Shattered - wiccamage - X-Men (2024)

Chapter 1: Ash and Blood

Chapter Text

Warning, this is major spoilers for the episode, “Remember It.” It was hastily cobbled together in the aftermath of watching that episode and being up all night agonizing about it. There are errors and it hasn’t even been proofread. But it needed life in the face of a most horrifying death.

~X~X~X~X~X~
“Shattered”
By Wiccamage
~X~X~X~X~X~

Someone was screaming.

Low, heartbroken wails of torment, and trauma, and disbelief rang in her ears and made her tighten her grip on Remy’s broken, charred body. Sitting in the crater left behind by Gambit's explosion, she cradled him to her chest as tears slid down her cheeks to mingle with the blood staining his. Bare arms and fingers - skin that could suck the life out of someone, yet felt nothing but blood and burnt flesh now - wrapped tighter around Remy’s back and face. She held him against her, as if trying to reverse her own powers to pour life back into him.

Erik’s death had enraged her. Filled her with fury, and vengeance, and hatred so intense she could focus on nothing else except destroying that accursed, terrifying creature. She’d seen the green light, intent as it was on destroying her, and she hadn’t cared. Knew her nearly invulnerable skin would probably protect her to a degree.

Probably.

But she’d never gotten the chance to confirm that theory, caught off guard as she was by the exploding motorcycle Gambit had hurled at her at the last minute. Once she’d recovered from the first blast, and the resulting rubble, she’d staggered to her feet, her blind rage momentarily stunned by Remy’s act against her.

But she had only a moment to be angry with Gambit before she saw him, dangling by the long strand of metal that had impaled him and was connected to the MegaSentinel. And with that connection, she saw the gigantic monstrosity glow with all the brilliance of Remy’s full power. Power that he had never put to full potential until today. Power that lit the whole sky with the same brilliance that Remy himself seemed to light up everything - and everyone.

She didn’t hear the words he whispered as he held tight to the metal bar that had likely shredded all his internal organs. She was already flying, hurling herself toward him as fast as she could until…

Nothing.

White light and a high pitched whine as the explosion tossed her through what few buildings remained standing, buried her in layers of concrete and metal. Intense pain ripped through her body - her stomach and chest feeling like they had been detonated from the inside out as well.. But she barely paused, never even lost consciousness as she punched through what felt like 10 solid feet of debris, and surpassed the speed of sound itself as she found him again, lying in a crater, his body broken and smoldering.

Rogue didn’t even know how long she’d been here now, cradling his lifeless body in her arms. She knew she should be helping with survivors, but she couldn’t leave him.

Magneto’s demise had enraged her.

Remy’s had shattered her.

She’d cried so long her eyeballs stung and swelled, capillaries bursting with the force of her tears. She had whispered to him, kissed his ashen lips, stroked the little that was left of his hair. He would hate that he’d lost his hair. Jubilee would tease him mercilessly.

Except…

The wails were louder now as someone knelt before her, gently touching her hand, trying to loosen her grip on his cold corpse as she sat with her dress in tatters. She had felt the high collar that held up the bodice fall away at one point as she’d rocked her Cajun in her arms, but she hadn’t cared. All she wore beneath the shredded dress was a silly sticky silicone ‘bra’, and a pair of lacy red underwear - all of which could be on display for the whole world right now, and she didn’t care a whit.

Another pair of hands draped a blanket over her bare shoulders, but her eyes were so swollen and blurry with tears that she couldn’t even see who it was. The smell of sulfur barely permeated the stench of charred flesh, and an indistinguishable blue face swam through the sea of despair that was her vision.

“Rogue, meine schwester, please. You’re in shock. Let me take him.”

“NO!” the wailing stopped momentarily as Rogue snapped at Nightcrawler with such venom, it startled the dozen or so people standing nearby. Some were digging through the rubble, trying to find other survivors, but most were simply staring around, made dumb and mute by the horrors they had just witnessed. Had somehow survived.

Thanks to Remy LeBeau.

The wailing started up again as Rogue pressed Gambit even tighter to her chest, the wetness of the tears on her cheeks mixing with the drying blood on his as she joined them together. “Ah can’t feel him. Ah can’t - Ah can’t FEEL him!!”

The screaming died again as she spoke, and it was only then that Rogue realized it had been HER wailing all along.

Nightcrawler's face disappeared as he stood and teleported away for a moment to speak with someone. More people had gathered now, standing along the edge of the crater in the rubble, whispering and murmuring, and a few words managed to filter past the pounding of blood in her brain.

“Hero.”

“Sacrifice.”

“Millions.”

“Revenge.”

“Savior.”

“X-Men.”

And their names. Magneto. Gambit.

Rogue.

The sole survivor. The only one who had stood against the unstoppable being and come out alive.

Because of them. Because Magneto had tried to protect her. Because Gambit loved her. Because he had forced her out of the fight before she got herself killed. Gambit, who wasn’t invulnerable, whose skin didn’t protect him like he was made of diamond, had saved her, too.

He was far more precious than diamonds. She knew that now. Knew just how much she loved him. Had known the moment she kissed Erik that what she wanted, what she NEEDED - more than skin, more than touch - was the perfect, flawless love of Remy LeBeau.

Her Cajun.

Her Swamp Rat.

Her sobs echoed in the tiny valley the explosion had created, and Rogue finally felt some sensation come back into her body as she continued weeping and rocking the man she loved. The man who had died to save her. Who died saving millions of others. The man who was a hero amongst heroes. Whose name was now on everyone’s lips as a savior, a martyr.

“Rogue.”

Her name spoken again, and this time she at least recognized Kurt’s voice, but she did not acknowledge him. Didn’t move except to rock her Remy.

“Rogue, please. You’re hurt. You’re bleeding. Please, let me take him. Let me help you.”

But she only squeezed Remy tighter and could feel it, this time, as some of his already shattered bones crumbled a little more.

“Okay, Kitty. Do it,” Kurt sighed, his once jovial voice forlorn and quiet.

The name, belonging to a girl she hadn’t seen in nearly a decade, surprised Rogue enough that she managed to look up at Kurt for a fraction of a second before a heavy band of metal snapped around her neck and she shrieked, finally understanding.

They had collared her.

Kitty - Shadowcat - her former friend and teammate was there, somehow, and had snuck up on her from behind while Kurt distracted her from the front. Not that they really needed a distraction. Rogue was so far gone mentally by this point, that she wouldn’t have moved even if another MegaSentinel had attacked. She didn’t even know if she could any more. Shock had slowly dissolved into intense pain, made sharper by the activation of the suppression collar.

Her strength, flight, and invulnerability all seeped away under the concentrated dose of radiation emitted from the collar, but Rogue didn’t tear at it, didn’t try to remove it or run.

She just held Remy tighter and sobbed louder, knowing they were about to rip him away from her weak, pathetic, incapable arms. Not the arms of a hero. Not the arms of a savior. The arms of one who had forsaken the love of her life, even temporarily, for the promise of touch.

The only emotion she could feel right now, other than grief, other than her shattered soul, was the self-loathing. The knowledge that in the end, she hadn’t had a chance to tell him.

That he had been right. That she had chosen him. That she loved him.

A second later, another ‘Bamf’ and puff of sulfuric smoke, and Remy was gone, leaving Rogue barely enough of a warning to catch herself from falling face first in the dirt. A small, feminine hand grasped her shoulder from behind, but Rogue pushed it away, never even looking back at the small brunette girl she had once loved like a sister.

Kurt reappeared, holding Remy’s burned black and blood red body in his arms as gently as a newborn just a few yards away, giving his corpse to a tall man made of metal. Somewhere in her brain, Rogue knew she recognized the tin man, but her mind was full only of Remy, and she launched to her feet, intent on reclaiming the man she loved.

But she made only one single, solitary step before her vision swirled, her legs gave out, and the world went black.

~X~X~X~

Wolverine was the first to run down the gangplank of the X-2, the team’s second plane. Nightcrawler, wearing his familiar red and blue uniform, greeted him, his face morose and haunted.

“Where is she, Elf?”

No greeting, no hugs, no ‘thank god you made it.’ Logan’s purpose was singular. Everyone had their marching orders, given on the plane by Cyclops. Jubilee and Sunspot were left behind to take calls and relay news with the team. Hank would help with the injured, Jean would use the portable Cerebro and her telepathy to look for survivors, the rest would help with rescue and recovery, and Logan - Logan would tend to their own.

Or, what was left of them.

“We set up a makeshift infirmary,” Kurt replied, his voice tight with exhaustion and hoarse from the smoke and ash.

Ash from the bodies. The ones who had been incinerated by that abomination.

Beast joined Wolverine a moment later as Cyclops rallied the others. Iceman and Archangel had joined them, as had Trish Tilby, the reporter.

~X~

Trish had been just outside the mansion when she had knocked on the door, trembling and pale faced. When no one answered, she had simply let herself in, the shock of the latest news - beyond that of the attack on Genosha - rendering all manners moot.

She’d entered, told the X-Men only to change it to channel 6 - not even her own station, and had stood silently in the corner of the living room, watching the carnage unfold on the television.

A video, shaky and zoomed in so far as to lose quality, was shot from the top of a crater in the middle of the destruction. Whomever had shot the video was narrating as the screen panned around to show the devastation. In a whisper voice, attempting reverence while also sharing the atrocities - and the truth - with the world, a girl’s voice spoke.

“We - we were just attacked by a giant, three headed Sentinel. It - it killed people. So… So many people. But the X-Men were here. They tried to stop it. Magneto… he tried to stop it. He saved some of them, but… I - I don’t think he survived.”

Inside the Xavier Institute, Sunspot gasped, Jean covered her mouth with her hand, and Morph bowed his head while the narrator continued. “The rest of us were hiding up in the gardens when it came for us, too. We - we could see its eyes turn green, the green lasers that incinerated people, when one of the X-Men came. He saved us. It caught him, or something, and he… he made it glow. This bright pink glow. Then it blew up. The whole thing. He - he died saving us.”

It took a moment for the image to stabilize and focus as it panned down to the crater, and once it did, the only vision in the frame was two people, or a single person rather, cradling a man’s nearly nude body, rocking it and sobbing.

It took a moment for anyone to react, to understand what they were seeing, but Jubilee’s sudden shriek of horror, the sound of Logan’s claws extending, and the various yells and shouts of dismay and disbelief reverberated through the living space as Rogue’s dirty, tear-streaked face finally shifted into recognition. And with her, the body she so desperately clung to as she whispered his name over and over.

“Remy… Remy… Remy…”

~X~

“She’s in bad shape, Herr Logan,” Kurt spoke as he looked at the two X-Men. He had teleported with Beast and Wolverine to the area just outside the makeshift hospital, as his sulfuric clouds could cause damage to the limited equipment, and the dying people, inside.

“We - we had to collar her, just to get her to let go of him.” Tears pooled again in the former preacher’s eyes as he recalled the scene and guided the men upstairs and down a hallway littered with bodies draped in sheets.

“She passed out once, initially, but we’ve had to keep her sedated after that. We - we think she has internal bleeding, but every time she wakes up she …” Kurt wiped his eyes on the back of his gloved hands. “Her body may be broken, mein freund, but I fear it is her soul that is beyond repair.”

With that, he pushed open a sheet that was being utilized as a door, revealing a young woman laid out on a bed made of rubble. Someone’s suit coat was acting as a pillow, and a familiar, long brown duster served as a makeshift blanket. At first her teammates didn’t recognize her, face smeared with dirt, blood, and dozens of tiny cuts. Her normally pale complexion was almost gray, like death warmed over, and her white streaks were tinged pink and brown from ash, soot, and blood.

“My stars and garters!” Hank exclaimed, rushing to her side to check Rogue’s pulse. “My dear girl,” he swept a dirty lock of white hair from her face. “It seems you are in too much of a hurry to join our compatriots on the other side.” He pulled back the brown duster, frowning as he recognized the familiar smell of it.

“I - I thought it would help her calm down,” Kurt explained sheepishly, “if she had something of his to cling to.” His face fell again, however, as he looked down at his hands and pulled a small box from a zipped compartment in his own uniform. “I - I found zhis in one zhe pockets…”

He handed the tiny parcel to Logan as Hank shifted his stethoscope around under the coat. He had pulled the garment back up after realizing it was affording Rogue’s sleeping form a modicum of privacy within the tatters of her own red dress.

“Dang it, Cajun,” Logan whispered, tears pricking his own eyes as he revealed a tiny engagement ring nestled inside the box. He quickly closed the lid and shoved the jewel in his own pocket, turning to focus on the young woman who was still alive, if only just.

Kurt cleared his throat and spoke again, softer. “I was with him this morning. I told him that their souls touched with every glance, and that he should just marry her. It was a suggestion made in jest, but it appears he took it to heart.”

“Logan,” Hank’s voice wavered slightly as he finished his initial exam of the unconscious girl, trying not to get caught up in the emotion of this latest blow. “If you’re able, she’s going to need your powers. Kurt was right - she does indeed have internal bleeding. It’s a wonder she has survived this long.”

Wolverine was already ripping off his glove with his teeth as Beast spoke, and stood at the ready, waiting for one of the other men to remove the collar around her neck. Kurt nodded once and pulled a small key from another pocket to detach the device.

“Keep that where it is, Nightcrawler,” Wolverine warned. “If she’s outta her mind, like you say, we don’t need her losin’ it and trashin’ the place even worse.” Beast and Kurt tipped their heads in agreement and watched as Logan placed both of his bare hands on either side of Rogue’s face.

After a moment, he frowned, concern marring his features as the transfer did not immediately take effect. “Come on, Rogue, take my healing. Live, dammit!” Raspy, shallow breathing was his only reply, however, and he bent, touching his forehead to hers.

Still, what should have been a tug was no more than a tingle - a tiny jolt of electricity against his skin - and he swore, stepping back and ripping the shirt of his uniform up over his head. “It ain’t workin’. She’s dyin’, Hank!” While Nightcrawler and Beast stared on in confusion, Logan swiftly removed his boots and pants, leaving only his boxers. “We gotta maximize contact,” he barked, pulling Gambit’s duster off Rogue’s barely dressed body. With a deft slice of a single claw, he cut the garment right down the center, pulling it away to reveal creamy white flesh mottled with huge splotches of purple and black bruises all along her ribs and stomach.

The cream colored silicone bra now stood in stark contrast against the white-gray skin of Rogue’s breast, and the red frilly lace of her underwear made Nightcrawler turn his head, blushing. Wolverine paid the young man no mind, however, as he scooped her up and handed her to Beast before laying down on the cement slab. “Lay her on top of me, make sure every inch a skin is touchin’,” he barked, his own heart rate rising as Rogue’s fell.

Beast nodded and draped the woman’s nearly nude form on top of Logan’s, chest to chest, ensuring everything from her fingers to her toes were connecting with the gruff Canadian’s.

“Come on, Stripes! Don’t you dare die on me. Not after Gumbo gave his life t’ save all of ya!” Still, all he felt was the smallest tickle against the places where her bare skin connected with his.

“Beast!” he yelled a second later, “get Jeannie on the line. Find out where she is and have the Elf get her here, A-Sap. Maybe she can jumpstart Rogue’s powers or somethin.’”

Another nod and a quick call with his communicator, and Nightcrawler was porting directly from the room, other patients - and repercussions - be damned. He returned in less than 10 seconds with both Cyclops and Jean - still wearing the mobile Cerebro unit - who stared in shock at the sight of both Rogue and Logan laying nearly completely nude and Beast standing nearby, watching.

“Uh…” Scott stammered, unsure of what to make of the strange situation as he held an armload of blankets they had been passing out to survivors.

“Rogue’s powers seem to be depleted. That, or she is subconsciously repressing them. Her injuries are dire, however, and she will not survive without the use of Logan’s absorption abilities,” the blue furred medic explained.

“Jean,” Logan pleaded from underneath Rogue’s still unconscious form. “See if you can go in her head, kickstart her powers somehow.”

The redhead bit her lip, trying not to show her nervousness at the sudden, intense, and dire demand for her powers.

“You can do this, Jean,” Scott encouraged her, hand on her shoulder. “I know you can.”

“We don’t do something, right now, and she’s as good as dead,” Wolverine growled. “I can feel her heart slowin’, blood freezin’ as we speak. It’s now or never, Red.”

Jean nodded, placing her hands over the temples of Cerebro and closed her eyes. The others watched as her face contorted in first sadness, pleasure, remorse, and shock, then determination, rage, pain, and finally pure anguish as Jean relived all of Rogue’s memories from the last few hours.

After a few long minutes, as Rogue’s body gasped with one hard fought breath after another, Jean opened her eyes, tears already streaming down her face. “I - I couldn’t bring her back. She - she refused to come out of her mind.” The telepath furrowed her brows in trepidation and sadness. “So I tried something else. I just hope it works…”

All eyes shifted back to Rogue and Logan, who was still lying under Rogue’s unresponsive body. “What did you…?” Wolverine trailed off, stiffening suddenly as purple veins protruded under his skin and he gasped from the sudden absorption.

Beast leaped forward, quickly reactivating the suppression collar and lifting Rogue off of Logan before she killed him. It only took a moment for Wolverine to somewhat recover, however, and he shakily stood up from the table as Nightcrawler offered him support. A second later, Beast had laid Rogue back on the table and Jean telekinetically lifted Gambit’s coat from the floor to cover their teammate.

Five sets of eyes watched anxiously as the young woman moaned and shifted slightly. Slowly, a pale but steady hand came up to scrub her face as she moaned lightly. A collective sigh of relief resounded from around the room, yet Jean still stood, anxiously watching her ‘teammate.’

Finally, tired yet alert eyes opened and glanced around the room as she slowly sat up, blue irises narrowing slightly at the unfamiliar faces.

“Where - where am I?” Rogue’s voice was steady, but changed; her characteristic southern twang replaced with a clipped, northeastern accent that rang almost a full octave higher than Rogue’s typical tone. “What happened to me?” Shaking hands clutched tighter at the coat that had fallen slightly, and she covered herself with a panicked glance at the five figures standing around her. “And where are my clothes!?”

“Rogue…” Nightcrawler started, staring at his ‘sister’ in wide-eyed shock.

“This isn’t Rogue,” Jean sighed, taking one of the blankets from Scott and draping it over the young woman’s shoulders. “This is Carol. Carol Danvers.”

~X~X~X~X~X~

P.P.S. I AM still working on Getting Warmer, although I have barely cracked the first paragraph of the next chapter. At least I have it outlined and I know what I want to happen. I just always struggle with that first segue when I end one chapter and start another. I lose that momentum and inspiration and it takes me a while to get it back.

This story was purely cathartic ‘therapy’ that my brain and heart needed in order to move past Remy’s death (which dang well better be temporary).
Notes:
P.S. This is probably NOT going to get finished, like ever. But here's what I had in mind, in case any of you are curious:

Carol takes over Rogue's mind and body as Rogue is far too traumatized by recent events to come to terms with the loss of Remy. Old friends get reintroduced. Someone touches Carol/Rogue not realizing that the collar she's wearing isn't active. But nothing happens. When Carol actively TRIES to use Rogue's powers, she can, but it isn't in a constant state of being 'on.' (this is comic book canon, btw, that Carol can control Rogue’s absorption powers even as Rogue cannot)
Immediately after this scene, Wolverine asks Nightcrawler to take him to Gambit's body, so they can have a funeral. There's a pause, because apparently Episode 6 or 7 has MORE drama/fighting (it looks epic with Kurt and Logan fighting side by side, and Kurt wielding his swords).

After the next battle, Gambit's body, is nowhere to be found. Carol is off helping look for survivors, unburying rubble, and generally unconcerned (she didn't LIVE/watch it all unfold, after all) by what happened to Gambit or Magneto. Later, the team reconvenes and Wolverine informs them that Gambit's body is missing and he lost the scent down by the docks. In total, 12 of those confirmed dead have gone missing, and 3 of the seriously wounded survivors - those who fought and won various battles - are also missing. Wolverine reveals that he smelled Sinister, or his goons, in several of the places where people have gone missing.

The team concludes that Sinister must have somehow been involved in the attacks, and in the 'grave robbing'. Wolverine and Cyclops, along with a few other survivors on the island (old favorites from TAS and comics), gather together to hunt him down. The other X-Men stay on the island to help find survivors and/or rebuild. Xmen work with Val Cooper (miraculously still alive) to give a press conference where she declares Rogue, Magneto, and Gambit national heroes and organizes humanitarian aid to Genosha.

Magneto is later found, and it's discovered that he, Leech, and a handful of the Morlocks are still miraculously alive. Carol 'knows' Magneto, and knows he played a role in what Rogue did to her all those years ago. She is disgusted by him and nearly smothers him in his sleep. She is stopped by Storm, who has dealt with the Adversary alongside Forge, and the two of them flew in Forge's private plane to come help. (Storm does not have her powers in this story version).
Carol informs Storm of Magneto's wickedness, of his role in Carol's misfortune/demise, and the way he seduced a young Rogue, manipulated and used her, knowing how powerful she would become. Carol's psyche, her own disdain for Magneto and the way he groomed Rogue, was one of the reasons the girl left him in the end. "She's still all twisted up, thinking her feelings were real. But she knew. In the end she knew it was only the touch she wanted, not the man. That I was right about him all along. Just a shame Gambit didn't live long enough for her to tell him that she loved him. That she chose him."

Meanwhile, a few days later, Wolverine, Cyclops and team (I'm guessing I'd make it some kind of strike team from the comics), find out where Sinister is hiding and sneak into his base. He has several bodies of the dead victims disected and/or in tubes of some kind of fluid. Gambit is not among them. Four are missing, in total. Strike team gets attacked by Apocalypse's new horsem*n - including Gambit as Death (also comic canon, btw, but not because Gambit dies - although he DOES do it to try and 'save' Rogue and others).

yada yada,then at last, Carol ends up confronting Gambit. They are pretty evenly matched for strength and power, except Gambit/Death can now charge living/organic objects (he can't normally do that in the comics, or the series). Carol/Rogue is pinned and about to be killed by Gambit/Death when she manages to pull Remy's ring and hide it in her hand. Death thinks it's a weapon and laughs when he sees it. Carol explains, "It's hers. She can't bear to part with it. Found out you were going to propose, and it just broke her even more. She told Magneto no. That you were right and some things are deeper than skin. She LOVES you. Even now I can't absorb you, can't KILL you, because some part of her won't let me. Because she'd rather die than lose you again."
Gambit fights off Apocalypse's influence (like in the comics) and collapses. X-Men take him home and care for him. Carol looks after him for a while, but can feel how much Rogue loves him, and Rogue returns to her own mind/body.
The end, Lol.

Chapter 2: Part 2

Chapter Text

Apparently I'm still writing this, because my chest still hurts from this episode, and I still have trauma to unpack from the horrifying beauty of Gambit’s death…

I honestly am not loving Carol, but it is what it is, now that I’ve committed to it. Just wish I would have realized when Rogue refused to come out of her mind that I would have NO ONE left to write for/with that I actually know and have a good grasp over. But she’ll still make appearances. Can’t loose my favorite Cajun AND Southern Spitfire in the same go ‘round.

If anyone is reading this, cares a bit about the plot concept, and has suggestions for a “strike team”, what should/could happen, etc, let me know. Because this story has decided to take up residence in my brain, however temporarily, and I’d like to have SOMETHING of a plan in case it cozies in to stay a while.

This chapter, or fanfic, isn’t pretty, or even proofread. It’s just me trying to dump my ideas as some form of cheap, self-help therapy after that episode…

~X~X~X~X~X~
“Shattered” Part 2
By Wiccamage
~X~X~X~X~X~

Cyclops stared from Rogue/Carol to Jean, and back again as Wolverine growled, his arm still slung over Kurt’s shoulders for support. “Are you crazy, Red? Don’t you remember what happened last time she got out?”

“I didn’t have a choice, Wolverine,” Jean snipped right back. “Rogue has buried herself so deep in her own mind, I wouldn’t have gotten her out in time to save her. And she doesn’t WANT to be saved. She’s livid that we didn’t just let her die with Gambit.” A single tear escaped Jean’s eyes and she wiped it away as ‘Rogue,’ with her strange blue eyes, sat on the concrete slab, watching the X-Men warily. “But Carol is here, and willing, to take over for a while. It’s the best we can do right now.”

Carol, looking to the rest of the world like Rogue, nodded slowly, raising one eyebrow as she took in the different faces. Some she knew, others she’d only seen from the deep recess of Rogue’s mind, but could not put names to them.

Beast cleared his throat, stepping closer to Carol/Rogue. His blue face was harrowed with shock and grief, compounding on itself ever since they’d first seen the news just a few hours prior. “Ahem, uh, Carol - is it? I’m Henry McCoy. Is it alright if I ask you a few questions regarding your current state of health?”

Carol/Rogue narrowed her eyes, but nodded slowly. “I suppose. I’m confused, though.” She looked at the telepath, her strength returning despite the activated collar. “I know that you … let me out… because Rogue was dying. That there was a battle. But, I’m not sure what makes you think I’m just going to go BACK, willingly, once this is over.”

“We can always have Jean trap you back in there right now’,” Scott snarled. He had placed the pile of blankets on the ground and stood with his arms folded, his expression hard and haunted.

“Good luck with that,” Carol scoffed, tossing unfamiliar chestnut and white waves over her shoulder. “All that will get you is a catatonic body. And from the sounds of things, you need all the extra muscle you can get right now.”

Wolverine growled, standing once again on his own as he folded his arms. He was still clad in just his boxers, however, and the state of undress ruined his attempt at intimidation

“Carol,” Jean tried again. “You have to understand, it’s Rogue’s body. Her mind. Her life.”

“Because she STOLE MINE!” Carol threw the coat and blanket from her shoulders and stood at Rogue’s full height, seemingly unaffected by her near nudity. The men on the team, however, quickly turned their attention away, uncomfortable with the way Carol was clearly flaunting Rogue’s body. Only Wolverine didn’t look away, expression unreadable.

Ms. Marvel rolled her eyes, but still grabbed the discarded coat and slid it over her arms, wrapping the excess around her narrow waist. The gesture, although meaningless to Carol herself, sent a pang of loss and torment through a deep recess in her mind, and the woman swallowed hard, taking a moment to study the garment.

“This -” she stopped, brows furrowed. “This was his, wasn’t it? What was his name? Gambit?”

The room was silent, the other five still processing the loss of their teammate, unable to even speak his name.

Finally, Wolverine’s voice, soft and hollow, replied. “Yeah, Ace, it was. Take care of it, will ya? He - he died savin’ a lot of lives.”

Carol nodded pensively, eyes focused purely on the coat. Memories of it being draped over her shoulders, at their first meeting… No. Not THEIR first meeting. Hers - Rogue’s. It was a memory from when Rogue had first met Gambit, on the nearby Muir Island, over a decade ago, when the Shadow King had taken over. Right after she’d left the Savage Lands, and Magneto..

Rogue had been so young back then, barely 16… And though 10 years had passed, and the X-Man was older, and had changed in many ways, in some ways Rogue was still that scared teenager.

Shaking her head, Carol finally looked up, her gaze softened. “She won’t come back. Not anytime soon. She’s… she’s not okay. I don’t know what all went down, what she saw, but she’s very, very broken right now.”

Tears were in nearly everyone’s eyes as they absorbed Carol’s words. The former hero took a deep breath and folded her arms, gaze steady as she looked again to Jean. “Maybe we can work something out. You can, I don’t know, try to talk to her, see if you can ‘fix’ her or whatever. If she wants to take over her body again, well… Maybe… Maybe we can share or something.”

Cyclops snorted, his arms folded as he scowled at the figure that had once been his teammate and friend. “What, like joint custody?”

Carol shrugged, grinning slightly. “Something like that. I know you don’t like it, but right now, I’m all you’ve got. And it sounds like there are people still trapped and in trouble out there. I can help. Rogue can’t. So let me help.” Hands on her hips, she stood poised and ready to take on the challenge that lay outside the crumbling walls.

With a sigh, Cyclops looked to his teammates, who all nodded in agreement. “You’re with the X-Men, though, understood? Rogue - she’s being hailed as a hero, and right now, she’s become some kind of symbol of hope. She’s the only …” His voice caught, and he swallowed down the emotion lacing his words. “She’s the only survivor who stood against that thing. It - it’s kind of a big deal to those who made it, I guess. People have been asking about her, if she’s okay. I think - I think it would help the masses cope better if you just … pretended … to be her - at least for a while.” Although his words were certain, his voice wavered under the weight of personal loss. “Is that something you can do?”

Carol thought about it a moment, arms crossed as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Pretend to be the woman who had taken away her life? Pretend Rogue was a hero, and not the villain she had become in Carol’s own story? Could she do such a thing?

The former blonde, whose hair now identified her to the rest of the world as the X-Man, Rogue, pulled the wild locks out of her face, tucking them behind her ears as she looked out of the ‘window’ in the room that had been unintentionally created by some kind of blast. Outside, buildings had been reduced to rubble, people were milling about, crying, clutching each other, or digging through the debris in a desperate attempt to find more survivors, or the bodies of their loved ones.

Carol set her jaw, tears pricking her own eyes from the heaviness of the world she had come back to, and nodded solemnly. “For now, I’ll do what I need to do. Im not going to lie to people about who I am, but I wont … correct them, necessarily. Unless they're supposed to be friends, or something, right? Her friends would know - should know, probably. But yeah, I can “be” her for a while, at least symbolically. I make no promises after we deal with this mess, though. I won't pretend forever, and Im not going to lie. Deal?” She held out her bare hand to Cyclops, who was wearing his uniform and gloves, and he took it.

“Agreed,” he promised, then looked at Nightcrawler. “Kurt?”

The blue furred acrobat stepped forward, using the key to deactivate and remove the suppression collar. He smiled lightly at Rogue - Carol - but it did not reach his eyes.

Once the collar had been removed, Carol rolled her head around on her neck, flexing and stretching her arms and fingers to make tight fists, feeling her super strength return. She flew upward, hovering a few feet off the ground, just because she could.

“Boy does it feel good to fly again,” she stated simply, but her voice contained a levity that was felt only by her. Despite the heaviness in the room, she grinned widely before touching back down.

“Now all I need are some new clothes,” she stated, a bit less jovially, considering the emotional toll her very presence meant to everyone else in the room.

Kurt stepped forward, meeting her blue eyes for a mere moment before looking away, crestfallen. “I - I will retrieve some for you Ro - vermissen (miss). Excuse me.” The furry blue mutant did not teleport, however, but walked out of the room so he could safely exit the building without disturbing any other patients within.

“So,” Carol continued, folding her arms and turning to face the others. “What’s the situation? Can someone fill me in?”

Before anyone could speak, a young woman had dashed through the wall, rocketing toward ‘Rogue’ and catching everyone off guard. “Oh thank goodness you’re okay!” a shrill voice echoed in the decaying room and Carol found herself hugging a small brunette.

“Um, hi,” the former Avenger chuckled lightly, amused by the exchange. “Have we met?” She was already preparing to play into the “Rogue fanclub” bit, however vile it felt.

The girl disentangled herself from ‘Rogue’s’ arms and looked up at her in shock. “Ohmygosh!” the thin young woman exclaimed. Her hair, pulled back in a ponytail, was disheveled and falling out of the hair tie. Her face was streaked with dirt, and her uniform was torn in several places with a handful of cuts adorning otherwise tanned and flawless skin. “Kurt told me you were awake, but he didn’t mention you had amnesia! It’s me, Kitty!”

Cyclops, Beast, and Jean looked surprised, yet pleased, while Wolverine grinned from ear to ear. “Hey there, Half-Pint. Good to see you, kid.”

