Paradox Law

by Valerie Jones

Prologue

Rogue sat cross-legged in the bed, covers drawn up around her.  She watched as Remy dressed in his colors.  The sculpted armor was showing signs of wear.  It would need to be replaced soon, she thought absently, adding that to her mental list.  Then she stopped herself.  That was a foolish thought.  She wrapped the comforter more tightly around her waist, bundling it up in front of her breasts.  Remy picked up his long coat from the chair where he invariably tossed it, and slid into it with the barest rustle.  Just like the man, it, too, was a little tattered around the edges, yet so familiar Rogue couldn't imagine him without it.

He turned to look at her, his expression solemn.  "I'll get de kids," he said.  She nodded and watched him leave.  Only then could she force herself out of the warm blankets.  Dawn had just begun to lighten the edge of the sky and she stood in the middle of the bedroom floor, staring at the thin line of rose.  With everything in her, she tried to will it back down.  But it was futile, she knew. 

Quietly, she went to the closet, to the new uniform tucked in the back behind her winter coat and that dress she had sworn she'd never wear again.  She dressed slowly.  Every sensation seemed exaggerated.  The black lycra felt like burlap on her skin, the boots stiff and hard.  The green leather jacket seemed too heavy to wear, but she put it on anyway, adjusting the collar with a practiced flip.  Her wedding ring flashed in the light and she paused to study it.  So much of her life was packed into that little symbol.  So many years.  So much hope and pain, love and regret.  Everything that was most important to her.

A sound from behind startled her and she turned to find Remy standing in the doorway, a child in either arm.  He was looking her over intently, his expression slightly alarmed.  Rogue raised her chin.

"Don't ya dare try ta tell me not ta wear it."  From today on, her colors would be black.  Black and green.

Before he could say anything, the girl in his arm held out her hand towards Rogue.  "Mama," she said sleepily.

Rogue crossed the room and took the girl in her arms.  "It's all raht, Renee, honey," she whispered to her, stroking her hair.  Then she looked up at her husband.  Their eyes met and locked, but there simply weren't any words left to be said between them.  Remy shifted Cody to a more comfortable position on his shoulder, then took Rogue's hand.  They had said everything last night, first in desperate passion, and later in quiet words and an almost chaste kiss that still somehow reached into the depths of their souls.  The last few hours, they had lain in silence, simply holding each other.

Remy drew her close, pain in his eyes because he knew how much she hurt.  Rogue swayed towards him, but straightened rather than surrendering to his embrace.  She would come apart completely if she did that.  Remy seemed to understand.  He shifted away from her, but retained his grip on her hand.

Together they carried the children downstairs.  Cody leaned his head on his father's shoulder, but his eyes were wide open.  The children could sense the significance of the day, even if they could not understand it.  There was fear in their eyes that no spoken reassurances could erase.

They walked into the living room and Remy froze.  The room was full of people, who turned to look at them in silence.  Those who had been sitting, stood.  They were mutants all, the core of a force that was slowly forging acceptance between mutants and humans.  Rogue, too, was surprised to see so many people.  And she was touched that they had all come, from their homes across the world.  The X-teams did not assemble often, but they were here, each dressed in his or her colors.  It was a gesture of respect that she knew Remy had not missed.  His fingers were closed almost painfully tight around hers. 

At the front of the assemblage was Professor Xavier.  He sat in his hoverchair, hands folded before him.  Lilandra stood beside him, their son in her arms.  Both looked tired and sad.  The little boy was as groggy as any child awakened before dawn, but he smiled at Cody and Renee as the four approached.

The gathered mutants closed in around them like an embrace.  The X-Men were closest, each with a gentle word, a handshake, a hug, a kiss.  Ororo was last.  She wrapped her arms around Remy and held him tightly, unashamed of her tears.  Remy kissed her on the cheek and let her take Cody from him for a few moments.  Then he turned to his parents.  Lilandra stepped toward him, brushed the hair away from his face with a gentle smile.  Remy caught her hand and then hugged her.  "Aman," he said softly and Rogue saw Lilandra bite her lip against tears.  Then he turned his attention to the little boy. 

"Have a good life, mon frere," he said with a smile.

The boy only watched him.  He did not understand.

Charles held out his hand and Remy turned toward him, taking it without hesitation.  Charles shook his head slowly.

"You will never know how proud I am of you, Remy."  His grip tightened.  Rogue's heart skipped a sympathetic beat.  She could see how much that meant to Remy.  It had cost him more than she would ever really understand to find his family.  She could see his eyes shining as he nodded.

The house was so still, Rogue thought suddenly.  Even with so many people there.  It was almost as if the world were holding its breath.  Remy must have felt it, too.  He looked up suddenly, eyes turning toward something she was sure no one else could see.  His face changed, drew into itself as he braced himself.  Rogue's heart froze in her chest.  It couldn't be.  Not yet!  But the sun was well over the horizon, and the world outside golden.

With quick steps, Remy returned to her side and took Cody into his arms once again.  This time she willingly slipped into his embrace and tucked her head against his chest.  She could feel his heart, beating out the count of their last moments.  The children clung to them, frightened of something they could not see or hear.  Rogue held desperately tight to the three people she loved most in the world, and felt Remy's arms like warm bands around her.  She had held to faith and to love for ten years, and could never regret her choices.  She looked up at him for only an instant, but knew in that moment that he knew it, too.

Then paradox struck, time lurched, and the world changed.

#

Bishop woke with a strangled shout, sitting bolt upright in bed.  His gun was in his hand, barrel pointed at the ceiling as he searched the room for the cause of his alarm.  But his mind already knew what his instincts did not-- it was only a dream.  A persistent nightmare that wouldn't leave him be.

Jean sat up beside him.  "Are you all right?"  Her green eyes were luminous.

Bishop nodded.  "A dream."  He looked at the clock.  Seven forty three.  The sun was well up, and it was time for him to get out of bed.  He wouldn't have been able to sleep more if he had tried.  He set the gun back on the bedside table and pushed the blankets aside.  It was good to sleep in a bed again, if only for this one night.  The X-Men couldn't afford to stay here any longer than that.

As if on cue, an explosion rocked the early morning peace.  Bishop and Jean leapt out of bed.  Words were unnecessary.  Outside the window, figures rose from their hiding places around the small inn.  Bishop flattened himself against the wall by the window, gun in hand once more, and readied himself for another fight.  The hunters had found them yet again.

Chapter 1

Another portion of the wall behind which he hid disintegrated, but Bishop ignored it.  Jean's telekinetic shield would hold out far longer than the wall.  He returned fire toward the weaving figures, barely visible through the smoke.  Some were human, some not-quite anymore.  Two of the towering Sentinels flanked the attacking group, covering their position with laser fire that had the X-Men fairly well pinned down.  Smoke was beginning to make the battleground hazy, but Bishop continued to pour return fire into the haze.  He heard an occasional answering scream.

To his left, ice was rolling across the ground in waves, engulfing those Hounds not fast enough to get out of the way.  Unfortunately, the Sentinels had their lasers tuned for heat spread, too, so they weren't in much danger.  Then Bishop heard a shriek like a demon of Hell set loose, and grinned.  Rogue had gotten pissed.  Her tiny figure powered skyward, straight toward one of the Sentinels.  Laser blasts tracked her, both from the giant machine, and from ground emplacements at its feet.  She jigged with the skill of a fighter pilot, evading the beams, and struck the Sentinel directly in the face.  The head exploded.  A moment later, Rogue emerged from the flames, trailing them harmlessly in her wake.

The Sentinel remained upright and continued to fire.  It would take more than that to bring it down, but Rogue had seriously hampered its ground-tracking and fire coordination capabilities, much of whose hardware was necessarily located in the head.

A second airborne form was diving and whirling around the other Sentinel.  His metallic wings gleamed in the morning sun.  With each pass around the giant machine, he loosed another round of flechettes towards shoulders, elbows or knees.  The tiny metal particles were nearly unbreakable, and would eventually freeze some of the robot's joints.

The rest of the X-Men, Bishop could only assume, were out in the haze taking the fight to the Hounds.  Wolverine, Jubilee, Forge and Skin worked best in hand-to-hand situations.  Jean continually shifted the allowed range-of-fire schematic in his head, which kept him from accidentally firing on his own.  She would also be coordinating with the other X-Men, keeping them apprised of their own allowable attack vectors.  It was an intense task that took nearly all of her attention, but it gave the X-Men an advantage that even the Sentinels' technology couldn't match.

Rogue came screaming down out of the sky on a curving trajectory that Bishop knew from experience would bring her across the Sentinel's path at knee level.  Laser fire tracked her, and this time, connected.  She staggered, rolling away from the beams and nosing groundward.  Bishop drew in his breath.  She wasn't going to be able to pull away in time.  The Sentinel's giant hand swung around and swatted her out of the sky.  Dirt exploded twenty feet into the air where she hit.

Status? Bishop asked Jean through her telepathic link to him.

Unconscious, at least, was the terse reply.

Bishop pushed concern out of his mind.  They had to survive, first.  Relay to Forge, he told Jean.  Can you take out the ground emplacements?

Jubilee's about got one wrapped up.  We can take at least one more. Jean somehow managed to convey the sense of Forge pausing to shoot a Hound that had come up on him.  The other one is too well protected.  We'd have to lure the Sentinel away.

Think you could manage that?

No.  They know the routine.  We're going to have to switch strat-- Jean was close enough to throw Bishop an alarmed look as the mental voice abruptly cut off.

Forge!  What happened?  Forge? Bishop switched targets. Wolverine!

Better dig in, came the gravelly reply.  Logan was reassuringly calm, no matter what was going on around him.  It was a trait that Bishop had come to depend on.  The Lady herself's got a lock on us.  She's bringin' two more Sentinels and a Big Bug. He paused.  Looks like she means ta make it permanent.

Bishop looked toward the sky.  Through the haze, he could barely make out the specks Wolverine had identified.  The Big Bug was a troop transport.  It would be full of Hounds.  Probably a cadre of Wolfhounds as well, which was the common slang for the Shadow King's elite.  Stupid name, Bishop had always thought, but for some reason, it had stuck.  The skyborn figures grew rapidly.  The Sentinels turned to land feet-first on either side of the two already in position, and the ground jumped as they cut their thrusters and dropped the last few feet.  The Big Bug settled behind the wall of armored giants with a roar and a funnel of dust kicked up by the engines.  Above, a small form hovered, watching.  The Shadow Queen had come to command the battle.  As Wolverine had said, she meant to make it permanent.

Bishop took stock of his small band.  They were down to six, if Rogue and Forge were out.  He felt despair threatening to close his lungs, shut down his mind.  He tried to will it away.  What could they do?  There was nowhere to retreat to.  This little inn sat in the middle of a valley well up in the Cascades.  The mountains ringed them like a protective shield, but the valley itself was clear.  They would have no cover and the Sentinels would cut them down.  His X-Men were only surviving because they were literally climbing around at the feet of the Sentinels, which hampered the machines' ability to lock onto them.

Bishop pushed his dark thoughts away and focused on the battle at hand.  The second Sentinel appeared to have lost the use of one shoulder joint.  It continued to fire with that hand laser, but the arm was frozen out in front of the gray body, its fire mostly ineffective.

Bishop concentrated his fire on the first rank of Hounds emerging from the Bug.  His weapon was useless against the Sentinel's armor, but could do plenty of damage to the poorly protected Hounds.  He felt sorry for them, though that didn't keep him from killing them.  They had been human once.  And all they really were was cannon fodder.  The true military might of the Shadow King was in his Sentinel and Armored Infantry technologies.  Bishop had always been a student of war, and he was often amazed by how much the Shadow King had accomplished with brute force alone.  He was not much of a strategist, and had, in fact, made several fatal errors in the course of his conquests.  That was probably the only reason the X-Men were still alive, Bishop reflected sourly.  

Jean shifted his attack vectors abruptly and he was forced to leap down from the remainder of the building in order to continue firing.  Jean hovered behind him, her telekinetic shield crackling.  It absorbed a tremendous amount of energy as the Sentinels poured fire down on them, but that was part of its purpose.  The more firepower they wasted on the shield, the less could be spent against the X-Men.

Bishop settled into a new position behind the remains of a fallen cedar.  He could feel the heat emanating from the ground as the earth began to give up the energy from the laser barrage that it could no longer absorb.  Nothing would grow in this valley for years.

A thunderous chorus of sonic booms made Bishop look up.  A squadron of fighters streaked by overhead.  The trailing two launched missiles at the Sentinels as they passed, and Bishop voiced a ragged cheer. 

The squadron leader's voice came to him via Jean.  Hope we're not too late to join the party! He sounded like he was arriving at a picnic rather than a war.  But that was how pilots talked.  As did X-Men.

Never, Bishop responded, hoping he didn't sound desperate.  Where'd you come from? He turned his attention back to the ground, depending on Jean to help him keep the ground activity and his conversation with the pilots separate.

U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln, came the proud reply.  Just hang on, folks.  We're the scouts.  The cavalry's about ten minutes behind us.

Through Jean, Bishop was aware as the fighters split up and began weaving and dodging among the thirty story robots in pairs.  Just barely, Bishop was beginning to think they might live through the day.  Though the Queen had yet to do anything.  As was her wont, she waited above the battlefield to see how the tide would turn.  Two of the fighters made a run at her, missiles twisting around their flight paths like panicked snakes.  The Queen blew them out of the sky with hardly a glance.

Bishop shook his head and concentrated on his job.  The X-Men were holding on—Jean hadn't reported any more casualties, which Bishop was immensely grateful for.  Then, in the middle of the area ringed by Sentinels on one side, the ruined inn on the other, and filled with the swirling madness of attacking Hounds, a glowing doorway suddenly opened in the air.  It was faintly blue, and appeared to simply float there.

