~X~X~X~X~X~
Getting Warmer
Chapter 24: Repercussions
~X~X~X~X~X~
"Rogue!" Gambit's shout of alarm surpassed that of the girl's own strangled scream as she disappeared over the edge of the cliff. Illness and oozing wounds forgotten, he'd dashed to the edge of the small precipice and peered down, praying his companion had survived the fall.
A dark lump lay on the earthen ground some 20 feet below, and he watched as it shifted and lurched awake with a pained groan. Shaggy brown fur rustled as the bear gingerly sat up and looked around, dazed.
But there was no sign of Rogue.
"R-Remy!" A breathy, shaken voice called to him from somewhere under his feet, and Gambit quickly dropped to his stomach to lean farther over the cliff. Red on black eyes caught the frightened reflection of Rogue's green ones as she held onto the wayward roots of a bush that was growing from the underside of the cliff.
"Dieu merci," Remy muttered under his breath before smiling widely at her. "You alright, chére? Hangin' in dere, I see." He kept his tone light and amused, but the furious thrumming of his heart, and the stomach-clenching terror he'd felt when she'd disappeared over the edge, made it a difficult task indeed.
"Ha ha, very funny!" Rogue grunted, trying to look below her to gauge her distance to the ground. "How far up am Ah? Can Ah just drop?" She slid slightly in her efforts to check her position, however, and immediately stopped to secure her precarious hold on the roots.
Remy glanced back down at the bear, who was huffing and grumbling just below Rogue's dangling feet. It was some sort of miracle the beast hadn't noticed her yet. If the creature stood on its hind legs, it might very well be able to knock her around like a fleshy pinata.
"Non," he winced, keeping his voice low. "De bear's about 12, mebbe 15 feet below you. Keep quiet and gimme yer hand." He stretched his uninjured right arm down to her, and was thankfully close enough for her to reach up and grasp it with hers just as the roots started to give way.
Remy's strength, however, was sapped from his sickly and weakened state, and he grimaced as he tried to pull her up. His left arm was practically useless as he felt warm, sticky blood trickling from the stinging wounds the bear had gifted him with. Any adrenaline he'd felt from his fight with the creature was quickly seeping away along with the little fortitude he had left.
The sudden gasp and suppressed shriek from Rogue as her hands started to slide from Remy's tenuous grip kickstarted his system just enough for him to gather the last of his strength. He gritted his teeth as he pushed himself to his knees with his injured arm, then heaved her up with one tremendous pull. He could scarcely tell if the loud groan was from him, her, or the bear, but as Rogue crashed into his arms, they fell back together with her on top of him.
Both of them were panting hard as Rogue's chest lay across Remy's, her right shoulder tucked under his intact right arm. Her head rested over the same shoulder, and he could feel her warm, panting breath in his ear. After a few moments her chest hitched and her shoulders shook, and the Cajun cocked his head, trying to see what was wrong.
But she wasn't crying.
A snort erupted from her lips, and Rogue turned her head into Gambit's bare chest as she tried to suppress her laughter. Several ridiculous giggles escaped, however, as the two simply lay among the dirt and leaves, letting their bodies come down from the supercharged situation. Her nearly inappropriate mirth was contagious however, and, despite his injuries, Remy found himself chuckling alongside her.
At least for a moment.
Once his body convulsed with a robust laugh, he immediately groaned and winced at the suddenly searing pain that radiated from his left arm and shoulder. His grunt of masked agony had Rogue lifting off his chest and straddling his waist to get a better look at his injuries, and she couldn't stop herself from gasping.
"Oh mah God!" She quickly bit her lip, eyes slanting to his before schooling her expression into a false calm as she scrambled to get off him. Remy couldn't see the small pool of blood that was gathering below him and didn't realize how severe the damage was yet. But one look at her face was enough for him to understand.
It was bad.
"Let's… let's sit you up, Cajun. Lemme get a look at your back, huh?" Rogue tried to keep her tone calm and reassuring, but the slight tremor in her voice belied her bravado as she helped him sit up. She was grateful he couldn't see her face as she examined the three long, deep gashes that raked from the spine of his scapula and shoulder blade across to his deltoid and ended at the triceps behind his arm. At least one point on his scapula looked like it was deep enough to hit bone, and she bit her lip to keep from cursing at the extensive damage.
Yellow fat tissue bloomed from a few places on his arm and the wounds continued weeping with blood, and without thinking, Rogue began ripping pieces off the bottom of her dress and pressing them forcefully against the wounds.
"Que mauvais, chère?" (how bad) Remy's voice faltered slightly as he tried to look back at the female X-Man, but she was doing her best to avoid his gaze and keep a neutral expression. She couldn't conceal the paleness of her cheek, or the tremble of her now crimson fingers, however, and her silence was none too reassuring.
"Dat good, eh?" he commented, trying to keep his tone light. He could already feel the pain and blood loss making his head swim, however, and he tried not to pass out as she packed scraps of her dress into his shoulder. Bending forward to give her better access, Remy didn't realize he had started to lose consciousness until Rogue's cry of alarm, and her steadying hands on his arms, roused him.
"Hey there, none of that! Come on, Cajun, let's - let's lean ya back against this here tree trunk. Use your body weight to keep pressure on your back, okay?" Rogue tried to keep her voice calm and upbeat, but her legs felt shaky as she dragged the young man toward a wide tree a few feet away. To his credit, Remy tried to use his feet to propel himself backwards, but his effort was fairly ineffectual.
He spared an appreciative, wondrous glance up at Rogue as she hauled his nearly dead weight along the dirt. It was a marvel that she was still able to do so much with the hindrance of her own injuries. Broken ribs, festering blisters, dehydration, and lack of food and sleep, yet she was still determined to take care of HIM.
Dieu, but she was incredible.
He wondered what she was capable of under the best of circumstances. She had to be the most tenacious, formidable, independent woman ever to grace the earth. He imagined her mid-fight, in all her glory, kicking ass and taking names. Hell, she could probably give him a run for his money. He recalled their first encounter at the docks, and suddenly wished he hadn't tricked her with his charm and an explosive card. He would have liked to spar with her at least once. His mind slipped as he envisioned tussling with her, pulling her down with him and being pinned below her before…
FWAP!