The young woman squealed happily and raced through the makeshift bed slab to hug her favorite grumpy X-Man. “Wolvie! Oh my gosh, it’s been like, ten freaking years!” Her tone was light and easy, but once the older man’s arms were around her, she leaned into the embrace, hugging him like a lifeline. “Oh god, Logan…”

“I know, kid, I know.” The somber melancholy surrounded the room once more, before another visitor provided a temporary distraction. In the midst of the heavy moment, another man walked through the door, his large stature nearly encompassing the entire frame, and he had to duck down to enter the quickly crowding room.

“Ah, there you are, Katya!” Piotr Rasputin grinned as he took in the familiar faces. “Rogue! Thank heaven you are well again, my friend!” Without warning, the massive man had grabbed Carol up in a hug and lifted her off her feet.

“Friendly bunch you’ve got here,” Carol mused, grinning slightly as she patted the man’s bare arm in a sort of reciprocation. “Would you mind putting me down, big guy? I’m more accustomed to doing the lifting, myself.”

“Of course, my friend!” Peter blushed, setting the woman back on her feet. “My apologies. I was just so glad to see you awake and…” his face fell suddenly. “I am sorry about earlier, but you were not yourself.”

“No kidding.” An ironic chuckle escaped Carol’s lips as Cyclops huffed and Wolverine snorted. Carol’s smile morphed into a grimace as she gasped and held her head, though, an image of the hulking mutant flitting across her mind. A vision of large, gentle hands holding her down as she kicked and flailed and screamed, sobbing out for Remy, wailing and fighting until she once again succumbed to the darkness brought on by a needle full of relief…

The same hands were on her now, holding her up by her bare forearms.

“Carol?” Jean asked quietly. “Are you alright?”

Both Kitty and Piotr looked back and forth between Jean and the woman they knew as Rogue, as the latter nodded.

“I’m fine. Just - just flashes. I think some of Rogue’s memories are surfacing. They… they aren’t exactly pleasant.”

“You - you are not Rogue?” Colossus questioned, not realizing he was still holding the woman’s bare wrists.

“Pete!” Kitty called, finally noticing the danger he was in. “Don’t touch her skin! She’ll absorb you!”

But the large man did not let go of the woman’s hand, and instead held it up in wonder. “What does this mean? Who are you, if not Rogue? And how are you able to do this thing - to touch me - without harm?”

To this, no one had an answer.

~X~X~X~

“I - I can’t believe it,” Kitty moaned a while later from just outside the slightly less damaged building that housed the makeshift infirmary. “As if things weren’t bad enough. After all this... Gambit… And now Rogue.” Fresh tears pricked her eyes as she leaned into Colossus’s embrace and he placed a kiss on her head. She, Piotr, Kurt, Jean, and Scott sat together, waiting for Hank, Logan, and Carol to finish their business inside.

Beast had insisted on checking over Rogue’s body for any further wounds, as well as addressing her lack of absorption, and Wolverine had stayed behind as a guinea pig and guard. Friendly as he had once been with Ms. Marvel, he didn’t exactly trust her not to fly off with Rogue’s body and never return.

“But at least Rogue is ALIVE, Liebchen,” Kurt reminded her, even though his face reflected similar melancholy. He was exhausted, his body aching from the frantic teleporting, forcing himself past his limits to save just one more. His body was bruised, something probably broken, by the blast he had taken while saving Rogue and Magneto. By all rights, he should be dead, too, and the thought further sobered him.

“If you can even call that living,” Cyclops groused, his arms folded. “I - I can't just stand around here. I'm going to head down to Hammer's Bay. See if I can help Morph and the others look for more survivors.” He ran a hand through his hair, his own face pinched and haggard.

Jean looked up at him, Scott's sorrow rolling off him in waves. First he had lost his son, and now the woman he had spent the last year - or longer - living with, loving, planning their life, now she was dead, too. They had yet to find Madelyn’s body, but from the eyewitness accounts, many had been vaporized by the machine. There were probably thousands who would never be found. Whose families would never have that closure.

“I - I’ll come with you,” Jean announced slowly, uncertainly. Her rage from earlier today - or was that yesterday? Time no longer held meaning. No longer moved in linear waves that made any sense. Either way, her rage was gone now. The hurt the small act had caused was nothing compared to the gaping hole of horror left in the wake of genocide and personal loss.

She stood, placing a tentative hand on Scott’s arm, and he gave her a sad, tilted smile, nodding.

“I can teleport you down there,” Kurt offered warily. But the X-Men could see the lines of exhaustion and haggardness in his furry face, and Cyclops shook his head. “No, you stay and rest, Kurt. We’ll call if we need another extraction. There are a few vehicles up and running. We’ll catch a ride down with… We’ll catch a ride.”

Cyclops didn’t want to say it out loud. ‘With the bodies.’ The few working trucks that were able to traverse the destroyed city were being used to haul away the dead or dying. Bodies were being brought into the center of the city where a handful of mutants - those with powers less suited for recovery work - were photographing, tagging, sometimes identifying, the dead before allowing them to be hauled off again to the beach, or anywhere they could find a place for them.

There was a bulletin board, already erected near the epicenter - where Gambit had… where the MegaSentinel had been destroyed… and it was full of hundreds, THOUSANDS of pictures of the dead or missing. Those cataloging the dead, including one unfortunate soul who could produce a tangible photograph of anything he chose to ‘snap’ with his hands and eyes, had started their own such board, and visitors to it were frequent and many. With every new image added, every new body recovered, photographed, and cataloged, came a new wave of anguish for some other survivor, some other family.

It seemed endless, this suffering.

Everyone had their own way of dealing with it, mostly. Though some, like Rogue, were not coping well with the tragedy. The knowledge that Rogue, who he had always thought was made of tougher stuff than this, had retreated into her own mind and refused to help both saddened and angered him. Sure, she was close to Remy, had probably loved him, but it wasn’t like…

Like him and Jean.

Swallowing hard, Scott covered Jean’s hand on his arm with his own, giving her a grateful smile. He had been distant and closed off from her, but the loss of their teammate made him realize just what Rogue must be feeling - what HE would be feeling if he lost Jean, too.

The two were turning to leave when Beast came outside with a sluggish Wolverine draped over his shoulders. They were followed closely by Carol/Rogue, who had on a pair of black leggings and a black, sleeveless, high collared tank top. Her arms and hands were bare, unencumbered by the gloves that had long imprisoned Rogue’s deadly skin.

“What happened?” Kitty stood quickly, grimacing slightly at the aches and pains that permeated her own body.

“Our friend here offered to play the lab rat for a few experiments with Rogue’s - er, Carol’s - control over her powers. It seems that while our Southern Belle cannot ‘turn off’ her absorption abilities, Carol can. In fact, they seem to be in a rather curious state of dormancy unless she actively attempts to use them. Furthermore, she can control just how much - and WHAT - she takes with every absorption.”

Shock rang through the expressions of those present - those who had known Rogue for years and knew of her fierce desire for just such a breakthrough.

“Beast, that doesn’t make any sense!” Cyclops snarled, running a hand through his hair. This was just another complication, another distraction, from what they needed to be doing.

“Actually, Scott,” Jean spoke quietly, pensively, as she still held tight to his arm - a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Wolverine. “It makes perfect sense. It means that Rogue herself, something in her mind, is the only thing keeping her from the perfect control Carol seems to be exhibiting.”

With a heavy sigh, Cyclops nodded, shuffling his feet anxiously. “That’s great and all… Carol, but we’re needed down by the Bay. Apparently that was the area hit the hardest and they need all the manpower they can get.”

Nods of agreement were shared all around, and Kitty took Peter’s hand as they stood together. “We’ll all go. Now that I know Rogue… Sorry, CAROL is okay - sort of - I’m ready to get back out there, too.”

Kurt stood as well, although somewhat wobbly on his feet, and held out his hand. “I can take everyone,” he offered with a small, tired smile. Shadowcat and Colossus were already holding tight to his shoulder when Wolverine pushed off of Beast and took a step toward the blue furred teleporter.

“Not this time, ‘Crawler,” the gruff Canadian shook his head. “You look like you’re about ready t’ join some of those others in there.” He nodded his head back toward the building that was already packed with the dead and severely injured. “‘Sides, I got another assignment for ya.”

With furrowed brows, Nightcrawler stared quizzically at the man. “Vhat might that be, Herr Logan?”

“Take me t’ Gambit.”

~X~

Little did anyone realize, as they parted ways and headed out, that the worst had yet to come, and the fight was only beginning.

~X~X~X~X~X~

Chapter 3: Gone

Chapter Text

~X~X~X~X~X~

Little did anyone realize, as they parted ways and headed out, that the worst had yet to come, and the fight was only beginning.

~X~X~X~X~X~

Hours later… or was it days? Or weeks… Time did not beat here like a living thing. It no longer mattered.

After parting ways to look for survivors, the X-Men had bravely beaten back more Sentinels. Dozens, hundreds, perhaps thousands, even. The robots had attacked on a global scale, even while the world watched in horror over the mass genocide - the cinders - that had become Genosha.

Trask and Gyrich had been freed by their own monstrosities, ending with Trask taunting the team with a second MegaSentinel - another Godzilla.

“While you’ve been holding hands, we’ve been setting up the dominos.”

Dominos, indeed. The X-Men alone could not resist the attacks - not on a global front - but mutants from around the world had gathered, had arisen from the ashes of the haunted souls of Genosha, to beat back the threat.

And there were casualties. Untold hordes of dead. A genocide.

An Extinction.

But the battle - fierce, and long, and harrowing - was over now. And more were dead. Always, there was more death to be uncovered.

At long last the team came together again, reconvening near the temporary hospital where Rogue had initially nearly joined the long list of corpses lining the beaches, the streets, filling mass graves. Carol was still in control, and had fought long and hard, giving her all to the cause. She’d been an unmatched powerhouse on the battlefield - focused, strategic, brutal. She wasn’t encumbered by the crushing loss of Gambit, hadn’t witnessed the first, soul-rending atrocities, that made the other survivors weary and timid of another fight.

She had been a leader, a symbol of hope and tenacity. Of strength and courage.

And it helped that the masses - those initial survivors who trembled in fear at the second wave of Sentinels - believed she was Rogue.

Rogue, who had emerged victorious against the first MegaSentinel.

Rogue, who had saved thousands of lives.

Rogue, who had lost the only man she could touch, and the only man she had ever loved, all in one night.

Rogue, who had nearly died, only to rise stronger, more determined, more marvelous.

It helped that the survivors saw only Rogue, and not Ms. Marvel. Had they known that the former had retreated into her own mind, had been rendered essentially catatonic and defenseless by the weight of her burdens, they might not have rallied to her side, might not have answered the call to rise up and take back their city.

But Carol had achieved those things, not Rogue. Yet the world was lauding the latter as a hero, instead of the former. It was a rub. Salt in the open, oozing wounds that had never closed when Rogue stole her powers - and her life - over ten years ago. More than once Carol had nearly divulged the secret, just to set the record straight and reclaim her own glory as Ms. Marvel. But this was not the time for pride and vanity. Now was the time for action. For recovery. For rebuilding.

Now was the time for mourning.

The X-Men had regrouped back at the makeshift infirmary once more, hours - or days - after they had left their fallen teammate in the same room where Rogue had nearly died, where she had rescinded her mind to Carol’s control.

Once or twice during the battles, Rogue’s grief and rage - so much rage - had bled through into Carol’s consciousness, and she had brutalized man and machine alike before she could regain her senses.

But it was quiet in her head now, with Rogue retreating back into the deepest depths of her mind to mourn the life - and love - she had lost. Standing alone in the long shadows of the building, Carol closed her eyes and actually tried to find the other woman, tried to talk to her. As the sun crested the horizon and lit the city in a fiery glow reminiscent of the flames that had so recently engulfed almost half of the island, however, all Carol could find in Rogue’s mind were rivers of blood and tears, and the ashes of a shattered heart.

“You alright, Ace?” Wolverine’s gruff voice drew Carol out of the misery in Rogue’s mind, and she turned, looking him and Nightcrawler up and down.

Wolverine’s uniform was in absolute tatters. The entire top half was missing, and it was somewhat of a miracle that he had anything left that resembled pants. Kurt was draped over his shoulder, bleeding and unconscious, but alive.

“Better than him,” Carol raised her eyebrow at the furry blue mutant’s state, and leveled a look at Wolverine. “Is he going to be okay? I don’t even really know who he is, but he’s important to Rogue.” She winced a little as another wave of anguish and terror echoed through the part of her mind occupied by the other woman.

“He’ll live,” Logan assured her, finding a solid looking pile of rubble to lay the young man down. “He just exhausted himself. For a preacher, he sure knows his way around a battlefield.” He snorted, smiling affectionately at the young man. “Never would have figured him for the swashbuckler type.”

Carol said nothing, simply watching the teleporter’s chest rise and fall in a steady, soothing rhythm. For whatever reason, it made her feel better, knowing he would be okay. Knowing that Rogue would not have another loss levied against her already shredded soul.

The realization that Carol actually felt SORRY for the young woman who had destroyed her life, for the woman who had kept her trapped in a box within her mind for the better part of a decade, made her scoff in disbelief. “Who is he to her, anyway? She’s kind of freaking out, I think. Not that she’ll come out and say it.”

Wolverine raised an eyebrow at Carol’s sudden interest, and took a moment to observe her tattered garments. Her black pants had been shredded into something that resembled Daisy Duke shorts, and her tank top was now little more than a sports bra. Even the heavy boots she had donned were melted and falling apart in places.

“He’s her brother - kind of.”

“Seriously?” Carol questioned, clearly wanting more of an explanation than Logan was providing.

“Adopted,” the Canadian grunted, taking a seat on a hunk of concrete next to the young man’s sleeping form.

“I thought Rogue was adopted by … oh.” Blue eyes widened in sudden realization as she took in the teleporter’s blue coloring. Then again, with a darker tone and with a narrowed, angry glare, “Oh.”

Wolverine gave her a slanted, apologetic smile. “Yeah. Some kind of messed up family tree, huh? The real kicker is how a crazy bitch like Mystique ended up with two of her kids as X-Men.”

“Family reunions must be a real party,” Carol mused, her lips turning up at the corner.

A bark of laughter as Logan tipped his head back and roared. “Darlin’, you don’t know the HALF of it.” But his smile faded a moment later as he leveled a disappointed gaze at her, seeing Rogue, but knowing it was not her. “You get a chance, let her know that her brother needs her. We all do.”

Carol set her jaw and swallowed hard, biting down a bitter retort. Had she not just saved a city, and millions of lives, too? Had she not done enough PRETENDING to be Rogue, just so the people would see her rise from the ashes and know they could do the same? Was Logan insinuating that Rogue’s worth weighed more than that of her own? That Carol Danvers, Ms. Marvel, who had traveled the cosmos and single handedly beat back invading armies, was nothing more than a stand-in?

Before she could snap an appropriate retort, remind him of who had stepped up and who had run away, they were joined by Scott and Jean. Scott had been badly injured, with blood oozing from his forehead and a massive burn across his arm and shoulder. Jean sported a few cuts and bruises, but otherwise seemed fine. Just behind them, Beast arrived, carrying an unconscious Kitty, and behind him, Colossus, carrying… himself?

Cradled within the tin man’s arms was the human form of Piotr Rasputin.

Instantly, Wolverine was on his feet, moving toward the young woman first.

“She’s alive,” Hank whispered wearily, placing her gently next to Kurt’s sleeping form before turning back to the double vision of Colossus. All eyes were on the pair with curiosity and confusion when the face of the mutant’s metal form shifted to reveal morph’s white, crestfallen expression.

“Where … where should we put the big guy?” Morph asked quietly, his physical burden weighing considerably less than the emotional one.

“He and Gambit shall keep each other’s company in both body and soul,” Beast replied, wiping his eyes with the back of his furry blue hand. Jean and Scott, who had practically collapsed on a pile of rubble gasped and swore, respectively. Carol sighed, acknowledging the loss of what she assumed was another friend.

“Oh, Ruskie,” Wolverine lamented, shaking his head. “Not you, too.”

“We, we were surrounded,” Morph explained shakily. “Shadowcat was trying to get to some survivors trapped in a warehouse and the Sentinels came - dozens of them. A handful of us fought them back, but there were so many of them. They fired all at once, and this guy used himself as a human shield to protect the rest of us. Kitty came out with the survivors right as he…” Morph paused, sighing. “She went all ‘Kill Bill’ on the Sentinels, but took a hit and went down, too. We barely made it out alive.”

Wolverine placed a comforting hand on Morph’s shoulder, knowing how hard such an attack must have been on the shapeshifter. “Come on, pal,” his gruff voice was soft and resigned. “I’ll show you where we put Gambit. Just be warned - he ain’t as pretty as Pete, here.”

With a tremble in his lips and tears in his eyes, Morph followed his friend while the others stood in silence. Beast immediately busied himself with tending to Cyclops’s wounds, while Carol stared down at the unconscious forms of Kurt and Kitty.

Oh gawd, not another one. Not one more friend, one more ally. And Kitty? It had looked like she and Colossus were a couple. Hadn’t she just updated her Facebook status a few months ago? “In a relationship,” it had said, and Rogue had smiled at the picture of the cute young couple, looking very much in love. She remembered now. The joy she’d felt that two of her friends had found a connection half a world away had only been levied by the pang of the jealous despair that she would never be able to hold the man she loved the way Kitty did with Piotr in those pictures.

With leaden feet, she shuffled over to the sleeping girl and knelt close. “Ah’m so, so sorry sugah…” Tears pooled and spilled over her own cheeks as bare fingers brushed a lock of hair from the girl’s face.

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder and hazel-green eyes met Jean’s blue ones for a mere moment before both women gasped at the sudden pull of Rogue’s powers. Lightning fast, she jumped away from Kitty and Jean alike, stumbling back and holding her head.

“Rogue?” Jean called, reaching out again, but not making contact. “Rogue, talk to me…”

Shaking her head as if trying to dispel the sorrow and confusion in her brain, blue eyes locked once more with Jean’s, and Carol sighed. “It’s no good. She’s gone again.”

“What happened?” Scott asked, standing next to Jean with Hank, who had just finished wrapping the gauze bandages around the leader’s wounds.

“Rogue … surfaced,” Carol remarked with a grimace. “Just for a minute. She was here, but as soon as Jean touched her, she spooked.” The former Avenger rubbed her temples. “Good Lord, Jean, how do you deal with this telepathy thing?” Carol bit back a moan. “The misery - the pain - it’s unreal.”

“Let, let me help you,” Jean offered, placing her hands over Carol’s temples.

After a few moments, the woman sighed in relief. “Much better. Thank you.”

The redhead nodded solemnly. “Rogue’s powers are temporary. It should fade completely in a few hours, or less. I’m not really sure how it works, to be honest.”

Carol nodded in understanding, then gestured to Kitty. “Is she okay? I can feel her mind kicking around in here, now, so Rogue must have touched her, too.”

Kneeling down, Beast checked Kitty’s vitals and examined her other wounds. “She is no worse for wear than before,” he reassured the others. “Though, gratefully, she may sleep longer.”

“Poor kid,” Carol sighed again, folding her arms. “She and Pete were already so in love.”

The three X-Men looked at her quizzically, and she smiled lightly, tapping her temple. “It’s all up here. That teeny tiny touch and it’s like I can see flashes of her life on a movie screen. I have to force it back though, like turning off a projector. It’s … bizarre, almost like…”

Before she could explain further, Morph was rushing out of the building, taking the corner so fast the mutant skidded in the dirt.

“You guys better come quick! Gambit’s GONE!”

~X~X~X~X~X~

Oh look, it’s another chapter! Yay for me! And also, I’m already losing steam on this guy, so we’ll see how far it takes us. I can tell I’m not firing off my best work at ALL with this itty bitty chapter, so we might be at the tail-end of what I’m going to write for it. Who knows. Rogue’s momentary appearance was great, but I have literally never written anything about any characters other than Rogue and Gambit, so this is a hard one for me.

Also, sorry about killing off Colossus, but death must have its payment, and Rogue can’t be the only one in mourning. (Plus, in the comics Colossus dies and comes back, so I figure he’ll be okay… eventually.)

Chapter 4: Sinking

Chapter Text

~X~X~X~X~X~

Gambit was gone? A body couldn’t just walk out on its own, unless…

A flutter of hope, thoughts of incredible possibilities and miraculous recoveries bloomed before the next icy wave drowned that shred of optimistic reverie once more.

“It’s Sinister and the Nasty Boys!” Morph declared almost frantically. “Wolverine’s already on their trail, but he said they have a huge head start!”

Jean and Scott shared a look of horror before everyone glanced at Rogue - Carol - who felt a spark of anger that was all her own. The Southern woman had already retreated even further back into her mind, and possibly didn’t even know what was being said, what had happened.

Good.

‘Let the poor thing alone awhile,’ Carol mused silently. ‘She’s been through enough.’ It was another pang of empathy for a woman she was supposed to hate, and it left her feeling confused and raw.

Without a plan, with barely even a thought, the team moved as one to catch up with Wolverine and hopefully recover Gambit’s body before Sinister could cause more harm. Carol, with her nearly supersonic speed and incredible strength, picked up both Scott and Jean while Morph changed into a man with large, white wings. They lifted off simultaneously, taking to the skies and leaving Beast behind to care for Kurt, Kitty, and the untold injured.

As they flew, circling the immediate area to find the X-Man who was pursuing both Gambit and Sinister like a bloodhound, Carol tried not to wince from the pain in her head. The telepathy she had ‘borrowed’ from Jean bounced back with stray, furious images from Cyclops - images of clones and capture; of Madelyn and Nathan. His own pain nearly matched that of Rogue’s. The only difference was he hadn’t witnessed Madelyn’s death first hand. Didn’t have a body to cling to. Didn’t have the ash of a thousand pulverized victims still in his hair, down his throat. Didn’t taste blood in his mouth every time he swallowed.

Carol shook her head, fighting back more images that took hold from Rogue’s recent memories.

That first shocking moment of confusion and pain as she unburied herself and looked around for the source of the initial explosion…

Green light that incinerated Banshee and Marrow even while the former tried to warn her. Get to the gardens, he’d said, just milliseconds before he and the girl in his arms were destroyed...

Kurt, her brother, smoldering and bleeding as she ran to him, but couldn’t touch him…

Remy, who had smiled at her, reassured her that Kurt was alive - and so was she...

Remy - who loved her. Who had saved her. Had died for her…

“Oh my God. Carol?” Scott’s voice permeated her brain and she blinked, eyes hazel and tear-filled one moment, blue and confused the next. She still held Jean and Scott in either arm, pressing them against her sides as she carried them.

“I - I’m here. Just … keep getting flashes,” Carol smiled apologetically.

Jean turned her face toward the former Avenger, her cheeks wet with tears of her own. “We - we saw,” the redhead admitted quietly. You - Rogue - was projecting. You’ve still got my telepathy.”

Carol nodded solemnly, quietly, and steeled herself against further intrusion. ‘Just stay DOWN, Rogue,’ she screamed in her head. ‘Let me take care of things out here for a while. You’re just making this harder.’ Though her eyes were open, Ms. Marvel could see the ghost of Rogue’s psyche standing before her, face still streaked with dirt, blood, and tears, wearing that torn up red dress with the strappy black heels. Then, in the next moment, she was gone again, retreating into the recesses of her own mind once more.

Gratefully, Cyclops provided another distraction, indicating to the rubble below as he pinpointed Wolverine, who was tearing and slashing through the decimated city. Still holding Jean and Scott along either side of her body, Carol swooped down, flying next to the enraged man as he leapt over burned out cars and concrete craters.

“What have you got?” Carol called, close enough to hear each other without smashing her passengers into the dirt.

“Scent’s headin’ to the docks!” You three fly on ahead and scout it out, Morph and I’ll follow the trail, see if we pick up anything else. The Marauders are around here somewhere, too, so keep a lookout!”

Carol nodded once, then took off, leaving a trail of dust in her wake as they headed toward the bay.

~X~

Once they reached the docks, where most of the boats had been obliterated, Carol dropped off her two passengers so they could all split up. She took to the skies, trying not to enjoy the freedom of flying too much, considering the circ*mstances. She was a few miles down the beach when she caught sight of it - a sleek, ominous, shiny submersible glinting in the low, waning light of the day.

Carol pressed a button on her belt - a communicator in the form of an ‘X’ that the team had given her. “I think I found something,” she warned the others. “There’s a big sub on the far side of the beach, camouflaged behind some of the burnt out ships.” She narrowed her eyes as she dropped lower and spied several people carrying sacks over their arms as they boarded. “There’s a half dozen ugly sons of guns carrying…” Carol trailed off as she narrowed her eyes, trying to determine what they had stolen. “They’ve got bodies!” The six figures below were indeed carrying the dead down the pier, their cargo wrapped in white, or red-splotched, sheets.

Without another word to the team, without even a second thought, Carol swooped down onto the dock, alighting on the far end to stand between the villains and the submarine. Her partly melted boots made a dull thunk on the wood, instantly catching the attention of the goons.

One man was tall, gangly, and nearly two-dimensional, with purple robes. Another had flowing white hair and clothes that looked like he came out of a 1800’s pirate-themed romance novel. There was an ape-like man, as well as a large, bald guy with hardly any neck. And finally, the least intimidating of the bunch, was a short, haggard looking man with greasy black hair and a walking stick, and a woman who wore an atrocious green and white swirling patterned dress. The latter two each carried a single sheet-wrapped corpse, with the other four villains holding two or three a piece, making 12 in total.

“I know you’re the bad guys,” Ms. Marvel growled, fists tight with repressed rage. “But grave robbing before they’ve even been buried? It takes a special kind of evil for something that despicable.” She tilted her head, a dastardly smile playing at her lips. “The X-Men have a few words for you lot, but they’re not here just yet, and I’m … less verbal.”

Carol cracked her knuckles, preparing for a fight with those she assumed to be The Nasty Boys. She didn’t have access to Rogue’s memories of these goons, not that she needed them. She’d taken down hundreds of Sentinels over the last 24 hours. She could easily handle half a dozen mutant lackeys.

“Now put down the bodies, nice and slow, and put your hands in the air!” Carol commanded, fists raised and ready, with eyes blazing. She straightened with surprise when they actually began to comply with her request - that is, until all hell broke loose.

As the woman in white and green raised her hands, the world suddenly pitched and swirled under Carol’s feet. Simultaneously, the haggard looking man with greasy black hair raised his stick, and the whole pier morphed, becoming thick and hard as the planks twisted to encapsulate her. But the barrier provided relief from the woman’s powers and Carol was able to recenter herself in that moment of reprieve. Ripping away one of the planks that had surrounded her, she tossed it at the pair, knocking them off their feet and into the water.

Suddenly a shriek split the sky and made her ears ring, blinded her with the intensity of the sound, and Carol dropped to her knees as she put her hands over her ears, trying to block out the cacophony in her brain. After a second, she forced her hands together and slammed her fists into the dock, splintering the reconfigured wooden dock and severing the far end of it from the base. It served to knock the screaming 1800’s looking man off his feet, but the bodies also began rolling and falling into the water, and Carol whipped around when she heard a light moan emerge from under a blood-splattered sheet.

Some of the bodies weren’t dead after all.

With a gasp of shock, Carol raced forward, grabbing up several bodies at once to dump them on the sand before flying back to recover more of them. She felt Rogue’s rage rearing up, and with a mighty punch to the chest, she sent the bald guy - Slab - soaring through the air to land hundreds of feet away in the bay. Path momentarily cleared, Ms. Marvel dove down into the water to retrieve three more bodies - who might still be alive after all - and deposited them on the beach with the others. In mere moments she had rescued nine of them in total, and dispatched most of the Nasty Boys in the process. The pirate guy and the ape-man had managed to get three of the bodies onto the submarine, though, and she immediately went after them.

Before she could recover the bodies, however, Tar Pit emerged from under the dock and entangled her in his sticky limbs, trying to squeeze and suffocate her. Her strength meant nothing as he engulfed her with his glue-like body, cutting off her air supply. Flying didn’t work, either, as he just stayed with her, and she further depleted what was left of her oxygen. Then, in a moment of panic, she felt a tingle, a tug like that of a thousand fingernails tearing against her skin - her bare midriff, legs, and arms - deadly flesh that Tar Pit had encapsulated like a second skin, yet had somehow forgotten that he was vulnerable to Rogue’s absorption powers.

Gasping, Carol closed her eyes as the purple robed mutant’s mind flooded into hers. His unconscious form released her and fell away, dropping more than 100 feet out of the sky into the water. Her brain flooded with images of Sinister, of laboratories, and evil, violet eyes that commanded both the Nasty Boys, and the Marauders.

Images of gathering the dead, snatching the severely injured.

Images of Morlocks, unearthed from the rubble, barely breathing.

Images of Sinister, standing over Remy’s charred-black and lifeless-gray body with a sickening grin.

They were collecting mutants - both dead and alive - but for what purpose Tar Pit, and Carol, did not know.

Ms. Marvel shouted, a battle cry of anger and disbelief over unimaginable evil, and she rocketed toward the submarine, intent on sinking it. But she was knocked out of the sky by a flying harpoon, which did not pierce her nigh-invulnerable skin, but sent her sprawling across the beach nonetheless. There, standing on the deck of the submarine were more of Sinister’s lackeys. She knew from Tar Pit’s memories that these were his Marauders.

They consisted of a stocky man with nearly no neck and a quiver of harpoons on his shoulder; a woman with short lavender hair and a sparkling silver bodysuit; a runty young man in a hideous green suit and tie; a silver haired mutant standing inside a swirling hurricane; and another humongous mountain of a man, who could have easily been Slab’s older - and bigger - twin.

And, alongside them, Sinister himself.

Carol took to the skies and barely dodged another of Harpoon’s projectiles, followed in quick succession by a burst of light and a shockwave created by the purple haired woman, Arclight. Dodging and weaving through the sky, she attempted to outrun Riptide, the man with white hair, as his savage winds expanded.

Below, about a mile or more down the beach, she could see four tiny dots - Cyclops, Jean, Morph, and Wolverine - running toward the battle. But Carol wasn’t going to be able to hold out that long, not with the hurricane tossing her around, stealing her breath, making her see stars.

A moment later Carol landed hard on the metallic deck of the sub, coughing and gagging as she immediately dragged herself upright. But then there were hands on her head, fingers reaching through her skull to pull and tear at her mind, ripping away her consciousness, paralyzing her mind.

With a groan, Ms. Marvel slumped onto the shiny black surface of the vessel, rendered unconscious by the man in the green suit. On the beach, the Nasty Boys had pulled themselves from the water and were quickly collecting the misused bodies of both the dead and dying.

“Excellent work, Scrambler,” Sinister sneered. “Make sure she will remain incapacitated until we reach our destination, then put her below with the rest. She and Gambit can share accommodations. It’s only fitting that they take the journey together.” A wicked cackle escaped his lips. “I’m sure Apocalypse will enjoy turning the most lauded heroes of the day into his servants, and Rogue will have the privilege of witnessing their… rebirth… first hand. After I take my turn with them, of course.” He paused, eyes raking over the tattered black outfit and the creamy expanse of pale skin. “I’ve always been curious to see if those powers of hers are only SKIN deep… ” The grin on his face would have sickened even the most stalwart hero, and it was fortunate that none of the X-Men were there to see it.

“I hit her good and hard, Mr. Sinister,” Scrambler cackled as he lifted the barely dressed girl into his arms, his 5’6” stature dwarfed by his boss. “She’ll be out for hours. Plenty of time t’ get to the island and get… comfortable.”

“Guess again, ya slimy snake!” Hazel-green eyes flew open, bare hands already reaching for the face of the young man who had picked her up. Rogue’s powers forced him into oblivion in seconds, almost faster than he had done to Carol, and she hurled his unconscious body into Harpoon and ArcLight with perfect accuracy.

“Impossible!” Sinister recoiled, leaping away from the girl whose eyes shone with such rage they could have easily rivaled Gambit’s. “I felt your mind slip away!”