What is that? he asked Jean, but he could feel her confusion.  The Hounds, too, watched it uncertainly.  Those nearest edged away as best they could.  Between the X-Men who attacked them and the iron commands of their Queen, they had little room to maneuver. 

Well, at least it isn't Hers. Jean didn't need to say who She was.  And she never would.  By unspoken accord, the X-Men refused to call the Shadow Queen by name.

As they watched, four forms tumbled through the blue doorway to sprawl on the ground.  Bishop's heart froze.  Not only were they human, but they appeared to be children.

Chapter 2

            Jean turned at the sound of the door sliding aside behind her.  The hiss of the control room door was as familiar to her as her own image in the mirror.  It had been a part of her life for almost as long.  She turned to look, craning her head to see past the people that were crowded into the small room that day.  She was both surprised and pleased to see the Governor step through.

The Governor of New York was a handsome woman in her early forties.  She had been a surprising victor in the past gubernatorial race, not particularly because she was a woman, but because she was a mutant.  Only the second to be elected to Governorship in the history of the United States.  In the two years she had held the position, her popularity had swelled from the bare majority that had given her the job to an overwhelming seventy-six percent, according to the latest polls Jean had seen.

The Governor stopped to greet several in the room, more often than not with an enthusiastic hug that was part of the glowing charm that had won so many to her side.  Eventually, she found her way to Jean, and the empty seat that Jean had saved for her.  She dropped into the padded chair with a sigh and smile for her long-time friend.

"Hi, sugah."

"Hi, Rogue.  How's politics?"

Rogue chuckled.  "Same as always, hon." She straightened in her chair to peer down into the danger room.  "Ah don't see Cody."

There were currently six young men and women standing in the center of the cavernous metal room.  They were gathered into a small knot of impatience as they waited for the two yet to arrive.

"He went to get Remi."  Jean made room beside her place at the console for Brian to weasel his way in.  Brian was ten, and, like all of the younger children, fascinated by the powers he, too, would eventually inherit.  He stood on tiptoe to look down into the danger room.  His red hair was buzzed short for the summer, and Jean resisted the impulse to run her hand across it. 

Rogue was staring absently into space, her expression wistful.  Jean didn't need to guess who she was thinking about.  But before she could speak, Rogue turned to her, gaze still distant.

"He's what, fifteen, now?"  She nodded to herself.  "Cody and Renee are sixteen, so that's right."

Jean reached over to take her hand.  "It must be hard."

Rogue came back to herself with a start.  Then she sighed and squeezed Jean's hand.  "It is, sugah.  Ah was fine ‘til he started ta grow up."  She smiled sheepishly.  "Ah shouldn't complain.  Ah knew what ah was gettin' when ah married him.  An' ah nevah thought ah'd keep the children."  Her smile softened and she looked back down into the danger room.  "Ah can't believe mah babies are growin' up."

Jean chuckled.  "Seems like only yesterday, doesn't it?  Can you believe Rachel asked for Excalibur?  She's already packed for England."

"She's that sure she'll get the slot, huh?"  Rogue glanced slyly at Jean, who managed to meet her gaze squarely.  The eldest Summers was well known for her brazen confidence.  She and Remi were a matched pair, in that respect.  Despite the difference in their ages, they managed to find a tremendous amount of trouble to get into.  Not that Cody and Renee didn't help.  Jean smiled.  But the twins were a little more thoughtful of the consequences of their actions.  Rogue had raised them well.  It was another of those things that had made her such a success at the polls.  A widow raising her children alone, who nonetheless had time to volunteer for hospitals and children's charities.  She had won a tremendous amount of respect from the community before she ever began working on Governor Caldwell's campaign.  Jean studied her friend.  There was nothing left of the shy, insecure young girl who had first joined them.  Nor even of the lonely, tortured young woman who had been so convinced that no one could love her.  Jean could think of no better example of the success of the Dream.

A glowing doorway, tinged blue, opened below them.  Several of the gathered kids turned to look, but no one was particularly alarmed.  They had all practiced with Cody, and were used to him gating in and out around them, often in much closer quarters. 

Two figures stepped out of the door, which then closed behind them soundlessly.  They were of a height, and looked enough alike to be brothers.  All those gathered knew that that wasn't exactly true, but that, too, they were used to.  Jean heard Rogue's sharp intake and squeezed her hand in sympathy.  They hadn't seen Remi for nearly a year.  He had grown.  And now, with his hair down below his shoulders and those eyes distinctively red on black, he looked so much like-- well, like himself.  Jean kept her sigh to herself.  Like Gambit.

Cody looked up at the control room and waved when he spotted Rogue.  She raised her hand in return, with a tremulous smile.  Of the twins, he much more resembled his mother.  He had her open face and wide, green eyes, and, of course, red hair with the distinctive white stripe down the middle.  Renee had the stripe too, but other than that, she was the image of her father.  Even down to the eyes.  She and Remi looked more like twins than she and Cody.

As they watched, Remi greeted both Renee and Rachel with hugs, and exchanged more masculine greetings with several of the other boys.  Then, at a telepathic cue from Charles Xavier, all eight turned toward the high control room.  Jean listened mentally as he relayed instructions to them.  This would be their final training session at the school.  Members of the various X-teams that needed to fill up their rosters would rate them, and collectively decide who would be placed where.  Remi was something of an exception.  Like the others, he was "graduating" in that there was nothing more for him to learn from Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.  But he would not be joining one of the X-teams.  He was the Imperial Prince Shi'ar, and would have to return to his responsibilities there.  Still, Jean was glad that he was taking part in this rather unusual graduation ceremony.

As Charles was finishing his instructions, the air in the danger room began to shimmer and coalesce.  Jean didn't think anything of it until she felt stirrings of alarm from Charles.  He hadn't started any of the programs yet.  But within a second, the shimmer had solidified into a familiar face.  Jean's gut twisted.  The Gamemaster often brought bad news, though it always served to warn them of approaching danger.  She was surprised that he had appeared in the danger room with the kids rather than up here with them.  Usually, he came to Charles directly.

"Jean, he's talkin' to the kids.  Can ya turn up the volume?"  Rogue's gaze was glued to the scene below.  The Gamemaster was indeed, talking to the kids.  More specifically, to Remi.  Though she couldn't say why, Jean suddenly began to get a sickening feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.  She reached for the volume control, and as she did, she saw Remi exchange startled looks with the twins and Rachel.  There was a very short discussion, much of which was telepathic, though she couldn't make out what they were talking about.  They had long ago learned how to mask their conversations from their various telepathic parents.  Still, whatever the topic was, it was an intense discussion.  Then, just as Jean's fingers lit on the volume lever, Remi raised his hands.  A black nimbus grew out of them, swelling to surround all four. 

Remi!  What are you doing? Charles' mental voice was livid with anger.  He wasn't supposed to be traveling through time.

Remi didn't answer, and Charles' voice stilled when Cody opened a gate within the nimbus.  The edges of the two phenomena crackled against each other, spitting sparks.  Cody and Remi exchanged nods, and all four hurried into the portal.

"Wait!  Where are they going?"  Rogue was on her feet, the first flush of fear in her face.

But there was no answer except for a violent hissing crash as the phenomena collapsed.  Then stillness, as everyone stared at the place where they had so recently been.

#

Remi stared at the Gamemaster and tried to suppress a shiver.  The strange, inscrutable entity always seemed to stare at him as if he were a particularly interesting bug beneath a magnifying glass.  And maybe that's just what he thought, Remi mused.  Considering his part in Remi's own circumstances, maybe that wasn't so surprising.  It still bothered him, though.

"This looks like trouble," Rachel murmured.

Don't it, though, Remi thought.  The Gamemaster looked as perturbed as Remi had ever seen him.  His projection solidified completely and turned to regard them.

"You must go back in time," he said without preamble.

"Scuse me?"

"Why?" Renee added over Remi's shoulder.

The Gamemaster ignored her, focused on Remi.  "Can you feel the timewave?"

As if he were being compelled, Remi reached out with his mind into a dimension that most could only touch in a single plane.  He didn't have to go far to find the black wave that rushed toward them.  He had never felt a timewave before, but it was unmistakable-- cold, black and violent.  Fear gripped him.  Something, somewhere, had gone badly wrong.

"What happened?" he asked the Gamemaster.

"Nothing," the face replied.  "But if you value the fate of your world, you will go."

Remi looked toward Rachel.  She was three years older than he, a significant difference when you were fifteen and eighteen respectively.  Without conscious thought, they both switched to telepathy, drawing Cody and Renee into the link with them.

It's true, Remi told them.  There's a timewave coming.

So why's he telling us?

How should I know?

Because, silly, Remi's the only one who can travel through time.

Yeah, but wouldn't he go to the X-Men first?  To Grandpa or Cyclops?

Well, maybe...

There isn't enough time for that.  That wave is almost here.

So why didn't he warn us earlier?

Why does the Gamemaster do anything?

No-- it's because Remi only just got here.  To Earth.  He can't project off-planet.  At least, I don't think he can.  Can he?

Why are you looking at me?

So, do we trust him?

The rapid-fire conversation halted as the four stared at each other.  The Gamemaster had made a pact with a man who would never exist, and he had always held to that.  For what reasons, Remi could only guess.  But the facts remained.  Remi made his decision in an instant.  He raised his hands and set loose the wild power inside him.  A black nimbus formed around him.  He stretched it outward, until it was large enough for all of them.

"Will this work?" he asked the Gamemaster.  Normally, he could only move himself through time.  But they had always wondered if Cody's gate could operate inside of that.  It felt like it could, but they had never had the nerve to try it.

The Gamemaster seemed to understand the question and nodded.  "Push as far back as you can," he added.

"Why?"

"There is no time to explain.  Go now!"

Remi felt the wave looming over them.  It churned with unguessable forces that would rip his time apart.

Cody!  A gate!  Now!

To where?

Anywhere!

A blue doorway formed around them.  Remi could feel the sharp jolt as their powers touched, interacted.  It was a bit like sitting on the aft deck of a Shi'ar battlecruiser, just above the engines.  The vibrations felt like they would shake his teeth loose.  He held grimly to his concentration.

Together, the four stepped into the doorway and Remi hurled them as far as he could into the timestream.  And just as they lost all touch with the world they knew, Renee said in a quiet, forlorn voice, "We didn't say goodbye."

Chapter 3

Remi heard Rachel shouting at him as if from a very long way away.  He knew she was probably close by, trying to get through to him, but he couldn't focus on her words enough to make them come clear.  The time portal was always hard on him-- it violated several laws of physics in ways even Hank McCoy had been unable to explain, ripping a hole in reality to let him pass.  It had been even worse this time, with Cody's wormhole gate operating inside of the portal.  His mind boggled as he considered the state equations.  But at least that meant his mind was working, even if his body wasn't yet.

He heard something that sounded like thunder rumbling around him and more distant voices.  Suddenly the sounds sharpened as a jolt of adrenaline rushed through him.  Rachel must have done that telekinetically, he guessed.  The thunder became the roar of a nearby explosion and the voices were Rachel and Renee, mixed with a dozen others.  Remi's eyes flew open onto chaos.  He could see the iridescent fire of the telekinetic shield that enveloped himself and the two girls.  Renee knelt beside him, one hand helping to support him as he climbed to his feet.  She, too, could only stare as, all around them, human-looking monsters threw themselves at the shield, howling and slavering.

"What are they?"  Remi asked.

"Hounds."  Rachel stood behind them, arms raised, as she maintained her shield.  "The other Rachel that went back in time before Mom and Dad were married was one."

"Where's Cody?"

"Upstairs."  Renee glanced upward and Remi realized that he had missed the true scope of the chaos they had landed in because he'd been so absorbed by the Hounds.  Cody was, indeed, skyborne.  The air around him seemed to ripple as he hovered inside a warped gravity field.  Laser fire from two Sentinels bent and twisted around the field, leaving him untouched.  As Remi watched, the torso of one of the Sentinels began to crumple under Cody's assault, as the local gravity became too much for the high-tensile alloy to cope with.

The other two Sentinels, one of which was headless, poured fire into several areas.  One was a shield like Rachel's, and Remi recognized Jean Summers and Bishop inside the protective arc.  The other was an area swarmed by Hounds.  Remi caught flashes of familiar faces.  Wolverine and Jubilee.  A few others.  The Sentinels' fire rained down indiscriminately, killing Hounds by the dozen.  But the X-Men dodged the blasts time and again.  Fighter aircraft filled the sky in a dizzying montage of motion.  All together, it was almost enough to overload Remi's spatial power, and he had to close his eyes for a moment to let his power sort the hundreds of moving bodies before he added visual information to the mix.

"Remi, do you know when we are?" Rachel asked him.  Her eyes closed in concentration as a ground artillery piece turned its fire on them.

"No."  Remi pulled a handful of throwing spikes out of his pocket.  "But we can't be much more than twenty years in the past.  If that much."  He switched to telepathy.  Link in, Rach.  Give me a window in the shield. He felt her agreement, and began to charge the spikes he held.  He pushed the charge for an extra couple of seconds and then, as Rachel opened a brief hole in her telekinetic shield, he threw.  The mortar exploded violently.  The nearest Hounds screamed as shrapnel ripped through them, followed by fire.  Remi was aghast.  He was used to using his powers, used to the violence of them, but people didn't scream and bleed and die in the danger room simulations.  They were robots, or brood.  Something inhuman.  These things looked like they had been people once.  And even on Shi'ar, his combat training was only to first blood.

In that moment, things began to piece themselves together in his mind.  "This never happened," he said.

Renee looked at him questioningly.  Her powers were useless inside Rachel's shield, but Remi didn't blame her for staying there.

"This battle.  It never happened in our history.  It couldn't have."

"I know.  The Shadow King was destroyed before Bishop ever arrived in our time."  Rachel expanded her shield in a surge, bowling Hounds over.  "And Mom doesn't know me.  I made contact, so the X-Men know we're helping them, but she's too busy to answer questions."