"Remy, wake up!" Another soft slap against his cheek jerked Gambit awake as he blinked up stupidly at Rogue's unexpectedly angry face. "Don't you DARE fall asleep on me, ya hear? I gotta grab some supplies, and the rest of our things, but ya gotta stay awake while Ah'm gone."
Looking down at his arm, he was surprised to see she had already bandaged it and maneuvered him against the tree so he was pressing his own weight against the wounds on his back. It took him another moment to understand what she had said, and he nodded once before trying to push himself to stand.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Rogue put both hands on his shoulders and pressed him back down against the tree, readjusting the black scraps on his back once he was seated again. "What in tarnation do you think you're doing!?" Standing with her hands on her hips, her green eyes flared with shock and acrimony.
Remy's eyes roved from her long legs to the new hem of her dress line, which was a good six to eight inches above the knee now. The thing resembled more of a mini skirt than a dress at this point, and she certainly wouldn't pass any sort of school dress codes, he thought errantly. As if that were even a consideration. But his brain was foggy, his thoughts disjointed, and he had to blink a few times before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing.
"'M goin' wit' ya," his Cajun twang was thick and slurred as he finally dragged his eyes to meet hers.
"The hell you are," she resounded on him, green eyes blazing fire and fear. "You're half-dead sittin' on your ass, Gambit! You're gonna sit right here 'til Ah get back, ya hear?"
"N-Non," he managed, trying to rise again. "Can' letcha go 'lone. Nah' safe."
Rogue pressed him back down, ire flaring brighter as she put more of her weight into it than was strictly necessary. "Ah'll be faster - and safer - without you than tryin' tah haul your butt around! Goddamit, Remy, just STAY HERE!"
Still, as she turned to go, his right hand reached out and weakly grabbed her wrist, stalling her. "Jus' - just gimme a minute. Gambit'll be fine." He tried to force his eyes to focus, his mind and body to cooperate, but all he could see was the narrowing of her eyes and the stubborn set to her jaw.
Taking his chin in her hand, she knelt closer and lifted his face so they were nearly nose to nose with her looking down on him.
"Listen good, Cajun. You are NOT comin' with me. You are staying - RIGHT - HERE - 'til Ah get back. Ah've had more than enough of your idiotic, suicidal heroics to last me a lifetime. Ah swear tah gawd if ya try to leave this spot - if you make me come lookin' for ya, or try tah follow meh - Ah'm gonna throw you to Apocalypse. You got me, Swamp Rat!?"
Rogue truly was seething mad. The set of her jaw, etched brows, and upturned nose all conveyed the depth of her frustration. He just couldn't understand why. She hadn't even been this angry at him when he'd kissed and groped her at the pond. Now here he was, practically dying from trying to save her, and she was treating him like scum.
Remy's brow furrowed indignantly. "Y'r concern f'r Gambit's touchin,' Rogue." He scowled up at her, swatting her hand away from his face with his good arm as the shock of her tone fueled a momentary spike of adrenaline. "Go on d'en. Get. Mebbe if'n y'r lucky, dis Swamp Rat'll bleed t' death while yer gone."
What the Acolyte didn't understand was that Rogue wasn't actually mad at HIM. Her anger was just a deflection of the fear and shock she was feeling. The mind-numbing terror that he would perish now, after he'd just somewhat recovered from nearly dying was almost debilitating. Only this death would be so much worse. He had thrown himself in front of a 700 pound grizzly bear to save her. If he didn't survive, it would truly be her fault. But thinking about that, or succumbing to the rising panic, would spell disaster.
So she allowed outrage and resentment to replace anxiety, holding tight to what she felt was the 'safer' emotion.
"FINE!" Rogue railed, taking a moment to adjust and tighten the fabric pressed against his wounds before she stood and put her hands on her hips. "Go ahead and die then. See if Ah care! Least then Ah won't have t' worry about your stupid flirting any more! And Ah'll get ta keep your coat all to mahself instead of sharin'!"
Rogue knew her last jabs were sub-par and cruel, but she didn't have the heart to say what she was really thinking.
Please don't die.
I need you.
I can't do this without you.
She turned on her heel and left swiftly, ensuring Gambit didn't see her tears - or bloody, shaking hands - as she left him behind.
~X~X~X~
Kurt stared at the stone statue of Mystique, replaying the conversation he and Jean had concluded with Professor Xavier less than an hour ago. To say their mentor had been shocked by his 'prized pupil's' revelation that she, too, believed Rogue might still be alive would be an understatement.
Snorting, the blue-furred mutant couldn't keep the slight grin from creeping up his face as he recalled the Prof's absolutely dumbfounded look of surprise when Jean had confidently announced that she, too, was rejecting the notion of Rogue's alleged 'death'. Nightcrawler had been prepared to spend another hour - or longer - fruitlessly arguing with Xavier, but he hadn't expected the redheaded telepath to fight the battle for him.
By the time the younger pair of mutants had left the Professor's office, Jean's face had been almost as red as her hair.
Despite the long and rather useless argument, they'd managed to convince the X-Men's founder that if there was even a single percentage of a chance that Rogue could still be alive, then it would be worth the effort in continuing the search. The X-Men didn't give up, after all, and how would it look if their teammate WAS alive, and they'd written her off as dead. What kind of message did it send to the other students - many who were on the fence about continuing as X-Men - if they gave up without even a body to show for it?
Together, Kurt and Jean had persuaded Xavier that there might be a better chance of finding Rogue OR Gambit if the two telepaths joined forces to resume the search together. With heavy reluctance, the omega level telepath finally acquiesced to do two to three Cerebro searches every day for at least thirty minutes each, with Jean joining him for at least one - MAYBE two - of those scans. What's more, he was willing to let Kurt (and whomever else was convinced of Rogue's survival) sit in on one 'session' a day, just to assuage any fears that there wasn't enough being done to bring her and Gambit home.
Now Kurt, feeling more validated and steadfast in his belief of Rogue's endurance than ever, was perched on a metal stool across from Mystique's statue. After four days, she was still frozen in the same visage of enraged horror, holding her own trapped wrist as she had likely screamed furiously over Mesmero's betrayal.