This time Rogue sneered, fiercely, murderously; her wild gaze narrowed on Sinister like a cat on a mouse. “Helps t’ have a spare,” she quipped. “Always keep an ace up y’r sleeve, right?” Her feet barely hovered above the ground as she circled, trying to keep Sinister between her and the other Marauders, who were all poised and ready to attack. On the beach, the Nasty Boys had mostly recovered from their fight with Carol and were heading back to the submarine with the bodies they had reclaimed.

“Where’s Remy?” Rogue’s teeth were gritted so hard she could feel her molars crack, but she waited, biding her time and praying that her team was close enough to back her up. She didn’t have a plan here, barely knew what had transpired aside from the flashes of injured - and dead - friends, a frantic search, and a hasty offensive. But Carol’s abrupt loss of consciousness, and Gambit’s name on Sinister’s lips, had drawn the Southerner from the sea of sorrow she was drowning in from within her own mind.

And sorrow was a familiar bedfellow for fury and vengeance.

“For now, his body is … in safe hands.” Sinister’s glance whisked to the Nasty Boys, who were fast approaching with their cargo of sheet-wrapped bodies.

If possible, Rogue’s expression turned even more vicious. “Ah’m gonna kill you, you no good, son of a…” Her rage was so great, it nearly spurred her to thoughtless action, but her instincts - and memories of Gambit’s tutelage, made her pause and drag a deep breath through her nose.

Hadn't Remy always told her not to let a foe anger her into haste? Wasn’t he always trying to goad a reaction out of her during simulations just to teach her to keep her cool during battle? Holding tight to his lessons, she somehow managed to stay calm - well, relatively so. Her rage was bubbling just below the surface, a kettle ready to blow its top from the steam that had been boiling and building until it reached a crescendo. Regardless, she kept her senses poised and ready for the attack she knew was about to rain down on her from all sides, letting that rage simmer until just the right moment for release.

The Marauders had fanned out, prepared to take her, and the air stilled in her lungs as she felt her body and mind tingle with borrowed powers. Telepathy - the touch from Jean - gave her the edge on who was attacking and when. She had Shadowcat’s phasing ability, if only just. Tar Pit, with his elasticity, and now Scrambler, who could disrupt or paralyze with a touch. Then, of course, there were her own powers.

Her strength and invulnerability.

Her flight.

Her soul-sucking skin.

And lord did she ever have plenty of THAT on hand.

Riptide moved first, his hurricane hurtling toward her with the speed and force of a freight train, and Rogue reacted a millisecond before he charged, already phasing through his tearing winds and letting him take Hairbag and Gorgeous George instead. She grabbed sky and came down with supersonic speed, catching Blockbuster in the jaw, and sending the giant crashing into Harpoon before they both sailed far out into the ocean.

Rogue let her sorrow, her rage, her anguish and self-loathing take root. Let them, as well as all those borrowed powers, mill around in her mind and body until they filled every inch of her. She fought with such ferocity that even Sinister backed away, his features no longer snide and confident, but displeased… and worried.

Her grief had found a new scale, and god help all those who found themselves measured against it.

Arclight sent a shockwave toward her, but she let her body go limp with Tar Pit’s rubbery powers, let the energy give her more speed as she rocketed into the air and collected herself back into solid material, circling high enough to see that her teammates were less than half a mile from the fight. They would be here in mere minutes: her backup, her family. But the submarine was preparing to dive, and some of the bodies had already been loaded.

“NO!” her scream was soul-rending, borne of rage and desperation, and she tore back down toward the vessel so fast she broke the sound barrier. Ramrod, that sniveling little greasy haired man, saw her coming and manipulated what was left of the dock to try and slow her momentum. It was futile, however, as she could have easily torn through steel with twice the thickness of his wooden structure.

Such was her fury that she punched straight through the wood, sending shards and timbers flying back at the little man and in all directions. A large shaft of wood - a hunk of the very material he was supposed to have mastery over - caught Ramrod in the throat, impaling him and leaving a smear of red across the deck of the diving submarine.

At the same time, Harpoon hurled another of his weapons at Rogue, but with her mind full of Remy and her senses adamantium sharp, she caught the spear and threw it back at its owner, skewering Harpoon with such violence that it drove him back under the water.

With the last of Jean’s telepathy, Rogue sent shockwaves of agony through a few of the Nasty Boys who were trying to load the last 8 or 9 bundles onto the vessel, and they dropped the sheet-wrapped bodies. In retaliation, Vertigo tried again to knock the X-Man out of the sky, and Riptide simultaneously hurled the splinters of wood from Ramrod’s attack back at the X-Man with his hurricane winds, flinging them away with such force that the four X-Men, now a quarter mile down the beach, were forced to take cover behind Jean’s telekinetic shields.

A few of the slivers actually punctured Rogue’s skin, stuck into her arms, shoulders, legs, and stomach like a porcupine’s quills as she covered her face and dropped slightly from the sky to land on the deck. Kitty’s phasing powers had run dry, as had Jean’s telepathy and telekinesis. But she still had Tar Pit and Scrambler’s abilities, and she was on her feet again almost before her body hit the metal of the submarine.

She reached out with her bare hands, elongating her fingers to twist around the rest of the shrouded bodies, and she deposited the victims on the beach once more, finally - hopefully - safe from the misuse of Sinister and Apocalypse. Within the space of a breath, she turned on the Marauders and Nasty Boys, grasping whichever faces she could, pushing with Scrambler’s powers to disrupt and incapacitate them all, while using her own to steal their abilities and memories.

Her brain flooded with images she couldn’t even make sense of, and her powers continued to pull as her mind swirled and expanded with new atrocities. The rage that had burned so hot and furious turned to ice, numbing her already splintered soul, and she released Sinister’s lackeys as the sub’s deck took on water.

Screaming, Rogue suddenly pitched forward, holding her head between her hands. Violet eyes swirled in her mind, flooding her senses with vivid memories, and visions.

~X~

The X-Men were fast approaching the battle, only a few hundred feet away, when they saw Carol/Rogue drop to her knees, shrieking, as her fingers tore at her hair. A blink, maybe two, and the submarine disappeared completely into the icy blackness of the sea, taking the X-Man with it.

“Morph!” Cyclops yelled at the shapeshifter, who was flying low alongside the others. “Get me there, now!” Morph latched onto Scott's hands and pushed himself to fly as fast as possible to the spot where their teammate had disappeared below the surface. Thankfully they were close enough that the vessel was still somewhat visible below the water, and they could see a flash of pale skin and wild chestnut hair as the woman’s body was tossed around in the wake of the retreating submarine.

“Get Carol, but mind her skin!” Cyclops commanded when they were just above the water, not knowing which woman was currently in control. Morph dove below the surface with the team’s leader, who immediately targeted the ship and began firing at it with his optic blasts. The resistance from the water somewhat diminished the power of his beams, and he hit the edge of the metal machine with his first attempt. It was a glancing blow, but a blow nonetheless, and he prepared to strike again as he held his breath.

Before he could unleash a second burst, however, the sub fired back. Cyclops had only a split second to intercept the missile, and the two forces connected just as Morph's gloved hands reached Rogue's limp body. A shockwave of water blasted the trio backwards, and it was only Morph's quick thinking that saved them all from drowning. The shapeshifter had twisted his body into that of a massive, cartoonish shark, complete with long, arm-like fins, and gills to help him breathe underwater.

Snatching Cyclops in a toothless mouth and tucking Rogue under a fin-arm, Morph swam for the beach, using the tail fin to reach such incredible speeds that by the time the trio came close to the shore, they were practically flying out of the water.

Mid-air, Morph changed shape again, dropping Cyclops from a shark's jaws, and the two men landed on their own human legs on the sand, with Morph now carrying the unconscious woman in his arms.

Wolverine was with them in seconds, bare fingers searching for a pulse.

~X~

The smell of blood and burnt flesh was in her nose, gagging her. There was blood in her mouth, filling her lungs even as tears and smoke blinded her. Her limbs were heavy as she cradled Remy in the charred crater. Once hot enough that it would have burned anyone without invulnerability, it now felt so, so cold. Rogue blinked away the blur from her retinas as the Cajun somehow shifted in her arms. His hair, which had previously been scorched off, slowly turned white as it grew new tendrils and the new length rivaled her own. Death-white skin, with patches of charcoal black burns, smoothed out and turned a mottled gray.

Then Remy’s eyes opened and he leveled his gaze at Rogue, who screamed, horrified and relieved all at once. His red eyes were ablaze with such a brilliant, murderous glow that she could have sworn he had stolen Cyclops’s powers. She wanted to simultaneously hide from him, hug him, speak to him, and yell at him, but she couldn’t breathe, and her body felt so cold, her limbs so heavy. Darkness swirled at the edge of her vision as those haunting red eyes stared into her very soul, piercing her heart with unspoken accusations and remembered words.

“You think I can’t light you up, Rogue?” His voice, deeper and more dangerous, more seductive than she’d ever heard, whispered in her mind. “Just you wait…” His hands were on her cheeks, fingers locked behind her jaw in what would have been a gesture of affection, had his eyes not reflected such murderous ill-intent.

Then her skin tingled and burned as it glowed magenta, and she screamed in agony as her flesh began to float away in charred flakes, flaying her down to the very bone.

Then Rogue's eyes flew open and she sat up, coughing and choking, unable to catch her breath. She was hot and cold all at once, and her skin still felt like it was being peeled away.

“It’s alright, darlin’, we gotcha. Just breathe.” Wolverine’s familiar voice was like a balm and a salt rub all in one. Morph was hovering just behind him, and Scott and Jean were also nearby. They had backed off once she was breathing again, and were looking around for other ways to help.

She should be happy - grateful - that they’d come to her rescue. That they had saved her life. Yet all Rogue could muster was why they hadn’t just let her die.

Sputtering, she managed to suck in one desperate lungful of air before she pitched onto her hands and knees and threw up. First it was just water, her body expelling what seemed like buckets of it. Then came the little food she - or Carol, rather - had actually managed to consume within the last few days. Paltry snacks, scraps of whatever was available in the war zone; forced down her gullet as a substitute for real sustenance. Just enough to keep her body strong and mind sharp.

From between her arms, hazel-green eyes raked down the shoreline, watching as Jean and Cyclops dragged the bodies of Harpoon and Ramrod onto the beach.

Realizing that she had murdered the men in her fit of rage, Rogue retched again, more from emotional sickness than the physical. Full body shudders making every muscle contract and spasm painfully. A warm, comforting hand rubbed carefully between her shoulder blades, protected by the little that was left of her black tank top.

An errant thought of needing to discuss their wardrobe choices flitted through Rogue’s mind as she heaved a few more times and tried to block out the image of blood-smeared sand.

Rogue’s arms were starting to shake with the effort of holding herself upright as the physical, mental, and emotional toll of the last few days - or was it still only hours? - seeped into her supposedly invulnerable body.

Morph, thoughtful as ever, removed and wrung out the jacket he wore, draping it over her shivering form while Scott and Jean moved to check on the other bodies Rogue had recovered. Wolverine coaxed the woman up from her hands and knees into a sitting position, wrapping her in the soggy brown leather and cradling her close.

Logan was on his knees, one arm behind her shoulders and one bracing her elbow as she shifted her legs away from his skin. He swept her wild white and brown mane forward to let the wet, curly waves plaster his still bare chest. Pressing Rogue’s cheek against the hard, warm muscle protected by her thin layer of hair, he squeezed her tighter as her shoulders shook, suppressed sobs nearly collapsing her ribs.

“Let it out, darlin’. Just let it out.”

“Logan…” The strangled plea was reminiscent of the one she’d uttered when she’d held Remy in her arms in a nearly mirror image of how Wolverine was supporting her now.

“I know, Rogue. It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna get him back. I promise you we’ll get him back… That or die tryin’.” She couldn’t see the small smile that flitted across his lips, but she bark/sobbed all the same.

“And people say *I* have bad jokes. Yeesh,” Morph exclaimed, shaking his head with a tiny grin of his own. But, when Rogue’s small laugh turned once again to tears, he sobered.

Rogue’s skin had healed from the thousand slivers of wood that had been embedded in her supposedly invulnerable flesh, fettered out by Logan's healing powers. As a result, his memories bounced around in her skull, along with the half dozen villains she had just absorbed. She used Wolverine as a barrier against the invasion of the other psyches in her mind, focusing on his memories to blot out the more horrendous ones from Sinister’s lackeys.

While he rocked and soothed her, Rogue saw flashes from Logan’s psyche as she closed her eyes against her own tears and mournful sobs.

She knew the hard fear that had gripped his heart for the second time when they'd laid her cold, wet, unbreathing body on the sand.

Felt the flood of relief when her powers kicked in as he gave her mouth to mouth.

Shared the disappointment with Rogue’s inability to cope; with the way she had retreated into her own mind.

Experienced the gratitude and awe over Carol's considerable skills and the way she had rallied the survivors.

Witnessed the horror of seeing Rogue on the television, sitting in the rubble.

Knew the stabbing grief in mourning Gambit’s death.

And finally, she recognized the pushed-down sorrow, the mental weight of that tiny, yet oh so heavy band of metal Kurt had found in Remy's pocket. A fresh round of agonizing sobs tore from her lips as bare hands clutched at her own heart, wanting nothing more than to rip out the organ that was causing her so much pain.

Reminded her of the pain she had forced upon Remy, the man who LOVED her.

He had bought a ring. A damn RING! And then she’d told him he never lit her up like everything else he touched.

But she'd been wrong.

So, so wrong.

He lit her up with his eyes, with the way he smiled so deviously. He lit her up with his words, those sweet and sultry quips and flirtations. The ones slung her way with a saucy look that made her cheeks flame and her heart skip a beat.

Remy lit up her temper, making her burn so hot she sometimes thought she would spontaneously combust. Foolhardy, co*cky, and confident, that was her Cajun. His way of tempting fate, and tempting her ire, knew no bounds. And even when she wanted to throttle him, or drop him in a lake, she still felt her heart beat for him.

God, what she wouldn't give for him to tease her one more time. For him to kiss the back of her hand in that characteristic way, with that grin that left her knees weak. That left her to imagine all manner of OTHER scenarios.

She would even take his hatred, his anger and disappointment. The look he gave her, with tears in his eyes as he told her some things were deeper than skin, would haunt her for the rest of her life. But she would take even that - that expression of betrayal and heartbreak - if it meant he were HERE.

“Oh gawd, Remy…" Muted sobs echoed across the beach as Logan held her tighter and looked helplessly to Jean and Scott, who were trying to reposition the last of the bodies. But the pair had discovered someone who was miraculously still breathing, and they were preoccupied with calling in an emergency medical unit and an extraction.

Wolverine swallowed hard. He should be helping the others. He wasn't good with this emotional stuff. He didn't do tears and sorrow. He could handle a few minutes, a few moments of weakness, sure, but he was better suited for anger and rage. Empathy and compassion was Jeannie's thing, Rogue's thing even, but not his.

A hand squeezed his shoulder as Morph looked down at the Canadian with mournful understanding. "Let me take her, tough guy," he offered quietly. "They could use your help sniffing out which ones might still be alive."

Wolverine nodded, grateful for the excuse to extract himself from an uncomfortable situation, and carefully maneuvered the still sobbing woman into Morph's fully clothed arms.

Choked sobs echoed through Morph’s chest as Rogue let the cold, wet coat drop a little. For a moment he thought she would push him away, but then she looked up at him, eyes a brilliant green as they sparkled with sorrow, and the words she whispered next nearly broke the shapeshifter’s heart.

"Could - Would you... p-please? I just ... I need... Oh Gawd..." Rogue's shaking fingers covered her face, too ashamed of what she had tried to ask of her friend, too ashamed of her weakness.

But a gentle hand swept the locks of wet hair from her eyes, and a sweet, familiar voice, that rich and husky Cajun patois, whispered in her ear.

"It’s alright. Don't cry ma chère . I'm here. I'm here."

A guttural eruption of agony and relief exploded from Rogue's lips as she clung to ‘Gambit’, wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her head in his chest, and holding onto him like her life - or his - depended on it.

“I'm sorry! I'm s-sorry. I'm so, so sorry!”

Grief spilled over to consume every inch of her mind and body as she sobbed apologies over and over, and neither of them knew exactly if she was pleading to the shapeshifter, or the ghost.

Morph, as the Cajun, continued to rock and soothe the shattered soul, whispering sweet nothings in French, just as Remy LeBeau would have done. It was both a mercy and a cruelty, but Morph consoled himself with the thought that maybe Gambit would have appreciated it, just a little, knowing he could - in some small way - hold and comfort Rogue one last time.

~X~X~X~X~X~

Chapter 5: Part 5

Chapter Text

*Warning - if you are a RoNeto fan, this chapter is probably NOT for you! It’s a good thing Magneto is a fictional character, because otherwise he might sue me for defamation. Lol. I would say that this chapter teases that line of “T” for a few curse words/strong language, as well as alluding to adult/sexual concepts.

~X~X~X~X~X~

Shattered: Part 5

By Wiccamage

~X~X~X~X~X~

Kurt Wagner looked down the beach, surveying the damage. He’d woken just a scant 10 minutes ago, hastened back to this world of nightmares and chaos by Beast. Despite his own exhaustion, Nightcrawler was needed. He didn’t get a lot of details, just a hasty return to consciousness, and a mission - an extraction of some sort. For bodies who still clung to life despite impossible odds.

Hank McCoy had just finished moving the still sleeping pair - Kitty and Kurt - into the broken down building in the same room Rogue herself had occupied; where Colossus’s body was resting in the corner, draped with a sheet. Just one more on a long list of their dead friends.

Colossus. Magneto. Moira. Banshee. Calisto. Dazzler. Madelyn.

Gambit.

With a sigh, Hank had checked Kitty over once more, noting the swelling over her temple. She should probably get a C.T. scan for that. Not that they had access to one right now. The entire island was currently without power. Without running water. Without anything that could ease the burden of this hellscape.

What they did have was bodies. So many, many bodies.

So many bodies, in fact, that after a person had been identified and/or claimed by family or friend, they were laid to rest in a mass grave on the far end of the island. It was crude, and a bit cruel to those who mourned, but there was simply nowhere left to keep the scores of dead. Thousands of dead. Millions, maybe.

Then, Beast had gotten a call not 30 minutes after Carol, Jean, Cyclops, and Morph had taken off after Wolverine to recover Gambit’s body from the likes of Sinister and the Nasty Boys. He’d awoken Kurt with a gentle shake and some smelling salts, and the two had teleported down to the beach in four gradual bursts. Kurt was still exhausted, after all, and his powers were nearly completely zapped from overuse.

The scene on the beach had left the two blue-furred mutants with a momentary case of shell shock.

Nine people wrapped in sheets lying in neat rows along the shore, three of them miraculously still breathing. He recognized Boom Boom as one of them, her short blonde hair streaked with blood and dirt, and her sunglasses somehow still on her face, although the lenses were cracked and shattered in places. The second survivor was Jaime Maddrox, Multiple, who had just been dancing in the town square earlier that day.

The third person… the third was unrecognizable. His face was so matted with cuts, dirt, and burns it was impossible to tell who it was. His hair SEEMED to be white, but even then it was so saturated with blood, dirt, and ash, it was impossible to tell the actual color. Kurt had quickly teleported Beast and those three victims to the newest makeshift hospital - a mostly unaffected, nearby hotel they’d converted into a unit for the next wave of injured.

They’d started dividing the hotel into floors. First floor for the nearly dead and doomed. Second floor for the ones who probably wouldn’t make it, and were merely being made comfortable until their demise. Third floor for the terribly injured, but who still had a half a prayer of pulling through, and so on until the final floor for those with wounds that were survivable, but too significant to be turned back to the streets just yet. Then there was an entire floor dedicated to those who were simply unconscious, with no significant external damage, but no way of telling when - or if - they would wake.

Kurt shivered at the sight before him.

Six dead bodies wrapped in sheets. They had been identified as three of the Morlocks, along with Sebastian Shaw, Marrow, and even Madelyn Prior. Two of Sinister’s goons were dead as well. He knew them as Harpoon and Ramrod only because he’d overheard Jean, Wolverine, and Cyclops discussing them. A third man, large and stocky with a squared jaw, was being hauled out of the bay by Jean’s telekinesis. His chest was oddly shaped, almost concave, and though he was still breathing, no one seemed in a rush to help him. The living were too busy moving the bodies and trying to ignore the other two figures sitting in the sand.

Not 10 yards down the beach, slightly removed from the destruction, was Rogue - being cradled by Gambit.

Kurt swallowed hard, shaking his head. He’d gotten over his initial shock and elation upon seeing his friend alive and well, but Jean had telepathically informed both Kurt and Hank that it was merely Morph, trying to console a desperate Rogue, and his hopes had been dashed again.

Now he was left only with a sickness in his stomach everytime he glanced their way. It wasn’t healthy, what Morph was doing - what Rogue was doing. It wasn’t closure, or healing. It was temporary. A crutch. A substitute that felt almost blasphemous.

But, Kurt sighed with resigned acceptance, it was effective. Rogue was still ‘here’. Still in control of her body for the time being. She hadn’t retreated back into the depths of her own mind, yet. In fact, she was so consumed with holding ‘Gambit’ that she refused to look away from Morph’s adopted visage, even though she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with the shapeshifter.

To his credit, Morph played into her morbid fantasy despite his own unease with assuming the identity of their dead friend. But even the shapeshifter seemed somewhat soothed by the ruse, taking some small comfort in being able to console Rogue.

By the time Nightcrawler, Wolverine, Jean, Cyclops, and a few other volunteers had loaded up Sinister’s lackeys and the six shrouded dead onto a transport vehicle, Morph had resumed his normal form of featureless white face, and was approaching the truck with Rogue in his arms.

She was asleep, but even in slumber her features were contorted with suffering, haunted by anguish. Eyes highlighted with dark circles and bags, cheeks hollow and gaunt, lips pinched and pale.

A ghost amongst the dead, yet somehow, still breathing.

Kurt popped away only to return in a moment with a blue blanket. The texture was scratchy, and a bit soiled with dirt, but it was warm. He draped it over the woman, still held in Morph’s arms, then carefully shifted her into his own before teleporting onto the truck with the other X-Men. The five living souls, along with the two or three other mutant volunteers, were perched on the edges of the truck with their feet lightly bumping the corpses as they were jostled by the rocky terrain.

Scott was staring down at the shrouded body of Madelyn, lost within his own tormented thoughts, while Jean held his hand. Wolverine stared hard at Slab and Sinister’s other dead goons as if willing them to wake so he could unleash his own fury upon them. Morph’s eyes were closed, but he occasionally brushed away tears, his mind on Gambit, and Sinister, and memories of his own time spent under the madman’s control.

And all the while, Rogue slept in her brother’s arms, gratefully oblivious to it all.

~X~X~X~

“Don’t you DARE, Erik! You hear me! Don’t you DARE!” Metal twisting around her torso.

“Your heart may beat for me, but I can’t FEEL it!” Tears streaming down her face in the firelight.

“Remy was right…” The caress of her fingers against frowning lips.

“Ah - Ah can’t FEEL you…” The smell of burnt flesh and the heat of melted concrete.

Words and images swirled in her head, haunting eyes and haunted souls, and Carol awoke with a start, her blue eyes blinking rapidly in the twilight of the day as she sat upright. Rubbing her temples, she groaned. Rogue’s memories were horrific, even BEFORE the attack. No wonder she was all twisted up inside.

Derisively, Carol snorted. How ironic, she thought, that Rogue had managed to incinerate both men’s hearts right before they died, yet they had both still given their lives for her. She shook her head in disbelief. How that woman could cause so much destruction in every word and action, yet still be so loved, was beyond Carol’s comprehension.

The realization that Rogue had loved and lost both men made her jaw tighten with both sympathy and jealousy, and she stood up from the hotel bed to search for some fresh clothes.

Rogue, who had stolen Carol's life.

Rogue, who had taken Carol's chance at love.

Rogue, who had been accepted as an X-Man despite her sullied past.

All anyone could think about was ROGUE, and it made Carol's blood boil. Especially when a small part of her own mind actually felt sorry for the woman and all she had lost.

Not just one man she had loved, but two.

The thought of Magneto - Erik Lensherr - and Rogue’s ‘relationship’ with him further incensed and sickened Carol.

Back when Rogue had first absorbed Ms. Marvel - taken her entire being into herself - Carol had been able to ‘see’ most of what went on between Rogue and “Erik.” Even now it made her nauseous, and her jaw tightened further. Looking for a distraction, she searched the hotel room’s closet, surprised to find an entire wardrobe still hanging inside.

Someone had been here, possibly on vacation, and had left everything behind. She briefly wondered if the owner was still alive, and almost felt bad as she pulled out a pair of blue jeans and a long sleeve, red, white, and blue tie-died top emblazoned with an American flag. They were a bit small for Rogue's curvy physique, but she poured herself into them, regardless.

Eyeing the top, Carol reminisced on her days as Ms. Marvel, and her time spent with Captain America and the Avengers. She knew that she would never be “Ms. Marvel” again, but it felt wrong to completely forgo her former title, just like it felt wrong to assume Rogue’s.

So many things felt wrong.

It felt wrong putting on a stranger’s clothes, even if they did fit well enough. Even if having the American flag on her chest felt right.

It felt wrong seeing Rogue’s face in the mirror; felt wrong washing Rogue’s hair in the sink, combing Rogue’s hair with someone else’s abandoned brush.

It felt wrong seeing Rogue’s memories. Flashes - both vivid and blurry - of dancing sensually with Erik, of his lips on her neck.

The memory of that dance, and the kiss Rogue had shared with Magneto came with both Rogue’s bodily reaction to it, and Carol’s own. Rogue, who had been lost in the erotic sensation of that dance and his touch, and Carol, who wanted to throw up.

Staring hard in the mirror at her own blue eyes, Carol sneered at Rogue’s face as she violently pulled her hair up into a ponytail using a borrowed elastic.

How? How did Rogue STILL have feelings for Magneto? How could she WANT him like that? How on Earth could that woman not SEE how she’d been manipulated all those years ago?!

Carol could see it. HAD seen it, almost first hand. She’d been trapped in Rogue’s mind, but not like how Xavier (and later Jean) had trapped her. Rogue had just absorbed Carol, had taken to wearing fewer layers and feeling more confident than ever - thanks, in part, to Carol’s own influence - when Mystique brought Rogue to Magneto for help.

He was SUPPOSED to help Rogue control her powers; help her control Carol.

Instead, he’d manipulated her; had endeared a young, naive Rogue into his good graces with promises of a brighter future and control over her powers. Instead he had monopolized all her time with his theories and ideologies, had regaled her with lessons on history, culture, and art.

Carol resisted the urge to gag. The art was amongst the worst of his ‘lessons’.

“Would you allow me to paint you?” he’d requested, almost innocently. “I grow weary of landscapes, and you are by far lovelier than anything I could find inside these walls, or out of them.”

Carol had been there, in the back of Rogue’s mind, shouting at her at the top of her lungs that it was a line, a gateway to other, more intimate requests. She’d tried to warn Rogue that these were red flags, and Magneto’s flattery was anything but innocent.

But Rogue had ignored her, had tamped down on Carol’s intrusive thoughts and accepted. And Ms. Marvel could only watch in horror as Magneto had adjusted the young woman to sit on the couch, positioned her in such a way as to seem both innocent and erotic before he’d spent hours gazing at and painting her. Back then, she had felt Rogue’s blush of pleasure, and desire, and knew she was fighting a losing battle with a barely 20 year old who was so touch-starved, she would willingly fall headlong into the arms of a villain.

And she had.

Despite all of Carol’s attempts at warnings, despite Carol claiming control over Rogue’s body a few times - once even nearly killing Erik after he’d first ‘bedded’ the young woman - Rogue had still fallen for the older man’s trap.

But, in the end, at least, Carol had prevailed. Her constant warnings, constant screaming and fighting, and the increasing number of times she managed to take control of Rogue’s body eventually convinced the young woman to leave. Perhaps not because Rogue finally saw Magneto for the villain he was, but to protect him.

Carol had rejoiced in her “win.” Her battle of wills with Rogue had rewarded her by forcing the young woman to abandon her mother, the Brotherhood, and the man she could touch, whom she thought she loved.

It had been a small, and short-lived, victory. Within two days, Rogue had encountered Charles Xavier, who had promptly imprisoned Carol in the deepest recesses of Rogue’s mind for years, nearly an entire decade, in fact.

And now Carol was here, still trapped in Rogue’s body, playing the hero in HER name, instead of as Ms. Marvel. But she would never be Ms. Marvel again. She knew that. Sorrow gripped her heart as she stared at the reflection of the shirt she wore. The American Flag. She felt like she should stand and salute. Like she was a captain of the sinking ship that was Rogue’s life. Captain Marvel.

It had a nice ring to it, actually.

A smile played at the edge of her lips, and she toyed with Rogue’s white streak. If she wore it up in a ponytail like this, tucked the white strands under the brown just so… Maybe wore a mask, or a helmet even?

Captain Marvel.

Hmm. Might could do. Sounded nice, any road.

Carol blinked rapidly, unsure if the thought had come from Rogue’s mind, or her own. It sounded too colloquial for her own speech patterns, though. Regardless, Carol’s smile widened in the mirror. If Rogue was - sort of - agreeing with her, then the decision was easy.

Captain Marvel it was.

~X~X~X~

“Any word from the Boy Scout?” Wolverine grouched as he spoke to Jean and Beast through the screen of the communicator. He and Morph were out looking for survivors amidst the rubble, and likewise trying to recruit volunteers to join their upcoming fight against Sinister.

“He and Captain America are on their way and should be here shortly. They’ll be here in about an hour, then we’ll regroup and see what we have to work with,” Jean explained warily.

She and Beast had been trying to help the scores of dying victims find some peace and comfort in their last moments, and it was wearing heavily on Jean’s mind. The pain and agony felt by so many was nearly unbearable at times. But, she couldn’t stand by selfishly when she could use her telepathy to ease their suffering for a time.

The urge for action, however, was a siren’s call, always pulling at the edges of their minds. They all longed to take the fight to Sinister, to recover whatever bodies the scientist had stolen, including Gambit’s. But they had no idea where to start looking, and the one person who might have answers - Carol, or Rogue - was currently unconscious, and Jean could not penetrate the jumbled mess of her mind, even with Cerebro.

“How’s Kitty doing?” Wolverine’s brows furrowed with concern and sorrow.

“She’s… awake.” Jean admitted sadly. “She’s helping prep for the mission with Kurt, debriefing new volunteers in between extractions.”

The gruff Canadian snorted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What about Rogue - or Carol? Either of them awake yet?”

Red hair tossed lightly. “Not last we checked. I’ve had someone stopping by her new room every 30 minutes or so, but she’s been out cold for hours. Until she wakes up and can tell us what she knows - what Rogue absorbed from Sinister’s men - we’re blind.”

“Remind me again why we aren’t wakin’ her up?” Wolverine grouched, eyes narrowed.

The telepath sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We don’t have the manpower or resource to go after Sinister yet. We only have five X-Men - six if you count Rogue - plus a handful of others like Shadowcat and Nightcrawler, who shouldn’t even be on their feet, let alone going into battle. Once we have a team to work with, we’ll wake her up.”

“FINE,” Wolverine barked back. “But Morph and I are gonna hit one more shelter, see if we can muster up any other recruits, then we’re comin’ back. If she ain’t up from her beauty rest by then, we’re wakin’ her up.”

Jean and Beast agreed, albeit begrudgingly, before several moans and cries beckoned them back to the dining hall, which had become the space for those who were suffering through their final hours within the living world.

~X~X~X~

Carol, dressed in the borrowed long sleeve American flag shirt, denim blue jeans, and a pair of cowboy boots (the room’s former occupants had DEFINITELY been American tourists), made her way down the emergency staircase toward the first floor. She could have flown out the window and made it to the ground in 10 seconds flat, but the idea of breaking the glass just so she could save herself some time was adding insult to injury.