Anything else Remi might have said was drowned out by a tremendous crash as one of the Sentinels collapsed under its own weight and then promptly exploded.  He felt an instantaneous burst of concern and anger from Rachel.

"Geez, Cody!  Warn me!" she muttered and the telekinetic shield winked out.  Remi saw it reappear at the feet of the collapsing Sentinel as Rachel acted to protect the X-Men there.  Then he and Renee had no time to think about anything as the Hounds surged over them.  Renee's bo staff appeared in her hands, and she spun it with effortless grace.  The weapon was ancient, but it had been her father's and Renee refused to replace it.  Remi scattered charged spikes, hoping that he wasn't killing too many of the Hounds.  Their bodies littered the ground already, and he and Renee were simply adding to the pile.  But, as they had been trained, they tried not to kill.

Then the shield was back, expanding out from them and driving the Hounds away.  Remi breathed a sigh of relief.

"Remi."  Remi looked around at the sound of his name.  Rachel had taken up her earlier pose.  "Would you mind ripping those Sentinels apart, please?"  Her voice was full of forced patience and Remi glared at her.  Just because she was three years older was no reason to always take that superior tone.  But, superior tone or not, she did have a point.  With the fiery death of their brother, the remaining three Sentinels had turned their firepower on Cody.  His gravity field turned the beams so that none struck him, but his powers were useless against the heat dissipated in the process.  He was slowly being cooked under the intense barrage.

Remi concentrated.  It was much harder to launch one of his portals at a distance, but he succeeded after a moment.  The swirling black circle appeared behind the most functional of the Sentinels.  It grew rapidly, a black disk whose interior defied definition.  The center of the disk formed a doorway through which Remi could travel through time.  Everything outside of that was a maelstrom of forces borne of the meeting of two very different physical realities.  They ground against each other like poorly meshed gears, and anything that got caught between them would be shredded.  The edge of the disk was like a sawblade on the fabric of reality.  Even the air burned away in its presence, leaving a gap that was continuously filled as the surrounding air rushed in.  The effect was a loud hum that set even Remi's teeth on edge. 

When the disk was almost as wide as the Sentinel, Remi tilted it and pushed the edge out a little further until it touched the giant robot.  The effect was satisfyingly catastrophic.  At the edge of the disk, metal vaporized in an instant.  Then, as the disk cut deeper, hydraulic fluid and wiring caught fire, sending up clouds of black smoke and pouring flames across the disk and down the torso of the Sentinel.

As the disk's edge passed completely through the Sentinel, it simply collapsed, sawed in two.  It didn't explode, but the fire spread quickly, driving both Hounds and X-Men away.  Remi turned his attention to the next Sentinel and heard the metallic crunch as the fourth began to crumple.  With two Sentinels down and two threats to deal with, the machines could no longer pour enough energy at Cody to neutralize him.  The ground guns had gone silent, destroyed either by the X-Men or by missiles from the fighters.

Two fighters made a pass over the big squat ship that sat beyond the Sentinels, releasing the bombs clustered beneath each wing.  The explosions were deafening.  This time, both Rachel's and Jean's shields disappeared, reappearing in the midst of the inferno to protect the X-Men.  The Hounds around Remi, Rachel and Renee surged forward and Remi struggled to meet them.  But controlling the disk took too much of his attention.  As he focused on the Hounds, his hold on it slipped and it began to expand dramatically.  It sliced easily through the Sentinel, and came dangerously close to the multicolored explosions that marked Jubilee's position before he managed to rein it in.  And as he forced the wild power back under control, he lost all sense of the danger around him.

"Just stay behind me, cousin!"  Renee flashed him a smile he felt rather than saw, and her staff became a silver blur.  Behind Remi, Rachel also took up a defensive stance.  Protected by the two girls, Remi began the difficult task of bringing down such a large portal.  The problem, he reflected grimly, was that it didn't obey the laws of physics.  Hank maintained that the most important rule it violated was the Uncertainty Principle.  Personally, Remi had long ago voted for Entropy.  If he let go of the disk, it ought to lose energy and eventually fade away due to some strange equivalent of friction.  But it didn't.  If he let it go, it would continue to grow, and grow faster.  Only his will held it in check.

Remi heard the crash as the final Sentinel fell.  Then Rachel was nudging him.

"Don't shut that thing down yet," she said.  Her voice was tired, ragged, and more than a little frightened.  Remi dragged his attention back into the real world and opened his eyes, searching for the threat.  He was assailed by the sharp smell of ozone and then an incredibly bright flash of light.  The ground spasmed, nearly knocking him off his feet.  Something cascaded down the sides of Rachel's restored shield, hissing violently.  His vision cleared after a moment, and he understood why Rachel was frightened.  Huge bolts of lightning rained down across the battlefield.  Where they struck, Hounds screamed and machinery exploded.  Remi looked up for the source.  He caught a glimpse of a dark form and a long trail of white hair.  He knew instantly who it was, but was so stunned he could only stare.

A bolt of lightning struck Cody dead on.  The white streak twisted when it met his gravity field, shading into blue.  For an instant, it formed a ball around him, then disappeared.  But the force of the blow rocked him, and Remi felt his consciousness waver.  A second bolt followed the first with the same effect, but as the ball lightning flickered out, so did Cody's consciousness.  He plummeted groundward.

"Noooo!"  Remi wasn't sure if the cry was his or Renee's.

Lightning struck Rachel's shield, turning Remi's vision white.  He had to shield his eyes from the glare, but looked back quickly, desperate to catch a glimpse of Cody-- and desperately afraid of what he would see.

Remi saw the limp form of his friend tumbling toward the ground and bit his lip.  Renee's eyes were wide in horror, her staff sliding from between numb fingers.  A flash of motion caught Remi's attention.  Then a streak of red and green crossed the brief open space between lightning strikes, meeting Cody just above the ground and bearing him upward.  Remi sighed in relief and heard Renee echoing him.  He should have known Rogue would be around here somewhere.  She would never let her son die that way.

Still, averting the immediate crisis did nothing to end the threat.  Lightning fell on them in a steady barrage and chased Rogue up into the stratosphere.

Remi ground his teeth and began expanding the disk once again.  It was fixed in place at the center.  He couldn't move it, only change the size.  And he was going to have to make it awfully big to reach Storm.  Maybe it would be better to shut this one down and create another higher up?  But that would take time, and the current disk was already growing.  Storm noticed the encroaching darkness and rose, her hair streaming above her head in the updraft.  For a single moment, she was distracted by the phenomena, and in that moment, Jean struck.

A giant, invisible hand swept across the sky and slapped Storm, sending her tumbling.  She recovered with a distant scream that chilled Remi's blood.  He had never so much as heard Ororo raise her voice.  This sound held nothing but pure hatred.

Remi pushed the black disk as far as he dared, though Storm stayed easily out of reach.  He wasn't sure what he would have done if he had caught up to her.  One touch of the edge of the disk would kill.  He wasn't actually thinking of attacking a woman he loved dearly with a very deadly power, was he?

Storm rose until she was swallowed up by the low-hung clouds.  Stillness blanketed the field, ripe with premonition.  Remi waited tensely, diminishing the disk by degrees.  What was he going to do with it?  Around them, the remaining Hounds scattered in terror as if they had suddenly been loosed from invisible chains.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Renee murmured.  Remi agreed silently.  Under his direction, the disk shrank to the size of a dinner plate, then winked out.  Some of Remi's tension drained away.  The time portal might be his power by right, but it still made him uncomfortable.  It was more responsibility than he wanted.

The wind began to pick up, blowing choking clouds of grit and debris into the air.  Rachel's shield kept it at bay, but his vision was severely limited.  He could still see the glow of Jean's shield, and realized that it was moving toward them.  Hopefully, the other X-Men were converging on them as well.  The winds were becoming dangerous.

With a roar that was nearly drowned out by the raging atmosphere, the last of the fighters punched through the clouds and disappeared, returning to wherever they had come from, no doubt.  They had looked like the old F22s, and Remi had to wonder how the military came to be supporting mutants.

Through the blowing grit, Remi saw Jean stop and turn.  Bishop had been with her inside her shield, but he left it, returning after a moment with one arm supporting Jubilee.  Logan followed him, a figure slung over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.  Bobby coasted next to Logan on an ice slide, and behind him came one more, a tall, gray-skinned man that Remi didn't recognize for a moment.

"Angelo... " Renee had recognized him before Remi could.  "But... he's dead."

"We're in the past somewhere," Remi reminded her.

"Oh, yeah."  She smiled sheepishly.  "I forgot."  After a moment, she added, "I'm glad he's alive here."

Remi smiled.  "Me, too."

Jean expanded her shield to include the entire group, then turned back towards Remi and the two girls.  In unconscious agreement, Remi, Rachel and Renee moved to meet them.  The edges of the two shields met and melded seamlessly.  Remi didn't know why he was surprised.  Rachel was used to working with her mother.

Bishop stepped forward and Remi found himself facing the giant man alone.  Renee and Rachel flanked him, but they were both several paces back.  Remi was fairly tall for his age, but not as tall as he would eventually be.  So Bishop had almost six inches on him, which was more intimidating than Remi would like to admit.  Bishop's expression was flat, his eyes were wary, and Remi knew in an instant that Bishop didn't recognize him. 

The wind was literally howling now, but Remi could still hear Bishop say, "I don't know who you are, but we appreciate your help."

Remi couldn't help but smile.  This was too weird.  He held out his hand.  "I'm Remi Neramani.  These are Renee LeBeau and Rachel Summers."  He indicated the girls.

Bishop accepted his proffered hand gravely.  "Bishop", he replied.

"I know."  At Bishop's raised eyebrow, he added, "We know all of you."

"How?"

Remi shrugged.  "That is a very long--" He stopped dead as the howl deepened into a roar.  Over Bishop's shoulder he could see a long thin funnel descending from the clouds.  It snaked toward the ground, then touched, swelling into a fat, terrifying maelstrom.

Jean gasped and stared wide-eyed at something behind Remi.  He turned to find another funnel cloud descending.  A third spawned off to his left, even larger than its brothers.  Bishop paled.

"If ya got any more miracles in that bag o' tricks, kid, now'd be the time," Logan suggested in a casual drawl.

Rachel stiffened.  Where's Cody? she asked Remi privately.  He can gate us out of here.  She glanced meaningfully at the twisters that were closing in on them with frightening speed.  They didn't have any powers that would be particularly effective against those.

Remi reached out with his mind, searching for a certain familiar presence.  Cody was his best friend.  After a moment, he found him.  Groggy and cross, but alive.  And more importantly, conscious.  Remi explained in the telepathic burst that served almost as a private language between the four.  He felt Cody's immediate response, and knew he was talking to Rogue.

Twenty seconds later, Rogue and Cody became visible, flying low over the ground to avoid the worst of the winds.  They touched down neatly beside Bishop and Remi.

"Thought you'da headed for higher ground, darlin'," Logan told Rogue.

She shrugged, pointed to Cody.  "Crazy boy insisted on comin' back.  Ah couldn't just leave him."

"What now?"  asked Angelo.

The three tornadoes were so close that they seemed to form a continuous wall.  Debris was hurled through the air at frightening speeds, tumbling by just over their heads and occasionally crashing into the shield.  Remi jumped involuntarily when a full-sized mountain fir slammed into the ground just beside him, stopped by telekinesis.

"Now we leave."  A wide blue doorway opened behind Cody.  Tuned as he was to the telepathic currents, Remi felt Rachel push the shield a bit higher to allow some extra room for the door, and felt Jean's approval.

Bishop exchanged uncertain glances with Jean and Wolverine, who shrugged.

Jubilee put her hands on her hips.  "Well, we can't stay here."  With a single glance at Cody as she walked by, she stepped through the doorway and disappeared.  Angelo followed her, then Bobby and Wolverine.  Remi stepped through next, confident the rest of the X-Men would be following close behind.  For a moment, everything simply went away—he couldn't sense anything or anyone around him.  But then it was gone, as always, and he found himself standing in the middle of a field.  Sparse clumps of grass grew in the hard dirt, interspersed with tall brown shoots of field grass.  Around the edges of the field, Remi could see the burnt and broken stumps that testified to the death of a thick woods that had once surrounded the area.  A few crumbled walls marked the outlines of a long-gone building.  It was an amazingly desolate scene, though far better than the place they'd just come from.

He turned to Cody, who was just stepping through the doorway.  "Where are we?"

Cody looked around, his expression full of dismay.  "Home," he said quietly.

Chapter 4

Renee stared at the empty field, scarred by the geometric lines of metal and cement that marked the edges of the mansion's foundation.  Nowhere did the ruin rise more than two feet above the ground, except for the piled bricks that marked the living room fireplace, and a partial skeleton of metal I-beams where her grandfather's study had been.  It was as if some giant hand and simply pulled the house up by its roots.  There was almost nothing left.

Even though Renee hadn't lived in the mansion since her mother's election, it was still the place that her heart called home.  To find it so suddenly destroyed was disturbing—frightening.  Everything was so different here.  The house was gone.  Storm had been trying to kill them.  That scared her more that anything else.

Cody stepped up beside her, and she grabbed his hand, desperate for some kind of reassurance.  His fingers closed tightly on hers, as if he needed the same from her.  Remi stood a few feet away, staring at the ruin.  Rachel mimicked him, and Renee had a fleeting image of how they must have looked to the X-Men—the four of them all standing in a row, jaws agape.

"So just who exactly are you?"

Renee started at the voice beside her.  She'd been too engrossed to hear Bishop approach.  She opened her mouth to give him a stammering reply, but realized at the last moment that he was looking at Remi.