He felt a bit guilty, but it was the first time he'd been to see his mother since Xavier had announced Rogue's supposed 'death'. He'd been too afraid of his own rage and betrayal to visit her before now. If he'd laid eyes on Mystique prior to his last meeting with Xavier and Jean, he may very well have smashed his mother to pieces out of pure hatred and spite.
The teleporter shook his head and sighed, leaning his elbow on his knee and resting his chin in his hand. Part of him still wanted nothing more than to smash the stone figure - especially when he recalled his vision of Apocalypse pursuing and torturing Rogue.
However, the other part of his soul simply wanted to forgive her and let go of that last piece of vitriol that had been festering in his heart for the better part of a week. Despite her misdeeds, Kurt still felt that there had to be a reason the woman had turned over her own adopted daughter to Mesmero and Apocalypse. Mystique was not one to commit to the first plan that presented itself. She was strategic and calculating, and always had a grand design to her scheming.
The question, then, was what HAD her motive been, and how long had she been planning to use his sister as a pawn to gain Apocalypse's favor? Had her only consideration been self-preservation? Had she known of the megalomutant's intentions and been trying to SAVE Rogue from some worser fate? Or had delivering her daughter into his clutches been as simple as a grab for power?
"I vish I knew why you are so angry, Mystique," he lamented, gazing up at her unchanged features. "I vish I knew why - why you did it." Kurt's voice hitched slightly as angry tears welled in his eyes. "Did you know? Did you know what Apocalypse wanted from Rogue? Did Irene see the things I have seen in my dreams? The way he … looked at her?"
A disgusted snarl curled his upper lip, baring the tips of his fangs. "Mein Gott, Mystique, WHY? Do we - your CHILDREN - mean so little to you? Are ve nothing more zhan playthings to you?! I feel in my heart that zhe Professor is wrong - zhat Rogue is still alive - but I don't know if zhat is even a good thing any more."
Kurt buried his face in his hands momentarily, as if trying to shake unbidden images from his mind. "I do not know all of Apocalypse's plans for mein schwester, but I feel in my heart - in my very soul - zhat they are zhe WORST kind of evil. Rogue is SUFFERING for what you've done, of zhat I'm sure." He trailed off, staring up at Mystique's hollow, dead eyes for a long moment. "I'm afraid zhat even if we bring her home, I do not know if … if we can truly save her."
For a moment, Kurt lost the battle against the revolting notions the vision had implanted in his brain. Scrubbing furiously at his watery eyes and pulling at the ends of his hair, he doubled over on his stool in gut-wrenching sorrow. Rage burned through his grief and he howled furiously, smashing both his hands into the nearest random object. Gratefully, it was only a tray of diagnostic tools, and glass tubes and slides, but the impact of his fists on the sharp - now shattered - objects sliced through his flesh nonetheless.
Hurling the tray and the remaining objects upon it, the near deafening crash echoed through the room and finally broke through his furious umbrage. Collapsing to his knees, Kurt barely restrained the broken sobs that tore at his heart. Despair and uncertainty over Rogue's potential fate weighed on him with all the intensity of the Titanic, threatening to suck him down into murky waters and rend his very soul.
The boy closed his eyes as panic clawed at his consciousness and his heart thrummed wildly. His lungs suddenly refused to fill with air, and he forced himself to take deep, calming breaths. When that didn't work, he clutched at his thighs, digging his nails as roughly into his uniformed legs as possible to distract himself.
Although it did nothing more than cause additional pain, his fingers met resistance, feeling something long, thin, and hard in his pocket. The impediment served to divert his subconscious, however, and he dug out his once forgotten rosary - the one he had reclaimed on the day he'd nearly murdered a mother bird and her eggs. Fingering the beads, the lacerations on his hands left bloodied smears on the wooden beads and antique golden chain, and he clutched it tightly to his chest as he tilted his face upward to pray. Slowly, his breathing calmed and the panic subsided.
When the blue-furred mutant opened his eyes again, his vision immediately landed on Mystique's stony visage, highlighted from behind by the soft yellow lights of the lab's halogen bulbs. With a deep sigh, Kurt brought the golden cross to his lips and approached.
"I - I FORGIVE you, Mozther," the young man sighed, his heart heavy with the flurry of emotions. "I forgive you for abandoning me. For what happened to me, and to … to Rogue. But, if she has been harmed … I will never forget."
Kurt wiped the tears from his eyes as he stared up at the silent statue. "Once she's home, you will leave us alone. We don't want anything to do with you, ever again. You gave me life, and for that I am grateful, but I won't let the evil and hatred you carry in your heart corrupt me or Rogue any more."
Teleporting onto the platform next to his mother's frozen form, the young man reached up with his red and tearied hand to caress her cheek. "I hope one day God will heal your pain and forgive you for what you have done. I will pray for you, but for now, I can't call you my mother. Goodbye… Mystique."
With one last forlorn, resigned glance, Kurt Wagner kissed the golden cross and carefully wrapped the bloody rosary around his mother's outstretched wrist and hand before teleporting away.
~X~X~X~
With a deep, languid sigh of contentment, Remy LeBeau stretched his arms above his head as he luxuriated in the soft silk sheets and plush, cozy mattress of his four poster bed. The dark mahogany perfectly complemented the blood-red bed sheets, and the black and gold curlique comforter.
Without even opening his eyes, he turned slightly, wrapping his arms around the warm feminine body cuddled against his side. Gently kissing the mop of curls, he smiled as his arms tightened around the small waist.
"Mornin' ma chère," he whispered, nuzzling the delicate cartilage of his lover's ear.
"Bon matin, mon amour." Rather than the low twang of southern spitfire, a sharp lilting french accent answered back, and Remy's eyes flew open.
"B-Bella Donna?" Instantly recognizing the tangle of blonde ringlets and icy blue eyes, Gambit was out of the bed in half a second, pulling part of the sheet along with him to cover his boxer clad erection. "What…? Dis - dis ain't right. Where's Rogue?"
"Wha' you want wit' HER, mon coeur?" The voluptuous blonde turned toward Remy, the comforter barely covering the swell of her nearly exposed bosom. "You can have moi. Ain't dat what you want, chèr?"