Instead, she wasn’t flying at all, but rather walking down the stairs slowly, lost in thought, when she was bumped by a tall blonde man with metallic wings and blue skin.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he started, but one look at her white streak, which Carol had left on display as an afterthought, made him pause.

“Rogue!” He cried, immediately wrapping his arms around her in a tight squeeze. “I’m so glad you’re okay! I’m so sorry about Gambit.”

Unsure if this was a ‘fanclub’ situation, or a friend she should know, Carol smiled lightly. “Thank you,” she said simply. There was no reason to just blurt out who she really was, and the man seemed so happy to see Rogue that she couldn’t bring herself to correct him.

“Do you need anything?” the blonde continued. His words were earnest, but his eyes had flitted up toward the fourth floor.

“Actually, I’m looking for any of the X-Men. Have you seen them?” She tucked her white bangs behind her ear, uncertain if she should continue pretending to be Rogue, or not.

The winged mutant shook his head lightly. “Not for a few hours. I know Jean and Beast were helping with the dying downstairs. I’ve been going from floor to floor trying to find people with my blood type. Apparently I have some kind of weird healing thing with my blood, but it only works on matches. I was flying victims back and forth, but they haven’t found anyone since Magneto and the others you rescued, and my wings were ready to fall off.” He gave her a sheepish, almost apologetic smile.

Carol gave a start, a chill and a thrill racing through her body from both her mind and Rogue’s.

“Magneto’s ALIVE?!” Carol nearly shouted, but she wasn’t sure if she was in control of her mouth, or if Rogue was. “How!? Where?!”

The blonde looked confused, but nodded slowly. “Yeah, he was one of the three survivors Sinister was trying to kidnap. You know, the ones you guys saved?”

“I didn’t see who those yahoos had grabbed, sugah, just that they needed savin’. Is Erik really alive?”

Definitely Rogue, now, and Carol narrowed her eyes, forcing the other woman’s psyche back down. It wasn’t HER turn, not yet. Rogue was still too emotionally charged up and unpredictable, while Carol could look at things with a cool head and know what needed to be done.

“Where is Magneto?” Carol asked, forcing her voice back into her own dulcet tones and tamping down on Rogue’s resurgence.

“Second floor, west wing. I’m so sorry Rogue, they aren’t sure if he’s going to make it.” Angel - that was his name, Carol gathered from Rogue’s quick foray to the front of her mind - put a hand on her covered shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

But Carol only gave him a tight lipped smile and a nod before turning on her heel and flying down the last few flights of stairs. While Rogue was desperate to see for herself if Erik was truly alive, Carol could think of only one thing…

Revenge.

As if Rogue could sense the other woman’s intentions, she rammed into a wall on her way down the stairs, coordination failing as both women vied for control of their shared body. Carol reached for the door handle, and her other arm reached out to halt her own actions. But Rogue was still weak from her earlier fight, not to mention her emotional breakdown in Morph’s arms, while Carol felt well rested and strong. Nonetheless, Carol and Rogue battled, and the entire door to the second level was ripped off its hinges and went crashing to the floor.

Closing her eyes, Carol’s psyche punched Rogue’s a few times, who was - for reasons unknown - still wearing that ridiculous red dress from in her mind. Rogue finally went down, and Carol quickly entrapped her in a sort of temporary cage within her mind.

She could hear the young woman shrieking from within the recesses of her mind, and she was guaranteed to have a nasty migraine later, but Carol ignored her and flew down the hallway of the west wing, dodging the many ‘nurses’ and volunteers who were attempting to save the victims being housed inside the various hotel suites.

Carol spoke to no one, instead ignoring the various questions and protests flung in her direction until someone addressed her directly.

“Rogue!” A blonde woman wearing what could be considered lingerie called out to her. “Who are you looking for, darling?” Although the woman’s hair was mussed and she had a few streaks of dirt on her face and clothes, the blonde looked relatively unharmed.

“Magneto,” she growled viciously, then softened her expression and corrected herself. “Erik, that is. I’m - I’m looking for Erik.”

Emma, to whom Rogue was practically screaming at from inside her mental prison, narrowed her eyes but smiled lightly. “Hmm… Yes, well, probably best if you say your goodbyes. Last door on the left.”

“Thanks… sugar.” Carol replied, forcing one of Rogue’s characteristic phrases. After all, no one would suspect Rogue for what Carol was about to do…

She alighted in the room mere moments later, and was taken aback to see Erik adorned in all matter of medical equipment. There was a small, portable solar generator running both an IV machine and a respirator as they snaked around and into the old man’s body, providing him a bit more borrowed life.

This would be easier than she thought.

Except Rogue was screaming and flailing from within her mind at every moment, trying so hard to break free of the mental prison that her knuckles were raw and bleeding to the point Carol could practically feel the damage on her own hands.

She took a deep breath. This was for the best. She knew it, Rogue knew it - at least deep down she did. Erik wasn’t going to survive anyhow, and the machines were only prolonging his suffering. Plus, he deserved to die. Deserved to perish under his dream that had cost so many their lives. Deserved to be punished for his own role in Carol’s demise, and the demise of so many other victims over the years.

The man had SEEMED to try and make amends over the last few months, but Carol - and anyone with a modicum of good sense - knew it had to be an act. Furthermore, he had come waltzing back into Rogue’s life after so long, pretending he hardly knew her at all, and yet had taken every opportunity to insert himself between Rogue and Gambit, souring the tenuous relationship they had been building.

Remembering the way Magneto had once affected Rogue in the Savage Lands - all those little comments and touches, those glances laced with hunger and affection, those words of praise and suggestion - further boiled her blood, and Carol took another step closer, putting her hand on Erik’s cheek and feeling the slightest tug of Rogue’s powers before… nothing.

Of course. He was immune. How had she forgotten? Except, she had always assumed it was Erik somehow creating an energy field to protect him from Rogue’s powers.

Carol frowned. Fought back another wave of shrieks and curses from Rogue as she reassessed her plan. She couldn’t just crush his windpipe like she wanted, and she couldn’t simply turn off the machine. Both of those tactics would leave her as the obvious culprit. Instead, she had to make it look natural, as if he’d simply slipped away as a result of his injuries.

She gulped down the sickening feeling in her stomach and hardened it, letting that rage and disgust take root and bloom in its place.

Magneto had been the one to order Rogue to steal that plane. Magneto had been the one who taught her to hold on to her victims until they completely succumbed. Magneto had been the one to seduce a naive young woman into his bed until she did everything - EVERYTHING - he asked of her, even if she hadn’t wanted to, even when it had HURT.

Carol’s face twisted up in malice, remembering times when Magneto, after fully ingratiated Rogue to his side, had convinced her to ‘just try’ something the young woman had initially declined. Carol could remember times when Rogue’s pain - emotional or physical - were so great she’d retreated into her own mind just long enough to allow Carol to share her torment.

True love didn’t feel like that. True love didn’t HURT like that.

Carol knew it. Had felt love and what it should be.

She knew love was messy and sometimes painful, but it should never breed shame.

Should never have to hide.

Should never leave scars on the mind or in the heart.

Rogue - then only 20 years old and still so young and inexperienced - had no frame of reference. For her, all that mattered was the touch, the affection. What she had assumed was love.

Carol’s chest heaved with rage as she quickly detached the respirator from the mouthpiece. There were no monitors to tattle on her, she realized, and she could always replace it just as quickly. Her hand shook and nearly failed to twist it free as Rogue’s psyche fought her furiously. Even still, the man continued to breathe on his own, damn him.

With a snarl, Carol placed a hand on Magneto’s bandaged chest and pressed down. All it would take was a bit of effort and his ribs would crack, lungs would deflate, heart would stop. She’d rather snap his neck, but that would have been obvious. That would have been murder.

This wasn’t… This wasn’t THAT. It was mercy. Justice.

The pressure was increasing, and she could feel his bones shift under her bare hand, if only just. Rogue was screaming so loudly Carol couldn’t even hear the whooshing of the respirator, couldn't hear the door open, couldn’t hear anything except those angry curses in her head as the X-Man fought her furiously.

She didn’t see the sucker punch until she was sprawled along the carpeted floor of the king-sized hotel suite.

“What do you think you are doing!?” Ororo Munroe stood before her in a black one piece suit, her blue eyes sparking with rage that had nothing to do with her powers.

Blue, tear-filled eyes stared up at the dark-skinned, former X-Man with as much vicious ferocity as Storm was giving her back.

“By the Goddess, Carol,” Ororo admonished, slightly more gently, but no less enraged. “Why would you want to do such a thing? I could not believe it when Ms. Frost warned me of your intentions, yet I have seen it with my own eyes. Why would you try to kill Magneto in cold blood?!”

Carol’s chest heaved, her eyes flicking back to the man who had evaded death for the second time. “You don’t know what I know! You don’t know what he DID! He DESERVES to die!”

“Has there not been enough death as it is!?” The former weather witch proclaimed. “We know of his past crimes, and his wish to make amends. He has been pardoned by the highest level of the law.”

“Not by ME!” Carol seethed, rising to her feet. “He saw no trial for his crimes against ME, Ororo! Nor any of his other scores of victims who he ensured would never raise their voice against him.” The former Ms. Marvel stood her ground against the wall, with Storm between her and Magneto.

“He is evil, and manipulative, and a PREDATOR!” She continued, the tears in her eyes now streaming down her face. “I had to watch, you know? After Rogue absorbed me? Mystique took her to him, for HELP. But he just manipulated her, wined and dined, and flattered her at every turn. He didn't want to help her control her powers. He wanted to USE them. To make sure HE was the only one she could ever touch, or love, so he could control her.”

She was so furious, now, with her back against the wall of the suite, that she failed to hear others approaching, waiting just inside the door, silently crowding the entry to overhear every word she spoke.

Carol's fists were clenched so tight she could feel blood dripping from her palms. “He GROOMED her, Ororo, made her think it was love when all it was to him was a game. A game of chess - a little caress here, a compliment there. The rat bastard even convinced her to sleep with him less than 24 hours after she realized he could touch her! He told her she should never turn down an opportunity because of uncertainty or fear. That second thoughts and trepidation would just hold her back.”

Carol could read the shocked and appalled expression on the weather witch's face and sneered. “Bet you had no idea, huh? Had no idea just who you let into the X-Men. And he went right back to it - to grooming her! The second he got her alone, he tried to push her into touching him! He even convinced her to rule Genosha as his QUEEN, Storm!”

Carol was nearing hysterics now as Rogue's psyche was sobbing from the recess of her mind, begging Carol to stop, to just shut up.

“She was FURIOUS at him, even knew he was trying to take her as a fool, but all it took was a few sweet words and a bit of flattery about how she could make a difference and help Xavier's dream come true, and she was ready to go back to him! She broke up with Gambit, Storm! For f*cking MAGNETO! Not an hour before the gala, she broke Remy's heart - shattered it - because Magneto could touch her! That poor man died thinking he lost the woman he loved to Magneto.”

Storm's expression had morphed to one of abject horror as Carol hovered, pacing slightly in the small space of the hotel suite facing away from the door.

The former Avenger barked with derisive laughter. “If only Remy had known the things Magneto did to Rogue all those years ago. The way he manipulated and seduced her? Remy would have killed him and saved me the trouble.”

With a mad lunge, Carol swooped toward Magneto’s body, intent on destroying him once and for all. But even without her powers, Ororo was a force to be reckoned with, and she used the other woman's momentum to turn and fling her into the opposite wall away from the injured man.

When Carol rose to her feet again a moment later, the other X-Men - Jean, Scott, Wolverine, Beast, Morph, and even Kitty and Kurt had crowded into the room to put themselves between Carol and Magneto.

“You - you don't know what you're doing!” she cried, frustrated tears spilling down her cheeks. “He's a monster! He'll just do it again - to Rogue or some other poor kid who just wants help! He needs to be dealt with!”

“That is not for you to decide, Carol.” Storm declared, her voice ringing with finality even as her eyes shone with sympathy. “You are not judge and jury. Nor do you speak for Rogue, or Magneto. The truth has many versions, but reality often lies in the space between them.”

The white haired X-Man turned to her former teammates, briefly making eye contact. None of them were surprised by her presence, as she had arrived hours prior after leaving Forge in a New Mexico hospital. “I suggest we let Rogue speak for herself. If Magneto's deeds are as true - and heinous - as you say, Carol, then he shall answer for his crimes accordingly, but fairly.”

Blue eyes shining with tears narrowed within Rogue’s visage, but a moment later she blinked rapidly and gasped, irises hazel-green as the drops of emotion spilled over blushing cheeks.

“It - it ain’t TRUE!” Rogue’s voice was strangled and desperate, as if on the verge of dissolving into hysterics of her own. The faces of those present conveyed varying degrees of surprise, disgust, embarrassment, compassion, or disappointment, and the Southerner’s cheeks flamed. “Ah didn’t - it wasn’t like that! Y’all have to b’lieve me! Erik is NOT a … a PREDATOR! He never…”

Words bloomed and wilted in Rogue’s throat under the uneasy gazes of her teammates. “We - we were t’gether once, YEARS ago. B’fore Ah ever even joined the X-Men!” The harsh and sympathetic gazes did not change as she pleaded with her friends, and her embarrassment was painted over with thick layers of anger. “It ain’t NONE of y’r business, alright?! It was a long time ago, and Ah ain’t gonna sit here and justify mahself to y’all!”

Cyclops, who stood resolutely next to Ororo, spoke, his voice gentle and kind. “Rogue, we aren’t accusing you of anything. You - you didn’t do anything WRONG, okay? But you were BARELY 20 years old when you joined the X-Men, and only 15 when Mystique adopted you, right? If Magneto was supposed to be your mentor, supposed to be helping you, and he abused that position of trust… That would almost be like Professor Xavier trying to seduce Jean when we were in high school.”

Rogue, Cyclops, and some of the others cringed at the thought, but Jean, who stood in the shadow of the doorway, blushed furiously. *

“It wasn’t LIKE that, okay?” Rogue retorted. “It didn’t start off like that, at all! Ah was old enough t’ make mah own choices then, and Ah can make mah own choices now! This ain’t a dang soap opera! Ah don’t need your approval, OR your opinions! We’ve got bigger problems t’ deal with, any road!” Hazel eyes flashed murderously as furious fists found their home on co*cked hips.

THIS was the X-Man who had been M.I.A. for the last few days.

THIS was their teammate, before she’d been laid low by her own grief.

THIS was Rogue.

“We’ve gotta get Remy back from Sinister before he does who knows what to him!” The Southerner’s temper flared again as she set her jaw. “Whatever happened between me and Erik is done and over, and don’t mean a lick compared t’ what’s happenin’ right NOW. Ah can barely make sense of all the mem’ries Ah pulled from Sinister’s men, but Ah do know that everything we’ve faced so far, everything that’s happened, is just peanuts compared t’ what’s comin’.”

Flecks of green shone brilliantly as her gaze flicked once to Erik before she searched the faces of the X-Men and their friends.

“It’s Apocalypse.”

~X~X~X~X~X~

Chapter 6: Part 6

Chapter Text

~X~X~X~X~X~

Shattered: Part 6

By Wiccamage

~X~X~X~X~X~

Murmurs and gasps rose in the crowded hotel suite as the nine mutants surrounding Magneto’s bedside processed Rogue’s words.

Apocalypse.

Back again with an even more dastardly scheme. Last time it had been kidnapping telepaths to alter time and the universe. This time he was employing Sentinels.

“What else do you know, Rogue?” Cyclops was all business now as he stood next to Storm, arms crossed. He had been itching for a fight since the initial shock of the attacks had worn off, and after they’d discovered Madelyn’s body on the beach, his rage had been slowly simmering to a boil.

Rogue shook her head lightly. “There’s so much - so many images and thoughts Ah can’t sift through ‘em all. Just flashes of some island, mostly. And some sort of machine, maybe? Ah don’t know what for, just that it’s important. Ah saw Sinister and the Marauders, with Apocalypse behind it all, orchestrating everything. He’s been manipulating Gyrich and Trask, encouraging them to build the Sentinels, giving them the technology and resources.”

“I thought Sinister hated Apocalypse?” Jean replied from the doorway near Kurt and Wolverine. “After they kidnapped me and the Professor, and all the other telepaths, Sinister helped us defeat Apocalypse.”

Rogue shook her head, rubbing her temples as she winced. “Ah don’t know… He’s got something on him, I think? It’s so jumbled.”

“Could,” Jean started hesitantly. “Could I help? Maybe if we use Cerebro to sort through the memories you absorbed, we could figure out where they’re going.”

The Southerner nodded. “If y’all think it’ll work, Ah’m as anxious t’ go as a thoroughbredas thoroughbred at the Triple Crown. But it might take too long with just you and me. Do we know any other telepaths who could help? Might bolster our chances of huntin’ down something important.”

“Emma Frost is here,” Storm offered. “She is the one who alerted me that Rogue was asking for assistance, and Carol had gone to see Magneto. Though she did not relay Carol’s intentions.”

“Psylocke’s here, too,” Wolverine grunted from the hall. “She’s at a shelter not 2 blocks from here. Didn’t wanna come up against Apocalypse, but I’d bet she’d help with something like this.”

Cyclops nodded and looked around. “Alright then. Storm, Kitty, and I will go talk to Emma. Wolverine, take Morph and Kurt and go talk to Psylocke. Jean, you and Rogue go get Cerebro, then find a good place to set up where you can all get comfortable. Beast - check on Magneto, make sure Carol didn’t do any further damage, will you?”

“Could, could y’all gimme just a minute, please? Ah’d like t’ be alone with Erik for a spell.”

The team exchanged uneasy glances, but it was Storm who spoke first. “We understand your need for closure and goodbyes, my friend, but I’m afraid that cannot be allowed. Not with Carol vying for control, and out for blood.”

Hazel eyes sparking, Rogue opened her mouth to argue, but then cast her eyes down, biting her lip as she nodded. They had a point. If Carol took control again, it would be nearly impossible for Rogue to stop her, weak as she was right now. It felt as if all the events of the last few days were finally manifesting themselves within her physical body, and she was utterly exhausted.

“I’ll stay with her,” Kitty offered. Her brown hair had been replaced neatly in its high ponytail, and she wore a new blue and yellow uniform. The whole left side of her face was bruised and swollen, however, and her left eye was bloodshot from the trauma to her head.

Rogue swallowed hard, giving the young woman a small smile. “Thanks, suga’. Ah appreciate it.”

As the others filed out, Kitty dragged over two chairs from the small table in the corner, offering one to Rogue before she placed the other on the opposite side of Magneto’s bed. She watched as the Southerner reached out for Erik, then stopped herself, tucking her fingers back into her lap.

“I - I thought he was immune?” Kitty asked quietly, confused. “People have been talking about how you guys danced at the ball. How you could touch him.”

Rogue chuckled mirthlessly. “Figures. We deal with mass genocide, and folks still can’t stop gossipin’. Damn vultures.” She rubbed her bare hands up her long sleeves, pulling the garment down to cover her fingers before she took Magneto’s hand. “He can create a type of force field that protects him from mah powers, but it don’t work when he’s unconscious. We can touch, but only if he’s awake - and strong enough - to generate it.”

Kitty nodded slowly, then silenced herself to allow Rogue a moment with her own thoughts. She, herself, was thinking of Piotr, and she tucked her legs up onto the chair, wrapping her arms around her knees.

After a moment of quiet passed between them, Rogue glanced up at Kitty, her heart wrenching to see tears dripping down the younger woman’s face. “Ah - Ah’m so sorry about Colossus, Kitty. Ah know you too had something special.”

Wiping her eyes, Kitty nodded and sniffled. She was quiet for a few moments, simply staring at Magneto. “Can - Can I ask you something?” Her voice was shaky, unsure if she should - or could - ask something so intimate of her former teammate and friend.

Rogue swallowed hard, pursing her lips. She could tell Kitty was ruminating heavily on something that likely had to do with either Colossus, Magneto, or both. “Sure, hun,” she replied at last, giving the woman a small smile. “What’s on your mind?”

“I -” Kitty cleared her throat, her cheeks blushing slightly. “I know what Carol said about you and Magneto, and I know it’s not my business, but…” she hesitated, eyes flicking lightly to the man sleeping on the bed. “But did he ever, I don’t know, have an issue with your relationship - the age difference - at all? Did he ever, I don’t know, think it was wrong or something?”

Rogue sat up straight, pulling her hands back to cross her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed. “You’ll forgive me, suga’ if I’m not inclined t’ answer that kinda question.”

Blue eyes widened as Kitty sat up, too, her legs dropping back to the floor as she held up her hands. “Oh no! That’s not what I meant! I’m sorry! I just…” The young woman covered her face with her hands, shaking her head. “Oh god, I’m messing this up so bad.” She pulled her hands down and met Rogue’s gaze, pleading for forgiveness. “I was just wondering if the age gap was ever an issue for either of you the way it was for me and Pete.”

Kitty sighed, fidgeting with her yellow gloves. “You know how I left Xavier’s when I was 14 to go to school in England, right?”

“Course,” Rogue nodded, her posture softening. “It was sad seein’ you leave - especially since Ah was brand new to the team, and you’d made some pretty big waves as the youngest ‘unofficial’ X-Man. But everyone was so tickled ya got that scholarship t’ study abroad.”

Kitty smiled brightly, but bit her lip sheepishly. “Yeah, well, I never DID make it to college at Oxford, but that’s another story.” She waved her hand in the air as if dismissing the thought, and her time with X-Caliber. “Anyhow, I met Pete - Colossus - a few years after that. He was in England for a while, trying to earn more money to go to America. He’d just left Russia - was on the run from some KGB or something that wanted to force him to work for them.”

With another deep breath, Kitty forced herself to focus. “Anyhow, he stayed in England for about a year, and we … worked together. He was almost 30 though, and I was only 17. But I swear it was like love at first sight, Rogue. I just knew, ya know? That I wanted to be with him - just him - for the rest of my life.”

With a knot in her stomach, Rogue turned her eyes to Erik, trying to keep her face unreadable. Rogue couldn't remember ever feeling that way toward Magneto - even all those years ago in the Savage Lands. When they'd first discovered that Erik could touch her, she'd felt relief, and desire, sure. But there had never been that instant connection. Never that all-consuming need for anything beyond what he could give her physically. Her heart had never given that jolt of recognition and hope for Erik - not like it had when she'd first met Remy LeBeau.

Rogue blushed lightly, simultaneously blinking back tears as her mind drifted to her Cajun. Thankfully, Kitty never noticed and simply continued talking, her excitement gaining momentum as she recalled her teenage romance.

“I knew Piotr liked me, too, but he … he always got so nervous around me. Always made sure we were never alone together, always turned down my invitations for dinner. He spent two months trying to avoid me altogether. Eventually…” Kitty paused, taking a deep breath as she grimaced. “Eventually I told him I liked him, even kissed him, and he admitted how much he liked me, too. But he said I was too young for him, that it was wrong and he couldn’t allow himself to be with me. That I was inexperienced and confused, and should find someone my own age. Get to know other people, date other guys.”

Scowling, Kitty slumped back in her seat, pulling her legs underneath her this time. “He left the next day, headed to America. He was so afraid to be with me that he ran away to a whole other country, a whole other continent!” Her tone flared with anger before it blew out like the flame of a candle. “I just keep thinking that we wasted so much time that we could have been together, you know? Eventually he came back, when X-Caliber was helping set up New Genosha *, and I finally convinced him to give us a try. That I wasn’t so young anymore. But we lost four whole years when we could have been together.”

With a heavy sigh, Kitty stared at Magneto’s sleeping face. Most of his visage was overshadowed by the breathing tubes taped to his face, and the parts of his skin that were visible had been so badly cut and bruised that he was nearly unrecognizable.

“I just - I wondered what it was like for you with Mag… Erik. If you ever regretted it one way or the other? Getting together so quickly despite your differences, or not staying with him in the Savage Lands?”

The brunette heaved another tremendous sigh as she carefully wiped her bloodshot eye and bruised face. “All I can think about is that I lost Pete so soon, that we could have had more time together if he’d just gotten over the age thing. I just wondered if we did the right thing - waiting.” The tiny brunette wiped away another errant tear as she continued staring at the older man sleeping in the bed.

“T’ be honest? That’s - that’s a hard call, Kitty,” Rogue nibbled her bottom lip as she pondered the question. “Ah was about your age, maybe a tad younger is all, when my momma first took me to him for help with my powers. He was kind, and charming, and handsome, and well, it didn’t take much for me t’ start developin’... feelings… for him.”

Her cheeks colored lightly as Rogue ducked her head. She’d never openly discussed her relationship with Erik with anyone before Remy, and even then she hadn’t shared much in the way of details about why, or how, things got started.

“Did he, did he ever put you off? Tell you that you were too young or something?” Kitty’s voice was gruff with hurt and bitterness, and Rogue offered her a sympathetic smile.

“No. But with MY powers? Ha!” Rogue chuckled, a quick bark of derisive laughter. “Ah had more years of experience in mah head than HE did, physically. Kinda comes with the territory from absorbin’ other people. All their trauma, and experiences, and filthy minds? Makes ya grow up a mite faster than most.” She blushed again at Kitty’s look of surprise and shrugged lightly. “When Erik looked at me, he didn’t see some young, inexperienced girl. It was always like he was seein’ the whole person, and not just the powers. Like he saw me as a woman - an equal - with knowledge, and intelligence, and dreams of my own. Sometimes he’d look at me like I was some kind of library of lives and experiences, but still my own person with thoughts and feelings. It was… nice.”

Rogue swallowed hard and avoided Kitty’s sympathetic look, turning her attention to her hands in her lap. “When ya grow up not bein’ able t’ touch, when everyone avoids you, when the responsibilityis on you to make sure every single second of every single day is your job to make sure no one gets to close to you… It’s isolating. Ah’ve always felt …radioactive, blighted, somehow. Erik never made me feel that way. He was always careful with my skin, sure, but he never encouraged me to cover up. Never treated me like I was toxic.”

“He…” she continued slowly, studying the man’s sleeping, pained face. “He never treated me with kid gloves. He told me about his dreams for the future - for a place like Genosha…” Another mournful sigh as she looked out of the window at the decimated landscape. “Like Genosha used t’ be. He showed me what mutants could become. That we just had to unlock our potential without fear of being persecuted.”

Rogue toyed with the edge of her shirt sleeve as she glanced between Erik and Kitty, smiling lightly. “He taught me how t’ use my powers. REALLY use them. How t’ control the psyches Ah absorbed and harness the powers Ah gained. Used t’ be Ah could recall and use anyone’s powers perfectly. Now Ah’m lucky if Ah can borrow Scott’s beams without knockin’ down a building.”

The young woman looked surprised. “Really? But you took on the Nasty Boys and the Marauders. Cyclops said you were able to use Tar Pit’s powers, as well as mine and Jean’s.”

Rogue shook her head. “Carol was usin’ yours and Jean’s powers first. She had control, so somehow, Ah did, too. Tar Pit and Scrambler …? That was pure instinct. Ah didn’t have time t’ think about it, and it just happened. T’ be honest it feels more like a dream than anything. Like it couldn’t have really been me usin’ all those powers at once. Ah haven’t been able to really control the powers Ah absorb since … Since Carol.”

Kitty stayed silent, waiting for Rogue to sort through her own thoughts. “Ah was… Ah was a mess after Carol. Ah’d already been studyin’ under Erik for a week or two, and things were purely platonic. Professional, even. Then Ah went on that mission for my momma - for Mystique. And when Ah came back to the Savage Lands, everything had changed. Suddenly Ah’d lost the little control Ah’d had, and all Ah could think about was the guilt. He tried t’ help, tried t’ get me outta mah own head. Tried teachin’ me some art and history, and other such things that could distract me from… from what Ah’d done.”

Rogue’s stomach clenched as Kitty stared at her. “Then our relationship… shifted… somehow. And one night when he insisted I have dinner with him, our hands accidentally touched, and we figured out his powers protected him from mine.”

“Is that when you two…?” Kitty trailed off, her face suddenly flushing as she stopped her question mid-sentence.

“A lady never tells,” Rogue smiled at her, amused.

Her smile faded a moment later, however, as she leaned forward to take Magneto’s hand in her sleeve-covered fingers. “But it didn’t last. Couldn’t. He had his demons, and I had mine, and neither of us could help the other. Carol was drivin’ me crazy - she even tried t’ kill him once or twice. Nearly DID right after we…” The Southerner’s cheeks flamed.

“Anyhow, Ah had t’ leave.” With a sigh, Rogue squeezed Erik’s hand and sat back in her chair, deep in thought for a moment. “Long story short-er…” She snorted. “Tad late for THAT, ain’t it?”

Kitty grinned widely, giggling a little as she nodded in agreement.

“Anyhow, Ah don’t regret it. Not really. What we had back then was special to me. Ah NEEDED that connection, more than Ah think Ah ever realized ‘til now. But it wasn’t … Ah don’t think it was LOVE, either. Not like you and Pete. Not like… Not like me and Remy.”

Hot tears spilled down Rogue’s cheeks again as she bit down harshly on a trembling lip and willed herself not to cry again.

“I’m sorry about Gambit, Rogue,” Kitty whispered quietly. As Rogue stared at her hands and tried to pull herself together, the small brunette came around the side of the bed and leaned over the back of Rogue’s chair to give her a hug from behind. In turn, Rogue’s hands came up to lightly grasp Kitty’s wrist, cheek resting against the back of her hand as they both wept.

~X~X~X~X~X~

Chapter 7: Part 7

Chapter Text

~X~X~X~X~X~
Shattered: Part 7
By Wiccamage
~X~X~X~X~X~

“Half-Pint? Stripes?” A brusque knock on the open hotel room door heralded Wolverine's arrival a short time later, and he walked in to find Rogue and Kitty sitting on either side of Magneto's bed. The former was holding his hand from within her shirt sleeve, and Kitty had fallen asleep curled up in the plush armchair.

The small brunette woke with a start, her eyes wild as she barely kept from phasing through the chair. Likely, she'd been reliving the horrors of the last few days in her dreams, as were most of those who managed to find a few minutes to rest their eyes. She said nothing, however, and quickly joined Wolverine in the doorway with scarcely a glance at the other woman.

Rogue, however, simply stared at Magneto, her wild hair falling in loose waves after she’d ripped it out of Carol’s ponytail. She could not afford to sleep; couldn't bear to see the images and memories that lay beyond closed eyes; couldn't risk losing herself again right now - be it to Carol, grief, or her own self-loathing.

That would come later, after they'd recovered Gambit's body. After he was ‘home’ she could rescind her mind to grief, anger, self-hatred … maybe even Carol herself, for a time. After having locked the former Avenger in the recesses of Rogue’s mind for nearly 10 years, perhaps it was time to return the favor. Carol could at least do some good as Captain Marvel. Rogue, on the other hand, had done nothing but destroy everything she ‘touched.’

From the doorway, Logan whispered something to Kitty, who nodded and phased through the floor, leaving Rogue and Wolverine in relative privacy.

Rogue sat unblinking as she kept her gaze fixed on Magneto a moment longer before she nodded and slowly stood. Her jaw was set, teeth clenched so hard with anger and malice toward Sinister that her teeth would have been pulverized had she not been nearly invulnerable. Every inch of her body was coiled with fury and an urgent need for revenge. Though her eyes welled with tears, they did not fall, and she managed a small, sad smile toward Magneto’s sleeping form.

“Hang in there, suga’. There's a lotta folks wanna see you get better. Lotta folks still waiting on you t’ lead ‘em.” She gave his hand one last squeeze with her sleeve-covered one, and swallowed the lump in her throat, knowing she wasn’t likely to see Erik again - not as herself, anyhow. “Take care, Erik.” With a final, fleeting urge she couldn’t resist, she leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, pulling back the second she felt his powers start flowing into her.