Remi dragged his gaze away from the house and turned to face Bishop.  He didn't say anything immediately.  Bishop's normally grim expression deepened into a scowl.  Behind him, Jean knelt beside the man that Logan had laid carefully in the grass.  Jubilee was there as well, and Renee guessed that the man was injured.  She found her attention torn between Bishop's rising anger and the hurt man beside him.  She couldn't see his face, and wondered who he was.  Her instincts told her to go help him, but fear and shock held her firmly rooted in her place.  The other X-Men formed a loose ring around the four, but Renee was, for once, un-reassured by their presence.

Finally, Remi found his voice.  "We—we're from the future.  At least, I think we are."  He paused, and Renee could see the confusion on his face.  "What year is it?"

Bishop's eyes narrowed as he considered.  Beside him, Iceman's expression was openly disbelieving.

"It's 2007," Bishop finally answered.

Renee traded glances with Cody.  They were only ten years in the past.  But that didn't make any sense.  She knew nothing like the battle they'd just lived through had happened during their lives.  But maybe something strange had happened when Cody and Remi's portals were used together.  Maybe this was some other world or dimension or something.

Her eyes were drawn to her left, to where Angelo stood with his arms crossed.  His gray skin was wrinkled and sagging.  He had never been a handsome man, but he had loved her and Cody and the other children like the were his own as much as their parents.  But he had died.  Renee remembered the funeral vividly.  Remembered thinking that he didn't look any different dead than alive.  And remembered being surprised that she could hurt as much to lose him as she had her father.

A sudden hope flared in her.  If Angelo could still be alive... She turned around to look at Rogue, who stood behind them.

"Where's Dad?" she asked, already half-convinced.  "Is he here?  Is he alive?"

Rogue's eyebrows drew together in confusion.  "Who's ya daddy, sugah?" she replied.

Renee paused as a sneaking fear began to crowd the back of her mind.  But she forged ahead.  "Dad—Gambit.  Remy LeBeau."

Rogue's expression didn't change.  She shrugged.  "Sorry.  Nevah met him."

Renee felt as if she'd been punched.  Rogue's flat, uncaring stare bored into her.  She was used to seeing her mother's expression melt, occasionally into tears but more often into a soft, sad smile, at the mention of her father's name.  And it had always made Renee feel secure to know that her mother still loved him.  This...coldness wasn't right.  It just wasn't.

"He was your husband!  How can you say you've never met him?"  Renee felt the burn of tears in her eyes, but she didn't care how silly she looked.  It didn't matter to her what world this was or what time-- the fact that her parents had loved each other was, to her, an unquestionable constant.

Rogue's eyes narrowed angrily.  "Ah don't know who ya think ah am, but ah certainly don't have a husband."  Her voice was brittle with suppressed emotion.

Cody's hand closed on Renee's shoulder, squeezing comfortingly.  "She doesn't know," he said softly.

Renee jerked out of his grasp.  "She has to!"  In a small corner of her mind, Renee knew she was being irrational, but the world had become too big and too violent and too frightening all of a sudden.  To have even her parents torn away from her was more than she could take.  "She has to," she repeated softly and then began to cry in earnest.  She felt Cody's arms wrap around her as she buried her face against his hair.

Rogue stared at Renee, her frown deepening.  "What's wrong with the girl?" she finally asked, her tone filled with disgust.

"Rogue, please, she's just a child."  Jean looked up from her place next to the injured man.  Her voice was placating.   Remi looked between with a sinking feeling in his gut.  He had begun to form a suspicion about where they were, and it was going to break Renee's heart.  He watched her cry sympathetically, but didn't dare try to approach her.  Despite how much they cared for each other, she would always resent him for living when her father died.  For living because her father died.

Remi gathered his courage.  Rogue made him uncomfortable.  She always had and probably always would.  Especially as he'd gotten older, he had been acutely aware of her gaze tracking him whenever he came to the mansion.  He couldn't blame her, of course.  It was just... weird.

He turned to Rogue.  "In our world, you were married," he began, and that sharp, green stare skewered him.  He was tempted to quit there, but something made him go on.  "Cody and Renee are your children."  He nodded toward the twins.

Rogue's gaze flicked from him to them and back again.  "That's impossible."  If anything, her voice had grown flatter.

"No it isn't."

The green eyes flicked between them again, and then the first hint of warmth lit Rogue's features-- a mixture of curiosity and long buried yearning.  Her voice, however, remained cold.  "How?"

Remi felt the blood rising in his cheeks, but he held on to her gaze with determination.  Being the only child ever born acceptably outside of wedlock on his home planet had given him a lot of practice carrying himself through difficult conversations.

"Modified Genoshan collar, I think," he managed to say through a suddenly dry throat.

Rogue simply stared at him, her expression both suspicious and antagonistic.  Then, with one last glance at Cody and Renee, she turned on her heel and strode away. Remi breathed a sigh of relief, and was startled by a gravelly chuckle at his elbow.

"Ya got gall, boy, I'll give ya that."  Logan glanced up at him from beneath bushy eyebrows.  But before Remi could answer, he turned to Bishop.  "Forge'll be o.k., looks like.  Needs some rest before we go anywhere, though."

Bishop nodded at the report, and his gaze shifted back to Remi.  "You haven't answered my question."

Remi repressed another sigh.  He was tired of questions already.  Tired of having his family suddenly turned into strangers.  Tired of feeling lost.  He wanted to go home. But he was almost certain that that was impossible.

"We're from... a future," he said.  "But not your future."  Rachel and Cody both turned to stare at him, and even Renee raised her head.

"What do you mean?" Rachel demanded.

"Well..."  Remi had to take a moment to organize his thoughts.   The low ridge of cement that marked one edge of the mansion's foundation was right next to him, and he stepped up on it, watching his feet as he considered.

"I'm not sure what caused the timeline we're in, or how we got here, for that matter." Remi walked several paces along the crumbled wall.  "But we know that this isn't our past."  He looked up at Rachel, who nodded.

"The Shadow King," she said.

"Uh huh."  Remi came to the edge of a missing section in the wall and balanced neatly at the edge, one foot raised before him.  He turned a slow pirouette while keeping the raised foot fixed in space.   It was a dancing move that Renee had shown him.

"We know he died years before this, in our time.  Before we were born."

"How was he killed?"  Bishop's gaze had grown intensely interested.

Remi glanced at him in surprise.  "Huh?  Oh.  Dad destroyed him on the astral plane. On Muir Island."

Remi suddenly found himself the sole focus of the X-Men's attention.  His balance wobbled, forcing him to hold his arms out for a moment to steady himself.  He felt like he'd just been surrounded by wild Krel.  The silence was deafening.

"We survived Muir Island," Logan finally said.  He glanced at Jean.  "Most o' us. But the Queen kept us from gettin' ta the focus-- ta Lorna."

Remi searched his memories.  He'd read all of the logs, at one time or another, and his memory was supposedly perfect, but he still had to do some digging to remember what had happened to the X-Men in his timeline.  "The X-Men freed Lorna in our time."

He came back several steps along the wall.  "And who's this Queen?  I don't think she was there."

There was an uncomfortable silence as the X-Men exchanged glances.  Finally, Jubilee snorted in disgust.  "Bunch a superstitious-- " She looked at Remi.  "Storm is the Shadow Queen."

Remi knew he was staring at her.  He couldn't help it.  But that explained so much. Like why she had attacked them.  And yet, his soul refused to believe that calm, gentle Ororo could possibly become a servant of the Shadow King.

"How?"  The strangled question was from Cody.  She was his godmother.

Jean stood stiffly.  "We thought she'd been killed in a plane crash in Australia." She moved to stand beside Bishop, and Remi was surprised to see her slide her hand into his.  Rachel bit off a surprised exclamation, and then crossed her arms, eyes narrowing.

"The next time we saw her," Jean continued," she was with the Shadow King. Somehow, she had become a child, but they were lovers anyway."  The disgust was clear in her face.

Remi's mind was in a whirl.  Storm as a child.  Storm with the Shadow King.  The connection eluded him for a moment, but then he remembered, and his heart sank.

"Gambit rescued Storm from the Shadow King."

The three children stared at him in dawning understanding, while the X-Men simply looked puzzled.

"Then... he doesn't exist here, right?"  Cody's grip on his sister tightened.

Remi nodded.  "This must be the timeline where the paradox collapsed completely. Everything Gambit did has been... undone."

Rachel was tapping her foot as she thought.  After a moment, she put her hands on her hips.  Remi had long ago identified that pose as the one she took when she was going to contradict him.  "That can't be right."

"Why not?"

"Well, for a couple of reasons."  She began to tick them off on the fingers of one hand while the X-Men looked on in bemusement.

"One, if this is the timeline where Gambit never existed, then Cody and Renee would have disappeared the moment we got here.  We're here after they should have been born, so they should have been paradoxed out of existence, too."  She paused, frowning.

"You know, they still ought to be gone.  There's only one timeline, remember?"

Remi glanced at the twins as he realized where Rachel was going.  He found himself nodding unconsciously.  "Since Rogue doesn't know him, whether he exists here or not.  Right."

Renee straightened and stepped away from Cody.  She dabbed at her nose with the cuff of her uniform.  "We're supposed to be dead?"

Rachel shrugged.  "I don't know, honey.  None of this makes much sense."  She turned back to Remi.  "And then there's Bishop."  She waved in his general direction, and he looked startled by his sudden inclusion into the bizarre discussion.  "If Gambit doesn't exist, how in the world did he get here?"

That was the point that had been bothering Remi.  He just hadn't put it all together yet.  He turned to Bishop.  "How did you get here?  To this time, I mean."

Bishop stared at him in silence for a moment, as if debating whether to answer. "I followed an escaped criminal named Fitzroy through his time portal," he said stiffly.

"Fitzroy?"  Remi hopped off of the crumbled wall.  "Well, that's the same, at least". He walked toward Bishop.  "Then who raised you?  Was it the Witness?"

Bishop's eyebrows drew together in a sharp "V", distorting the tattoo across his eye. "No.  I grew up on the streets until I was taken into the X.S.E."

"But you've never heard of someone called the Witness?"

"No."

The four exchanged glances, and Remi shrugged.  "See?  I don't think Gambit exists here."  Before Rachel could open her mouth, he added, "I know it doesn't make sense."

Cody was watching him intently.  "If that's true, then why didn't the Witness see this possibility?"  He seemed to be voicing his thoughts as he worked through them. "He told us that the paradox would collapse completely.  That's what he believed, and we've always thought that we just got lucky since it didn't.  But wouldn't he have said something if he thought the paradox would mean that Ororo would go to the Shadow King?  Wouldn't he have done something about it?"

Remi didn't know how to answer that.  "Maybe he thought that Storm would get out on her own," he offered, unconvinced. "Maybe he just didn't think about it.  I don't know."

Into the following silence, Bobby Drake inserted, "So, are any of you kids ever going to explain just what in the heck you're talking about?"

Remi looked at him and sighed.  "It's a really long story."  When Bobby's expectant look didn't change, he surrendered to the inevitable and continued, "You see, the X-Men were betrayed and killed by one of their own--"

"We were?"

"In another timeline, yes.  All except one.  The Gamemaster saved him--"

"The Gamemaster?"  Bishop was agitated.  "What do you know about the Gamemaster? Did he send you here?"

Surprised by the sudden intensity, Remi stammered, "Y-yes."

Bishop's expression relaxed into something Remi would have labeled a smile on anyone else.  It was as if he'd had a revelation.  "Then we need to get you kids to San Fransico."

"San Fransico?  What's there?" Rachel demanded.

Bishop's smile faded as he looked at her.  "A helicopter.  To take you to President Xavier."

Chapter 5

Remi took a moment to crouch down, stretching his knees.  The street they were on had once been a quiet drive, lined by trees.  Houses stood a ways off the road, their driveways often marked by wrought iron gates.  Had he not been a mutant, Remi would have thought it was an ordinary neighborhood.  But he was a telepath, and the emptiness of the houses around him was a wrongness that ate away at the edges of his mind. 

They had arrived several miles farther south, at the only gate point Cody knew outside the city proper.  At least, the city as it existed now.  Bishop had drawn them a map when Cody had begun to explain how his power worked.  What was now San Fransico was only a fraction of the city as it existed in Remi's time.  The Safe Zone, as Bishop had called it, was a small fortified enclave in the bay area, near the remains of the Golden Gate bridge.  Cody knew a gate point in that area, but Bishop had insisted that they not gate into the city proper because of the alarms it would raise.  So instead they were walking.  It was about a six mile hike, which wasn't too bad.  But Remi had been through so much already that day that he was beginning to feel the strain.

They walked in silence, both physical and telepathic.  The X-Men worked together with very little communication, and Remi had the distinct impression that they had simply been doing it for so long that they didn't need to talk to know their responsibilities.  It was impressive, but also eerie.

How you guys holding up? he asked Cody and Renee.  For different reasons, he was most concerned about them.  Cody was exhausted from the constant gating, and Renee was just... delicate.  The radical change in their lives was taking its toll on her.  She walked like an automaton, head down, steps shuffled.  Her staff tapped against the blacktop in a steady rhythm.

Renee? he asked again.

The tapping of her staff continued, rhythm unbroken.  Go away, Remi.

Remi and Cody exchanged glances.  Remi had kept him included in the conversation, but he only shrugged.

It's all gone, isn't it? Cody stepped over a tree branch that lay in the street.  A few brown leaves clung to the severed limb, and they rattled when his foot brushed the wood.  Our world? He looked around.  Now it's like this.

Remi nodded.  I think so.  There're just so many things that don't make sense.  If this is the timeline that I think it is, we shouldn't be able to be here.  We shouldn't have been able to get here.

Can the chatter, boys. Jean's mental voice was firm.

Why? Remi asked.

"I said, be quiet!"  Jean turned to stare at them.  "No telepathy."

"Why not?"  This time it was Rachel who asked the question, and Remi was glad to have Jean's wrath shifted to another vector.

But Jean simply rolled her eyes.  "Betsy's going to hear us coming a mile away."

"Is... that bad?"  The image of Storm raining lightning down on them refused to leave Remi's mind.