The Cajun Acolyte shook his head rigorously, as if to wake himself from what was supposed to be a pleasant dream. "Non. Dis ain't real." He licked his lips nervously and slapped himself in the face a few times for good measure.
"But it CAN be real, Remy," Belle crooned. Slowly, she crawled from the bed in all her unclothed glory, seeming every bit the part of a predatory cat as she fixed him with a salacious look.
Gambit tried valiantly to avoid gazing at her lovely form, but was unable to move as she advanced, her lithe fingers trailing over his bare chest as he clung to the red sheet. As wondrous as her warm skin felt caressing over his pectorals and shoulders, when he closed his eyes, all he could see was Rogue.
The way Rogue's hands had timidly marveled over his flesh.
The way Rogue had gazed at him with such relief and lust in the hot springs.
The way Rogue's lips had been so soft and yielding.
Resolve bloomed in his breast, and Remy dropped the sheet to control his ex's wandering hands.
"You ain't for me no more Belle," he chided with a small, apologetic smile. "Dis ain't real, and Remy ain't interested in a cheap knockoff - or de real thing for dat matter. Got someone else I care 'bout, now, and I mean t' get back t' her."
"And what if Ah don't want YOU, Swamp Rat?" A familiar feminine voice called from behind him, and Remy whirled around to see Rogue, clothed in a flowing white halter style dress with her hair adorned in golden barrettes and pinned back.
"Chère?" Gambit turned a questioning gaze to the southern spitfire, completely forgetting about Bella Donna, who stood quietly to the side.
"You talk like you have a CHOICE, Gambit," Rogue sneered, cocking her head in mock amusement. "But Ah'll never be YOURS. You're nothing more than a means to an end. Ah was meant for greater things than the likes a' YOU."
Remy felt his heart lurch at her unkind words, and his brow furrowed with concern and confusion. A creeping cold seeped into his bones, and he had to keep from trembling. "Rogue, I don't …"
"You can go ahead and DIE for all Ah care, you filthy, lying, sneak thief. Why don't y'all just bleed t' death and save Apocalypse the trouble of killin' ya later?"
The stabbing, burning pain of his wounds returned without warning, and Remy glanced at his back and shoulder to see rivulets of blood pouring from the open wounds. With a gasp, the world lost focus, and he collapsed to his knees, still unable to tear his gaze from the vision of Rogue.
"You ain't real," he exclaimed suddenly, eyes narrowed. "You ain't my Rogue."
"Rogue is not YOURS, you meddlesome FOOL." Another figure stepped from the darkness behind the young woman's form, and Apocalypse placed his hands on her shoulders as he came into focus.
"You think you can lay claim to that which belongs to the great Apocalypse?" The megalomaniac shifted the vision of Rogue to pull her flush against him, his hands wandering in such a way that the real woman would never allow.
"Dis ain't real," Remy reiterated, attempting to stand despite the way his mind and body rebelled against the agony that permeated his entire being. "She ain't yours. Won't let you take her. Won't… won't let you hurt her." His brain was swimming from the blood loss, and he felt like he would pass out at any moment, but he was determined to defy Apocalypse as long as possible.
Moving away from the vision of Rogue, Apocalypse sauntered toward Gambit, who was still struggling to get off the floor despite the quickly pooling blood that left him weak and shaky. "Insignificant pest," the larger mutant sneered at the Acolyte. "She is not for you, and you will never have her. But…" his voice lost some of the vitriol and he waved his hand toward Remy's wounds, which immediately ceased bleeding.
"I can bestow anything else you desire. What do you wish for, Remy LeBeau? Fame? Wealth? Power? Women?" With a sweep of his hand, Apocalypse gestured to the side, close to Belladonna, as visions of greater things swirled within a backdrop of white.
Remy, wearing a lavender, open dress shirt with matching purple sunglasses, and a long black overcoat sauntered through a crowd of adoring fans, flash photography and swooning girls enveloping his every move.
Remy, sitting on a throne, jewels and gold scattered at his feet like sacrificial offerings as members of the Thieves and Assassins alike kneeled before him.
Remy, surrounded by throngs of scantily clad women, all vying for his attention.
Yet, when he tore his eyes away from the scene, all he could see in his mind was Rogue, eyes full of stubbornness and trepidation alike, and he smiled.
"You can keep y'r empty bargains, homme," Remy announced at last. "Ain't interested."
Apocalypse's eyes flashed red with momentary rage before he narrowed his gaze at the young man who was still attempting to stagger to his feet. "Do not be a fool. There is nothing but misery and death if you defy me. You have no future with my Queen. Only tragedy."
The megalomutant approached the vision of Rogue dressed in white, his large hands randomly caressing the bare skin of her arms, back, and neck. As he did so, the wounds on Remy's arm and back began flowing again, and the young man collapsed to the floor in a puddle of red. When he still resisted, Apocalypse waved his hand, creating a swath of chains that encircled his arms, chest, and back, anchoring him to the floor.
"She will never love you," the mutant tyrant hissed. "She cares nothing for you. She is unconcerned that you risked your life for her. She commanded you to die, remember?"
"Don't matter," Gambit insisted, his breathing shallow and ragged now. "Ain't gonna let you find her, diable (devil)."
Apocalypse seethed as he stared down at Gambit, who was barely conscious, yet somehow still resisting. "You will not stop me, insect. I have lived longer, and seen more than you can ever imagine. I know of pasts, and futures, and possibilities you cannot hope to fathom. If you attempt to pursue her, it will only bring despair and torment to you both."
Remy steeled himself against the manipulation of his mind and tried to fight the bindings, however uselessly. "Don't - don't believe you."
"No?" The megalomaniac sneered, a vicious, knowing smile creeping up his face. Allow me to show you the truth. The universe is infinite, and so are the possibilities. Witness what awaits you if you continue on this path."
With that, Apocalypse leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of Gambit's temples, infusing images and visions of various universes and possibilities within the Acolyte's brain.