As Rogue cast another forlorn glance at Magneto's sleeping form, noting how his coloring and breathing seemed much improved already, Wolverine gave her an assessing look. Something was off with her. This odd combination of anger and resignation just didn’t SIT right, and there were so many questions swirling through his mind he could barely keep them straight.

So he started with the one that had been bothering him the most - the one that seemed most pressing now, with the way she was looking at Magneto, with the way she had kissed him so tenderly.

“Is it true, Rogue?” Wolverine kept his voice so low that even Erik Lensherr would have had trouble hearing him had he been conscious. “That Magneto asked you to lead Genosha with him? Carol said he wanted you to be…” He paused, trying to keep from snarling as he glared back at the man in question. “...his queen.”

Rogue’s ensuing blush was only rivaled by the anger that flashed through her eyes, the rage pronounced in her tightly coiled fists. “He asked.” She folded her arms defiantly, but that sadness - that numbness - still lingered, painted across sunken cheeks and darkened eyes.

“Well?” Logan asked, narrowing his own eyes and resisting the urge to shake some sense into her.

“Ah turned him down. Leastways, Ah STARTED to.” She deflated suddenly, anger twisting into more pronounced grief as she wrapped her arms around herself. “We were dancin’, and Ah kissed him, but Ah didn't… All Ah could think was that Ah wanted it to be Gambit. Ah kissed Erik, but it was Remy's face Ah saw.”

Looking back at Magneto one last time before she turned to leave the room, Rogue bit her lip. “Ah was gonna ask Erik… was almost hopin’ Ah - WE - could still stay. Me and… and Gambit…” Her breath caught as her lip trembled. “That we could help him with runnin’ Genosha. Maybe Remy and Ah could figure out how to make a real life t'gether. But… All Ah managed to tell him was that Remy was right - that some things are deeper than skin. Then…”

Her chest suddenly shuddered with barely repressed sobs, and she cast her gaze to the floor as Logan shut the door behind them. “Magneto kept me an’ Remy away from the blast that nearly killed him and the Morlocks. Then Remy…”

Tears escaped her eyes as she brought her bare hands to her face, covering her shame and sorrow. “Oh gawd, Logan. Remy died never knowing how much Ah…”

“I know, Rogue. I'm so sorry, darlin’.” The gruff man wrapped an arm around her shoulders even though she was several inches taller than him, and continued walking with her down the hallway.

“We gotta get him back, Wolverine,” she whispered. “We've GOT to. Ah can barely live with mahself knowing he STILL sacrificed himself f'r me after Ah was so cruel to him. But knowing Sinister's got his body… What that monster might do!”

“We're gonna bring him home, Rogue, I promise you that. I ain't gonna quit until he's put t’ rest at the Institute, and neither will you - or the whole team f'r that matter.” He gave Rogue's shoulder another squeeze as she wiped her eyes.

Trying to lighten the mood, he chuckled as he guided them down the emergency stairwell toward the first floor. “You shoulda seen Storm when she found out. I guess she’s got her powers back thanks to our old friend, Forge, but she was pissed enough she prob'ly woulda just manifested ‘em right then and there anyhow. Thought she was gonna deck Cyke outta principle for gettin’ too comfortable on the job. ‘Though she did ease up some when she found out he was sorta married to both Jean AND Madelyn. Tryin’ t’ explain that mess took another hour.” He shook his head sadly, even though his mouth was quirked into the tiniest of smiles.

The mention of Scott and Jean, and their marriage, brought another round of anguish to Rogue’s features. “Ah want the ring, Logan,” she exclaimed suddenly, stopping short on the stairwell halfway to the main floor.

It took a moment for recognition to slowly blossom across his face, and the Canadian sighed. “Yeah, I figured you would. I was kinda hopin’ you hadn't seen it in my memories, though. Woulda been easier for you… not knowin’.”

Logan missed the way her lips trembled as he reached into the zipped side pocket of his newly replaced uniform and pulled out a small chain, placing it in her outstretched hand. “Already put it on a chain for ya, since I figured you'd want it close without actually puttin’ it on yer finger.”

Rogue nodded as she immediately unlatched and placed the jewelry around her neck, taking just a moment to study the ring. It was a simple, thick silver band with a single marquis diamond, maybe a quarter carat, inlaid within the metal. It didn’t jut out, ensuring it wouldn’t catch on anything, and the diamond would be protected somewhat by the band. The chain it dangled from was long enough that to be easily concealed beneath her high collared uniform, but not long enough to accidentally fall off while she was flying, or in the midst of battle.

“Thank you,” Rogue replied simply, though her eyes were brimming with tears of gratitude and regret as she fiddled with the ring.

In silence, they traversed the rest of the way to the rendezvous point. They had chosen an unused conference room in the back of the hotel, where they were greeted by the rest of the X-Men, plus several others. There were a few chairs stacked in the corner, plus a table big enough to seat at least 12 in the middle. There were several boxes of opened office supplies scattered throughout in what looked like a hurried search for useful essentials. The mobile Cerebro unit and a laptop were sitting on the end of the table closest to Jean.

Along with Jean, Cyclops, Beast, Morph, and Storm, Rogue recognized Kitty, Kurt, Emma, Psylocke, and Angel. There was a young man with spiky blonde hair, who was powering up a generator with currents of electricity from his finger. A blonde woman with a high ponytail holding a large gun stood in one corner, with Iron Man and Captain America in the opposite corner.

Carol gave a start from within her brain, and Rogue found herself moving almost automatically towards the three Avengers. “STEVE, TONY!!” She cried - or rather, Carol did - as she took the pair off guard and wrapped them in a hug.

Both men were completely taken aback by the unfamiliar woman's obvious familiarity with them, and Steve pulled back immediately thereafter, exchanging a confused look with Tony.

“Uh, hi. Rogue, is it?” Tony asked, keeping her at arm's length.

Rogue's face flamed as she ducked her head, but Carol's blue eyes shone brilliantly, excitement and sadness swirling within their depths.

“It's me, Carol,” she tried to explain. “Carol Danvers - Ms. Marvel.”

Matching expressions of shock and confusion met her gaze, and she launched into a hurried, if not slightly bitter explanation.

“Rogue absorbed me, nearly ten years ago. Something went wrong with her powers, and it… it was permanent. I’m kinda… stuck… in her head.”

At this new information, both Tony and Steve gave a start of surprise, and Tony’s face was washed in waves of outrage as he looked up at Cyclops and Wolverine.

“What the hell, Summers!?” Tony blurted out, crossing the room rapidly to shove Cyclops hard. “Our friend - OUR teammate - has been missing and presumed dead for nearly a decade and all the while she’s been with YOU, a victim of one of YOUR people?!”

“Ah, crap,” Morph muttered as the room dissolved into ‘sides’ with shouting and shoving erupting all over.

But Rogue/Carol quickly put herself in the middle of everyone, pushing the Avengers one way, and the X-Men the other. “Knock it OFF, all of you!” She barked, Rogue's rage boiling over to bleed into her own words. “We have bigger things to worry about right now! I GET it, Steve, really I do, and I’m just as pissed, TRUST me. But we will talk later. Apocalypse was the mastermind behind EVERYTHING here, and he HAS to be stopped before things get worse. I don’t know his exact plans, but whatever comes next makes the attack on Genosha look like child’s play. We HAVE to get to the bottom of it, and we need Rogue and the X-Men to do it.”

Carol’s blue eyes were blazing with all the ferocity of Rogue’s southern temper as she put her hands on her hips and glared at the four men.

Gratefully, Jean spoke up from the other side of the room. Her hair was up in a ponytail and though she looked a little rumpled and dirty from the events of the last few days, she was still formidable.

“Everyone who isn’t essential to the telepathic probe needs to leave, now. The rest of you find a place AWAY from the hospital - especially this room - and you can discuss whatever you want. The X-Men won’t HIDE anything from our allies, but we’re also trusting the rest of you to stand by your word and do what needs to be done. Agreed?”

Begrudgingly, the rest of the Avengers, and X-Men, nodded and began shuffling out. Rogue, Kurt, Jean, Beast, Psylocke, Emma, and Wolverine stayed behind. Jean turned to the young blonde who was running the generator with his electricity. “Is it all charged up, Berserker?”

The young man nodded. “Yep, all ready to go, Ms. Grey. Should last you a few hours. If you need more juice, I’ll be around. I’m gonna go make sure the other generators on the next few floors are good for a couple more hours.”

“Thank you again, Ray. We’re lucky to have you,” Jean smiled, and he blushed lightly before quickly taking his leave.

“Alright ladies - and gentlemen - are we ready?” The redhead placed Cerebro on her head, then turned to the other two telepaths, as well as Kurt, Beast, and Logan. Then all eyes fell on Rogue, who swallowed hard and bit her lip before nodding. Her nerves were showing in the way she played with the short strands of her hair, but the rage was ever present beneath every shift and glance.

“Alright, Rogue, go ahead and lie down on the table with your head up here at the end. Emma, Betsy, if you two will join me, we’re going to place our hands above her head.” Jean spoke firmly but kindly, and the three other women followed her directions.

Rogue looked slightly uncomfortable as she lay down on the table in her non-uniform attire, but she fingered the ring beneath her shirt and closed her eyes.

“I’ll use Cerebro to link us together, and likewise project what we see on the screen,” Jean continued. Beast, you’ll keep an eye on Rogue’s vitals, and Wolverine and Kurt provide support in case we need you to intervene. The computer is hooked up and will record everything so we can use the data to review and debrief everyone later.”

Everyone nodded and moved into position with Wolverine on Rogue’s left, closest to the projector, and Kurt and Beast on her right, near the doorway.

“Alright, Rogue and Carol,” Jean smiled lightly from her position above the woman’s head. “I need you both to try and work TOGETHER on this. If you aren’t completely in sync, it’s going to be a LOT harder to get into your mind, not to mention more painful. I need you to focus on trying to join your consciousnesses and the memories you absorbed from Sinister’s men.

Rogue bit her lip and nodded, her green eyes staring up at Jean for just a moment before giving her a small smile. Her hand, however, hadn’t released the ring that was currently hidden within her fist. Taking a few deep, calming breaths, Rogue closed her eyes and retreated into her mind to join her counterpart. Carol was dressed meticulously in her black and gold Ms. Marvel uniform, and Rogue still wore the tattered red dress from the gala, her hair a wild, disheveled mess in opposition to Carol’s perfect waves. Eyeing each other up, Rogue and Carol nodded from within their shared mind and gingerly held each other’s hand as they stood side by side.

“Ready, sug,” Rogue said aloud as she tipped her head ever so slightly. She released the ring against her American flag shirt, and let both hands drop to the table with one last deep breath.

“On my mark, ladies,” Jean said aloud. Then, telepathically, she gave the command. “Now,”

Instantly, Rogue arched off the table, head thrown back as she cried out and tried to grab her head. Together, Kurt and Beast held down one arm, while Wolverine pressed his full body weight down on her other. Thankfully, she wasn’t putting all her strength into fighting them, but her body’s autonomic reaction to combat the pain was still giving the men plenty of trouble.

Inside their mind, Rogue and Carol each doubled over, grabbing their heads with shrieks of agony as they were lanced with spikes of red, purple, and white lights. Around them, the psychic remnants of other people Rogue and Carol had absorbed were likewise hit with the beams and collapsed, although none lost consciousness. Carol lashed out as another wave hit the group, her fist colliding with and deflecting the triple beams even while Rogue sank to her knees and allowed them to continue stabbing through her.

“C-Carol,” Rogue stuttered as the blonde woman knocked back another wave of attacks. “You - you gotta let, oh GAWD!” Rogue shrieked again in pain as blood dripped from her nose into the blackness of their surroundings. Red fluid was leaking from Carol’s ears, and she dove away from another round of colorful energy.

“This is madness!” Carol shouted at Rogue, who screamed again as a third round of light penetrated her astral form and set the other psyches to shrieking, too. “This isn’t working!”

On the table, blue eyes flew open as Carol wrenched her arms away from the three men holding her down, and she flew away from the three telepaths, who were likewise wincing.

“Good LORD,” Emma spoke up, rubbing her temples. “I had no idea her mind was such a fortress. Rogue’s actively TRYING to let us in, but even her automatic defenses, and the dozens of psyches swirling in her head, are nearly impossible to penetrate.”

Jean watched Carol silently. The other woman appeared as if she wanted to fly away, yet was somehow frozen to the spot.

“No! We have t’ try again, Carol!” Rogue’s enraged voice echoed through the room as she held her head in her hands. “We HAVE t’ find out what they’re plannin’!”

“It isn’t WORKING, Rogue!” Carol shouted right back, her voice crisp and icy as her Boston accent slipped through the other woman’s lips. “This is ridiculous - all it’s going to do is knock us BOTH out, and then we STILL won’t have any information!”

“It’s all in here, gal, we just…” Rogue’s voice was reaching levels of desperation and resignation that gave the other six people in the room a horrible, sinking feeling. “We just have t’ work t’gether! Please!? Carol, ya gotta help me find ‘em! Ah can’t live with mahself knowing how Ah hurt him; knowing Sinister has him!”

“But what? You can live with what you did to ME?! Why the hell should I help YOU!? You took EVERYTHING from me! Then you imprisoned me in your mind for YEARS! Never seeing the sun, never feeling my own powers! Just trapped alone in a cell with my own thoughts. It would serve you right if I let Sinister destroy you and your friends. Let him keep Gambit’s body, and do whatever he wants with you and your X-Men!” Carol’s voice was furious as she glared murderously at the other six mutants in the room.

“After all, I don’t have any stake in the game! It’s not MY life, anymore, right JEAN? Everything’s all about ROGUE. And as soon as I help you people get what you want, as soon as I help stop Sinister, I go right back to my little prison cell in Rogue’s mind, isn’t that right?”

Jean sucked in a breath as Emma and Psylocke stared between Rogue and the redheaded telepath in shock. Well, Psylocke had the decency to appear shocked, at least. Emma simply smiled coyly and sat on the edge of the table, watching the exchange with gleeful smugness.

“Well now, isn’t this interesting?” the White Queen asked, folding her arms and running one finger along her cheek. “The goody goody X-Men hiding a skeleton - almost literally. How delicious.”

“Back OFF, Emma,” Jean growled while Rogue shook her head, pulling at her hair.

“It ain’t like that Carol! Ah’m… Ah’m sorry f’r what Ah done t’ you, truly Ah am, but can’t neither of us change it, now.” Rogue’s green eyes were welling with tears that brimmed over and cascaded down alabaster cheeks. “Ah’m so sorry. You know Ah’d take it all back if Ah could, but Ah CAN’T! And we BOTH know that what Sinister is planning next is HUGE. We HAVE t’ stop him, and we can’t do that unless we work t’gether! So please, Ah’m BEGGIN’ you, help me - work with me. And once we stop whatever it is Sinister’s plannin’ - once we get Remy’s body back - you … you don’t have t’ go back. Not ever. Ah swear.”

“Rogue!” Wolverine’s voice growled from below her, and aggrieved green eyes met horrified chocolate brown. “You don’t mean that, darlin. You two can work together. We’ll help ya both figure something out.”

“No, Logan,” Rogue replied quietly, not bothering to wipe the moisture from her face as it dripped to the carpet. “It’s what Ah want. What Ah did to Carol… it ain’t right. We all know it. Ah ain’t no hero - not with all the hurt Ah caused. This is… this is the only way t’ try and fix what Ah done.” Slowly, Rogue alighted onto the floor, her head cast down.

“Meine Schwester,” Kurt begged, traversing the distance between them on foot rather than teleporting. “Think of what you are saying. You would give up everything you have in this life? Denounce all that you stand for - everyone you care for - to try and make up for something that was essentially an accident?”

The southern woman lifted her face to meet Kurt’s yellow irises. “Ah’m truly glad t’ call you my brother, Kurt. And Ah’m sorry we didn’t get to know each other better, t’ spend more time together. But yeah, that’s what Ah’m sayin. An ‘eye for an eye’. Ain’t that what your Bible says? The X-Men are mah family, but…” More tears stained her cheeks as she toyed with the ring at her breast, the brilliance of the marquis diamond catching the light and reflecting it into the eyes of all present. “But there ain’t nothin’ left f’r me here.”

“I am sorry you feel that way, Rogue. I feel you are wrong in your decision - that you make it under duress - but I shall stand by you until the end, regardless.”

“Well not ME,” Logan growled, his arms crossed and face livid. “I ain’t gonna have any part of this nonsense. There ain’t no reason you and Carol can’t share like you been doin.’ It’s worked so far.”

“It ain’t LIVIN’ though, Wolverine. You know that. Carol don’t deserve t’ be sidelined half the time for the rest of my - OUR - life. What happens if she finds somebody along the way, huh? Wants t’ settle down? Ah can’t control my powers. SHE can. Ah’m not gonna take away her chance at happiness, too. Not again.” Rogue was silent for a moment as she clutched the ring and heavy tears leaked from her eyes. “Ah’ve already ruined mine.”

“Magneto - ERIK - would still…” Wolverine started to argue, but Rogue cut him off.

“Ah don’t love Erik,” she insisted. “And Ah’m not gonna grovel on mah knees just because Ah lost Remy. Ah broke BOTH their hearts, Logan, and Ah’m not fixin’ t’ do it again. This - this is gonna be for the best. Ah know you don’t think so, but…”

“Then count me out,” the Canadian grumped before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room. “Call me when you got something worth knowin’, Jeannie.”

Rogue watched him leave, her eyes and mind heavy with grief and regret, but no one spoke. The room was uncomfortably quiet for a few long minutes before Psylocke finally spoke up. “We - we should probably try again, right? That is, if you’re ready, Rogue - er, Carol?”

Chestnut and white hair bounced lightly as the woman in question nodded. “Ah think we are, right Carol?”

Another nod, and a second voice replied. “We are.” Blue eyes scanned the room, meeting the gazes of the five remaining mutants before she lifted off the ground and floated back down onto the table in the same position she had occupied a few minutes prior.

“Just… give us a minute to figure some things out, okay?” Carol’s voice asked as she flashed a small smile at Jean.

Jean and Psylocke nodded, but Emma simply sighed in exasperation, examining her nails as she flopped into a chair. “Best bit of non-violent drama I’ve had in days, and I can’t even eavesdrop. How depressing.”

The redheaded telepath simply closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but there was a distinctive twitch in her temple, and Carol snickered. “We’ll try to be fast,” she assured the three telepaths before closing her eyes.

~X~

Back inside ‘their’ mind, Carol - dressed in her black and gold Ms. Marvel outfit and long blonde hair - gasped as the landscape within Rogue’s mind reflected the carnage outside once again. “Rogue?” She called, looking around for the other woman. “Where are you?” When the X-Man didn’t reply, Carol lifted into the sky. About 50 yards away, a crater had formed in the middle of what she assumed used to be a street. And there, sitting on her knees in the middle of it, was Rogue.

The blonde alighted in front of the other woman, who sat with her hands in her lap. The southerner was still wearing her red gala dress with hair once more tangled and full of dirt, soot, and blood. She held piles of ash that sifted faster and faster through her fingers the harder she tried to hold onto them.

“Rogue, what…?” Carol’s breath caught in her throat as she watched the heartbreaking scene “What are you doing? You wanted to find out what Sinister was up to, remember? So why in the world are you sitting here at another pity party?”

Empathy shifted into anger as the blonde watched the X-Men cry over the ashes and what they could symbolize - Gambit, Magneto, love, touch, death? The ashes of a former life, perhaps.

“Get. Up,” Carol growled at last. “Like you said, you can’t change the past. But we still have a shot to change the future for others. So more innocent lives don’t have to suffer the way we have. Isn’t that what you want? What we BOTH want?”

When Rogue didn’t move, and drops of moisture fell onto the ash in her hands, turning it red, Carol sighed and knelt down next to her.

“Look, I KNOW you’re hurting, Rogue. I know you feel terrible about everything that’s happened - including me. I’m not going to LIE and say I forgive you, because I don’t know if I ever really can. And I certainly can’t speak for Gambit and Magneto. But I DO know that those men both LOVED you - both DIED for you - so that you could live and hopefully be happy someday and that has to count for something.”

She ran a hand through her wavy blonde locks and blew out a frustrated breath when the only indication from Rogue was more tears turning the ash to blood within her hands. The Avenger huffed in frustration, standing up and pacing. She hated this side of Rogue. This defeatist bullsh*t wasn’t becoming of an X-Man, or an Avenger, and Carol would rather deal with a pissed off Rogue than an anguished one, any day. Violence may not be ‘the answer’, but it certainly was cathartic.

“I’m not going to let you sacrifice yourself completely just to make it up to me, you know?” The blonde began again, cutting a line through the dirt in front of Rogue as she walked back and forth, waiting for the other woman to move. “Especially not when I know you’re just going to surround yourself with this macabre bullsh*t for the rest of our natural life. I may not be your friend, but I certainly don’t hate you enough to let you torture yourself like this.”

“Ah don’t want your pity, Carol,” Rogue suddenly hissed. “Ah just want justice.” When she lifted her gaze to meet Ms Marvel's, her green eyes were rimmed with tears, but there was such a vicious malignance behind her irises, that Carol pulled back in surprise.

“Ah want the heads of Sinister, and Apocalypse, and Trask, and Gyrich and everyone who helped them…” Each name was spat with more venom than the last as Rogue’s hands clenched tighter to the ash and rivers of red ran through her fingers. “Ah wanna display their corpses on a damn spike so Ah can watch the birds peck out their eyes from mah window.”

“Rogue, that’s…” Carol’s brows furrowed in disturbed trepidation. “That’s disgusting, first of all.” She gave a little laugh, trying to lighten the mood, but she was deeply disturbed by the sheer hatred and brutality in the X-Man’s words. She put her hand on Rogue’s bare shoulder. “Secondly, I don’t think you’re the only one, and third, well… We have to CATCH them first, don’t we?”

Her last words finally goaded a reaction from the X-Man, who looked up at Carol through narrowed eyes. “You ain’t gonna fight me on this? You DO understand what Ah’m sayin’, dontcha?”

Carol huffed and scrubbed her face with her hands before standing. “I do. And while I don’t agree with it, I understand how you feel. I’m angry too. All this destruction, all this death. Sinister doesn’t deserve to stand trial, and we both know it. I don’t know if I could kill someone in cold blood, or if I could even stand by and let you - or anyone else - do it. But all that matters right now is finding them, and STOPPING them. And we’ve got to work together to do it, right?”

Rogue’s gaze softened somewhat, and she looked down at her hands, finally opening her fingers to allow the last of the ash and blood to fall away. Finally, she floated upright until she stood in front of Carol, arms folded.

“What?” the southerner asked at the blonde’s appraising look.

“Why are you still wearing that? I would think that even in your mind your X-Men uniform would be a better fit.” Carol’s brow was raised in curiosity, and while she didn’t love Rogue’s choice of outfits - even mentally - she tried to contain her own hostility.

“Ah - Ah ain’t ready t’ wear the uniform just yet,” Rogue shrugged, hugging herself.

“Oookay.” Folding her arms, Carol sighed and looked around at the war-torn landscape of Rogue’s mind. “How do you propose we go about this telepathic probe, then? Because last time was NOT something I want to repeat.”

“Ah ain’t rightly sure,” Rogue admitted, looking around as well. Though the images made her flinch with emotional pain, she could not look away. “When Ah used t’ work with the Pr’fessor, Ah’d always imagine a door, and just let him in like a right friendly neighbor. Just haven’t been able t’ manifest it the same way since he…”

Trailing off, she gave a wave of her ungloved hand, and a large double wooden door appeared before them. But, as Rogue’s face briefly shimmered with grief, it crumbled and fell away. “See? Ah can’t seem t’ maintain it, no matter how hard Ah try.”

Carol nodded, studying the X-Man for a moment before stepping forward and taking both Rogue’s hands in hers.

“Then let’s try together.”

~X~X~X~X~X~

Chapter 8: Sucker Punched

Chapter Text

*Part of this story is pulled directly from the “Ultimate X-Men Annual #1” comic where Gambit stops Juggernaut by dropping a building on them both. The verbiage is almost verbatim with a few additions or pet name substitutions.

~X~X~X~X~X~
Shattered: Part 8
By Wiccamage
~X~X~X~X~X~

“You ready?” Ms. Marvel asked her counterpart, who was biting her lip nervously.

Hazel-green eyes flashed gratefully at Carol, and Rogue smiled lightly. “Ready as Ah’ll ever be,” she nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Together, they erected a pair of tall, glowing yellow double doors that maintained its shape and purpose this time. each reached for a handle on the shimmering double doors. Before they could pull them open, however, Rogue turned back to Ms. Marvel. “Hey Carol?”

“Yes?” The blonde turned her attention to the woman who was technically 15 years her younger, although they were practically the same age now. She smiled at Rogue, noting that the X-Man’s tattered red dress looked a little less dirty and torn than it had just minutes ago.

“Ah just wanted ta say thanks. Ah couldn’t - Ah couldn’t have gotten through all this without ya.”

Ms. Marvel smiled lightly. “Thank me later,” she replied with an easy, yet expectant tone, and she watched as Rogue’s face fell and the X-Man turned her gaze back toward the door.

A soft, gentle hand squeeze Rogue’s shoulder, forcing her attention back to Carol. “But you’re welcome. Thanks for letting me stick around.”

This time Rogue grinned lightly and nodded before both women turned their focus to the doors and pulled them open simultaneously.

The darkened landscape flooded with light, and suddenly three figures appeared. Psylocke’s astral form shimmered purple, Emma was bathed with white light, and Jean glowed blue as they stepped through the doors simultaneously.

Jean smiled brightly at the two women standing side by side while Emma and Psylocke looked around the desolate landscape, aghast.

“Well, this is depressing,” Emma commented drolly while Psylocke’s eyes brimmed with tears. The carnage of the scene flashed in red and black hues and Rogue wrapped her arms around herself nervously.

“Where do we begin, Jean?” Carol asked, hands on her black clad hips. She’d grown accustomed to the dreadful backdrop of Rogue’s mind, but could tell the three telepaths were struggling to make sense of the scene.

The five women glanced around, trying to ascertain a starting point. Finally, the redhead pointed to the shadowy figures that lurked behind the desolate crater nearby.

“There. I think I see some of Sinister’s men. Perhaps if we can apprehend them and probe their memories together, we can find something of use.” In a line, the five walked toward the outskirts of the foggy crater, trying to make their way toward the psychic remnants. The bottom of the hole was obscured by thick gray clouds of smoke, and Jean led the way around it, followed by Carol, Emma, Psylocke, and finally Rogue.

The path between destroyed buildings and the massive hole in the ground started with a solid five feet of space on which to walk, but as they inched closer to the halfway point of the crater, the path began to narrow. Emma, Psylocke, and Jean snuck peaks toward the pit, but all they could see was the darkening billows of smoke that obscured the bottom. With Rogue in the back of the group, no one noticed how her breath quickened as she kept her eyes trained on her feet and refused to look down toward the all-too-familiar maw of the pit.

She hugged herself tighter and closed her eyes for a moment, but a moment was all it took for the ground to crumble slightly beneath her feet and she slipped, nearly falling into the caldera-like formation. With a screech, she jumped away, pressing her back against the precarious structure behind her as the pathway crumbled a little more.

The other four women stumbled on the path as the ground gave way and they finally looked back to Rogue, who was frozen in place, eyes wide and terrified as she panted and trembled.

“Rogue,” Jean called as she and the others steadied themselves and moved farther from the crater toward the opposite side with its safe, solid ground. “Come on, move!”

All four of the women had made it the final 30 feet past the center point, yet Rogue was still rooted to the unstable ground. As they watched, the gray fog became black, angry swirls that twisted and began shrieking, as if screaming and crying. Rogue’s eyes screwed shut, and she gripped the concrete behind her desperately as the waves of black smoke lightened to dark red and liquified into an image of boiling blood.

“Rogue! Fly!” Jean called, and she reached forward with her telekinesis to stabilize the ground under her friend’s feet.

“Ah can’t! Ah can’t fly! Ah can’t MOVE!” the southerner cried out desperately, her eyes still shut tight against the image before her.

Carol, who had remained largely quiet, rolled her eyes and flew over the crater in an attempt to “rescue” Rogue. Before she could reach her counterpart, however, the dark red fluid suddenly solidified and a viscous tendril shot out from the center of the crater to wrap around Carol’s leg.

The blonde was pulled down toward the crater with its pool of boiling red liquid and she gave a shout of surprise as she tried to break free. The tentacle-like appendage only turned to jello with every punch and pull, however, and did not release her.

The three telepaths joined the fight, with Emma sending lances of telepathic diamond shards at the lower half of the tendril from the safety of the opposite side. Jean lifted into the air near Carol and tried to cut down the limb with a blue astral sword while Psylocke created a glowing purple katana and joined her.

Meanwhile, Rogue was simply clinging to the wall along the crumbling pathway, quivering and refusing to open her eyes.

“Rogue!” Carol cried as she was pulled down further toward the boiling pool within the crater. “Do something! This is YOUR mind! Fight back! Help us!”

“What IS this ruddy thing?!” Psylocke cried, her high British soprano voice moving an octave higher as another tentacle reached out and grabbed her ankle. She sliced at it with her purple katana, but it had little effect and merely slowed their descent.

“It's got to be her mind’s defense mechanism trying to keep us out!” Jean barely managed to block a third and fourth tentacle from grabbing her, but her telekinetic grip on Carol and Psylocke slipped, and the two were pulled ever closer to the boiling caldera. “Rogue!” The redhead yelled. “Help us! We NEED you!”

“Ah CAN’T,” Rogue wailed piteously, shaking her head from side to side without ever opening her eyes. The panic and terror that gripped her heart made all thought and movement impossible. She felt only the suffocating effects of her fear as her heart clenched and lungs heaved.

From the sidelines, Emma’s diamond shards abruptly ceased as she studied her surroundings and sighed. “It isn’t a DEFENSE mechanism, it’s a MEMORY,” she slowly explained to the others, who were still struggling against the viscous red creature. With more casualness than the chaotic scene warranted, the White Queen strode down the crumbling path toward the terrified X-Man in her white high heels.

When another tendril reached for the immaculately dressed woman, she simply shooed it away as if it were a fly. “You forget, darling, I was here, too. I may not have experienced everything you did, Rogue, but I know what this is.” By the time Emma reached Rogue’s side, the X-Man had finally opened her eyes, terrified hazel irises searching the telepath’s face.

“Emma, if you have a plan, now would be a good time!” Carol shouted as she and the other two women struggled from mere inches above the boiling red liquid.

The White Queen sighed and rolled her eyes. “Must I do EVERYTHING?” she asked, exasperated, and put a hand on Rogue’s trembling shoulder as the X-Man practically hyperventilated. “Darling,” she smiled sympathetically at the southerner, whose hazel eyes never left her bright blue ones. “I’m truly sorry about this,” she explained, before throwing the woman forward off the path.

Rogue shrieked as she fell headlong into the pool of crimson and was swallowed up by it. Simultaneously, the tentacles released the other three women, who gasped and flew to the safety of the solid ground at the edge of the crater.

“Emma!” Jean cried, her face awash in outrage. “What have you DONE?!”

“Saved us all, obviously,” the White Queen replied arrogantly, a small smile toying at the edge of her lips.

“But, what about Rogue?!” Carol demanded as she hovered above the edge of the churning mass of now frothing red liquid.

Emma simply studied her fingernails and glanced down at the pink foam that was slowly replacing the rapidly evaporating liquid. “She’ll either be fine, or she won’t. Either way, she had to confront this some time.”

“Confront what?” Jean asked, her face a mask of confusion as she studied both Emma and the changing caldera in front of them.

The only reply was a short, barked sob from the bottom of the crater as the liquid transmogrified completely to pink foam and fog. The fog slowly dissipated and the only thing left in the bottom of the gaping maw was Rogue, awash in red just like a scene from Carrie, as she rocked and hugged herself, crying desperately. Lying a few yards in front of her was a large pile of debris in the middle of the crater.