"It is if there's a Mech between us and her," Bobby said.

Jean studied them for a moment, and then her expression melted into sympathy.  "No, it's not bad.  Betsy is the Guardian of San Francisco.  But, you're going to have to learn some things about how this world works."  She paused to let the four kids catch up to her.  "Here, telepaths are everything.  They are our only defense against the Shadow King.  Unfortunately, he is a powerful telepath himself, and has developed technology that is psi-sensitive.  The best way to get yourself spotted is to use your telepathic powers."  She split her gaze between Remi and Rachel.  "Now, you two do a pretty good job of shielding, but it's not worth the risk.  Understood?"

Remi and Rachel nodded in unison.  The other X-Men had paused while Jean explained, taking the unexpected opportunity for a short rest. Jubilee was stretched out on the asphalt, eyes already closed.  Forge sat next to her, his face pale and drawn.  Renee seemed to suddenly shake herself out of her funk and went to sit next to him.  Remi was glad to see that.  Forge could use her help.

The others settled amiably on the street, stretching and searching through packs.  Momentary laughter drifted up, and Remi smelled the distinct tang as Logan lit a cigar.  He had forgotten that Logan used to smoke those things.

Remi took a quick inventory.  It was the first time he'd really had a chance to just look at the X-Men.  And what struck him was just how much they looked like the people he was familiar with.  Angelo had brought out a battered deck of cards, and was dealing them out to Logan and Bobby.  Warren sat by himself, wings arched over his head in a kind of canopy.  It left nothing of his face visible in the shadows.  Remi watched him for a while.  Those wings were really amazing.  Remi had never seen the metal ones before. Warren seemed to be nursing a simmering anger whose cause Remi couldn't even begin to guess.  But it was getting worse as the day went on.

Rogue had gone to stand with Bishop, who appeared to be on guard.  They sounded like they were talking strategy, though Remi knew so little about the political situation he was only guessing.  Rogue kept her back to the rest of the group, as if she were pointedly ignoring them.  Or maybe just some of them, Remi amended as he watched Renee slide a hand out of her glove and lightly touch Forge's forehead.  A little touch was all it took, Remi knew.  Renee's power was growth.  Any kind of cellular growth.  She wore gloves because she, like her mother, had a great deal of trouble with control.  But Renee could direct her power, at least.  She could cause aging, or she could heal.  She could even make living things get bigger.  On one of his visits to Earth, she had grown a forest of giant irises in the front yard, mostly to get back at Brian who had run down the ones in the garden with his bicycle.  He clearly remembered having to hack the two-story flowers down, too, to the chorus of "timber!"s as each one fell.

"So, what's a Mech?" Cody asked, and Remi jerked back to the present.

"Mechanized infantry assault vehicle," Forge supplied.  It was the first time he had spoken to them.  He looked much better, Remi thought.  His expression was bright, relieved of pain.  "One of the Shadow King's more dangerous toys.  And they're shielded, so we have a heck of a time detecting them."

"What do they look like?"  Cody went to sit next to his sister.  He was always fascinated by mechanical things.

"Ever seen 'The Empire Strikes Back'?" Jubilee asked without opening her eyes.  "They look like big AT-ATs."

"Big whats?"

"Jubes, if they're from the future, they've probably never heard of 'Star Wars'."  Angelo grinned at her over his cards.

Jubilee raised her head and opened her eyes just long enough to stick her tongue out at him.  Remi almost laughed.  She was a fairly young woman here, and he had heard the stories about what she'd been like at his age.  Now, he could see what they'd meant.

Forge was chuckling.  "Think of giant headless ostriches.  With really big guns."

Remi and Cody exchanged glances as they tried to imagine such a machine.   Eventually, Remi had to give up.

#

They continued on after the short rest.  Rachel chewed on her lip while she walked, trying to sort things out.  She, of all people, shouldn't be fazed by time travel. After all, it was a Summers family tradition.  But to actually be the one dumped into an unfamiliar time was... unsettling.  On the one hand, she knew that the people she cared about would live different lives.  She understood that-- intellectually, at least.  But she was still angry.

Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer.  She increased her pace until she was even with Jean.  "Do you know who I am?"

Jean glanced at her, then looked back toward the approaching city walls.  "I suppose so," she answered.  "You said your name is Rachel Summers."  She paused for a moment.  "You don't look like... the other Rachel I've met."

Rachel shook her head.  "We're not the same person, but I was named for her.  I guess we're sort of like sisters."  Jean gave her a confused look, and she added, "We weren't born at the same time in our different futures.  We're not genetically the same person."

Jean's expression cleared, and she crossed her arms over her breasts.  "Then is Scott alive in your time?"

Rachel's heart sank.  "Yes, he is."  Her father was dead.  She'd already guessed it, but that didn't make hearing the words any easier.  "What happened?"

Jean sighed.  "He was killed by the Shadow King.  On Muir Island."  Her gaze darted to Rachel and then away.  "That was eleven years ago."  Her face was lined and sad.  Rachel was amazed to realize that this woman looked years older than her counterpart in Rachel's time, despite the fact that she was ten years younger.

"I don't understand."  Rachel was beginning to feel the threat of encroaching tears.  "Why is it all so different?"  She bit her lip harder and concentrated on the pavement beneath her feet.  She was too old to cry.

Jean sighed.  "Muir Island was a major turning point.  It was the beginning of the Shadow King's empire, really.  He had established a base of operations and had made Lorna Dane into a living focus for his power.  We...  tried to stop him.  But between Legion, Rogue and-- " she paused, almost abashed, "his Queen, we couldn't get to Lorna."  She shook her head, and her voice became shaky.  "It was actually Rogue who killed Scott.  She... was under the Shadow King's control.  She hardly remembers it."  Jean's gaze was fixed straight ahead.  After a moment, she shook herself and went on.

"Anyway, Charles managed to free Rogue and the other X-Men that had been taken.  We escaped with our lives, but that was all.  The Shadow King expanded his influence from there.  I don't know who he uses for his focus now, but his mind spreads across the planet.  Telepaths like Betsy maintain small Safe Zones where people  still live free... but I think there are only a dozen or so left."

"And there's no way to stop him?"  Rachel wasn't sure she could live in a world that was dying so quickly.

Jean's expression lightened slightly.  "Maybe now there is.  Your friend, Remi--" she nodded towards him, "who is he?"

Rachel glanced at Remi in surprise.  "Well, he's Uncle Charles' son.  He's half Shi'ar."

Jean's eyebrows arched eloquently.  "The Gamemaster promised us a mutant that would be able to challenge the Shadow King.  Bishop believes he was talking about your friend."

Rachel thought about that for a while. Remi was powerful, she knew that.  The adults were all waiting to see what the limits of his powers would turn out to be.  Gambit's powers had been burned out, so, although they'd know from the day he was born what kinds of powers Remi would have, no one could guess their magnitude.

"I don't know," she finally said.  "Maybe."  She looked over at Jean.  "He's only fifteen."  A small knot of fear was beginning to form in her stomach.  There was a desperation in the faces of these X-Men that she had never seen before.  She had no idea who or what they might be willing to sacrifice to defeat the Shadow King.

Chapter 6

Remi stared at Hank McCoy in equal parts surprise and curiosity.  Hank returned the favor, and they ended up staring at each other in silence for several long moments.

"Is something wrong?" Hank asked finally.

"Uh, no."  Remi's eyes continued to be drawn to the streak of gray fur that crossed the bridge of Hank's nose and ran just under the right eye.  From the odd droop of the eyelid on that side, Remi had to guess that the gray fur marked a scar.  That was what had him so unnerved.  What he could see of Hank's fur beneath the open lab coat was a nearly even mottling of blue and gray.

"I take it I'm not quite the same as the Hank McCoy you know."

Remi shook his head.   "Not quite."  Quickly he sought after a new topic.  It really wasn't any of his business.  "Why did you want to see me?"

Remi was perched on a stool in the corner of a fairly normal-looking exam room.  The water stains on the wall and the lack of that ever- present paper cover on the examination table were the only real indications that this room was in the middle of a war zone.  It seemed well equipped, though it was all earth technology.

Hank slid his glasses further up on his nose.  "Actually, I'd like to examine all four of you.  You just happen to be at the top of my list."  His smile was the same toothy grin Remi was used to, and he found himself relaxing a little.

Hank turned away for a moment, and when he turned back, he was holding a familiar needle and several glass tubes.  "If you don't mind, I'd like to draw some blood."

Remi stifled a protest-- he hated needles-- and instead asked, "What for?"

Hank began the process of pushing the sleeve of Remi's uniform out of the way and tying a piece of rubber tightly around his biceps.  "Well, my number one priority is to check for Legacy antigens."

"Legacy?  I had the shot when I was a kid.  I should be immune."

Hank paused and looked up at Remi, his expression unreadable.  "Then there is a cure."  It wasn't a question.

A cold pit formed in Remi's stomach.  "What... happened here?"

Hank's demeanor became professionally busy as he fiddled with the needle.  Remi looked away as the point neared his arm, and felt the hot stab.

Almost diffident, Hank said, "We lost about a third of the mutant population.  Maybe fifteen percent of the humans."  He traded the filled tube for a new one and Remi winced as the action jiggled the needle buried in his arm.  "The disease has pretty much burned itself out, now.  The survivors have antibodies.  But we haven't been able to develop an inoculation, so each new generation will be at risk."   Hank finished the procedure and studied the two tubes of thick red fluid thoughtfully.

"You do know I'm half-Shi'ar?" Remi asked after a moment.  "If you want to look at human antibodies, you're going to have to use Rachel's blood."

Hank glanced over at him.  "Only her?  Ah, then the other two are half- Shi'ar as well.  The family resemblance is rather obvious."

Remi sighed.  "I might as well warn you."  This was always so complicated to explain.  "Cody and Renee are only quarter-Shi'ar.  When you run your tests, you'll get results that indicate that I'm their father."

Hank's eyebrow rose. "Indeed."  Remi had the sudden, distinct impression that he was forcibly suppressing a sarcastic response.  And that, oddly enough, made Remi feel better.  Hank's friendly teasing was something he could deal with.  He grinned.  He had a rare opportunity to pull one over on the good doctor.

"And that Rogue is their mother."  Remi tried not to laugh as Hank's expression went several contortions before settling into something approaching neutrality.

After a moment of silence, Hank asked, "Do I dare inquire as to the... circumstances... uh--"  He broke off as he apparently realized that he was talking to a fairly young teenager.

Remi managed not to blush.  He wasn't exactly the lothario Gambit had been, but he had had a great deal more education in the matter than most kids his age.  Well, formal education, anyway.   After a moment of watching Hank fidget, he said,

"In the future I come from, there was another version of me.  He was married to Rogue."

Hank recovered his composure, blinking behind his glasses.  "I see.  Fascinating."  He turned and set the tubes of blood into a wire rack.  "Then there were two of you in the same time?"  He glanced over his shoulder and Remi nodded.  "And there weren't any problems from the overlap?"

"No."  Remi paused.  "Well, there was a paradox."

"Really?"  Hank's expression was as excited as a little boy at Christmas.  He settled himself in the room's only real chair.   "I'd love to hear more about this.  Theories about the nature of time are inherently unprovable.  Except, of course, for extraordinary circumstances like yours."  He sighed, deflating slightly.  "But, I'm afraid we really ought to continue the examination."

Remi shrugged.  "O.k."

Hank pulled out a battered notebook and dug a pen out of his coat pocket.  He scribbled a quick line at the top of a page, and then looked at Remi.  "I assume you are in good health?  No infections, viruses, conditions, et cetera that I should know about?"

Remi shook his head.

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

He nodded, scribbled.  "Any serious illnesses in the past?"

"No."

"Serious injuries?"

"Serious?  Not really.  I broke my leg in four places once, but Renee healed that."

Hank paused, pen upraised.  "Ah, yes.  Forge told me about her powers.  I'm anxious to talk to her."

"Does that mean she's next on your list?"  Hank was doing a poor job of hiding his excitement.

Hank chuckled appreciatively.  "Dear boy, I believe you have me at a disadvantage.  You seem to know me entirely too well." 

He bent back over his notebook.  "Now then—do you have any special requirements to maintain your mutant power?"

"Special requirements?"

"Yes.  Any special nutritional needs?  Sunlight?  Moonlight?  Radiation?  Electrical current?  Sonic vibration?  Magnetic fields?"

Remi was almost laughing at the bizarre list, mostly because it was so true.  He'd spent most of his life around people who had strange needs.  "Uh, no.  I do metabolize energy, but I don't know the source."

"Fair enough.  And this black disk of yours—do you know what kind of energy it uses or what it is made of?"

Remi was suddenly struck by the realization that this man really didn't know anything about him. 

"Hank, it's a time portal.  Everything else is just the side effects."

Hank slowly reached up and pulled off his glasses.  "Slicing Sentinels in half is just the side effects?"  He set the glasses down on the table beside him.  He was completely stunned.  "You can travel in time."  He looked up at Remi.  "To any time?"

Remi shrugged.  "Theoretically.  In a single jump, I can go forward and backward to any point inside my timeline-- my permutation.  Actually, since this is 2007, this is about the time that my permutation began..." He trailed off as pieces of the puzzle began to come together in his head.  "Hank, what is today's date?"

"August sixth.  Why?"

Remi's mind began to whirl.  It was all beginning to make sense.  August fifth was the day the X-Men were betrayed.  The day Gambit disappeared forever.  It was the first day of the permutation Remi had grown up in.  But somehow, when they'd gone back in time, they hadn't stopped at the beginning of their timeline.  Somehow, they'd ended up in a different permutation—one where Gambit never existed.  And yet, Cody and Renee were still there, so they were somehow also no longer governed by paradox law. 

Remi wasn't sure why, but he had a feeling deep in his gut that he was getting close to the real reason the Gamemaster had wanted them to travel back in time.

