt guilty and ashamed.

There was a moment of awkward silence, and Jean, knowing what was going on in her friend's head, gently placed a warm hand on Rogue's shoulder. It was a simple gesture, but it was meaningful and enough to give her some consolation. They still had her back; she was still one of them. After all, they all made mistakes.

"What exactly are you supposed to do when you find Madelyne? Didn't he say? Do you guys know if the others are alright?"

"Have you met Cable at all? He only said we had to find Madelyne first. He said when we did, we would know what to do," Jean replied, rolling her eyes.

Rogue nodded, her resolve hardening. "Then we better get moving. She's somewhere in this tower; I can feel her. She has been throwing these visions into my mind. That's how I know she's not completely gone. She's being transformed to be one of Apocalypse's horsemen. Logan is too. He's unconscious and unresponsive in a lab tank. But her, I can feel her. I know she's still in there."

"And Remy?" Jean asked, getting a reproachful look from Scott for that.

"He's already it. He's been transformed; he now calls himself Death," Rogue replied, her voice breaking. She looked away from them so they wouldn't see more tears rolling down her face.

"Was he the one who did this to you?" Jean asked in almost a whisper, pointing at the purple marks around her neck. Rogue simply nodded and hugged herself tight, suddenly reminded of how barely dressed she was, in only a shirt.

"Here," Jean said, handing her a uniform she had in a backpack. "You know me, I always bring spares."

Scott turned his back so Rogue could change into the uniform. As she did so, Jean could see that beneath the shirt there were even more bruises on her skin, especially around her waist and back. She had to fight back tears of rage from spilling down her eyes. They had it so good before all that storm began. And now, they were all broken, inside and out.

With a newfound sense of purpose, the three moved forward together, each step echoing with the weight of their shared history and the uncertain future that lay ahead. They were walking in silence for about five minutes when Scott turned back around, his jaw tight, lost in thought. Jean noticed and gently touched his arm, prompting him to speak.

"She called out to me," Scott admitted, his voice subdued. "Madelyne. She reached into my mind and showed me... a vision." His gaze shifted to Jean, that would never be an easy topic to address in her presence. "It wasn't just any vision. It was so real. It was what actually happened. You know Rogue, you were there too."

Rogue's breath hitched. "What did she show you?" she asked him with curiosity, but she could well imagine what the answer was going to be, given his reluctance to speak about it in front of Jean.
Scott's eyes softened as he recounted, "It was us, together. We were welcoming our baby into the world. I could see her, holding him. The joy on her face... It was like she wanted me to remember, to know what we once shared."

Jean's lips pressed into a thin line. "She's trying to remind you of the life you had, to pull you back to her. You obviously have the strongest mind connection with her out of the three of us…"

Rogue could feel the tension in her voice and in Scott's reaction. They were most likely talking about something with special meaning to the two of them, and she had been right in assuming so. Remy and Rogue were not the only couple broken apart by those who wanted to destroy the X-Men.

"I can sense her, and I can find her. I'll lead the way," he said. The two women followed him in silence, each lost in their own turmoil of emotions.

Following Scott, they finally entered a dimly lit room. He knew for certain that she would be in there. In the center of the room stood a large tank, very much like the one that held Logan imprisoned, as Rogue had seen earlier that day. Its glass surface was slightly fogged. Suspended within the tank, completely naked, was Madelyne. Her fiery red hair floated around her, and her eyes were closed, giving her the appearance of a serene, sleeping figure. There were intravenous tubes injected into her on each of her hands, a vibrant green liquid entered her veins slowly.

Scott's breath caught in his throat as he stepped closer, his heart pounding. Rogue and Jean flanked him, their gazes fixed on the figure inside. Just as Scott's hand reached out to touch the glass, Madelyne's eyes snapped open, their vibrant green locking onto his.

"Scott!" she gasped, her voice muffled yet unmistakable, filled with urgency and longing.

The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of her awakening pressing down on them all. Uncertainty hung thick in the air as they stood frozen, each grappling with the questions racing through their minds. What would happen next? Would Madelyne emerge as the person they once knew, or had her transformation progressed so far that she would now see them as enemies like Death did? The answers lay just beyond the glass, and with every passing second, the tension grew. Their mission had brought them here, but the path ahead was still shrouded in doubt. One thing was clear: whatever came next would change everything. For better or worse, they would soon find out.