A premonition of Rogue floods his mind. * She is a few years older, with long hair full of luscious waves, wearing a burnt brown leather bomber jacket and smoldering green and yellow uniform. Blood trickled from the edge of her ruby lips as she laid in Remy's arms, the light slowly dying from her eyes as she strained to breathe. He felt his own arms tighten around her shoulders as tears pooled behind his black sclera. "Rogue, c'mon, chère - hang in there. Don't die, girl! Y'can't die, not now. Not when we were just … we could've…"
The matured Rogue struggled to remain conscious as she smiled lightly. "Don't do this, Remy… Don't go gettin' all sappy on me now. We've had our moments, sure … plenty of 'em… an' Ah loved… every single one of 'em…" She gasped for breath before continuing, her voice losing its luster. "But it never would have worked… we know that." ¹
Before he could recover from the gut punch of 'watching' Rogue die in his arms, he felt his own body being crushed under the weight of a building, only to blink and see a younger Rogue staring down at him with tears welling in her eyes. She was wearing a red spaghetti strap dress with matching gloves, her deadly skin nearly as exposed as it was in the woods.
"Lissen," Remy heard himself murmur, his entire body screaming in pain from his bones and organs being pulverized. "I - I ain't long for dis world, chère. How…" he winced as he tried to smile at her. "How 'bout lettin' dis scoundrel steal one … las' kiss?" His heart wrenched as he watched tears cascaded down Rogue's soft cheeks as she pulled him close and complied, sucking out his soul with her sweet, soft lips. ²
The scene shifted and he found himself on his knees, shirtless and struggling to stand in a snow drift. "But I love you!" he heard himself shouting, staring up at a hovering Rogue. She wore her long hair in a flowing ponytail and was dressed in a pink suit that covered every inch of her deadly skin. Her face was hard and angry, but behind her eyes was a hurt - a look of betrayal and disgust - that twisted his gut.
"You're honest with the people you love, Gambit," she sneered, staying just out of reach of his outstretched hand. She tossed a card - his Queen of Hearts - down in the snow in front of him. "Otherwise… it's a gamble." ³
He felt his heart break as she flew out of sight and was gone, then felt a searing pain - worse than any he had ever known - piercing straight through his chest. He blinked to see Rogue pinned against him, trying to shield him with her own nearly invulnerable body. They were both bleeding profusely from matching chest wounds from a long sword that skewered the pair, and he struggled to breathe around the blood filling his lungs.⁴
Then he was again lying amongst more rubble, his body black and charred as he wheezed his last breaths, Rogue cradling him in her arms as she sobbed. "Suga'? Ah - Ah can't FEEL you…" ⁵
Another shift and Rogue was cradled once more in his arms, the highlights of age framing both their faces, gray hair accentuating her characteristic white stripe. He could feel warm blood seeping from the stab wound in her back as he begged her to absorb him, begged her to stay with him as he wept and felt his heart shatter once more.⁶
Remy's mind flashed with a tangle of images, one on top of the other as they tumbled across his vision and reverberated with every second of heartbreak.
The agony of his powers swelling out of control, incinerating the planet as his kinetic energy burned like the sun itself. ⁷
The horror of losing all sense of self to the likes of the Shadow King, becoming nothing more than a meat puppet for his amusement.⁸
Both of them naked in a grassy field, Rogue with her hair pulled up, and the tearing sensation of her powers as she kissed him, leaving him a burnt out husk. ⁹
The twist of guilt and frustration when Rogue is blinded after a battle. The terror of darkness when he suffers a similar fate by an accident. ¹⁰
The overwhelming grief and desperation of watching over Rogue's bedside as she succumbs to the weight of 10 billion minds trapped inside hers. ¹¹
The scenes and visions swirled around and through Remy LeBeau all at once, hundreds of possibilities featuring abandonment, injury, or death.
All of them with her.
With Rogue.
'What is it that pulls a man in many directions all at once… but which at the same time… also holds a man together?'
He draws a breath.
'It is his soul.' ¹²
Remy pushes back against the images, no longer FIGHTING them, but embracing them. And, as he does, the pain and heartbreak that threatened to suffocate him … shifts.
He sees that familiar version of himself, just a few years older, fighting alongside a slightly matured Rogue, eyes bright with amusement and mischief as she playfully chastises him for his shameless flirting, yet smiles through red lips and a pretty blush. The flirtatious wink she casts his way as she flies up and punches straight through a robot steals his breath.
The scene of him dying and half-buried in the rubble of a Vegas casino reversed, revealing months spent gallivanting across the country together, pulling off heists, dancing in casinos, and finding creative ways around her powers. Her strappy red dress hugged her curves as his hands mirrored the garment, her adoring green eyes staring up at him.
"Our first. Our last." He reveled in the bittersweet miracle of being able to caress her, skin to skin for the first time, captive and chained though they were. Felt the slide of Rogue's pink space suit as he gently tugged the fabric away from her bare, untouched flesh. Marveled at the perfection of their bodies becoming one as they made love for the first time in a cave in Antarctica.
The pain of the sword through his chest burned away as the other Rogue - hair similarly shortened - chased him all the way up to the pearly gates, begging him to stay with her, desperately clinging to and kissing him. Confessing her love - and need for him - all the way.
The lines of age and agony as her older self slowly died in his arms slanted backward and smoothed away to reveal the crinkle of pain and joy on her face from a few years earlier. Sweaty and exhausted, Rogue lay in a hospital bed while Remy kissed her gently. A young girl of maybe four years sat alongside his wife on the edge of the bed, holding a tiny infant swaddled in a blue blanket. The girl looked every bit Rogue's doppelganger as she beamed at her mother. Viewing the scene from afar, Remy gasped as he felt his heart catch at the sight of the baby boy blinking up at him with matching black and ruby eyes, accompanied by a tiny tuft of white bangs hidden in chestnut curls.
Dozens of universes with a million possibilities, simultaneously beautiful and terrible, flitted across Remy's mind in an instant, leaving him dizzy, disoriented, and overwhelmed. Within the throes of Apocalypse's 'visions', he hung his head as tears leaked from his eyes, his shoulders shaking.
The megalomaniac smiled triumphantly. "You see. This path holds nothing but misery for you," Apocalypse crowed. "But I will show you mercy. Surrender to me and I will give you a choice. You may go free, or join me as one of my horsemen."
Gambit's shoulders continued to tremble, but instead of sobs, a faint tinkling of mirth filled the air. Slowly, the Cajun raised his head, a huge grin belying the light tears that had tracked down his dirt-streaked and weary face.