Chapter 7

Cody LeBeau stopped and peered up at the thin slice of sky that was visible between the tall buildings.  The skyscrapers had once been glass spires, but now many of the panes were broken out.  Blankets and tarps hung across the jagged openings, creating a bizarre patchwork of colors.

As he watched, two helicopters crossed the thin ribbon of blue.  They flew in formation with a third figure-- an airborne mutant.  Cody was getting used to the constant aerial patrols, and the sounds of the aircraft launching from the aircraft carrier that appeared to be grounded in the bay.  Its deck was slightly canted, but the catapults were operational, and fighters roared into the sky on a regular basis.

"I wonder where they're getting their fuel," he commented as an F-18 climbed skyward, briefly appearing in Cody's field of view.  He was also curious about where those planes went.  They didn't all stay in the San Francisco area, he was sure of that.

Rachel pulled on his elbow, distracting him.  "Would you come on? They're just airplanes."

Cody shook her off.  "I'm coming.  What's the big hurry, anyway?"

"Jean said that Psylocke is down here.  That big gray building."  She pointed.  Cody thought it might have been bank at some point.

"And?"

He was surprised when Rachel formed a telepathic link.  It was one of those tight locks that made his brain itch-- the kind that was reserved for deep, dark secrets that their parents were not supposed to hear.

Haven't you noticed anything weird about how everybody talks about her?  Like they're really uncomfortable, but no one will say why?

Cody could only shrug.  I guess.

Oh, come on!  Didn't you think she sounded strange when we came in?

Cody thought back to when they'd finally reached the high walls of the city yesterday evening.  He'd been too involved in studying the walls themselves to notice anything odd about Betsy.  She'd simply come into his mind and asked permission to scan him.  He assumed she'd done the same to everyone else, and then the hydraulically driven door had opened, and they'd gone inside.

Finally, he shook his head.  Not really.  She seemed o.k. to me.

Huh.  Shows what you know.

Cody gave her an annoyed look.  Rachel could be such a pain sometimes.  And she had taken a couple of large steps, putting her in the lead.  Wondering what kind of trouble she was going to get him into this time, Cody increased his pace to catch up.

#

Renee stood in the shadows, watching.  She was afraid to interrupt, but she desperately wanted to talk to the woman who sat at the archaic computer terminal, fingers lightly tapping her lips as she watched the screen.  Squaring her shoulders, Renee stepped into the room.

"Ex- excuse me?"

Rogue turned in her seat, eyes narrowing when she saw who it was.

"Renee, isn't it?" she asked.

Renee nodded.  Uncertain what else to say, she found herself fidgeting quietly in place, eyes on the floor.  She felt foolish for being so afraid.

Rogue watched her for a moment, her expression darkening.  "Well, ah'm not gonna bite ya," she said in exasperation.

Renee looked up, and Rogue jerked her head toward the empty chair beside her.  "Sit."  Then she turned back to the screen and typed a command, then peered intently at the information that scrolled by.

Renee walked quietly across the room and sat down.  Rogue continued to work with the computer, muttering to herself.  Renee watched, but wasn't entirely sure what she was seeing.  After a few minutes, Rogue seemed to reach a stopping place and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms.  She looked over at Renee, her eyes straying to the prominent white streak in her straight red hair.  Eventually, her gaze dropped lower as she studied Renee intently.  Renee felt like she was being memorized.

Abruptly, Rogue straightened.  "Why do you wear gloves?"

Renee glanced at her hands.  "I can't control my powers yet.  They're like yours-- triggered by touch."

Rogue met her eyes for a very brief moment and then looked away.  "Rotten thing ta do to a kid," she said darkly.

Renee shrugged.  "It's not that bad.  At home I usually wear an inhibiter.  And Beast said that it would only take me a few years to get control if I worked at it."

Rogue stared at her.  "Well, that's good, ah suppose."

"Uh huh."

An awkward silence enveloped them, and Renee struggled for something else to say.

"What are you working on?"  She glanced at the computer.

Rogue followed her gaze.  "Ah'm tracking flights in and out a Texas.  We think the Shadow King's got a new relay center there.  We just can't find it."

"Relay center?"

She nodded, seeming relieved to have the conversation shifted to an impersonal topic.  "Even the Shadow King can't keep telepathic control ovah the whole planet.  So he has relay centers-- captive telepaths that amplify his signal and send it out ta a local area.  Texas has always been good at resistin' him, and he hasn't bothered with 'em before now.  But ah guess he's startin' ta feel like he's got time foh a new hobby."

"So is that what Betsy does?  She protects the people here from the Shadow King's telepathic control?"

A shadow clouded Rogue's expression.  "Yes.  That's... exactly what she does, sugah."

#

Cody peered into the darkened building, wishing he'd inherited Renee's night sight.  From what he could see, it did indeed seem to be a bank.  The tellers' counter was off to his left, the little cubicles empty.  To the right, a spiral staircase ascended to a second level.  The area beneath the staircase was barren.  Cody was sure the furniture had long since been co-opted for use elsewhere.  Even the carpet had been pulled up, exposing a gray cement floor.

"C'mon."  Rachel grabbed his arm.  "The elevator down to the vault is over here."

"How do you know?" Cody demanded as she led him toward the back of the room.  It was dark enough that he was feeling a little uncertain about walking into things.

"Psylocke told me."  Rachel glanced back at him.  "She sounds like she's excited about having visitors."  Cody wasn't sure how to interpret her tone.  He glanced around him involuntarily.  Despite how much time he spent around telepaths, it still seemed strange to know that there were voices out there he couldn't hear.  Remi occasionally teased him about being "brain-dead", and every once in a while, Cody wondered if that weren't more true than not.

They turned a corner into a short hallway, lit only by the pale glow of the elevator buttons.  Rachel pushed the down button without hesitation. The car arrived with a small rumble, and when the doors opened, Cody was relieved to see that the interior, at least, was lighted.  They stepped inside, and Rachel pushed the button labeled "V" -- for "vault", no doubt.

The car began to descend, and Cody found himself studying the ceiling.

"These are only the emergency lights," he pointed out.  Most of the fluorescent panels remained dark.

There is no point in wasting the power, a female voice said in his head.  The light is sufficient. Cody managed not to jump out of his skin at Psylocke's sudden presence in his mind, but that was about all.  Beside him, Rachel giggled and he turned to glare at her.

It's depressing, he told Psylocke once Rachel had gotten her expression under control.  Do you keep all of your lighting this low?  They're using main power up in the command area. The Psylocke he knew from his own time was a pragmatist in the extreme.  Often to the frustration of her husband who, Cody suspected, would have liked to be able to romance her a bit more.  Living on emergency lighting just to save a little energy was very much her style.

Her response, however, surprised him.  The light is for you.

For the first time, Cody understood why Rachel thought she sounded strange.  He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something odd about the way she spoke.  It reminded him of the way a person deaf from birth spoke-- shaping sounds based on how they looked, rather than how they sounded.  Psylocke's "voice" was technically correct, but it was as if she were no longer using her own human voice as the model for it.

#

Rogue returned bearing a tall stack of computer printouts.  She handed the stack to Renee as she slid into her chair.  "Here.  Long as you're here, ya might as well help."

Renee stared at the top page.  It was nothing more than numbers.  Six columns of them-- she glanced at the height of the stack—apparently thousands of rows long.  "What am I supposed to look for?"

Rogue leaned over and pointed out one of the columns.  "These are the ones ya want ta keep an eye on.  Ah'm lookin' foh any big changes."

"Couldn't you just graph all of this?  Changes would be a lot easier to see."

Rogue shook her head.  "Gal, we haven't seen graphing software in years.  We're lucky we've still got this ole thing."  She patted the top of the monitor.

"But..." Renee was thinking back to the things she'd seen in her brief stay in this time.  "The fighters are computerized aren't they?"

"Yep."  Rogue flashed her the first smile Renee could remember seeing.  "An' guess where all the technology goes?"  Her smile faded.  "We need those planes more 'n graphing software, that's foh sure."

Renee looked back down at the papers in her lap.  "So where did all of this come from?"

"What?"  Rogue was quickly becoming engrossed in the computer.  "Oh.  They're seismology data from some old cores nobody evah bothered ta dig up.  Usually, they'll pick up a sonic boom or a Sentinel settin' down.  That's what we're looking foh."

"All right."  Renee bent to her task.  The simple act of helping her mother left Renee feeling more content than she had since arriving in this time.

#

The elevator doors slid aside to reveal more darkness.

I will bring the lights up slowly, Psylocke told them.  I did not want to startle you.

Rachel stepped out of the elevator with Cody close on her heels.  Their footsteps echoed around them, the sounds distorted by whatever took up the giant chamber.  She couldn't quite see what was out there-- she was only aware that the darkness had different textures, even glinting here and there as if the dim light from the closing elevator had struck metal.  She could sense anticipation from Betsy-- and also... fear?  But she was unable to read much of the mind that surrounded them.  Rachel was awed by how huge it was.  She hadn't probed the shield that covered San Francisco before, but here, Betsy's presence was unavoidable.  Her mind spread across the entire city in a protective arc, and Rachel could sense a tremendous amount of information flowing back and forth, as if Betsy were operating as some kind of central communication.  That made some sense, she guessed.  Her mother had done the same thing on a smaller scale for the X-Men as they battled the Shadow King's forces.

The lights began to come up, and the room around them took shape.  Rachel gasped, completely stunned, and felt a similar shock from Cody.  The vault was completely filled with machinery-- strange, living machinery.  There were no right angles, only piles upon piles of metal cables and metallic structures that reminded Rachel of wind-carved desert stone.  Cables and wires crisscrossed the open space like tangled yarn.  But as Rachel's eyes drew nearer to the center of the clustered machinery, it all seemed to become more than just a machine.  As she stared, her eyes began to pick out the pattern there at the center-- a vaguely human form from which all of the rest of it somehow radiated.  And just as her eyes registered what she was seeing, the "head", made of tightly packed and twisted wires, turned toward them.  Rachel understood in an instant and was horrified.  Her stomach twisted with sudden nausea.  That-- that thing... all of it... was Elizabeth Braddock.

Chapter 8

Rachel was still staring when Cody mumbled an awed "Wow," and walked forward into the room.  His eyes continued to trace the intricate paths of metal that filled the space before them.  Rachel could feel his shock giving way to acceptance and overwhelming curiosity, and in that moment, she envied him.  All her life she had been taught to accept people for who they were, not what they were, and yet, every fiber of her being wanted to run away from the awful thing Betsy had become.

Is it really so bad?  Betsy's voice was tinged with curiosity, but underneath that, Rachel could sense the echoes of sorrow.  She felt her cheeks begin to burn.

I'm sorry, was all she could think of to say.

Betsy gave her the equivalent of a shrug.  It is the price of Guardianship.  I have grown used to it.

Rachel studied the metallic face, but she could not identify any expression on it.  What-- what happened to you?

Technovirus, Cody answered immediately.  Then he glanced up at Betsy.  Right?

Right. Rachel could sense her approval.                               

But... how?

It isn't hard to infect someone with a virus, was the somewhat curt reply.  But the serum came from Cable's blood.

While Rachel mulled that, Cody reached up to touch one of the cables that crossed the space just above his head.  He paused, and looked toward Betsy.

"Do you mind...?" he asked aloud.  His voice echoed oddly, giving Rachel a chill.  And yet, she was grateful for the human sound, even if it was somehow off a bit.

Not at all, Betsy answered, and Cody began to examine the machinery with single-minded fascination.  Rachel almost smiled.  Cody hated school and everything that had to do with school, but give him something mechanical and he became the world's best student.  Forge was forever dragging him off to his lab to look at this or that.

Rachel turned her attention back to Psylocke.  She reached out to re-establish contact and was nearly overwhelmed by what she touched.  It was like making contact with a computer, if such a thing were possible. Betsy was in contact with hundreds of people at the same time, as well as processing tons of information.  Rachel discovered that she couldn't simply step out into the middle of that flood, even if she'd wanted to risk being swept away by it.  So she sort of hung a flag out and retreated, in the hopes that Betsy would know that Rachel was looking for her. Contact came within seconds.

That's amazing!  Her disgust was quickly fading, though it helped not to look at Betsy's physical form.  She found herself watching Cody instead.

That is the benefit of the technovirus.  When it is allowed to run its full course, it even converts the brain to a mechanical entity.  That is why I can do so much at once.  A human brain simply can't handle it.

But why do you have to do so much?

Betsy was silent for several moments, and Rachel had the distinct feeling that she was trying to gather her thoughts.  It was the most human thing she had done, and Rachel found some of her tension easing.

The Shadow King's first strike-- on a planetwide basis, at least—was to blanket the globe with an EM pulse to disable most of the human military defenses.  With those down, the--

Wait! Rachel was thoroughly confused.  EMP?  How did he do that?  He's a telepath.

Cody looked up from his study, apparently wondering the same thing.  Rachel was surprised.  She didn't think he was still listening to the conversation.

Betsy considered them.  I see I'm going to have to go further back than that.  About a year after Muir Island, Magneto declared his space station Avalon to be a sovereign nation and a safe haven for mutants.  He armed himself with nuclear ballistic missiles from a sunken submarine.  Some of the governments of Earth didn't take very kindly to that, and Magneto retaliated by setting off a high energy EMP that caused serious damage worldwide.

Rachel was nodding.  That happened in our timeline, too.  The X-Men went to Avalon and Professor X ended up wiping Magneto's mind.

Indeed.  Leaving a conveniently empty shell for the Shadow King to occupy.

Events clicked into place with horrifying vividness.  The Shadow King has Magneto's body?  His powers?

Yes.

But... he was my physics teacher last year.  The enormity of the changes in the world suddenly crashed down on Rachel, and she found herself sitting on the floor, head cradled in her hands.  Nothing made any sense anymore.  The people she thought she knew were all different.  She didn't know where she belonged.