With a gasp, the other four women watched as a second version of Rogue, dressed in the same tattered red dress with her face, arms and legs scratched and bleeding, carefully alighted nearby, screaming.

“REMY!” Rogue's memory screamed as her real counterpart, still covered in blood, stared in horror at the scene.

* “Where are you!? Ah know you’re here! Ah can FEEL you!” She picked up and tossed away huge chunks of concrete and metal, desperately flinging them away from the crater until she uncovered Remy’s burned and mangled body.

“Oh gawd, sugah…” she cried, dropping to her knees. But her hands were still bare, and she didn’t dare touch him. Part of his suit coat still hung off one shoulder, but the other half, as well as most of his pants, had been burned away. What was left of his clothing was quickly being saturated with blood from his wounds. Even from the top of the crater, Carol and the telepaths could see the horrified, heartbroken expression on the face of Rogue’s memory.

“Did - Did I get him?” Remy’s voice was subdued and pained as he coughed lightly, but his signature smirk still lit up his face as he opened his one good eye to gaze at Rogue.

“Yeah, yeah you got ‘em, sugah.” Rogue laugh-sobbed as she looked over his wounds and tried to keep her chin from quivering.

“Just hang on, ya hear? Sounds like the cavalry’s comin’. Day late and a dollar short, like always,” the memory of Rogue comforted him as the other four astral forms watched in morbid fascination. Rogue’s real persona was still on her knees, hands covering her face as she sobbed silently and watched her own memory through the slats of her fingers.

“Lissen,” Remy wheezed, unable to move. “I - I ain’t long for dis world, chère. How…” he coughed lightly, wincing through the burns that covered the whole left side of his face and body. “How ‘bout lettin’ dis scoundrel steal one … las’ kiss?” He smiled, but a single tear dripped from his right eye even while Rogue sobbed and wiped her own tears from her cheeks.

Still, she restrained herself from touching his skin. “Hush up with that!” she demanded, tone flaring to anger as she gently stroked back what was left of his hair. “Ya can’t die, Remy! D’ya hear me!? Don’t you dare leave me!”

“Rogue…” he whispered as another tear trekked down his cheek, mixing with the blood that cascaded from dozens of cuts across his cheeks and face. “...Please? Mon coeur…”

With a heart wrenching sob and more gentleness than seemed possible, Rogue’s bare hand snaked under the covered part of Remy’s head, his hair protecting him from her powers for just long enough for her to lean in and kiss him. *

The others couldn’t see it, but the astral form of Rogue remembered the tingle of energy against her mouth when she had pressed her lips to his, the short flicker of his powers licking at her skin before everything went still and silent.

“Remy…?” The memory’s voice cracked as she pulled his body against hers, cradling him softly in her lap as she squeezed her eyes shut tight and sobbed. “Sugah…”

“Ah - Ah can’t FEEL you…”

A sudden wind kicked up inside the memory and the scene before them turned to ash, whisking away the memory of Rogue, Gambit, and the crater, leaving only black nothingness in its wake.

“Oh my god, Rogue…” Jean consoled her friend, who had tucked her head into her knees as she sat on her shins. She was no longer covered in viscous red fluid, but she still wore the same burgundy dress from the memory. The telepath pressed a hand against Rogue’s covered back, careful not to touch her skin. “I’m - I’m so sorry. I had no idea…”

“No one did, darling.” Emma spoke softly from the sidelines. “No wonder that memory was so vicious. Keeping something that traumatic locked up inside you only makes it stronger and more dangerous.”

Rogue said nothing as she took deep, shaky breaths and exhaled into long, shuddering sobs. Psylocke and Carol came to stand next to the other woman, and together, the three of them bent down, wrapping the southerner in a comforting hug while being careful of her skin.

After a few moments, Carol broke away and stood in front of Rogue, holding her black-gloved hand out to the X-Man. “Come on. We still need to find out what Sinister is planning so we can get Gambit’s body back.”

Biting her lip, Rogue finally looked up as the two telepaths stepped away as well, giving her some space. With a short nod, the X-Man took Carol’s gloved hand with her own bare one. When Rogue got to her feet again, her yellow gloves were in place once more, and her fancy black shoes had been replaced with her tall yellow boots. The tops of the boots disappeared beneath the long red skirt, but her dirty, tear streaked face was clear, as if her tears had somehow washed it clean.

“Th - thanks. Ah think.” Rogue gave Emma a small grin with a skeptical look. “Let’s …” she swallowed hard as she took in the blackened landscape. “Let’s get goin’.”

~X~

The rest of the foray into Rogue’s mind went in much the same way as they slowly collected and examined the various psyches the X-Man had absorbed with Carol. Occasionally, they would be hindered by another of Rogue - or even Carol’s - memories. The vision of Rogue absorbing Carol all those years ago was another particularly traumatic event, and took quite some time to navigate. The benefit, however, was that by the end of it, Carol had MOSTLY forgiven Rogue for the unfortunate incident, and in the end, they had reclaimed vital information about Sinister, his bases, and a hint about his potential partner - the one who had created the Godzilla-like Tri-Sentinel.

Although the journey felt like days, it had, in fact, only taken a couple of hours to sort through all the thoughts and memories contained in Rogue and Carol’s consciousness.

At long last, the telepaths and Rogue/Carol opened their eyes, blinking in the fluorescent lights of the conference room. Beast and Kurt were seated alongside Rogue’s prone form, both watching the screen projector. In the far doorway, Wolverine stood unseen in the shadows with his arms folded and face twisted into a mask of disturbed empathy.

The three telepaths stood wearily as Rogue sat up and rubbed her temples. “Well, that was about as much fun as a jaunt in a septic tank,” she quipped, and the other women chuckled lightly.

“I think we got what we needed, at least,” Beast smiled sympathetically as he held up a notepad. “Between all the personalities you absorbed, we have four general locations to investigate where Sinister may be hiding out and conducting his experiments. Not to mention evidence of Trask and Gyrich’s involvement.”

“We’ll call the team together and review what we’ve learned - create an action plan.”

Rogue nodded, but rubbed her arms uncomfortably as she looked down at the long sleeved american flag shirt and blue jeans she was still wearing. “We’ll meet ya back here in 5,” she commented to the others with a small, tired smile and a wink. “We gotta go change.”

Jean, Kurt, and Hank smiled widely, and even Logan grinned lightly as he sequestered himself in the darkened corner.

~X~X~X~

The entire team, plus the Captain America and Iron Man, gathered once more in the conference room, where the telepaths and Beast isolated a few of the images they’d pulled from Rogue’s mind. Some of the blurry still frames included men wearing OZT uniforms, a base in Mexico City to where Gyrich had been moved, and the creation of the Tri-Sentinel - the Godzilla-like creature that had destroyed Genosha and killed so many. There were images of vats of green goo, much like the ones Nathan had been rescued from, as well as machines and slabs where Sinister was conducting his genetic experiments.

Yet, they only had vague locations of several of the mad scientist’s labs within various terrains of sand, snow, marsh, and jungle. They were at least able to pinpoint a few clues within the muddled memories, with churches, businesses, or airports lingering in the background images, and Morph, who had patched into the meeting from the Blackbird, had been able to recall his own jumbled memories to get a better idea of a few locations. Once they were closer to the general areas, they would hopefully be able to use the clues from Rogue’s mind to pinpoint exact coordinates.

Steve Rogers and Tony Stark spent a few minutes explaining what they’d found in the abandoned military base in the Canadian wilderness, and confirmed the appearance of the OZT logo, which no one recognized. Rogue’s gleaned memories included visions of Apocalypse, and another key player, but all the Marauders or Nasty Boys knew of this other accomplice was that he worked exclusively with Sinister. None of the others had ever met the other villain, nor did they have his name or location.

“It sounds like we have a starting plan, at least.” Cyclops announced after the debriefing of what the telepaths had found in Rogue’s mind. “Morph’s already on the Blackbird and prepping for takeoff. Thanks to Rogue, we know Sinister and the Nasty Boys helped transfer Gyrich to Mexico City yesterday, and it’s likely Gyrich and Trask have valuable information about Sinister’s next move, maybe even his final location and his partner. From there, we’ll break into teams to investigate the bases Rogue and Carol were able to pull from the memories they absorbed.”

Carol’s blue eyes smiled at Steve as she picked up his shield off the conference table and walked forward, holding it gently while Tony sat nearby in his jeans and t-shirt, making small adjustments to his Iron Man suit while Beast watched with fascination.

“That’s fine, Summers,” Captain America announced, “We’re happy to assist in his arrest, but it’ll take a few days. If we show up bashing heads with you in Mexico, it sends a message.”

“Damn right it sends a message!” Rogue’s hazel eyes flashed in her face, tamping down on Carol’s personality once more. “That you stand with mutants.” Rogue’s grip on his shield tightened as the head of the Avengers put a hand on the edge and pulled it toward him slightly. “Unless you DON’T now,” she finished, eyes narrowed

“I’m sorry, Rogue - all of you,” Steve lamented. “Until we get our plans submitted and approved, our hands are tied.” Captain America looked to Tony first before resolutely meeting each of the X-Men’s disgruntled gazes. No one was happy about it, but no one said a word.

Except for Rogue.

* “Well if your hands are TIED, Ah guess you won’t be needing THIS!” She pulled the shield from his hands abruptly and flew out the window and several yards into the air before spinning and launching Captain America’s infamous ‘weapon’ into the ocean. She remained hovering as her teammates stared at her in surprise.

“Ah’m going after Gyrich, NOW,” Rogue yelled to the teams below, “before those boys move him again!”

Without even waiting for a reply from the X-Men, Rogue flew off at top speed, leaving a small sonic boom in her wake. Kurt, at least, tried to teleport after her, yelling for her to wait, but she was gone - halfway to the bay before anyone could even move.

From his chair next to Steve, Tony rolled his eyes. “At least the mood swings make it easy to tell who’s in control.”

In the corner, Emma snorted in amusem*nt. “Indeed.”

Cyclops pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Alright people, lets…” He was cut off by Morph’s voice coming through his communicator.

“X-Men - get to the Blackbird! It’s Trask!”

~X~X~X~

After the brief warning from Trask, the X-Men headed off to Mexico City to find Gyrich and Rogue. Everyone else was left behind in Genosha to assist with mission prep and survivors until they returned with more information and transportation for the various teams. Thankfully they had the coordinates for Gyrich’s location from both Rogue’s mind and Captain America’s findings.

Kurt was the first off the plane, not even waiting for the jet to land on a nearby building before he was teleporting into the Mexico City mansion. The evidence of Rogue’s arrival was everywhere, with unconscious men laying half-dead over fences and fountains. Kurt gasped when he heard her shrill screams echo through the courtyard, bouncing off the walls.

When he found her, she was a mess, crying and writhing on the floor as she held her head in her hands. Nearby, Gyrich lay twitching, his eyes rolled up in his head and black veins criss crossing his face as he gasped and wheezed. Kurt ignored the possibly dying man, however, and focused on his sister, who’s eyes were rapidly changing from blue to hazel as she held her head and shrieked.

“Rogue!” The blue furred mutant teleported across the room, scooping her up into his arms as she twitched. “Rogue? Carol? Vhat is wrong!? Vhat is happening!?” He held her close as she seized, arms and legs spasming as her head jerked on a boneless neck. Thankfully Wolverine and Jean were close behind him, and Jean touched her temple as she tried to enter Rogue’s mind.

“I can’t - I can’t get through to them. But I think I can help put up a barrier of some kind.” She spent a few moments trying to erect some kind of protection within Rogue and Carol’s mind while Wolverine checked on Gyrich and a few of the guards outside the door. Beast and Cyclops weren’t far behind, and the team leader gasped at the sight of Rogue twitching sporadically. Gratefully, her screams had at least died down into moans even though she still had no control of her body.

“What happened?” Scott asked, surveying the damage to the room and the courtyard outside.

Jean grunted as she placed the last few barriers in Rogue’s mind, and the other woman stilled, her breathing coming in shallow pants despite her unconscious state.

“I can’t reach Rogue or Carol. It looks like she - they - absorbed Gyrich, but something went wrong.”

Cyclops looked around again, grimacing. The guards outside were either dead or unconscious, and bodies were strewn about like marbles. Some of them had clearly shot their own comrades in their attempts to stop Rogue. “I think something went wrong BEFORE she absorbed him,” he growled.

“Guys!” Morph called on the com links - We’ve got company! ‘Bout two dozen of ‘em. Local police and these OZT guys. And they’ve got helicopters!”

Jean’s eyes widened while Wolverine growled and Beast continued checking Gyrich’s vitals.

“Morph, get the Blackbird out of sight. Park it somewhere safe. We’ll handle things here. Jean, start mind-wiping the rest of these guards. We don’t need them I.D.’ing the X-Men in this. Nightcrawler,” the leader turned to the furry teleporter who was still cradling Rogue’s unconscious form in his arms. “Get Rogue out of here. We’ll meet you at the church, over there.” He pointed out the window to a tall cathedral looming above the skyline.

Kurt nodded once, then scooped Rogue up in his arms, carefully adjusting her head to rest against his chest as he stood and teleported away.

~X~

Nightcrawler made a few jumps through quiet alleys and back streets, thankful for the late hour and the cover of night. Once he was close to the church, he stopped short, ducking into a secluded stairwell. Ahead of him was a small cemetery, with a handful of people dressed in their Dia de los Muertos attire and face paint. The sight of small children with faces painted to resemble skeletons threw him for a moment, and his heart fluttered with panic-filled memories of the literal skeletons he had seen over the last few days.

He pulled into the alcove just far enough to watch the mourners place their gifts and drop to their knees in prayer, and he spared a glance at his sister, whose face was contorted in pain as her eyes shifted behind fluttering lids. Sitting on the steps, he helped Rogue sit up against the wall as she struggled back to consciousness.

Hazel eyes blinked once, then flew open as she lurched forward. “Oh! Oh, Kurt!”

“Indeed,” he grinned down at her, his fangs glinting in the moonlight, illuminating his soft, concerned smile. “It is I, sister. How do you feel now?” His brows furrowed in concern. He wanted so much to reach out to her, comfort her, but he refrained, letting her come back to herself.

“Well, bit of a headache,” she started, leaning forward with a grimace as she touched her forehead, face tipped forward so she didn’t have to meet his eyes. “But,” her voice was pained, but grateful, “Ah’ll live.”

~X~

Carol was gratefully quiet, allowing Rogue some privacy with her adopted brother. After the southerner’s emotional breakdown in Kurt’s arms, the team headed off to Madripor to confront Trask. Carol allowed her counterpart to take point, opting instead to take a back seat and allow Rogue her quiet introspection. After the debacle in Mexico City with Gyrich, Carol couldn’t tell if the carnage had been solely Rogue’s doing, or if she had played a small role as well, letting her own anger and disgust over the Genosha genocide cloud her better judgement.

When Rogue had reached out and ‘saved’ Trask from jumping, she had once more locked the Avenger all the way into the back of her mind, an unexpected slight against their newfound ‘truce.’ But when the X-Man had replied to the scientists admission of, “I have nothing,” Carol was so shocked by the woman’s murderous rage and vengeful tone that she hadn’t realized what was happening until it was too late.

“Same, suga’.” Rogue’s serpentine hiss and disturbing twist of her mouth was the only warning as the X-Man dropped Trask.

Her team had expected a feint. Had expected her to scare Trask into a real confession by swooping down and ‘saving’ him again at the last second. They hadn’t intervened in her interrogation as they had never presumed she would actually let him hit the ground. But when she didn’t move, and the sound of his body hitting the pavement was accompanied by a symphony of screams, the X-Men could only stare in shock.

Drenched with rain, eyes wild with pain and fury they had thought she’d conquered, Rogue railed on her teammates - her family - only to be interrupted by ‘Trask Prime’ in his new Sentinel form as he knocked her out cold with one punch.

~X~X~X~X~X~

Chapter 9: Part 9

Chapter Text

This story departs from X-Men ‘97 series after episode 7. I used bits of episode 8, but episodes 9, and 10 have not transpired, minus Rogue’s new uniform.

Recap: Gambit’s body, along with others, was taken by Sinister, Magneto was recovered and is alive but near death himself in the makeshift hospital.

~X~X~X~X~X~

Shattered: Part 8

By Wiccamage

~X~X~X~X~X~

Wearing Gambit’s coat over her new green and white X-Men uniform, Rogue stood in the dusty clearing on Genosha where the Blackbird had taken off 30 minutes ago, her mind awash in guilt, grief, rage, confusion, and betrayal.

They’d left her behind.

She couldn’t believe her team had left her, let alone actually banned her from the mission. Couldn’t believe Cyclops had had the gumption to suggest that she would be kicked off the team if she followed them. Sure, she’d dropped Trask off a building, but it wasn’t like he had actually died.

Except, he HAD. If she hadn’t let him fall, if she’d pulled him back in, maybe tried to touch him like she did with Gyrich, then maybe he wouldn’t have transformed into that Prime Sentinel and leveled the U.N. building. Now her team was going after Sinister without her. Because she was too ‘unpredictable’, too ‘unstable.’ Even Kurt, her brother, who had come to her rescue in Mexico City, and kept vigil at her bedside while she’d recovered from Trask’s attempt to terminate her, had abandoned her. The anguish and disappointment in his eyes had been almost as unbearable as the lack of warmth and life when she’d felt Gambit die in her arms.

Cyclops had taken her to task for ‘killing’ Trask. Not to mention that Gyrich had died as well, despite him being alive and well when the team had left him in Mexico. Her body count was growing every day, and the team was seriously considering not just removing her from the X-Men, but detaining her for murder. As it was, it had taken every ounce of pull and persuasion for the team to convince the Avengers not to do so themselves. Thankfully, Jean had been able to ‘show’ Steve Rogers and his team that Gyrich was in stable condition when they’d left Mexico City. And, since Trask was currently in stasis as a Prime Sentinel in the basem*nt at the Xavier Institute with Beast, the Avengers were content not to bring charges against Rogue for their ‘deaths.’

At least, not YET.

Now Rogue was standing, arms crossed and eyes narrowed in a hard glint as she watched three planes fly off with her teammates and any volunteers they had been able to muster up. The first carried Wolverine, Morph, and Nightcrawler, all heading East toward Siberia where they suspected Sinister was hiding one of his labs. The second team consisted of Jean, Cyclops, and Cable, the latter of whom had joined up after saving them all in Madripoor. He had insisted that Bastion was a far greater threat than Sinister, and had refocused the team’s efforts on the human-Sentinel hybrid. They were headed to Bastion’s hometown in Connecticut to find more information about his past, motivations, and plans. Storm, Shadowcat, Angel, and Psylocke were headed toward the jungles of South America in hopes of stopping another Tri-Sentinel that was being constructed.

Iron Man, Captain America, and the other Avengers were dropping Forge off at the Institute to help Beast, who was desperately trying to figure out some kind of ‘cure’ for the humans turned Prime Sentinels, before dispersing throughout the U.S.A. to help put a stop to some of the more unruly riots that were occurring nationwide.

Rogue had been encouraged to join Forge or the Avengers on their missions, but the stubborn Southerner had opted to stay in Genosha to help care for Magneto and some of the other patients, instead. Amelia Voght had been unofficially named as head nurse/doctor and was more than happy to have an extra pair of hands to help out while she dealt with triage tents and distributing supplies to the survivors.

Emma had stayed behind as well, but more out of curiosity about Rogue’s true motivations than altruism. The telepath knew Carol’s personality had been shoved back into the depths of the X-Man’s mind, and although their journey through her mind had excised some of Rogue’s demons, there were plenty still pressing the southerner’s darker motivations.

At the moment, the White Queen was casually leaning against the doorway of the hotel-turned-hospital, and fastidiously watching Rogue. Turning to glare at the blonde, the X-Man snarled, her rage eager to land invisible blows on someone besides herself. “What? There somethin’ you wanna say, Emma?”

“Just… thinking.” Emma’s coy smile barely turned up her lips, but her pale eyes were alight with mischief. “The Hellfire Club will be looking for new members, you know. Keep up this vengeful tirade of destruction, and perhaps we can offer you a position.”

Rogue had been more than happy to go a few rounds with Emma, but the blonde’s words had the opposite effect on her brain, and she felt like the floor had dropped out from under her. Her face paled. If the VILLAINS were calling her out for her actions and behavior, did it mean she had crossed a line that even her family couldn’t forgive? If she was honest with herself, she was very much starting to FEEL like a villain - full of the same kind of rage and hatred she’d felt a decade ago when she’d first absorbed Carol. Though her heart had shattered over losing Gambit, it was slowly knitting itself back together with the sharpness of broken dreams and the rot of decomposing bodies. She no longer felt like herself, like the ‘empathetic’, compassionate woman Erik had begged to lead with him.

Instead of engaging in verbal - or physical - battle with the White Queen, Rogue picked up a large crate of medical supplies the Avengers had left behind and brushed past the woman without a word.

“When are you planning to let Carol out again?” Emma called after the X-Man. “I had rather thought you two reached a sort of truce. You DID promise you’d give her control of your body, after all.”

Rogue didn’t turn around or acknowledge the barb, but she felt the sting as the White Queen’s words lanced through her mind and heart. The X-Man still acknowledged her promise to Carol, but in her mind, that agreement was null and void until Gambit’s missing body was retrieved.

After checking in with Amelia, Rogue busied herself with the main floor patients - the ones who were simply waiting for death to take them. Some had been given sedatives, but most had to be kept unconscious with chloroform or ether. Had these victims been animals, they would have been mercifully euthanized. But they were human beings, and if there was the slightest chance that the U.N. would send med-evacs, then they had to try and keep them alive until better help arrived. As it stood, however, most of the world leaders refused to do anything more than deliver aid via air-drops, which often caused more damage to the already decimated city. The realization that they had been abandoned by the rest of the world further twisted the darkness in her heart.

One young woman had deep lacerations all over her body, her olive-green skin covered with scales that somehow kept her from bleeding out quickly enough for death to claim her. Her legs had been crushed, then amputated, and her mutation kept quickly metabolizing the drugs they’d tried to give her for the pain. The telepaths had tried to put in mental blocks, but it only did so much. The woman’s jet black hair tossed on the thin pillow as she writhed on the cot and moaned in agony.

“Hey, hey suga’,” Rogue knelt next to the cot and took a scaly green hand in her own. “Let me see if Ah can get ya somethin’ for the pain, all right?” The suffering all around her was overwhelming, and she had to fight back tears.

“Ju-st” the woman rasped. “Kill … me.”

Rogue’s face screwed up in empathy and sorrow. “Ah’m sorry hon, Ah know you’re hurtin’,” she soothed gently. “Let me find a doctor and some medicine, okay?” The X-Man started to stand up again, when the woman’s hand reached up to stop her. Her scales brushed against Rogue’s cheek for a mere instant, but it was enough for the absorption to pull greedily at the gravely injured victim’s mind and powers.

With a gasp, Rogue leapt back a second later, but her epidermis had already transformed to reflect the same green scales of the suffering woman. The difference, however, was that the other mutant was now unconscious, gratefully pulled into temporary oblivion by the X-Man’s powers. She gasped and blinked back tears of pain and shock, realizing that the victim’s last conscious thought had been of gratitude for this small, unexpected mercy. The southerner’s legs ached with phantom pain as she felt the shadows of the other woman’s injuries as if they had been her own. It lasted only a moment, however, and Rogue stepped away on shaky feet, pulling her gloves off to examine her scaled hands.

The other thought that swirled through her mind, a reflection of the victim’s anguish and despair, was about Magneto. ‘Magneto was right,’ played in her head on repeat, and she tried to shake the thought loose. But her feet were already carrying her toward the stairwell to the second floor, where she knew the Master of Magnetism was fighting his own battle against certain death. She needed to ground herself. Her grasp on her own humanity and generally compassionate nature was threadbare and frayed to the point of snapping. She felt very much like she was spiraling into a pit of despair and contempt that threatened to swallow her up.

Shoving her gloves into the deep pockets of Gambit’s coat, she gripped the lapels of his collar with her bare fingers, pulling it tight and inhaling his lingering scent of cayenne and bourbon. Her feet moved on autopilot as her mind swirled with memories of him. The first time they’d really met and interacted had been on Muir Island a decade ago, after going the rounds with the Shadow King. Her clothes had been inexplicably shredded after some battle no one could even remember. Gambit had helped her into the same duster she wore now, joking about how other gentlemen would have done the same if they’d been smart enough to cart around a heavy trench coat. Then he’d offered to help her search for Mystique and Irene after insisting she call him Remy.

Another pang jolted through her stomach and heart. She’d never told him her real name. He’d asked once or twice, hoping she trusted him enough to divulge her most carefully guarded secret. Then, on the day she had begrudgingly opened up to him, cozied up together in a horse drawn carriage on their first real date, he had hushed her, promising that names didn’t mean anything, and he was willing to wait.

Her currently green scaled fingers rubbed the thick fabric of his coat as she pulled the collar up and tried to hide from curious glances as she slowly trudged up the stairs. She remembered desperately grasping these same lapels when Sinister had captured the team in the Savage Lands. When Gambit had confessed his love for her before they’d shared their first real kiss.

Feelings of grief and longing contorted in her gut as she entered the hallway as if on autopilot, only a few doors down from Magneto’s ‘private’ room. The thoughts of ‘Magneto was right,’ kept echoing in her head from the mutant she had absorbed. Coupled with the twisting feelings of outrage and misery, Rogue’s mind whirl with opposing desires.

On the one hand, she wanted revenge. Wanted to make those who had done this - had destroyed Genosha and killed Remy - pay. Dearly. On the other, she wanted to rejoin her team and save the world from the threat of Bastion’s Prime Sentinels. The compassionate part of her heart - what little remained - wanted to retrieve Gambit’s body, help the survivors, and rebuild Genosha. That tiny part of herself that remained wanted nothing more than to rescue her beloved Cajun and the others Sinister had stolen, and see them properly buried.

She was so lost in her thoughts, in her yo-yoing emotions and machinations that she hardly noticed when Val Cooper stepped out of another suite until the woman stood in front of her.

Rogue startled for a moment. No one had seen hide nor hair of the U.N. representative since the attack, yet here she was, looking more put together and unfrazzled than she had BEFORE the ill-fated party. She wore a crisp white dress with a blue suit coat, and the X-Man stared at her in shock.

“Dr. Cooper?” she asked hesitantly, brows furrowed in confusion. “Where have you been? We’ve been lookin’ all over for ya? Folks assumed you were…”

“Rogue, please, I MUST speak with you. It’s urgent.” The blonde grasped Rogue’s covered wrist and abruptly pulled her into the empty hotel room, shutting the door behind her.

“What’s this all about…” Rogue started, turning around with her arms folded. But her words cut off abruptly as Val’s blue suit coat melted away to reveal blue skin, her blonde hair transforming to flaming red locks.

“Momma!” Rogue stepped back in shock, her eyes widening before narrowing into slits. “What are you up to Mystique?!” She hissed. Then, as disturbing possibilities swirled in her mind, her face contorted into rage and she grabbed her adoptive mother by the neck, slamming her high up against the back of the door. “Did you have a hand in this!? Did you help Sinister and Bastion!? Did you KNOW!?!”

“N-no!” Mystique choked out, both her hands grasping Rogue’s wrist as her daughter squeezed tighter. The shapeshifter’s eyes went wide. “I just… got… here.”

Rogue’s fury was building, but her gaze trailed to Mystique’s throat, and Emma’s words echoed in her head. Then Carol’s voice, strained and distant though it was, whispered from the depths of her mind.

“Let her go, Rogue. Think of Kurt.”

Ms. Marvel’s sentiment, complete with feelings of remorse and guilt over the blood she had already spilled, had the desired effect, and Rogue abruptly dropped her mother, who crumpled to the floor. Mystique coughed and spluttered, grasping at her bruised windpipe as the X-Man folded her arms tightly, tucking her hands under her armpits lest she try to lash out again.

Rogue turned away and strode toward the window, pulling open the curtains with one hand to stare out at the decimated landscape. “What are you doin’ here, and what do you want?” She finally asked. Her voice sounded dead and hollow, even to her own ears.

“I came to make sure you were okay,” the redhead wheezed, staying on the floor as she caught her breath. “And to stop you from doing something rash.”

A bark of derisive laughter echoed through the room, and Rogue’s shoulders slumped even as her spine went rigid. “Think you missed the boat on that one, Mystique.”

“No, not yet I haven't.” Standing carefully, Mystique spoke softly, as if she knew personally the demons lurking in her daughter’s mind. “Destiny warned me this event would come, and what might happen of you if don’t tread lightly this day.”

Another scoff escaped the southerner’s lips, but it was not so harsh this time, and she tore her eyes away from the destruction to glance at the shapeshifter. Her mother was approaching timidly, and looked very much like she simply wanted to wrap her daughter in a much needed hug. But Rogue bristled, looking down at her bare hand, which was slowly transforming back into her usual skin tone. “She warned you about TODAY, but not about Genosha? Ah find that hard ta believe.”

“Destiny spoke of the day of genocide, and that it would lead to a series of dominos. Some that could be changed, and some that couldn’t. But it was YOUR fate, as our DAUGHTER, that most concerned us.”

Rogue turned, arms crossed tightly, her eyes slitted in barely contained fury. “Then maybe y’all should have warned me of what was comin’ before the man Ah love died in mah arms!” She sucked in another deep, shuddering breath and willed herself not to cry in front of this woman. Mystique had no empathy for anyone’s feelings, even her own daughter, and would only see tears as another form of weakness to mock and scorn.

“I know how it feels, you know,” Mystique spoke softly, and Rogue blinked, startled by her almost kind words. “To lose the person you love most in the world?” The shapeshifter came to stand before the window next to Rogue, their shoulders nearly touching. “When Destiny was murdered by Legion and the Shadow King… I know EXACTLY how you feel.”

This time Rogue couldn’t stop the choked sob that exploded past her lips, and she reflexively slapped a hand over her mouth and turned away from what she knew would be harsh, judgemental eyes. But a gentle, soothing hand slipped across her shoulder, and before she knew what was happening, she was wrapped in her adoptive mother’s warm embrace as she cried like a toddler. Loud, wracking cries echoed through the damaged room, sisters to the cries that had been interrupted back in Mexico City. Jean’s touch had been comforting, but the team’s presence had only made the southerner close off her emotions and turmoil. Their attempts at consolation and healing had only hardened her resolve to stay strong and not break down again.

But now her teammates had left her behind, her brother had abandoned her, and all Rogue could feel was her heart shattering all over as her mother lowered her to the ground, rocking and soothing her in a fashion almost identical to Kurt’s earlier embrace. She didn’t even know how long she sat there in her mother’s arms, bawling like a newborn as her soul tried to knit itself back together with more than darkness and pain.

Mystique stroked her daughter’s white and chestnut locks, content to hold and soothe her like she’d done decades ago. Rogue was strong - Raven and Irene had seen to that - but none of them were made of stone, and there had been a few occasions the shapeshifter could recall that reflected their current position. On the first night, when Mystique had welcomed the young, frightened runaway into her home. The second time had been when her daughter was so plagued by Ms. Marvel’s psyche that she’d admitted she’d rather end her own life than live that way.

That had been the night Destiny had warned Mystique - if Rogue did not leave, did not find her way to Charles Xavier and the X-Men, their daughter would perish. So Mystique had made a call. Had gotten the exact time and location needed to ensure such a chance encounter, and had anonymously warned her greatest enemy that there was a mutant in desperate need of his help.

She had lost her daughter to Xavier that night, unsure of how long it would be before she was returned. Destiny had assured her that one day they would be reunited again, as mother and daughter, but she had been as cryptic as ever. Since Irene’s death, Raven had never stopped trying to get Rogue back, convinced that she would have to tip fate’s hand in her favor.