"Homme," he cajoled thickly. "You just played yoh best cards on de worst gamble o' yoh life."
Still chained inside his mind and clad in only his boxers, Gambit slowly stood up as if the bindings were no more restricting than tissue paper. "See, up 'til now, I was lettin' all dat ugliness mess wit' my head. All dat misery - de pain, and sick, and uncertainty - was eatin' me up, makin' me think 'bout just givin' up."
Smiling broadly, he brushed away the mental chains around his arms as if they were flecks of soot. "Didn't think I had a whole lotta reasons left t' go on. Sick and hurtin', and Rogue actin' so all-fired angry at me it was almost like she really did want me t' die, I was jus' thinkin' to myself dat mebbe it'd be better if'n I DID."
In a blink, Remy was dressed in his favorite black and pink Guild uniform rather than his ugly gray Acolyte attire. He twirled his staff deftly as it flashed from one hand to the other, his huge grin never fading.
"D'en you come along, show me these horrendous visions of death and destruction and misery, and you know what…?" Red eyes flashed in amused derision as he took another step forward, forcing Apocalypse to retreat slightly. "It gave me HOPE."
"De thing is," he continued, still spinning his staff in a showy display, "every one of those horrible endings had one thing in common…
Rogue."
A huge grin split Remy's face, his eyes dancing exuberantly as Apocalypse tried to hide the shock and contempt in his own visage. "Everything you showed me was me an' her. T'gether, and in LOVE. And even though I felt de PAIN of it all, dat love was a feelin' stronger than I ever known before. Stronger than me. Stronger than YOU. And now I know..."
Remy's staff stopped twirling for a mere moment, just long enough to divide Apocalypse's attention, and he suddenly spun in a circle, giving himself enough momentum to use the bo-staff to strike the weakened mutant across the jaw like a bat to a ball. The force sent the tyrant flying several feet backward into the imagined four poster bed, shattering it.
"I finally got som'pin worth fightin' for."
He pulled his cards from his pocket and looked at them for a moment, glancing up to see Apocalypse watching him expectantly. The urge to charge up his cards was almost insurmountable, but Gambit forced himself to stow his weapons in spite of himself.
"Don't know if de same thing applies to moi in dis dream state as it did t' Rogue, but I'd bet good money if I use m' powers here, dey'll manifest in de real world, n'est-ce pas vrai? (isn't that right)
The megalomutant's eyes flashed dangerously as he rose from the wreckage of the bed and extended a hand in Gambit's direction. "Fool!" He roared, firing a blast of energy from an arm that transformed into a mechanical weapon. "You could have served the most powerful mutant in the universe. You could have been a GOD."
Remy easily dodged the blast, then danced around the grasping claws of the imaginary Rogue and Bella Donna. With a high kick, he connected with his ex's stomach, sending her stumbling back into Apocalyse, who lost his balance. Together, the two crashed back onto the ruined bedframe while Remy grasped the false Rogue by the upper arms and kissed her hard.
With a disapproving smirk, the Cajun tsked. "Shame. Ain't even remotely close to de real thing." With that, he shoved 'Rogue' backwards into the other pair who had just regained their footing, and the three collapsed in a heap against the mattress once more.
Before Apocalypse could recover, Gambit stood above him, staff held aloft as he held his breath. "Au Revoir, connard (Goodbye, asshole)"
~X~
Suddenly, he was no longer stuck in the throes of the dreamscape vision, but was blinking up at the sun and the tear-streaked face of Rogue.
"Oh thank Gawd," the young woman practically sobbed, using the back of her hand to wipe the moisture from her cheeks. "Ah thought… Ah thought you were…" She was nearly hyperventilating, still clutching the clothes and things she'd retrieved from the cave. "You - you weren't BREATHIN'! What happened?!"
"'Pocalypse." His reply was weak, all the strength and bravado he'd mustered against the megalomutant in his dreamscape trickled away under the acute pain that radiated through his physical form. "Tried t' trick me inta' givin' you up. Told him he could go t' hell."
Remy stared into Rogue's red-rimmed eyes, the intensity of the emotions those visions had invoked roaring to the surface of his mind. He struggled to tamp them back down so he wouldn't accidentally project them onto her, but the feelings that had stirred within his soul were a tsunami, and she was his sanctuary from the storm.
For the first time during their journey, the silver tongued Cajun was well and truly speechless as he tried to work through the implications of everything Apocalypse had shown him and what he would tell her about them - if anything at all. He didn't think she could handle something so earth-shattering, especially not now. Not when she was already so fragile and emotional.
Unable to stop himself, he lifted his good arm up to cup her cheek, never breaking eye contact. He was sure she would pull back, judging by that wide, wild look in her eyes. She would certainly skitter away from him like that frightened foal she was, and they would be right back where they'd left off.
Except he couldn't go back. Not now. Maybe not ever. And his heart clenched to know the truth, the secret, of what he'd seen.
They were meant to be - in this life, or a million others just like it.
They were endgame.
Soulmates.
But she didn't know. Had not seen what he'd seen; hadn't felt what he'd felt. She hadn't experienced the soul-rending truth of those visions, and Remy didn't know if he could take her rejection right now, not with such life-altering revelations so close to the cuff.
His jaw was painfully tight with the anticipation of her vitriol and withdrawal from him, and he closed his eyes against the refusal he knew he would see in her gaze. So, when she lifted her own hand to cover his and leaned into his touch, she could have knocked him over with a feather. His eyes slowly opened as he felt Rogue squeeze his fingers and press his palm tighter to her cheek.
"Rogue…" he started, unsure how to breach this sudden shift between them. There was no way she had seen the visions, yet it was almost as if she understood his vulnerable, heart wrenching need to be close to her.
Meeting her eyes, he could still feel the heat in her gaze from the moment they'd shared at the hot spring, but there was something warmer, more heady and fulfilling in her eyes now. Almost as if she could feel what he was feeling, even without his empathy. As if she had touched his soul and absorbed the barest hint of all he had witnessed in that torturous, miraculous vision.