She looked up at the touch of a hand on her shoulder.  Cody was kneeling beside her, concern on his face.  "You o.k.?"

"We're never going home."  That was the realization that had rocked her so badly.  Until now, she had been able to see everything as an adventure-- a challenge.  Something to be endured with X-Man courage, and to tell stories about after she got home.  But now, there was no home to go back to.  This was reality.  Remi couldn't jump them all back into the future they belonged to.  They would end up in the future of this timeline.

Cody looked away.  "I know."  Then he surprised her by settling on the floor beside her and drawing her into a tight hug.  Rachel leaned her head against his shoulder and let the fabric of his jacket soak up her tears.

#

Bishop watched the men and women who trickled into the cramped conference room with a growing sense of unease.  The sudden appearance of these children had sent a jolt through the entire command structure.  The debate was already heated, and opinions, not to mention tempers, were only going to get hotter.

Jean was reassuringly calm beside him.  Though she did not look at him, he could feel the brush of her mind against his, and knew that they were united in this.

Hank McCoy was the last to arrive.  He closed the door quietly behind him and found a seat against the wall.  All eyes in the room followed him and Bishop felt a stab of sympathy.  Hank had now had the opportunity to examine each of the kids.  His assessment of their abilities would carry significant weight in the coming discussion.  And Bishop knew that Hank would not lie about his conclusions, even to protect them.

Jonah Jamison cleared his throat, and the attention of the room shifted to him.  "I won't bother telling you all what you already know."  He nodded to Hank.  "So we might as well get down to business.  Hank, if you would tell us what you've learned?"

Any idea which way he'll swing? Bishop asked Jean privately.  Jonah was as brutally efficient at running an army as he had been at running his newspaper.  Bishop had developed an abiding respect for the man, in part because he was the only human Bishop had ever met who was completely unintimidated by mutants.

None. She glanced sidelong at him, and then turned her attention to Hank.

Hank shuffled his papers as he gathered his thoughts.  When he looked up, his expression behind the quaint spectacles was solemn.

"I have run enough tests at this point that I am confident that these children are, indeed, who they claim to be."  His gaze swept the room, apparently cataloguing their expressions.  Bishop tried to keep his own face a mask.  Too many people were watching him covertly since he was one of the few who had talked to the children in person.

"I think I should begin with a quick overview of each of them, and then we can go from there."  Hank flipped his papers a little more authoritatively, and Bishop could see him settling into his lecturing mode.

"I'll begin with Remi, since I think he is the mutant we will be most interested in.  His name is-- let's see-- Rem'aillon Neramani.  I think I've pronounced that right.  He claims to be, and I am fairly confident is, the son of Charles Xavier and Lilandra Neramani.  Lilandra, for those of you who don't know, is not human.  She is a member of a race called the Shi'ar, whose empire the X-Men had some contact with a number of years ago."  A buzz of conversation rose in the wake of that statement, and Hank waited for it to die down.

"He is also, without doubt, an Omega class mutant.  He has four separate powers--"  There were murmurs of surprise.  "Two of which are Omega class and two of which are Alpha."  The murmurs intensified.  Bishop watched the various expressions closely.  This was the hard part.  Remi was, quite probably, the single most powerful mutant on the planet in terms of raw power.  Whether that power could be translated into a means for defeating the Shadow King was still unknown.

"Now, we know that the Shadow King is effectively an Omega class mutant with two Omega powers, since he also can lay claim to Magneto's powers."

"Do you mean to say that this kid's got more power than the Shadow King?"  Val Cooper demanded.

"Possibly."  Hank's agreement was cautious.  "Like Charles, he is approximately the Shadow King's equal as a telepath.  However, the Shadow King can call on the support of all of his relays, which outnumber our telepaths, including the Guardians.  So the odds of our success have never been acceptably high enough to risk everything in one shot, so to speak."

"What about this black disk I've been hearing about?"  Jonah's gaze was split between Hank and Bishop.

Hank blinked several times in rapid succession.  Then he answered, "The disk is a... a slice of another reality that bears little resemblance to our own.  Even the physical laws do not agree, so as they clash, they destroy everything caught in-between.  The net effect is a sort of giant sawblade, if you will.  It can cut through anything."

"Define 'anything'."

Hank turned toward the speaker, a grizzled old soldier who had been a colonel back when the United States still existed.

"The planet, if he let it get that big."  Hank's lips quirked in a humorless smile as the reaction ran around the room.  Bishop himself was stunned.  The entire planet?  He'd seen that kid slice up a Sentinel like it was putty, but to be able to do that to something as seemingly immutable as the Earth... He reined in his thoughts.  That was why it was an entirely different classification of mutant.

Hank let the debate rage for several minutes, then cleared his throat.  "Shall we continue?"  The conversations died off slowly, but when the room had grown quiet enough for Hank to continue, he nodded to himself and pulled out another page of notes.

"Second on my list of interest is Cody LeBeau.  I'm not even going to try to explain the how of it, but genetically, at least, he is the son of Remi Neramani and Rogue."  A snort of utter disbelief followed Hank's statement, and Bishop turned to look at Jonah, who was staring at Hank with his arms crossed over his chest.

"That is preposterous!"

Hank rewarded him with a merry smile.  "It's also unimportant.  I only told you that to illustrate where he inherited his powers."

"He also is an Omega mutant.  His power is general control of gravity.  The gateway that some of you have traveled through is actually a small wormhole."  He nodded toward Bishop and Jean, giving them a chance to comment.

Jean only shrugged. 

"How much can he transport at a time?"  That was Colonel Oaks again.  Several others nodded around the room.  It was an important question.  If they could transport troops and equipment across the planet instantaneously, they would have a great advantage over the past.

Hank frowned.  "Probably not enough to be useful to you, I'm afraid," he said.  "To create a gate big enough and powerful enough for what you have in mind would disrupt the gravitation of the planet rather severely, causing earthquakes, alterations in the weather and possibly tidal changes that could easily flood coastal areas."  Hank didn't need to explain how bad that could be for them.  Most of the free strongholds were on the coasts, where they had the best access to the ocean.  The bulk of their military might was at sea, where the Shadow King had less chance of finding them.

Jonah was watching Hank thoughtfully.  He chewed on his mustache for several moments, then asked, "Could he take on the Queen?"

The question hung silently, and Bishop thought back to the image of Cody hanging mid-air while lightning bolts pounded him.  He hadn't been a match for her then, but Bishop was certain that he hadn't been using his powers against her either.

There is one thing you are all forgetting.  Psylocke's mental voice echoed in all of their heads.

"Which is?"

That these are only children. There was a warmth to her tone that Bishop hadn't heard in a long time.  The world they come from isn't like ours. Bishop had a sudden, fleeting image of a summer picnic with the X-Men.  A memory from one of the kids, no doubt.  It evoked a pang of regret in him, memories of what he'd lost, and guilt for the horror he'd been unable to prevent.

You may not be able to convince him to kill her.  A new image filled Bishop's mental eye, and he gasped at a serene, gently smiling Ororo who held a butterfly perched in the palm of her hand.  The creature opened and closed its wings in a steady rhythm, and then suddenly fluttered away.  Ororo watched it, her expression full of simple delight.

"I don't care if she dies."  Jonah stared at the ceiling.  "I just want her neutralized."  He looked back down at Hank.  "Could he take her?"

Slowly Hank nodded.  "I think so."

The room remained silent for several long moments.  Bishop stared at the faces of the men and women that he served with, who he knew had long ago devoted everything they had to the cause of defending the remains of humanity from the Shadow King.  And for the first time in years, he saw hope in their eyes.  He felt it struggling to grow inside himself as well.  They had been given one more chance—and it all rested on the shoulders of a couple of kids who would probably die for the sake of a world they didn't belong to.

When the silence became unbearable, Hank shuffled his papers again.  "Third on my list is Rachel Summers."  Jean stiffened at the name, and Bishop felt a twinge.  After all these years, she still loved Scott more than she would ever love anyone else.  It was a shadow he was willing to live under, but that didn't ease the hurt.

"Obviously, she is the daughter of Jean," Hank nodded in her direction, "and Scott Summers.  Her powers are nearly identical in scope and magnitude to Jean's."

"Then, we have Renee LeBeau.  She and Cody are twins, though they don't have any recombinative powers."

"What powers?"

"Recombinative."  Hank adjusted his glasses and stared at Val.  "They don't have a power that operates only when they're together.  We've seen that a number of times in mutant twins.  However, Renee's power, while not terribly useful against the Shadow King, has some far-reaching possibilities."

"I've already heard what she's been doing with our wounded."  Jonah's fingers tapped against his knee.  Bishop had only heard the news as rumor, but he believed much of what he'd heard.  The girl had spent a fair portion of the last day using her powers to heal, both in their one hospital, and out in the street.  She'd become something of an overnight celebrity.

Hank nodded.  "Beyond being able to heal, she can cause growth in plant life as well.  It's actually very exciting."

Jonah's eyebrows rose doubtfully.

"Consider how many people we could feed, Jonah.  If she only grew one field a day, even.  The same with livestock.  If we somehow managed to destroy the Shadow King, we're going to have every single one of the cities he's subjugated dropped in our laps.  How are we going to take care of all of those people?"

Jonah chewed on his mustache.  Then he nodded.  "If we can defeat the Shadow King."  His gaze swept the room.  "Let's work on that one for now.  Betsy, how long until the Dresden surfaces?"

Twelve days.

"Then we're going to have to decide what to do with these kids until then.  I don't think they should stay here.  It's the obvious place to take them.  The Shadow King is bound to come looking for them here."

"Where are they now?"  Colonel Oaks turned to Bishop.

Bishop shrugged.  "We've left them free to wander.  It's not like we could keep them locked up if we wanted to," he put in quickly before Oaks could protest.  "And Logan and Archangel are keeping an eye on them, not to mention Betsy." 

Oaks nodded grudgingly.  "Good enough, I suppose."

"So where should we send them?"  Val looked between Jonah and Bishop.

"I have an idea."  Jean steepled her fingers and pressed them against her lips.  "We can send them to Dallas.  We've been building up there because of the new relay, so it won't be suspicious."

"Texas is becoming a powderkeg, Jean.  I'm not sure that's a good idea."  Val cocked her head, her expression skeptical.

"If you want these kids to be able to take on the Shadow King, they're going to need a little more blooding than they got in that scrape with the Sentinels."  Jean's expression was flat and unyielding.  Bishop forcibly hid his smile.  She was entirely convincing.

After a moment, Val nodded.  "All right.  What do you think, Jonah?"

  He nodded once, abruptly.  "Do it.  When we can contact the Dresden, we'll turn this over to Xavier and the Council.  All we have to do is keep these kids safe until then."

They broke up then, and as Bishop and Jean headed back toward their quarters, Bishop reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze.  Do you think they bought it?

Jean glanced at him.  Yes, I do.  They wanted to believe it.  Honestly, so do I, but I'm not going to let these kids be bulled into a war that isn't theirs.  The sooner we get them out of here, the less time people will have to realize that these kids could all just gate away to another planet any time they choose, and try to slap inhibiters on them and chain them in a cellar somewhere until we need their powers.

You know Everett will take good care of them.

In answer, Jean only smiled.

Chapter 9

Remi settled onto the thin pallet with a sigh and rubbed his temples.  The last four hours had been, without doubt, the most intense grilling he'd ever had.  Cyclops at his worst was nothing compared to Jamison.  Remi wasn't quite sure how or when, but somehow he'd been elected to speak for the four of them, and for the last four hours, Jonah had been digging every tiny detail about the defeat of the Shadow King in his own timeline out of his head.

"So how'd it go?" Cody asked.  He was sitting cross-legged in the center of a second pallet.  Along with a couple of ragged blankets, they were the only contents of the tiny room.

Remi shrugged.  "O.k., I guess.  He wanted to know about Muir Island."  Cody?  Think you can handle a double-layer conversation? "Everything--"  Remi tried to put as much disgust into his voice as he could.  "About Muir Island."

Cody chuckled.  "See?  That's what you get for acing all those history exams."   Sure, just take it slow, o.k.?

"Ha!"  O.k.  Remi breathed a silent sigh of relief.  He desperately needed to talk to Cody-- privately.  And he didn't really believe that there was a single conversation that went unobserved in this place.  Betsy was everywhere.  Even if he could keep the conversation shielded from her, she would know that they'd been talking, and that they didn't completely trust their new benefactors.  So the only thing he could think of to do was to mask one conversation with another.  They'd done it a few times-- when Remi had been grounded and someone was actually monitoring him telepathically to make sure he wasn't cheating.  He'd found he could strike up a boring conversation with Gladiator and be talking to Cody on Earth at the same time.  It was a lot of work-- more than it was worth-- but he'd loved the process of figuring out how to do it, and then getting away with it.

"Where are Rachel and Renee?" Jamison was asking some real specific questions.

Cody shrugged.  "I dunno."  About what?  "Renee said she was going to talk to Forge about his leg.  I haven't seen Rachel since this morning."

"Renee isn't pushing her powers too hard, is she?" About how much telepathic power it takes to blow the Shadow King away.

Cody considered that for a moment.  "I don't think so," he replied thoughtfully, and his psychic tone echoed him.  Are they planning to attack him?  "I think it's  helping her to keep busy."

"Maybe we could do the same.  I saw an old Chevy Nova out there--" Remi jerked his head in the appropriate direction. Yeah.  And guess who's going to be right out there in front?  "It might be fun to see if we could get it running."

"Hey!  Sounds good.  I've gotta tell you, this place is pretty boring." You?

Remi rolled his eyes.  "You haven't had to play answer-man."  Us, cousin.

Cody was silent for a while.  Then, "Did you notice if the engine's still in that Nova?"  Do we have another choice?

"It's there.  All gunked up though."  Remi relaxed a little.  Finally, an inane topic. They could talk about cars forever. With you, we can go anywhere. 