The rhythmic dance of her hand down Rogue’s hair and back did not slow until the X-Man’s sobs quieted to soft hiccoughs and sniffles a long while later. “Please, my daughter,” the shapeshifter crooned. “Listen and heed me now.”

The quiet desperation in Mystique’s voice shocked Rogue enough that she turned her bleary, red rimmed eyes up to her mother, pulling back enough so they could look into each other’s eyes, but not so much that they had to release each other.

“You mustn’t leave Genosha. You must NOT go after them. Gambit’s fate is already sealed, and if you try to retrieve him, or Magneto, you will die.”

“Erik is HERE, why would I need ta…” She trailed off, eyes widening as she sucked in a breath and flew into the air, not even bothering to open the door before she punched through it and soared down the hall to Magneto’s private hospital suite.

But Erik was gone.

“NO!” she screamed, a loud, long shriek of agony and fury, and she whirled around, eyes flashing murderously as Mystique’s footfalls echoed into the room behind her.

“You… you… !” Rogue couldn’t even articulate a proper sentence, but her fists were clenched so hard as she advanced on Mystique, that she could feel her nails cut into her nearly invulnerable flesh. Mystique’s eyes were wide for a moment, a flash of true fear and dismay gracing her features before falling back into a mask of haughty calm.

Still, her mother backed up, taking one step at a time into the hall and away from her daughter. “I had nothing to do with his capture, Rogue. I only know that Destiny warned me it would happen and you shouldn’t pursue them. You MUST NOT go after Magneto, or Bastion WILL kill you.”

“Does Bastion have Gambit, too?” Rogue snarled, but she stopped advancing on her mother as several mutants acting as ‘nurses’ emerged from various rooms and peeked out at the commotion.

Mystique shook her head. “No.”

“But Sinister DOES?” The X-Man asked, eyes narrowed as she stood almost nose to nose with her ‘mother,’ who nodded wearily. They had shared such a welcome, intimate moment as mother and daughter, only to have it tainted by the knowledge that Mystique had merely been trying to delay her.

Rogue stalked back to the bed where Magneto had laid. “They ain’t been gone long,” she mused, touching the divot in the bed with her bare hand. “Mattress has barely gone cold. Ah could still catch ‘em before…”

Mystique’s furious grip on her arm pulled her from her thoughts as her mother whirled her around to shake her. “Don’t you understand!?” The shapeshifter half cried, half screamed. “If you try to save Magneto, YOU. WILL. DIE!”

Rogue ripped her arms from her mother’s grasp and took a step away. “Ah ain’t about ta let HIM die, too! He's all Ah've got left! He still LOVES me, just like Remy did. Even after all these years, part of me still loves him, too!” Her rage melted into sorrow and torment as she finally admitted her feelings aloud.

Mystique’s shock was only overshadowed by her look of horror. “What on Earth do you mean? After all these…? He didn’t…” she shook her head vigorously, as if trying to dispel unpleasant images. “For the love of god tell me he didn’t…”

Rogue’s cheeks were already warm from her angry outburst, but now they burned with an altogether different kind of emotion.

“In the Savage Lands?” her mother asked again, aghast. “When I - when he…?”

Rogue’s silence and the uncomfortable shift of her gaze back to the bed was the only confirmation Raven needed.

Mystique closed her eyes, brows furrowed, and her hand covered her mouth for a moment as if trying to stifle a sob. “Irene warned me…” she started, refusing to meet Rogue’s eyes. “She told me if I obeyed his orders and sent you to him that he might… But I didn’t want to believe it. And I was so frightened of losing you.” The shapeshifter raised both hands to cover her face. “All those times he spoke of your training and progress… God, how naive I was! I’ll kill that rat bastard!” Mystique seethed.

Rogue’s face still flamed, but she felt far more bewildered than embarrassed now. Her rage was all but forgotten as Mystique grabbed her by the upper arms again and looked her dead in the eye.

“Rogue, whatever he told you in the Savage Lands, whatever it was he did or said to make you believe he was in love with you… It wasn’t… it wasn’t REAL.” The blue skinned woman’s face had contorted, but her eyes burned with sympathy and disgust in addition to her underlying currents of anger. “Erik Lensherr is a MASTER manipulator. I learned some of my very best tricks from him. Everything he does, everything he says, or doesn’t say, serves only himself - so he can take what he wants. Do not risk your life for someone who does not - CANNOT - feel the same way for you.”

Taking a step back from her mother, Rogue pulled herself free from Mystique’s grasp again. Her eyes were starting to sting, and her stomach felt like it was lined with leaden stones. “He - he DOES,” she protested, but her heart was racing with surging doubt.

Mystique shook her head sadly. “Rogue, MAGNETO was the one who insisted I bring you to him. It was not my wish for you to join him in the Savage Lands. When I first refused, he threatened to kill me; he threatened to kill you and Irene.”

At this, Rogue exhaled a small gasp, her mind reeling even as she refused to believe it. Still, her mother continued.

“He was certain he could ingratiate you completely to our cause. He told me of his plans - he wanted to train you to become one of the most powerful mutants on the planet. He thought he could teach you to retain the gifts you absorbed. When I asked him about learning to control your powers, so you could touch freely, he laughed. It was never his intention to teach you such things.”

“He is the one who warned Ms. Marvel of the theft of the aircraft on the night you absorbed her,” the redhead spoke softly, as if her words alone could shatter Rogue’s invulnerable exterior. “He was curious about how your powers would compensate for someone who wasn’t fully human. He set the whole thing up so you could steal her powers and test your own. He told me to make sure you not to let go. Destiny warned him that it would have terrible consequences, but he didn’t care. He was thrilled when the transfer was permanent.”

By this time, Rogue had both arms wrapped around her stomach, her breathing quick and shallow as she tried not to vomit. Everything her mother was saying directly contradicted what Erik had told her all those years ago. That MYSTIQUE was the one who wanted Erik to help her, that he was determined to teach her how to control her powers, that her mother had ordered the theft of the aircraft leading to Ms. Marvel’s demise.

“It ain’t true…” she stammered, refusing to believe that the first man she’d touched, the first man she’d kissed, the first she had… That it had all been a lie. That she’d been used and manipulated in the worst possible way. “You’re LYING!” Rogue hissed, her voice full of malice. “It ain’t TRUE!”

Rather than argue, Mystique slowly pulled off a long white glove and held out her bare hand. “Then touch me. Take my memories. I won’t let you run off and get yourself killed for a man who USED you like that, Rogue. I’d rather you drain me dry than beholden yourself to him because of a fantasy he planted in your head.”

The X-Man licked her too dry lips, her whole body quivering with doubt and desperation. If she touched Mystique and she were telling the truth… Her eyes burned at the possibilities. But if she didn’t, she would always wonder, always doubt whether any of it had been true. If he’d ever really cared.

“Did Erik ever let you touch him? Ever let you freely absorb his powers, or his memories?” Mystique understood her daughter’s hesitation, but kept her hand steadfast.

Rogue nodded lightly, her eyes flooding with relief. “Yes,” she smiled smugly at the memory. In the jungle, she had been practicing on one of Magneto’s Acolytes, Pyro, and struggling to contain his mind within hers. Erik had offered his hand freely, even though they had already discovered his ability to repel her mutation, and she had absorbed his powers and his memories when he lowered his shields. He said he would think of a number between one and one million, and challenged her to tell him what it was. He never would have allowed her to touch him if he’d been worried about dastardly plans coming to light.

She explained the scenario to Mystique, who shook her head sadly.

“But you also saw something else in his mind, didn’t you?” Her mother questioned. “He showed you some of his darkest memories that day, didn’t he? He told me as much. He told me once that your training was coming along so well that half the time you didn’t even know what it was you were really working on.” The shapeshifter’s voice was steady even as Rogue’s hands began to shake. “He gave his Acolytes instructions on what types of memories to focus on right before you touched them. He wanted to see if you could pick out and retain information from the minds of your enemies. But he also said he was implanting the seeds of anger and hatred toward humanity, by showing you the worst they had to offer.”

Mystique paused, letting this information sink in before continuing. “He wanted you to see his darkest memories and hate all humans, so you would never be tempted to the other side. So you would never leave us for the X-Men.”

Rogue took a deep, shaky breath and closed her eyes, willing her tears not to fall. She remembered the moment all too well. It had been the first time she’d used her powers on Erik, and though he’d given them willingly, she’d seen images beyond that simple numbers game. It was the first time she had absorbed his memories of Auschwitz. The first time she felt true hatred, and resentment, and disgust, for mankind.

Rogue shook her head, unwilling to believe that everything she’d felt, everything she’d been shown and taught by Erik - all those feelings, and caresses, and ‘firsts’ - had been part of a carefully fabricated ruse.

“Ah don’t believe you!” Rogue shouted all at once, her voice shifting from sorrow to rage as her heart desperately tried to protect itself, and she grabbed Mystique’s bare hand with one of hers, the other coming up to grasp at her mother’s cheek.

Emotions and memories immediately flowed into the X-Man, and Rogue was momentarily overwhelmed by Mystique's vivid recollections.

A phone call to Magneto, as he gloated about his thrall over Rogue's sensibilities.

A gut-twisting email received from the Master of Magnetism admitting that he had successfully ingratiated Rogue to him - and their cause - as she clung to his tutelage like touch-starved puppy.

The heated argument between Mystique and Magneto over the upcoming mission and the ‘tests he wanted Rogue to undergo - much to her mother’s ardent disagreement.

Eavesdropping on a private conversation between Erik and Sabertooth, as the former confessed that he was enjoying the slow manipulation and coercion of his beautiful young ‘apprentice’.

And finally, the conversation between Magneto and Mystique about Rogue's defection to the X-Men. That he had full faith he had so well enchanted and ‘trained’ her that she would ultimately return to his side despite Xavier's intervention. That he had played his hand as the compassionate, caring mentor that only wanted the best for her, and was certain it would ultimately draw her back to his side. That he was playing the long game and knew she would fight by his side again one day, when she could no longer bear the loneliness and isolation of her powers.

With a shrieking sob, Rogue wrenched her hands from Mystique's skin, and both women collapsed to the floor of the hospital/hotel suite, the former with debilitating, sickening realization, and the latter as a result of Rogue’s powers.

It took a few minutes to collect herself, but her heart - and head - were whirling even more than before. She was lost between wanting revenge - against Bastion, Sinister, and even Magneto - and wanting to rip her very heart out of her body. She was certain it had crumbled beyond all repair, now.

The X-Man seriously contemplated just letting Carol out to take over right here and now, but the part of her mind that was screaming for revenge needed an outlet for her outrage and anger before she completely self-destructed. She knew she could still go after Magneto. Mystique’s knowledge was vague, but she had bits and pieces gleaned from Irene’s visions - images from books that Destiny had written decades ago. Bastion had Magneto, and thanks to the info Jean and the other telepaths had pulled from Rogue’s mind, she had a basic idea of how - and where - to find him. She knew - from both the absorbed psyches and Mystique’s memories of Destiny’s Diaries - that Bastion had dastardly plans on the not so distant horizon, and that Magneto was to be used as a pawn in the coming war. She vaguely saw an image of the now powerless omega level mutant being strung up like a marionette, and it made her stomach curdle.

The other impressions rattling around in Rogue’s brain from absorbing Mystique swirled around the familiar red and black eyes of Remy LeBeau. Haunting sketches of Remy with gray skin and white hair flashed back and forth between that of a smoldering skeleton and a man of flesh and blood. Another page turned in the vision of absorbed memories, this one showing Rogue herself writhing beneath a glowing skeletal hand, her flesh burnt and clothing melted away.

Kneeling in front of Mystique's unconscious figure on the floor of Magneto’s former hospital suite, Rogue clawed at her eyes. The sketches suddenly took form and she could suddenly see - and feel - her skin being flayed from her body as Gambit’s fingers trailed down her bare form. She gasped as his eyes bore into hers, glowing a vicious, eerie red that lacked all the warmth and charm of the man she knew and loved.

The corrupted version of Remy kissed her, and her skin burned as a horrendous pain erupted from her lower core to send sparks of electric energy through her entire body. A scream wrenched from her lips both within the vision and the physical realm as pain wracked her entire being. Yet, within the same moment she felt the agony consume her body and soul, the image shifted and Gambit’s eyes and skin returned to normal, glowing with all the adoration, concern, and swagger he had exhibited before the Genosha massacre. She saw the sketch through Mystique’s eyes as Rogue’s screaming, tortured form gave way to the rebirth of the dearly departed Remy LeBeau.

When Rogue opened her eyes, her adoptive mother had regained consciousness, and was propped up on her elbows, staring at her in dread.

“R-Rogue, I know what you’re thinking. You can’t go after them. You’ll be KILLED.” Mystique was barely conscious, trying in vain to push herself up off the carpet, as if she could stop her daughter.

“Ah know what’ll happen if Ah DON’T, momma. If there’s even a snowball’s chance in hell Ah can bring him back, then Ah’m takin’ it.”

“You’ll never make it past Sinister, let alone Apocalypse. He knows your powers,” the shapeshifter begged, breathless. “He knows your powers, your strengths and weaknesses. He’ll be ready for you. You’ll never make it past the front door. None of the X-Men would, even if you all attacked at once. They can read your thoughts, Rogue. They’ll anticipate anything your mind can fathom. Sinister and Apocalypse would only turn you, too.”

Rogue stared down at her hands, feeling her mother’s psyche bouncing around in her skull with that of Carol Danvers, begging her not to fall prey to the trap Sinister and his master had laid. Her hands were shifting back and forth from blue to her normal pale complexion, and her thoughts were disjointed and chaotic.

A slow grin slid up the X-Man’s cheeks. “Ah’ll take that bet, and raise ya a ROGUE…”

~X~X~X~X~X~

Chapter 10: Part 10

Chapter Text

~X~X~X~X~X~

Shattered, Part 10

~X~X~X~X~X~

With more determination and strength than her shaking legs belied, Rogue strode down the hallway with a singular purpose. Once Mystique realized there was no talking her daughter out of her foolhardy plan, the shapeshifter had fled, anger and indignation washing out her blue skinned face.

"Hey, Emma!" The Southerner called out to the blonde telepath as she finally located her quarry on the first floor with those victims who were considered 'doomed'. Rogue's green eyes were hard and determined as she stalked closer, having tamped down on Carol's attempts to dissuade her. Emma was standing above a young man whose wings - and left arm - had been amputated, and Rogue's breath caught for just a moment before she realized it wasn't her old friend Warren.

The White Queen turned her attention toward the X-Man, one perfectly manicured brow arching upward in disdainful intrigue. "Yes? Is there something you need, Rogue?" The blonde looked the approaching woman up and down, clearly amused - and slightly disturbed - by her severe and resolute body language.

"Actually, yeah," Rogue nodded, casting her gaze around the room full of dying mutants. "'Bout that Hellfire opening?"

Emma's eyes widened in surprise even as the corner of her mouth turned up to deliver a witty retort. Before she could utter a scathing response, however, Rogue ambushed her, a viper upon a rat.

Vicelike, the X-Man's bare hands closed around the telepath's cheeks.

"Consider this mah application," Rogue countered darkly, waiting until the woman's eyes had rolled up in her head and she went limp.

With more gentle care than she had just exhibited, the Southerner laid Emma out on a recently vacated cot, then stumbled slightly under the weight of the telepath's powers.

"Rogue," Carol's voice echoed in her head, exploiting the temporary distraction to push forward in their shared mind. "You know it doesn't have to be like this. There are other ways."

"Ain't," Rogue argued, shaking away the anxiety and unease. "Ah'm sorry if it ends in your death, too, Carol, but Ah'm not leavin' Remy in Apocalypse's hands. Even if none of us make it out alive." With a deep breath, the X-Man reached into Emma's powers and focused on opening her mind to the twelve or so individuals languishing upon the cots, waiting to die.

The sudden onslaught of pain, torment, and fear was so great that the room spun violently and Rogue immediately fell to her knees, clutching her stomach. She bit her lip to contain the scream of agony that threatened to erupt, but couldn't keep from vomiting a mere second later. She was close to collapsing - vision swimming from the overwhelming sensations of those who were suffering - when she was finally able to turn herself into diamond form and cut the telepathic ties.

It took another moment for her to regain her senses, and she stood shakily before steeling herself once again. This time, she focused on three or four individuals at a time, opening her mind to their thoughts alone, and attempting to shield herself from their pain.

She spoke quickly and confidently, but with as much compassion as she could afford. There was sorrow in her voice as she touched their minds, projecting her thoughts and plans into their heads. When she concluded on her plan - her offer to free these poor unfortunate souls from their misery - three of the first four accepted her mercy immediately.

She was, after all, able to give them a way out; give them a means of oblivion - be it temporary or permanent.

The Southerner gave no pretense about the possibility of surviving her soul-sucking touch, and though many feared death, most had already accepted their fate. By this point, the vast majority of the unfortunate souls who had entered their final waystation before meeting Death welcomed it - some even begged for it.

Thus Rogue became a Reaper, sucking souls - and powers - into herself with so much tender benevolence that those who bore witness to it (but did not accept her offer), gave her the moniker L'Ange Du Morte.

The Angel of Death.

A handful of those she touched slipped away within moments, the slightest of smiles on their faces as they left behind their mortally wounded, earthly bodies. Others merely succumbed to the darkness, the oblivion of Rogue's mutant powers granting them a temporary reprieve from their grievous wounds and anguish. It was more effective than the most powerful of drugs, however, instantaneously rendering them unconscious.

For the victims who begged for death, she held on longer than she had ever before dared, utilizing one man's abilities to multiply himself so she could absorb several people at once. Twice more Rogue had to 'borrow' Emma's mutant powers to maintain her grip on her own sanity; to keep those dozen or so personalities and powers within her control. Despite her bravado, the X-Man didn't wish to harm the telepath, and therefore took smaller doses so as to not incapacitate her for an extended period.

Thirty minutes later, when Rogue emerged from the first floor, which had essentially become a 'morgue', she was unrecognizable.

Her brown and white locks had taken on an unearthly blue flame as her hair floated as if in a sea of water. Her skin was green and reptilian, yet shiny and hard, each scale turned to liquid metal. Ethereal appendages sprouted from her back, the 'arms' of her new wings skeletal, yet the 'feathers' shimmering in a kaleidoscope of rainbow colors that seemed to float from the bones. Similarly, horns resembling that of a goat emerged from her forehead and her eyes flared a glowing green. Bone spikes surrounded her knees, elbows, and other major joints providing a type of built in armor, yet randomly sprouted from her arms, legs, and back as well. One bare hand glowed with eternal fire, while the other shifted from solid digits to intangible sand every few seconds. Finally, her entire being was enveloped in a red haze of telekinetic power.

Rogue blinked rapidly as she floated from the building, ignoring the shouts of alarm and looks of horror as she glanced around, figuring out her next move. She could fly to the tiny island north of Genosha where she knew Apocalypse was hiding, but it would still take her more than an hour, and there was no telling how long most of these powers would last - or how long she would be able to control them.

She landed on the dirt - pulverized concrete and sand - a few hundred feet from the entrance of the makeshift hospital and tried to refortify her mental shields. The swirling minds - and torments - of those dozen or so individuals made it difficult to remember her own name, let alone her mission. Her breath quickened as she reached inward with Emma's stolen telepathy and attempted to quell all the minds now trapped within her own. There were so many, however, that it was nearly impossible to quiet them all, and she stumbled forward, barely catching herself on her hands and knees as her body rebelled against the onslaught.

On the brink of losing control, Rogue sucked in a deep breath, head hanging between her extended arms as she knelt on the ground and tried not to vomit again.

"Ex - Excuse me…?"

A small voice broke through the echoing of voices in Rogue's head, surprising her enough that the many psyches suddenly went quiet. Carefully lifting her glowing eyes, she was almost alarmed to find a pink haired girl with shimmering gossamer wings standing shyly before her.

"Are you okay?" The child asked in a slight Briish accent, biting her lip nervously from where she stood 10 feet in front of the slumped X-Man.

Rogue took a deep breath through her nose and forced herself to sit up, placing her simultaneously flaming and swirling hands in her lap. She cleared her throat as she nodded and took a minute to answer. "Y-Yeah. Ah'm alright, now. Thanks."

The X-Man co*cked her head slightly, brows furrowed as she observed the child, who wore a dirty and torn blue blazer and matching skirt, with disheveled knee-high socks and scuffed black Mary Jane shoes. Despite the chaos raging in her brain, she tried to muster up an encouraging smile as she met the girl's warm almond eyes. "What's your name, sweet pea?"

"Megan. Megan Gwynn," the girl whispered, hardly meeting Rogue's gaze as she rubbed her arms. "But my friends call me Pixie." She didn't seem afraid of the Southerner's rather menacing appearance, yet she was acting rather apprehensive all the same.

"That's a right nice name. Ah'm Rogue," the X-Man introduced herself, trying to coax the girl into conversation even if she had a more pressing mission at the moment. "You mind if I call you Pixie? I know we ain't really friends, yet, but Ah'd like ta be."

With a bit of a watery smile, the young girl nodded mutely as she stared in wonder at the older woman. "You're one of the X-Men, right?" Pixie asked timidly. "Leech told us about you, about what you can do, before he… before…" Tears cascaded from the girl's brown eyes as she bowed her head.

Rogue's heart lurched. She wished she could give the child a hug, but right now, with the tumultuous flow of powers running through her body, any contact could be dangerous. "Ah am at that. Ah'm so sorry about your friend Leech, suga'. Ah knew him mahself - he was a good friend." Despite the burning of powers behind her glowing green eyes, she felt tears slide down her own cheeks as she commiserated in the loss of the young boy.

Quickly, she steeled herself once more, trying to redirect her attention as she felt the pangs of grief and rage threaten to boil over and rip away the tenuous control she had over all those powers.. "Is there somethin' Ah can do for ya, Pixie? Ah ain't really part of the ground efforts right now, and Ah'm in a bit of a hurry, but Ah'm sure Ah can find someone t' help look for your parents." Rogue cast her gaze around, simultaneously encouraged and disheartened to see a handful of bystanders gawking at the strange looking pair.

The girl shook her head sadly but still would not meet the X-Man's gaze. "My parents died a long time ago. I - I was living with my grandparents in Wales, but they … I'm alone now."

"Ah'm - Ah'm so sorry, Megan," Rogue replied, casting anxious glances toward a pair of nearby onlookers. She could easily use Emma's telepathy to 'encourage' the other mutants to assist the young girl. "Um, let's see if we can find someone ta get ya set up in…"

"No!" Megan declared suddenly, glancing at the same pair Rogue was eyeing. "No - I, I don't need help. I just…" The girl bit her lip as tears slid down her cheeks. "I saw what you did for those people in there, and…"

"Oh, Pixie, Ah'm so sorry," Rogue's heart splintered with guilt over the fear she must have instilled in the child. "Ah'm so sorry you saw that, suga'. Ah need ta be some place, and mah powers let me help those people let go of their pain - let them rest peacefully. But it helps me, too, with the mission Ah'm on."

Instead of the fear Rogue had expected to see, however, only hope, understanding, and sadness shone in the girl's eyes as she abruptly nodded.

"I - I know," Pixie licked her lips and swallowed hard as more tears rolled down her heart-shaped face. "I want you to do it to me, too."

A gasp of horror escaped Rogue's lips and she was stunned speechless for a moment as she stared at the child. "Oh gawd, honey. That's… No, sweet pea." She shook her head vigorously, glowing eyes shining more brightly with tears as they matched Megan's. "Those folks were dyin', Megan - Pixie. Ah gave them a choice, but it wasn't much of one. You're still here - still livin'."

The X-Man longed to envelop the girl in a hug, but with her tumultuous array of borrowed powers, there was no way to do so safely. "Ah know it feels like the world is endin' - like there ain't nothing left to live for - but you still MATTER. You're here, and there's a gotta be a reason for it. That's what mah brother Kurt always says. 'God always has a plan, even if we don't know what it is, yet." She tried to force a smile on her face to reassure the girl with platitudes she didn't quite believe herself.

"I don't…" Megan bit back a choked sob. "I don't want to be alone any more. Please? Please help me die like you did for them?" This time the girl took a few quick steps forward and Rogue had to vault to her feet, scrambling backward as the child advanced with her bare hands outstretched as if trying to wrap the X-Man in a hug.

"No, Megan," Rogue shook her head, holding back her own sobs as she retreated. Where was her brother, the preacher, who always knew the right things to say? Where were the X-Men, who could help this little girl who was alone and suffering? "Ah'll help you find someone ta stay with right now, and when the X-Men come back, you talk to them - let them know you need help. But Ah ain't gonna…"

The child's face morphed from hopeless grief to desperate agony as she realized her wish would not be granted. Before Rogue could blink, Megan had teleported from where she'd stood and was hovering with her fairy wings directly in front of the X-Man, hands grasping the mutated Southerner's face with her small, frail fingers.

"No!" Rogue shrieked, reflexively reaching up to wrench the girl's hands away despite her newly manifested abilities. The girl screamed - partly from pain as her arm burned from the flaming hand, and partly from her denied oblivion - but within the few seconds her skin was able to touch the X-Man's face, she succumbed to Rogue's touch.

The Southerner was barely able to control her strength as she yanked the child away, but her unconscious body still hit the ground with enough force to make Rogue wince. She wanted nothing more than to rush forward and check her pulse, fly her up to the nearby 'hospital', but with the cacophony of scarcely controlled powers, she didn't dare.

Instead, Rogue used Emma's telepathy to 'nudge' a few of the gawking onlookers closer, implanting the notion that they would take the girl to the closest doctor and stay with her until the X-Men returned and helped her find a new home. Watching the strange couple walk toward the makeshift hospital with the unconscious Pixie, the Southerner closed her eyes and smudged that fatal day of terror within the child's mind. Specific events and trauma became slightly blurred within once vivid memories, and the feelings of despair and bereavement lost their sharpness.

The X-Man knew that tampering with Megan's young mind was dangerous and frowned upon by telepaths like Xavier and Jean, but she had felt - had recognized and empathized with - what the girl was going through, and the equally dangerous path she was heading down. If tweaking a few emotions to feel less suffocating kept Pixie alive and well long enough for her to get some real help, then so be it.

In the meantime, the Southerner wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and she was simultaneously grateful for and guilt-stricken by the turn of events. Without meaning to, Pixie had just provided the X-Man with the last power set necessary to traverse the distance between Genosha and Apocalypse's hideout.

Taking a deep breath, Rogue allowed the multitude of borrowed abilities to flare to life, enshrouding her in the surge of power.

She blinked, and was gone.

~X~X~X~X~X~

AN: Sorry this one is SUPER short (like 5 pages). I wanted to push SOMETHING out after such a long hiatus, however, so I hope you'll forgive me for the brevity. Initially, Pixie was supposed to be the catalyst for this scene, but after Rogue's encounter with Mystique, the mood shifted and Megan's heartbreaking pleas no longer worked the same way. I also opted to gloss over the hospital scene rather than go into detail because A) it was too intense to try and empathize with what Rogue (and the vicitms) would go through, and B) I wanted to save some mental energy for upcoming scenes.

I am TERRIBLE with fight scenes, and although I know somewhat of what I want to happen next, I would love some help brainstorming and figuring out the exact scenes if anyone wants to comment and chat (or email)!

Chapter 11: Pt 11

Chapter Text

~X~X~X~X~X~

In: two, three, four, five. Hold: two, three, four, five. Out: two, three, four, five.

Inhale through the nose. Hold. Exhale through the mouth.

Deep breaths.

Just BREATHE.

Rogue coached herself through the torrent of emotions - the ones she’d absorbed from a dozen dying victims, as well as her own.

An unassuming, broken down building was nestled within a horde of overgrown vines and dead, thorny bracken. The house - more of a shack, really - had been white once, but the paint had peeled away from the wooden slats, and there were several holes decaying through the siding. The roof had partially caved in, and she could see a few collapsed trusses through the missing bits of glass where the windows had long ago been shattered.

Swallowing hard, Rogue inhaled again, slower and longer, willing her heart to beat a less frantic pace against her breast. She released the stale, humid air through her mouth as if blowing through a straw, deliberate and purposeful.

Beyond the decrepit looking door, just past the crumbling plaster of a false wall, was Sinister’s lair. She’d have to get past his lackeys before she could search for Gambit. Apocalypse’s temple was obscured and hidden underground, but connected with the scientist’s high tech laboratory.

Sinister’s men hadn’t been inside Apocalypse’s sanctuary, but they knew OF it; had seen the door, and the massive, terrifying frame of the megalomaniac emerging from it. She had seen it in their memories, felt that cold shiver of fear as he leveraged his violet gaze in their direction while they knelt and cowered.

The X-Man - or FORMER X-Man, as was likely to be the case once her teammates discovered what she’d done - took another deep breath. There was no plan here. None of Cyclops’s carefully calculated risks, concise objectives, strategically placed back up, or meticulously studied blueprints. This was all instinct and impulse. All emotions, a foolhardy sense of chivalry, and feigned bravery.

Guilt.

Rage.

Regret.

Love.

No matter the outcome, Rogue wasn’t about to let her man rot in whatever Hell Sinister and Apocalypse had planned for him. Mystique’s memories of Irene’s diary - those visions of Rogue’s and Gambit’s potential futures - made the X-Man’s heart leap with hope and relief that her Cajun might still be alive. But then she had remembered his lack of heartbeat; the way his cold flesh had felt beneath her fingers; the lifeless, unresponsive yielding of his lips against hers.

And she knew: there were fates WORSE than death.

Pulse wild, head throbbing with dozens of psyches, body thrumming with multiple stolen power sets, Rogue managed one unsteady step toward the compound when she instinctively twisted sideways, allowing a bullet to whiz harmlessly past her ear.

“ScalpHunter, honey,” she hissed, eyes suddenly flaring white as she sensed him between the trees. “Didn’t your momma ever teach ya it ain’t nice ta sneak up on a lady?” With one hand extended, a bolt of electricity shot from her fingers, arcing around numerous trees to find their target. His shriek of surprised pain made the corner of her lips curl in a sad*stic, satisfied smile, but she nearly lost her footing when a wave of nausea overcame her.

Vertigo.

The green haired woman had stepped out from the tree line while Rogue had her back turned. Vision swirling, the X-Man dropped to one knee, stretching the muscles along her back to fully extend her borrowed, skeletal wings and psychedelic, glowing feathers. A burst of blinding, rainbow colored lights pulsed from the southerner’s back, and she heard Vertigo cry out in alarm.

“Argh! My eyes!”

The female Marauder was clutching her face, trembling, as Rogue stood and whirled around just in time to telekinetically block a blast of Arclight’s shockwaves. With the heroine momentarily distracted, Riptide constructed a hurricane, hurling it at Rogue and sweeping her up. In a blink, she was standing beside him though, smirking coyly as her body shimmered with Pixie's borrowed teleportation.

"S’prise sugah.” She winked flirtatiously, immediately punching the man so hard he splintered half a dozen trees, exploding through them under the force of her blow. He landed in a heap, presumably down for the count, when Gorgeous George completely enveloped her in his sticky tar.

Before he could cut off her oxygen, his screams echoed through the forest, sending shivers up the spines of the Nasty Boys and Marauders alike as they converged. Sinister’s men watched as part of the tar pit’s elongated appendages smoldered and ignited with ghostly blue flame. In moments, the eerie fire had burned a hole through the middle of what should have been his back.

“Aie!!!” His shrieks of agony reverberated against the trunks of trees as Rogue emerged, wielding a long stick and a wicked scowl. Upon closer inspection, the others realized her stick was, in fact, a bone, something resembling a femur. Spinning in a circle, the X-Man gathered Gorgeous George upon it like a flaming torch before flinging it at Hair Bag, who was trying to sneak up from her right side.