"Hush," she chastised softly. She pulled his hand from her cheek so she could press her fingers to his mouth. "We need ta get ya patched up proper, then hightail it outta here, Swamp Rat." She pursed her lips tightly, but a small, shy smile tugged at the corner of her own mouth as she looked away to gather the scraps of cloth that had once been used to bind her broken ribs. "Ah'm… Ah'm sorry for what Ah said earlier. Ah wasn't - Ain't YOU Ah was mad at, ya know. Ah was just… Gawd, Remy, Ah was so scared you were gonna die last night, and then you go and do something so stupidly heroic and nearly get yourself killed savin' me, AGAIN."
This time she couldn't hide her quivering lip and tear-filled eyes from his (piercing) gaze, and he smiled affectionately at her honest vulnerability. He knew the wrong words might make her break down completely, however, and this wasn't really the right time for a heart to heart - at least not while he was still bleeding and woozy. "Ah chère, almost sounds like you care about dis Cajun."
She snorted, half amused, half derisive and pulled their hands from her cheek. "Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head, Swamp Rat. Ain't like Ah wanna pick out curtains or anything."
"Oh really," he quipped, eyes shifting to see a bundle of yellow flowers she held in her other fist. "Den what's dat?" Remy couldn't stop the chuckle that emerged from his too dry throat. "Flowers, petite? You shouldn't have."
She simply rolled her eyes. "It's Yarrow, you idiot." She forced a scowl even though the edge of her mouth turned up just a little bit. "The leaves have antibacterial AND coagulant properties. It'll help with the bleedin' and infection." She looked around, searching for something she couldn't see. "What we really need is somethin' t' irrigate that wound, try to clean out any bacteria. Ah might be able ta build another fire, but there's no way to boil water."
Rogue was feeling that familiar sense of panic rising in her chest, but this time she wouldn't be able to call up any of the psyches that had once resided in her mind. Apocalypse had snuffed them all out, and she was truly on her own.
"Maybe…" she chewed her bottom lip, staring at him. "Maybe you can charge up a stick or something, just for a second, so I can cauterize those gashes?"
"Non," Remy tried to sound firm, but the heavy wince that crossed his face as he shifted ruined the effect. "No. If I use my powers, he'll find us. Ain't worth the risk."
"If you're gonna bleed ta death, it is!" Rogue dropped to her knees, face screwed up in anger once more as she refused to meet his eyes. She tore off the fern-like leaves of the yarrow and started shoving them into her mouth so quickly and aggressively it was almost comical.
He couldn't stop from laughing as he watched her stuff another handful of the leaves in her mouth, chomping on them like chewing tobacco.
"HA! Ow! Merde," the Cajun chortled, then grimaced as the abrupt movement pulled at the deep lacerations. He had to stifle another chuckle as Rogue gave him a death glare before spitting a wad of the partially chewed leaves back into her hand.
"Serves you right," she sneered as she pulled the black fabric away from the still bleeding wounds on his arm. "These are supposed to be ground down into a poultice with water, but we ain't really got the time to jerry rig it. We'll get ya back to that hot spring and clean your wounds better in a bit, but we need t' get the bleeding under control before we move ya. This ain't exactly sanitary, but Ah'll take a little infection later if it means you ain't gonna bleed t' death NOW."
"We need t' move NOW, chère," he insisted, trying to push himself up from the tree, only to be gently pressed back down.
"Not 'til we get this bleeding stopped, Remy. Now sit tight and let me work, okay?" She shushed him as he tried again to protest, and in the end he let her dress the wounds on his back and arm with the mush she'd made from the yarrow and the various scraps of her dress.
Remy's heart still hammered from her closeness, at the lingering twinge of destiny's - and Cupid's - arrow, and the pain in his back and shoulder was lessened by the warmth in his soul.
It was obvious that she was trying to hide the way her chin quivered as she applied more chewed up yarrow to his wounds and packed them tight. He knew she was underplaying how scared she'd been, as was evident by her trembling fingers and the constant, shy glances she kept stealing at him.
Remy smiled at her, still buzzing from the astral revelations from Apocalypse, but likewise feeling woozy from real blood loss. "Mebbe dis one woulda got himself mortally wounded earlier if'n he'd known that was all it took t' get dis kinda treatment from such a belle femme."
"You're incorrigible, you know that?" she quipped, stuffing another chunk of chewed up yarrow leaves into the deep wounds on his back.
He winced at the pain, but chortled. "So you keep tellin' me."
Rogue shook her head, disturbed yet amused by the repetitious sentiments. "You scare me like that again, Cajun, and I won't be held responsible for mah actions. What is this, three times now? Four?" She lowered her eyes as she adjusted the bandages on his back and finished packing the chewed up yarrow over his wounds. "Ah can't tell if you have a death wish, or if you just like havin' me in your debt." The biting tone in her voice wasn't as sharp as she'd intended, and in the end she couldn't help the slight grin that graced her lips.
"Pourqoui? You fixin' ta make it up ta me, chère?"
Rogue snorted again, actively avoiding Remy's affectionate gaze. His eyes were drawing her in, making her stomach flutter with something more than fear and anxiety about his condition. It made her heart squeeze, and lips curl with barely restrained exhilaration.
That look of his could only mean one thing…
Whatever was growing between them was blooming bigger, brighter, and more genuine every day.
And it was mutual.
~X~X~X~
Kurt lounged in his bed later that morning picking at the medical tape and gauze covering the deeper lacerations on his hand. He'd tried using some tape and tissues to deal with it himself, but Kitty had caught him bleeding on the books in the library and ratted him out to the in-house 'doctor'. Mr. McCoy had insisted on cleaning and bandaging the cuts 'properly,' and Kitty had refused to leave Kurt's side for fear he would disappear again.
After being patched up, the teleporter had insisted on sitting in on Jean and Xavier's Cerebro session, and both Kitty and Beast had joined them. There had been a blip, almost like a glitch in the system, for a mere moment, that had made their hearts leap with hope. But it was gone almost instantly, and despite their combined efforts to locate the momentary hit, the two telepaths had been unable to find anything.
Sighing, the blue furred mutant reached for the Bible in his nightstand drawer. He was lost deep in thought, however, and pulled too hard, causing the entire drawer to fall out, crashing to the floor.
"Aw, man," he moaned, and in his haste to pick up the drawer and its contents with his hands and tail, he bumped the table a second time. He watched in horror as his circus themed lamp - a gift from Rogue a few Christmases ago - joined the drawer on the floor and cracked into pieces.