“Gah!” The ape-like man didn’t even have a chance to utter a full syllable before he was enveloped by his sticky, burning compatriot. His shouts of agony combined with Tar Pit’s as the smell of burnt rubber and fur wafted through the forest.

“Alrighty then, who’s next?” Rogue sneered, casting her eyes around the small clearing. Vertigo was still cowering on her knees, clutching her blinded eyes, and Riptide was presumably out of the fight. Scalphunter, she knew, possessed super strength - just like Arclight - and had likely already recovered from her first bolt of electricity. That left him, Arclight, Scrambler, Ruckus, and -

Blockbuster, who, belying his size, had somehow snuck up behind her. He grabbed her about the arms and ribs, careful not to allow her hands to touch his bare, hulking arms. Rogue’s own strength was equivalent to his, and though he wasn’t able to crush her outright, she could not break free of his grip.

Resorting back to the blue flames she had procured from a dying man on a cot, she tried to burn her way out of Blockbuster’s grip. He proved to be nearly as invulnerable as Rogue, however, and it accomplished next to nothing in terms of escape.

Instead, Rogue pulled on the swirling sands from another young woman’s powers and simply melted out of Blockbuster’s grip just long enough to grab him with her bare hands. His powers weren’t much different from Carol’s, but at least her natural absorption put him down quickly. She felt his brute strength and vitality rush into her consciousness, but the flood of a new, unwelcome psyche left her momentarily disoriented and dizzy. Ruckus and Arclight both took the opportunity to simultaneously blast her with their powers, Ruckus nearly deafening her with his ear-splitting shrieks, and Arclight barraging her with a shockwave.

The force of the combined blows slammed her into a wide tree, and she landed at the base of it in an ungraceful heap. A series of gunshots rang through the air, and Rogue forced herself into sand form, synchronously splitting into several copies as dust swirled across the forest floor. Ruckus opened his mouth to scream in an attempt to blast the sands away, but as he inhaled, a cyclone of the granules invaded his lungs, and he grabbed his throat, suffocating on the particles.

Arclight’s eyes widened as Ruckus fell, shock momentarily overtaking the purple haired woman’s senses. Lashing out in fear, she attempted to send her shockwaves toward the incorporeal dust devils. She managed to hit a few of them, but the piles of sand simply disappeared as Rogue’s intangible multiples disintegrated. The X-Man rematerialized between Arclight and Scalphunter an instant later, and the two fired off their respective powers simultaneously - a psionic pulse of energy and several rounds of gunfire. Neither of them hit their intended target, however, as Rogue’s copy disappeared and was reabsorbed into the original, leaving the two Marauders to fire at each other.

Scalphunter took the brunt of Arclight’s shockwave, and was knocked out, landing several yards away. Arclight, in turn, managed to miss most of Scalphunter’s shots, but she could not escape the barrage of bone spikes Rogue unleashed on her a moment later. Using a combination of absorbed powers - including nearly indestructible green scales, the sharpness of metal skin, the crackle of blue electricity, and the force of her borrowed telekinesis - the X-Man hurled a half dozen shimmering, sparking bone spikes from her wrists, elbows, and chest.

The projectiles precisely impaled Arclight’s hands, shoulders, and ankles, pinning her to a wide tree. Judging from the screams, the agony was excruciating, but Rogue had calculated the impact to cause minimal damage to the Marauder. Arclight was unable to remove her limbs from their quasi crucifixion against the tree trunk, and continued screeching curses as Rogue casually approached.

“Seems there ain’t no one left of the cavalry, suga’,” Rogue sneered, her eyes dark and hollow as her irises and sclera rapidly shifted colors.

Still spewing obscenities, Arclight gasped as the Southerner sauntered forward, stopping just short of the Marauder. The purple haired woman spat at Rogue, who simply lifted her hand to stop the wad of saliva and mucus, allowing it to burn up in her borrowed blue flames. The X-Man lifted her other hand, red energy surrounding shimmering, scaled fingers. Without taking her eyes from Arclight, Rogue began squeezing, her expression never flickering from haughty disdain and disinterest.

The Marauder glanced around the clearing, eyes landing on the fallen forms of her teammates. Blockbuster and Scalphunter were unconscious, but likely to recover. Riptide hadn’t moved from where he’d collapsed against the last of several destroyed trees, a small puddle of blood pooling around his body. Ruckus was unconscious and barely breathing as he wheezed around a lungful of sand. Gorgeous George - aka Tar Pit - and Hair Bag were tangled together, smoldering and moaning. Vertigo’s eyes were scorched and unseeing as she fumbled around in the detritus of decaying leaves and dirt.

“You - you’re an X-Man,” Arclight gasped around the invisible hand gripping her throat.

“WAS, peaches,” Rogue jeered. “Then y’all went and took mah man’s body, and forced me into THIS.” She gestured toward herself with her free hand. “New and improved, and enough ta take him back from Sinister and Apocalypse, Ah’d wager. Now, why don’t ya save yourself some misery and tell me where he is. Ah can just take it from ya, but that way’s gonna just leave us both with a headache, and you with a few new holes for mah trouble…”

As an assurance of her threat, Rogue grew two new shimmering, metallic bone spikes from her forearms, flipping them into the air to catch in her bare, flaming hands as she smirked at the wide-eyed Marauder. Still, Arclight clenched her jaw, refusing to utter a word.

“No?” Rogue asked, quirking one eyebrow. “Too bad for you, Ah suppose.” She shrugged and sneered, letting the makeshift weapons float in the air. Before she could drive the spikes into the other woman, the X-Man twisted, grabbing the scrawny, nearly silent Scrambler by the forearms as he reached for Rogue’s head.

“‘Bout time you showed up, shorty,” the Southerner taunted. Using her strength, Rogue forced Scrambler’s hands against Arclight’s temples, instantly knocking the other woman out. “‘Fraid you missed most of the party, but Ah’ll let you give the final send off, anyhow.”

With a shake of her head, she telekinetically pulled long, flexible strands of liquid metal from her fingers and secured the scrawny Marauder’s bare hands against Arclight. Scrambler whimpered, shaking as he struggled against the X-Man’s super strength while she tied him to both the tree and his teammate. The pair of shining bone spikes still hung in the air, circling the man’s head threateningly.

“You feelin’ any chattier than your teammate, here, or do Ah need ta turn you into a pincushion, too?”

Scrambler shook his head to the best of his ability as he stammered. “N-No! I’ll talk. What do you want to know?”

~X~

Scrambler sang like a death row inmate with a midnight hour plea deal. Within the space of a few minutes, Rogue had secured an access card to the underground facility, Sinister’s whereabouts, and everything the greasy little man knew about Apocalypse’s plans. Erring on the side of caution, the Southerner absorbed a dose of the man’s disruption abilities, ensuring he hadn’t been lying.

“Well, boys and girls,” Rogue muttered as she reinforced his unconscious form against both the tree and Arclight. “It’s been fun, but I’ve got a Cajun ta save and an omnipotent being ta take down all by mah lonesome. Unless any of y’all wanna rise and shine and switch sides … ?”

The solitary figure glanced around the clearing, eyebrow co*cked and hands on her hips, a self-satisfied smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were dark, sullen, and rueful, however, as she took in the damage she had caused in a matter of minutes. Riptide and Ruckus were severely wounded and could very well perish from her misuse. Arclight’s puncture wounds left trails of blood across her arms, legs, and torso. Hair Bag and Gorgeous George were an absolute mess of burnt rubber, fur, and flesh. Only Scrambler, Scalphunter, and Blockbuster were likely to recover any time soon, and she briefly wondered if she should dispatch them, too.

With a deep breath and a shake of her head, Rogue dismissed the thought. She wasn’t going to kill anyone in cold blood. If her enemies perished in the heat of battle, that was one thing, but she wasn’t going to take their lives while they were unconscious.

“No takers then?” She quipped, trying to lighten her own mood - and conscience. She fiddled with the access card in her bare hand. The blue flames had died down somewhat, her hair no longer floating with ethereal flames, but rather bathed in a haze of sapphire highlights.

“Guess Ah’m on mah own then,” she sighed, despondent.

“Guess again, darlin’,” a familiar, gruff voice echoed through the trees and Rogue whirled, eyes wide with shock and a touch of alarm.

“Wolverine?!” The Southerner breathed as her eyes alighted on his tense, stocky form. Through the forest, she could see two more bodies take shape in the looming darkness of the twilight - Morph, and Nighcrawler.

“What - what are y’all doin’ here?” Her bravado and badassery suddenly failed under the leery gazes of her - former? - teammates. While the other two men assessed the damage Rogue had caused, her brother never took his eyes off her altered state. It made her more uneasy than the stacks of bodies surrounding her.

The gruff Canadian spoke first, his stern voice and body language contradictory to the twitch of his lips and quirk of his brows. “Jeannie called. Said Cerebro was goin’ nuts with hits on your signature. We hightailed it back before we even got to Siberia to make sure you were okay.”

Rogue scoffed, folding her arms across her chest as they switched between sparking electricity and swirling dust. “Ah’m fine.” A kaleidoscope of colors bloomed in iris and sclera alike, and she cast her altered eyes away from Kurt’s searching gaze.

“Truly, Rogue?” Nightcrawler questioned, approaching her with more caution than he would a Sentinel. “You do not look it. You do not seem yourself at all.”

Blue flames fully ignited once more, licking across her entire body as rage boiled below the surface. “Ya don’t say?” She sneered. “Ah’m a bit busy here, ‘Crawler, so if ya ain’t here ta help, then kindly get outta mah way.”

Shoving past a surprisingly silent Morph and similarly troubled Nightcrawler, the Southerner kicked in the barely attached door to the shack, sending it flying into the opposite wall where it splintered into pieces.

“Rogue, wait,” Kurt pleaded, teleporting directly in front of his sister and blocking her path.

Electric fury crackled across Rogue’s fingertips. “Move, Kurt. Now. Ah’m warning ya.”

“Or what? Are you going to absorb me? Fight me?” His expression never wavered from compassionate concern, and it somehow made her even angrier.

“Goddamn it, Kurt! Ah don’t have TIME for this! Ah got one chance ta save Remy from Apocalypse, and Ah’m not about ta waste it sittin’ around here chattin’ ‘bout inconsequential NONSENSE!”

“Your health - your SOUL - are not ‘inconsequential’, meine schwester,” Kurt gentled, reaching out for her like she was a lost puppy.

“Are you here ta help, furball, or am Ah gonna have ta move ya?” The bone spikes on Rogue’s joints and skeletal wings extended slightly as her agitation grew, and she had to clench her jaw to keep them in check.

“Ain’t no way in hell we’re lettin’ you take on Apocalypse alone, Stripes,” Wolverine placed a hand on her shoulder, wincing slightly as the flesh on his fingers began to burn away. “So let’s deal with him first, THEN we’ll sort out your sh*t. Deal?”

The Southerner slanted her eyes between Nightcrawler and Morph, then back to Wolverine before taking a deep breath. She forced the bone spikes and sparking blue flames back down slightly.

“Deal.”

~X~

The quartet of heroes infiltrated Sinister’s main base with little fanfare, using Scrambler’s key card for access to the lower labs. They encountered little to no resistance, save a few security alarms and lasers, but since Rogue had already dispatched all of the Nasty Boys and Marauders, the place was eerily devoid of life.

It wasn’t until they approached the giant sandstone doors of Apocalypse’s temple that all hell broke loose. They had expected an ambush, of course, but had rather thought it would happen AFTER they breached the temple, not as they approached.

Thankfully Wolverine’s sense of smell had given them enough warning, and Kurt had teleported everyone out of the center of the room just as a triad of energy, metallic, and fire bolts exploded where they’d stood. When the smoke had cleared, Rogue, Morph, Wolverine, and Kurt had immediately split up to battle against the four figures in the room.

The first Horseman was a tall, thin woman with flowing brown hair and a purple scarf. She wore flowing red robes that enveloped nearly every inch of her skin. What they could see of her flesh was covered in boils and oozing green patches resembling gangrene. She carried a sword at her back, but her touch was far deadlier than her weapons, and Rogue knew she must have been converted into Pestilence for the second time.

The second individual Rogue recognized only from Scrambler’s memories. Shiro Yoshida, Sunfire, originally hailed from Japan. He had the ability to convert radiation into the same type of plasma as the sun, and with it could fly and ‘see’ heat signatures. Rogue could also see from Scrambler’s thoughts that Shiro’s legs had been crushed and amputated during the attack on Genosha. The firebug had been enraged and near death when the Marauders had found him, and he had gone with them willingly under the pretense that Apocalypse could grant him vengeance and a new pair of legs. He was completely encased in flames now, and had bands of black metal wrapped around his limbs, as if trying to contain his plasma into a corporeal form. Finishing off his look was a white mask with a red dot in the center, reminiscent of the Japanese flag, and behind which burned his molten red eyes.

Beside him stood a green haired woman Rogue immediately knew as Polaris, daughter of Magneto. Despite what she’d learned about the Master of Magnetism’s manipulations, the X-Man’s heart clenched to know that Erik’s youngest (and probably most beloved) child had fallen prey to Sinister and Apocalypse. The magnetic manipulator wore a skintight purple dress with a plunging neckline and bare midriff. It was coupled with an armored chest plate that encircled her neck and shoulders, as well as a smattering of studded leather arm and wrist cuffs and a purple belt. She also had a strange choker necklace with the emblem of a skeleton. Finishing off the look was a pair of thigh high leather boots secured with purple cinches and a pair of studded ankle cuffs.

Last, a giant of a man whose skin was completely encased in metal finished off the Horsem*n’s troupe. The four X-Men gasped in horror as they recognized the recently deceased Colossus. He was even larger now, having gained at least a foot in height, and every inch of his skin glittered with dangerously sharp metal.

As the group faced off against the corrupted mutants, Rogue searched frantically for another familiar face. When she saw no other assailants, her heart raced and her stomach sank. Were they too late? Or perhaps they had arrived too soon? Based on the images she had seen in Mystique’s mind - those haunting sketches turned visions - Remy should be a Horsem*n. Yet, there were already four of them, and her Cajun wasn’t amongst them.

The Southerner’s hands shook as her mind whirled with the possible implications, but she had no time to dwell on her conflicted emotions as Apocalypse’s minions suddenly launched themselves at the X-Men.

Morph engaged Pestilence, transforming into Daredevil, complete with billy club turned nunchucks. “Bow before the touch of Pestilence!” the woman hissed as she threw punches and kicked out with bare feet, intent on infecting the shapeshifter with her toxic touch.

As ‘Daredevil’ blocked and parried each of Pestilence’s grabs, Wolverine took on Colossus. “You are no match for WAR,” the gigantic man bellowed, his once warm voice now dark and hollow. The former ally was able to extend parts of his metallic body into weaponized shards, blasting them at Wolverine much as Archangel had been able to do with his ‘feathers’. Gratefully, the X-Man’s healing factor was able to accommodate dozens of tiny knives as he was brutally impaled. Both Colossus and Plague had blue lines snaking up and across their bare flesh, as if infused with electronic components.

Nighcrawler faced off with Polaris, who manipulated the metal in the lab to form an iron maiden around the blue-furred mutant and attempted to stab through him with several transmuted swords. Kurt, however, instantly teleported, somehow managing to bring three of the ‘swords’ with him, descending on Polaris.

“Come then, Rogue, and fight Famine.” Sunfire’s voice crackled and popped like the flames that engulfed his plasma form. “The great Apocalypse is impressed with how you dispatched the others. He invites you to join him and fight at his side.”

Rogue snorted as she looked around at the X-Men who were battling Apocalypse’s other minions. “By mah count, Apocalypse’s little club is full. ‘Sides, Ah just came for mah man. Why don’t you hand Gambit over quiet like, and Ah’ll be outta the way.” The Southerner held up her hands in mock surrender, even as the blue flames on her hands grew brighter and her hair danced in a halo of sapphire flames.

“It is too late for that,” Sunfire sneered. “Gambit is no more. Apocalypse wishes for us to battle you. Whomever still stands will serve as his Horsem*n.”

As Famine spoke, Rogue’s heart splintered, her hands shaking. “Where. Is. Remy?!” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but the ferocity and emotion behind her words rang through the remains of Sinister’s lab.

Although the fight had just begun, the place was already decimated. Shelves had been melted and reformed to create weapons against Nightcrawler, glass bottles were shattered and pulverized into sand as Morph lobbed them at Pestilence, and huge chunks of wall were pounded into dust from the force of Colossus’s fists going through them.

“Death awaits you. You will be reunited once you accept your fate.” Sunfire - Famine - promised, his red eyes shifting back toward the massive stone entrance to Apocalypse’s temple.

Rogue’s eyes shifted with realization, her natural hazel-green shimmering into the foreground of her irises for a moment before being swallowed up by the motley of psychedelic colors. Gambit had already been cconverted into Death, fulfilling at least one part of Destiny’s vision. So much for Plan A, at least. She’d known going into this fight that there was a slim chance of victory, let alone survival, but that didn’t discourage her indomitable spirit.

“Didn’t anyone tell ya? Ah make mah OWN fate!” The X-Man immediately went on the offensive, whirling around so her back faced Famine. The prismatic colors of her wings stretched, sending a blinding wave of light through the enclosed space at the same moment she used the last of Emma’s telepathy, warning the others to close their eyes.

Shouts of pain echoed from Polaris, War, and Pestilence as the phosphorescent glow temporarily blinded them. Unfortunately, when Rogue had used the trick earlier, Vertigo had been closer, with her eyes focused directly on the X-Man. As such, the Horsem*n didn’t suffer the same ill-effects. She’d been certain Sunfire would have succumbed to instant blindness, though, and was therefore caught off guard by the fireball that exploded against her back a moment later.

Rogue barely kept herself from screaming out in pain, and instead tried to hurl a bone spike through Sunfire/Famine as she spun back toward him. The shard turned to dust as soon as it entered the Horseman’s plasma, and the Southerner gritted her teeth. Famine answered her bone weapon with another fireball, and Rogue caught it within her blue flames, flinging it toward Pestilence with a telekinetic wave of her hand. The other woman was too busy battling Deadpool/Morph, and the scorching sphere hit her directly in the back, incapacitating her. The shapeshifter gave the fallen Horseman a K.O. kick to the head, then leapt to aide Nightcrawler.

The Southerner forced herself to split into half a dozen multiples, once more turning into swirling sands as the last of Dust’s powers began to wane. Creating a tornado of swirling sand, she caught Famine up in her whirlwind, intent on smothering his flames.

An inferno raged within the center of her incorporeal form, but instead of suffocating, the Horseman burned brighter, and Rogue was forced to pull herself out of the fray to try and make more multiples. The sands from her other copies began turning to glass shards as the heat from Sunfire’s powers solidified the dust, and the X-Man had to throw up a telekinetic shield against the onslaught of microscopic glass flung her way.

She did a quick inventory of the powers left at her disposal as she held the shield against another lobbed fireball. Pixie’s powers were still strong enough despite the limited time the girl had actually held onto Rogue. Emma’s telepathy was completely exhausted, but there was still a small chance she could access the woman’s diamond form. She had a bit of electricity and telekinesis to spare, but the psychedelic strobe lights from her feathers were utterly used up. The multiples were quickly fading, too, as they engaged Sunfire with more bone spikes. The liquid metal skin she’d possessed was gone, as was the armored green scales of the reptilian woman. The blue flames she’d taken from a man who had died under her touch were still useable, but were also hazy as they waned.

She did still have a full dose of Scrambler’s abilities, but those were practically useless against her current adversary. Rogue knew she couldn’t get close enough to touch the Horseman, as even her invulnerability would be hard pressed to withstand Sunfire’s tremendous heat. At least her flight was a boon, and she used it now as Sunfire/Famine gave chase, the last of her multiples fading under the onslaught of his incandescence. The space was small, though, and the Horseman hurled fireballs with reckless disregard.

“MORPH, look out!”

Rogue whirled at the sound of Wolverine’s voice, eyes turning just in time to see a flaming globe of plasma glance off Morph’s chest and shoulder.

Morph screamed in agony as uniform and flesh melted into one, and powers began to short circuit. The shapeshifter randomly transformed between featureless mutant face, to the true form of Kevin Sydney, and back again. Seeing his best friend in mortal peril (again) Wolverine abandoned his fight against Colossus/War and leapt on Morph, using his own hands to slap out the smoldering flames.

War thundered toward the distracted X-Men, and Rogue saw her opportunity, flying down and grabbing her former friend’s head with her bare hands. Using Scrambler’s abilities, as well as her own, she tried to short-circuit the man’s powers and Apocalypse’s influence before stealing his ability to turn into metal. The absorption was difficult, but thankfully instantaneous. She had the advantage of having absorbed one of his Horsem*n before, and she used some of the Professor’s teachings to help wall off her consciousness from the pain and horror of Colossus’s rise from the dead.

“Sorry ‘bout this, Pete.” Through a clenched jaw, she uttered an apology to the incapacitated Colossus as she fought to keep control of her own mind against Apocalypse’s influence. With a tremendous effort, she tossed the hulking man’s human form at Polaris. Somehow, she managed to stay airborne, transforming into flaming blue steel, turning a somersault in the air, and launching herself directly at Sunfire’s flying, raging inferno of radiation. The force of the two super powered beings' collision created a shockwave of energy, knocking all those left standing off their feet.

~X~

Holding Morph in his lap, Wolverine glanced around the decimated lab. Polaris - or whomever she had become - was unconscious, as was Kurt. Colossus was down for the count and back in his human form, thanks to Rogue’s absorption powers. He could see the steady rise and fall of the other man’s chest, and was grateful for the small reprieve. Tainted by Apocalypse or not, Shadowcat would be over the moon to have the Ruskie back among the living.

Pestilence was still knocked out, slumped against the wall where she’d fallen earlier to one of the fireballs Rogue had expertly deflected.

Speaking of…

Still in metal form, Rogue had quickly, miraculously, recovered from the explosion and was already on her feet, slowly and methodically pummeling the weakened Sunfire turned Famine into oblivion. After a few more blows, the Horseman’s white mask cracked and fell away, and his flames smoldered as he finally lost the battle with consciousness.

“Rogue!” Wolverine shouted as she continued beating Sunfire. “He’s down, and Morph needs medical! Help me!”

The gruff man’s pleas finally cut through the haze in her brain, and she straightened, dragging Sunfire’s crumpled form behind her. As she approached, Nightcrawler finally came around and quickly teleported next to Wolverine to help him stand with Morph. The two men quietly discussed something before Kurt ‘Bamfed’ around the room, gathering up the other three unconscious Horsem*n and disappearing briefly.

By the time he returned, Rogue was only a few feet away from the, but her steps were suddenly halting and jerky.

“Rogue?” Kurt asked, concern marring his slightly singed fur. “Vhat is wrong?”

“Ah can’t…” she cut off, her steel body suddenly freezing mid-step and mid-sentence, an expression of pain and shock fixed upon her face.

“Rogue!” The blue furred mutant vaulted forward on all fours, skidding to a stop in front of his sister. Her steel ‘skin’ had oozed and melted under the extreme heat of Sunfire/Famine’s radiation abilities. As the superheated metal had cooled, her body had essentially hardened into a steel statue, unable to move.

“Mein Gott!” Kurt cried, grasping Rogue’s plated arms with his bare hands and shaking her gently. She only rocked back and forth, her metallic feet clinking against the concrete. “Rogue! Come on! Turn it off! Wolverine…?”

The blue furred mutant turned toward the senior X-Man, his yellow eyes frantic.

“She’s tough. She’ll be fine,” Wolverine breathed, adjusting the barely conscious Morph in his arms. “Once his powers wear off, she’ll snap out of it.” His voice sounded resolved, but there was an uncertainty behind his eyes that left a stone of worry in Nightcrawler’s stomach.

“Come on, Elf,” Wolverine tore his eyes away from Rogue’s completely encased metallic form. “Let’s get on the jet and get outta here. I know savin’ Gumbo was the point of this excursion, but she ain’t in no condition ta take on Apocalypse, and neither are we. We can still save the rest of his Horsem*n though, if we get ‘em back ta Genosha ASAP.”

Nightcrawler nodded wearily, then reached for Wolverine and Morph and Rogue simultaneously. In a blink, they were back on the aircraft. Kurt made his way to the co*ckpit to start the pre-flights while Wolverine tended to Morph’s wounds in the back. Neither man noticed the fine cracks that had formed in the creases of Rogue’s body, nor the fine dust that was slowly seeping from the gaps.

Wolverine’s nose twitched with the new smell, and he turned toward the metallic statue of Rogue just as he finished strapping the shapeshifter into a seat. “Kurt!” The Canadian barked, and Nightcrawler teleported from the co*ckpit before he could even start the jet.

Slowly, a fine mist of sand and fog exuded from the statue and formed a tower of particles between Logan and Kurt before finally taking shape. Rogue stood, looking bedraggled and singed as she wobbled on unsteady feet.

“Rogue!” Kurt cried, enveloping her in a hug. “You’re alright!”

She gave him a wry grin, and took a moment to regain her bearings. “Might say that. Feel a bit like a lobster in a gumbo pot, but Ah’ll live.” Realizing where they were, her eyes, which were slowly fading back to hazel-green, darted around the jet. “Where - where’s Remy?” Green eyes went wide, anxiousness spiking, and Wolverine took the opportunity to grab her by the shoulders, trying to ground her against the panic he could smell on the Southern spitfire.

“Morph’s hurt, Rogue. Bad. We need to get him to a doctor. We grabbed the four Horsem*n, and by the smell of it, they’re mostly free of Apocalypse’s influence now. But some of ‘em need medical attention, too, and you ain’t exactly in the best shape, either.”

Rogue positively growled, shaking Wolverine’s hands off her shoulders. “Ah’m not leavin’ without Remy - one way or another.”

“Rogue, darlin’...” Wolverine scrubbed a hand across his face in frustration. He was aware of the parallels between the X-Men’s first mission against the Mutant Registration Act when Morph had been left behind for dead. He had been where Rogue was now, frightened, frustrated, and full of contempt for Cyclops, who had suggested leaving their teammates behind in the hopes of saving the rest of their friends. Logan had always despised Scott for leaving Morph for dead, and Beast to get captured, but now that he was essentially wearing the younger man’s shoes…

“Don’t you dare, Logan!” Rogue seethed. “Don’t you DARE tell me ta leave him behind! Ah didn’t come all this way ta turn back now. Ah aim ta see this through, come hell or high water!”

“Rogue, my sister,” Kurt beseeched, a gentle hand grasping her covered elbow. “We don’t vant to leave Remy behind, either. But there is no guarantee he is even here, or zhat Apocalypse has transformed him. You are exhausted, Morph needs help, and we cannot leave you behind to fight against Apocalypse on your own. Whatever powers you had are gone - it is only by the grace of God that you were able to survive that.” He gestured to where the metallic doppelganger of Rogue still stood against the wall. “Please understand…”

“No, YOU understand, both of ya!” Rogue snarled, yanking her arm away so hard that Kurt actually stumbled. “Ah am NOT leaving without Remy!” With that, she stalked out of the back of the jet, although she could barely make her legs work. She hadn’t made it 10 feet from the gangplank before she was back in the jet, choking on Kurt’s sulfuric smoke.

“Kurt!” Rogue shouted, blinking in rage and surprise as she tried to force her way out of the seat he had deposited her in. Wolverine watched, smirking. Even though he agreed with Nightcrawler, he took no small pleasure in watching the stubborn woman try to outmaneuver the slippery elf. Although Morph was still in bad shape, and they needed to move things along.

“Sit down, Stripes,” he barked. “You know ‘Crawler could do this all day.”

Rogue was positively growling as she tried to get a bare hand on Kurt, only to have him teleport away, then back again, continuously pulling her back into the plane’s seat. After the fourth unsuccessful attempt to escape, Rogue’s eyes suddenly shimmered, her skin glowing a light pink.

“Fine. Y’all wanna go ta Genosha so bad, have it your way.” Clenching her fists and eyes, she exhaled an enchantment that was somehow bouncing around in her brain.

“Sihal Novarum Chinoth!”

In the space of a breath, Rogue, Morph, Logan, and Kurt, along with Polaris, Colossus, Pestilence/Plague, and Sunfire - all of whom were still unconscious - were enveloped in a shroud of pink light.

When the three cognizant X-Men opened their eyes again, they were standing on the crumbled concrete of what had once been Genosha’s Main Street - not 30 yards from the hospital-hotel.

“Vhat?” Kurt looked around, bewildered, before meeting Rogue’s eyes as she stumbled and nearly fell. He reached out to steady her, and without a word, she stepped into him, tucking her face against his covered shoulder as he gently wrapped his arms around her. He could feel a dampness against his uniform and gripped her tighter, sighing with shared grief over what she’d been forced to give up.

“Thank you for comin’ back for me,” she whispered, watching as Wolverine lifted Morph into his arms once more. “Ah’m glad ta call you mah brother. You know that, right?”

Nightcrawler nodded slightly, and lifted a hand to pet along Rogue’s hair as she shuddered.

“Give mah love to the others, will ya?” she asked, sorrow blanketing her slumped frame.

Before Kurt could respond, she twisted her head, kissing his cheek just long enough for his legs to buckle and his eyes to roll up inside his head. Wolverine turned to see Rogue gently lower Kurt to the ground next to the pile of unconscious Horsem*n. Her naturally brown and white hair flicked across tear stained cheeks, and she met the Canadian’s eyes briefly, offering an apologetic side smile.

“Rogue!” he warned, gruff voice a whisper edged with panic.

“Bye, Logan,” the Southerner touched her lips with bare fingers, blowing him a soft kiss. “See ya on the other side.”

Her body flickered with that same rosy glow, and she was gone.

~X~

The remains of Sinister’s lab creaked and groaned as debris and rubble settled in the darkness. Beyond the obliterated space, just behind the massive stone doors of Apocalypse’s temple, a faint pink light shimmered through the paper thin gaps of the frames.

Rogue blinked once and collapsed to her knees, a wave of dizziness and nausea engulfing her overtaxed body. She grappled with her lungs, forcing one deep breath after another in the dank, putrid atmosphere of evil and decay. In the deep of the darkness, a faint fwip, fwip, fwip sound echoed, catching in her throat.

Heart stopped, eyes wide, and tears already pooling, Rogue slowly lifted her gaze to meet a familiar red glow.

“Remy…?” She dared to breathe, and the echo of her whisper was deafening in the silent space.

From about 50 feet away, small floating red lights suddenly illuminated the space around his eyes, and Rogue gasped at the visage that greeted her.

“ Bienvenue, ma belle fille. Death has been waiting for you.”

~X~X~X~X~X~

Bienvenue, ma belle fille (welcome my beautiful girl) .

Polaris as Malice (Evo Style, by Saphari) https://www.deviantart.com/saphari/art/X-Men-Evolution-Polaris-as-Malice-288063149

Colossus as War https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/marveldatabase/images/e/ed/Extraordinary_X-Men_Vol_1_12_Textless.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20160419162853

Gambit and Sunfire ans Death and Famine:

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjslInM_CECegJqMqhlUw5fZxg-e1zSrputdz9f8lvylLRK8DxWWYXowYASHUqLCp0s80gN9MO45JMLIG71f6Q6iTyOnHkh8R7iCf2ET3d4VlX0Uc1xFPwsYtfxNPGIV_MeKmO82Zk2JSc/s1600/To+Better+Know+a+Villain+Horsem*n+of+Apocalupse+-+Blood+of+Apocalypse.png

Backstory of Gambit becoming Death:

https://www.cbr.com/abandoned-love-remember-when-gambit-was-a-horseman-of-apocalypse/

Plague as Pestilence:

https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/marvelanimated/images/3/39/Pestilence.jpg/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/250?cb=20131021123527

Gambit as Death:

X-Men (1991), #185

~X ~X ~X ~X ~X ~

Thanks to A.J. and Spark187 for helping me work through some issues with this chapter!