"No!" Tears filled the boy's eyes as he reached for the red and white striped base and the rotating cylindrical top. The wooden animals of the rotating top had detached from the center piece with the bulb, and the colorful ceramic was broken in several pieces. Before he could lament the loss of the Rogue's gift, he noticed a small metal box and an envelope taped to the inside of the shattered base.
"Vhat is…" He placed the rotating top with the animals and the bulb on the carpet and reached into the shards of ceramic to pull the box and envelope free.
His breath caught as he noted the name written in swooping calligraphy on the stationary.
'Nightcrawler'.
When Rogue had given him the lamp years ago, the base had been sealed with caulk and metal, and as he turned over the still intact chunk of the bottom, he noted it was undisturbed.
It took a moment for his brain to understand the situation.
The letter and box had been there BEFORE Rogue had purchased it. Somehow, the box and this letter, with HIS name on it, had been placed inside the lamp years ago.
Awestruck, he slowly peeled the stationary away from the box and examined it. The edges were yellowed and curling with age, and had a fine layer of dust on it. With shaking fingers, he pulled open the envelope and extracted two sheets of paper from inside.
On the first was a hastily scribbled sketch of Kurt himself, kneeling on the floor in front of his nightstand, the space around him littered with the pieces of lamp and the items from his drawer.
"Mein Gotte!" he breathed, nearly dropping both the letter and the box out of pure shock. Whomever had drawn the image had depicted this exact moment in time, and had sketched it with incredible detail.
Kurt took a deep breath to calm his nerves and turned the page over. On the back were lines that read a little like poetry, and a little like nonsense.
A mother's shame is freed wherein blood is shared
Trust the devil, for he tells not lies
Take not a blind leap into the den of gods
Hope lives when the heart of the queen is shattered
To fell the master, look to the cards
A future is spared by the blade of the betrayer
The cure for death demands a sacrifice
A dutiful son will save a life
Kurt read and reread the lines over and over, trying to make sense of the words. But no matter how many times he studied the gibberish, nothing jumped out at him. Finally, he moved onto the second sheet of paper and scanned the message.
I foresaw this moment in your life long ago Kurt Wagner, though the future is always shifting. Keep the box with you - you will need it in the upcoming battle. It was obtained by your mother at great cost. Use it at the right moment, and it can save you both. You'll know when the time comes. When a heart is poisoned, there is but one antidote.
The message was unsigned, but there was only one person he knew that would be able to see into the future. As he opened the small metal box, his brows furrowed to discover a syringe of dark green liquid. A cap protected the needle, but the instrument was already prepped and ready for use. His pulse raced with possibilities and even more questions.
Clearly the note was from Destiny. No one else would have been able to foresee these exact events. But the message on the back of the sketch was baffling, and the letter even moreso. His heart clenched, however, when he realized that although his letter to the precog had begged her for some kind of sign about his sister's fate or whereabouts, there was nothing in the script that gave any clues about Rogue.
Kurt reviewed the pages and studied the picture until long after his legs had fallen asleep, puzzling over the cryptic messages. He picked up the fluid-filled syringe and examined it a few more times as well, trying to decide if he should have Mr. McCoy analyze the green liquid. There was a chance the fluid was dangerous - deadly even - and despite Irene's note, he knew he wouldn't dare use it unless he knew what it was. Beast was a lot smarter than most, too, and might be able to decipher the encoded notes.
The German boy stashed both the letter and the box in the side pouch of his uniform and began cleaning up the mess from the drawer. After he had replaced everything in the nightstand, he sighed and picked up the broken lamp. He might be able to superglue the ceramic base back together, but he didn't know what condition the rotating top - complete with 'dancing' circus animals - was in.
Lifting the wooden top and giving it a once over, he frowned when something rattled from the center piece. He hoped it was only a broken bulb and not something more serious; although he could probably convince Forge to fix any damaged mechanical pieces. Carefully prying off the lid that concealed the light bulb, Kurt gasped when he realized what had caused the rattling.
Nestled inside amongst the still intact bulb was his wooden rosary - the one he had left wrapped around Mystique's hand this morning.
Before he could formulate a theory on how it had traveled from Mystique's statue to the inside of his lamp, Kitty came running through his bedroom door, breathless and pale-faced.
"Kurt! Come quick! Mystique's GONE!"
~X~X~X~X~X~
¹ Uncanny X-Men #375
² Ultimate X-Men Annual #1
³ Uncanny X-Men #350
⁴ X-Treme X-Men #17
⁵ X-Men '97, Season One, Episode 5
⁶ X-Men: The End Vol ?
⁷ Gambit, Vol. 3, #7 (1999)
⁸ Uncanny X-Men #278
⁹ X-Men #171 (2nd Series)
¹⁰ X-Men #158 (2nd Series)
¹¹ X-Men #204 (2nd Series)
¹² Uncanny X-Men #350
Author's Notes:
This is really only the first half of what I planned for chapter 24, but as I started writing the second half, the mood no longer fit with the weight and poignancy of all that occurs here, and rather than cheapen the impact of this chapter, I'm chosing to break it up. The next chapter will, unfortunately, be less ROMY centric, and will start to tie up some loose ends back at the mansion, hence the need for the chapter cut.
I'm already rather unhappy about the Scott/Lance/Kitty set up in the beginning of the NEXT chapter, as it's feeling more forced and contrived than I'd like. But I'm sure the amazing Ms. AJ will have some suggestions to give it some more oomph.
SOOO much credit to AJ (again) for all her suggestions on the Gambit vision. She is rather incredible at helping pick out comic book moments for reference, and giving insanely good ideas for additional content that makes the story stand out. Not to mention, it would take me three times longer to post without her checking in on me and being my cheerleader.
Also, many thanks to those who have reviewed, and KEEP reviewing. Most of the time, my ADHD hyperfocus shifts gears and I lose interest in this story. Then I get a few good reviews, or a new subscriber/follower, and it reminds me that other people are still very interested and awaiting a new chapter. So thank you for reviewing or liking/following! Keep it coming! I love your thoughts, good and bad, and I can't WAIT to see what everyone thinks of this installment!
Love and Light,
Wiccamage