They started in on a typical discussion of classic cars, rebuilding engines and the like.  It was no different from a dozen conversations they'd had in the past few years, which made keeping the double-talk straight much easier. 

Cody's expression was solemn.  Yeah, but then we'd just be walking out on the X-Men.  And on the Earth.

Remy suppressed his sigh.  Earth was only his heritage, not his home.  He very much wanted to go back to Chandilar.  There's not a whole lot left of the Earth, he told Cody.  I saw a map and some stats.

What kind of stats? 

The Shadow King has spent the last ten years overrunning the planet by force.  He feeds on negative emotions-- hate and fear, like that-- so he's kept a lot of the population alive.  Remi had to pause there for Cody to make a comment, though there were no words hidden beneath it.

But he doesn't care about the conditions they live in.  The more miserable they are, the better for him.  Hank made a comment the last time I saw him, that even if the Shadow King were beaten today, at least half of the people still alive would die from disease or starvation.

Cody's green eyes reflected his horror.  He understood reality as well as Remi did.  Without the Shadow King to telepathically sustain them, many of the weaker ones would simply die from physical causes.  Others would starve before an economic system could be re-established.  And medical care would be non-existent in many parts of the world for a long time to come.

Isn't there any way to change it? Cody finally asked.

I don't think so, Remi answered slowly.  This is how things are with the paradox undone. The doubts that lurked in the depths of his heart surged forward.  The world would be a lot better place if Gambit existed instead of me.    

Cody didn't say anything, but his silence was answer enough.

#

"Remi?  Is everything all right?"  Hank was staring at him in concern.  Remi came back to himself slowly, blinking to force his eyes to focus.  Ever since he'd talked to Cody, he'd been unable to shake the certainty that the desolation that surrounded him was entirely his fault.  Not that he'd ever done anything to ruin the world, but just by existing, he'd caused things to turn out like this.

"Yeah, Hank.  I'm fine."  He could tell that Hank didn't believe him, but he was willing to let the subject drop.

Hank slid a notebook across the table with one clawed finger, his expression still filled with concern.  "I was hoping we could go into a little more detail about this La-- La'TyEichin Principle."  He stumbled over the Shi'ar mathematician's name.

Remi shrugged.  "Sure."  They'd been in San Francisco for nearly four days now, and Hank had managed to co-opt several hours out of each one of them to spend learning Shi'ar developments in several rather esoteric fields.  Remi knew a tremendous amount of physics, both human and Shi'ar, because it had been a focus of his education since he was small.  His parents believed that, because of the nature of his powers, he ought to know as much as possible about the sciences that might help him to understand them.  In turn, Remi was hoping that Hank might be able to help him figure out how they'd ended up in this timeline, and why they seemed to exist outside of the normal rules of paradox.  They hadn't made much progress, in Remi's opinion, but Hank was too excited to notice.  He glanced at the page of notes that Hank opened to, but the neat lines of equations for once failed to spark any interest in him.

He was barely aware of Hank watching him.  "Do you want to tell me about it?"  Hank finally asked.

Remi couldn't look at him.  "I told you about Gambit."

"The other version of you?  Yes, somewhat."  Hank set his pencil down quietly and folded his hands on the table.

Remi stared at his hands, and the quiet rage inside him began to boil over. "I've always felt like I was... in his shadow.  Like I was always trying to live up to who he was."

"Hmmm."  Hank adjusted his glasses.  "What was he like?"

Remi glanced up at him through the long bangs that habitually fell across his eyes.  What could he tell him?  That Gambit was a professional thief?  A killer?  An X-Man?  That he was Charles Xavier's son and Rogue's husband?  And that, no matter what life he'd lived, he'd sacrificed everything he had to save the people he loved?

"I don't know, really.  He... died when I was five."

"By 'died' you mean...?"

"He disappeared because of the paradox."  Hank's eyebrows rose at the sharpness of his tone.

"And you wish he hadn't?"

Remi gripped the edge of the table, trying to resist the urge to pour power into it as if he could destroy his thoughts as easily as the cast metal.  "It doesn't work that way."  He looked quickly at Hank and then away from the curious concern.  "It's a paradox.  We couldn't both exist past that moment." 

"What would have happened if you had disappeared instead?"

Remi had to sort out a comprehensible answer to that one.  It helped to bring his anger back under control.  "I could never just disappear."  Hank's eyebrows quirked in interest.  "I'm the me that's supposed to exist.  But, in one timeline, the X-Men were betrayed and killed.  When that happened, I accidentally sent myself back in time and then grew up to be Gambit.  But because they stopped the betrayal, that didn't happen when I was five, and so Gambit couldn't exist any longer."  He paused.

"In our timeline, he just disappeared.  Nothing else changed.  But here, everything he did has been undone.  Retroactively, I guess."

Hank's expression was thoughtful.  Then he grinned.  "I think I followed that."

"But don't you see--"  Remi didn't understand how Hank could take everything so lightly.  "It was Gambit that saved Storm from the Shadow King.  All of this--" He swung his arms wide, taking in the whole of the world around them, "wouldn't have happened if Gambit was alive instead of me!"

"Ah."  Hank nodded slowly.  "Then I begin to understand."

Remi shook his head vehemently, feeling the first burn of tears.  "No you don't.  You can't.  Gambit gave up his life-- twice-- in two different timelines-- so that the X-Men would live and the Earth wouldn't turn out so bad.  He-- he kind of gave his life to me, I guess.  And just because I'm alive instead of him, it's all been ruined!"

Hank could only stare at boy who had such anguish in his face.  What a terrible burden to place on someone so young.  To be the focus of critical events that shaped the world around them would be more responsibility than even he could desire.  And Hank had always wanted to change the world.  He was suddenly glad that he had decided not to tell Jonah about Remi's ability to travel through time.  The last thing they needed was a bunch of people trying to use the boy to rearrange the world when his power had already done so much harm already, albeit unintentionally.

But before he could respond, a young man stuck his head in the door.  "The chopper's ready Dr. McCoy."  He glanced meaningfully at Remi.

Remi straightened, and Hank watched as the boy's face became a mask.  Hank could see him gathering himself, and refusing to surrender to his fears.  For a brief moment, Hank had a glimpse of the king he had been meant to become.  Hank had no idea what had happened to the Shi'ar empire-- they'd had no contact for years-- but he was certain that they were losing a precious resource in this one.  He smiled to himself.  But perhaps he should expect no less of a son of Charles's.

"You'd better go," he told Remi softly.

Remi nodded and smiled briefly.  "Goodbye, Hank."

Hank found himself gripping the boy's shoulder, more moved than he expected.  "It will all work out better than you think.  You'll see." 

Remi's smile quirked wryly.  "You always were an optimist."

Hank opened his mouth to say something about still having a dream despite the Shadow King, but then his thoughts turned toward the lab that resided just beneath his feet, and he found that he couldn't get the words out.

"Goodbye, Remi," was all he said as the boy turned to leave.

#

In the heart of a city, the wind began to pick up.  It scattered the dust and grit that lined the streets, and sent old aluminum cans tumbling with a hollow clatter.  In the tattered makeshift marketplace, an old woman looked toward the sky and crossed herself.  She called her two grandchildren to her, gesturing urgently.  As she gathered her meager goods, she continued to watch the sky, starting fearfully at every new gust of wind.  Others on the street also scurried for cover, bent double as if to protect themselves from an unseen predator soaring the afternoon skies.

The little market was deserted by the time the wind grew from a breeze to a howl.  The wind had an animal voice, and seemed to dip and dart through the alleys as if it were, indeed, a hunter.  In her tiny home, the old woman hugged her grandchildren to her and shivered as the wind rattled the windows and threw itself against the door.  All the while she muttered prayers, to God and his Saints, to the X-Men, and even to the Demon in the Tower that they might survive another day.

In the Tower, a young woman sensed her fear and laughed.  Fed by the terror of those who huddled in the dark, hoping to escape her, and filled with the heady power of the atmosphere coursing through her blood, the woman flung her arms wide and commanded the winds.  Like the warp and woof of a master weaver, she held lines of power from the very atmosphere itself, to weave as she so desired.  She acknowledged no god but herself and the One whom she served wholeheartedly.

Her laughter was drowned by the shriek of the wind.  It twisted about the Tower with such force that the floor beneath her bare feet began to vibrate.  The stone itself was singing in time with the beat of her heart, and Storm exulted in the pure power at her command.

"My dear, do you plan to topple us as well?" asked a smooth voice behind her.

Storm turned slowly.  She had sensed his approach through their link.  "Of course not."  She retreated from the balcony and approached him, greeting him with an unrestrained kiss.  "I am but playing, my lord."

The Shadow King smiled as she leaned back in his embrace.  Her blue cat's eyes watched him, slowly smoldering, as she ran one finger lightly along the line of his jaw.  His silver hair shimmered in the sunlight as Storm lightened the gale to a gentle breeze.   Then he stiffened suddenly, and Storm turned to see what had attracted his attention.  She was unafraid, for there was little in the world that could threaten them and certainly none that would dare approach them in the Tower.

The air shimmered like a heat mirage, coalescing into a giant face.  It appeared to be made of intricate circuitry which glinted in the afternoon light.  The Shadow King released Storm and stepped forward.

"So we meet again, Gamemaster." 

The projection simply stared at him, expressionless.  "I have much to tell you about the young mutants who have so recently joined Xavier's forces," it said.

Chapter 10

Remi raised his head carefully and peered over the lip of the slight ridge.  He and Everett were lying side by side, watching the flurry of activity in the dusty bowl below.  Two of the large transports, the ones the X-Men had referred to as Big Bugs, had landed and were now unloading their cargo.  The steady stream of soldiers and equipment disappeared into a small adobe building that Remi was certain had to hide an entrance to a much larger underground complex.

"Think that's the relay center down there?" Remi asked.  This was the third such possible site they'd checked in the five days since Remi had arrived in Dallas.  So far, this appeared to be the most likely candidate, in Remi's opinion.

"Maybe."  Everett had not lowered the field glasses he was looking through.  "Sure does look busy, though."

"They're armed for bear, too."  Rogue crawled up beside Remi on her elbows.  "Ah spotted three separate gun emplacements, includin' missile racks.  The ground's mined, too, except for that landin' area there."

Everett lowered the field glasses and turned to Remi.  "Before she left for San Francisco, Jean cleared you as a field telepath.  Time to earn your keep."  Although his words were a little harsh, his expression was friendly.  "Give me a quiet scan of the complex down there.  If it really is the relay center, you'll run into the relay pretty quick.  Get back out again without being sensed, and we'll be ahead of the game."  He flashed the smile Remi knew from his own time. 

"Everett."   Rogue's tone was full of warning.  "This is a relay we're talkin' about.  Ya sure that's a good idea?"

Everett's expression never changed.  "Jean cleared him.  She wouldn't have done that if he couldn't hold his own."

Remi felt a surge of annoyance.  He was fifteen, and people were still talking over his head like he wasn't capable of speaking for himself.  "I can do the scan," he said stiffly, "without being seen."  He only wished he felt as confident as he sounded.

Everett made a "Well, get on with it" gesture and Rogue subsided, though she still looked like she might protest.

"Right."  Remi stared down at the little brown building.  He wasn't entirely sure he knew how to be as subtle he needed to.  Not without... not without cheating.  Remi winced invisibly as the memory of the one time he'd actually done what he was thinking of now.  But he had made Everett a promise, had even bragged about his ability.  And it was important.  But mostly, Remi just didn't want to fail.

How would Dad ever know? he told himself.  Actually, why would he care?  This version of him hasn't ever heard of Gambit. Somewhat relieved by the logic, Remi reached down into a certain corner of his mind and unlocked the memories there.

Before the paradox, Gambit had put Cerebro to use and created a kind of telepathic record of his life.  Like everything else in his will, he had left it on the slight chance that something of him might survive the paradox's collapse.  And as Gambit had specified, Remi received that recording on his fourteenth birthday.  Gambit had wanted Remi to know who he was and how he'd lived, though Remi had never been certain why.  Maybe to help him avoid some of the mistakes Gambit had made, or maybe just because he didn't want to disappear completely.  But whatever the reason, Remi had experienced Gambit's life in full-- save for some editing of his more personal relationships-- and with Remi's photographic memory, the experiences were locked inside his mind.

The upside to it all was that Remi could draw on Gambit's experience as a thief to help him now.  Not that he had the training-- he wasn't used to the feel of a lockpick, or to listening for the sound of tumblers falling into place, or any of dozens of other things that Gambit had been able to do.  But he had the information, and that was at least an improvement.  Unfortunately, there was a risk to it as well.  Gambit was essentially the same person as Remi-- he'd just lived a different life.  So when he set Gambit's memories loose, there were no clear signs to his mind which memories belonged and which didn't.  The one time he'd tried this before, Remi had successfully used Gambit's knowledge to defeat a particularly difficult Danger Room exercise, but he had gotten his self-identity confused to the point of even taking on Gambit's Cajun accent.  It had taken both his father and Jean to help him sort everything out.  The mixture of anger and hurt in his father's eyes had been almost as bad as his own terror at nearly losing himself to another identity.  Neither of the senior telepaths had been willing to erase Gambit's memories from his mind, even if Remi had agreed to it, but they had been extremely helpful in building a mental strongbox where Remi could lock those memories away.  Remi often wondered if Gambit would have done it if he'd known how hard it would be for Remi to keep the memories separate.

And now he was going to try it again.  Remi had a lot of telepathic power, and for the past two years he had been trained to use it.  He'd also been taught to shield himself, both for protection against telepathic attacks, and to be less conspicuous on the astral plane.  But Gambit was the only telepath who had ever figured out how to become completely invisible.  He had done it as a child, in an unconscious effort to protect his injured psyche.  It was an entirely subconscious action that could not be copied consciously because the conscious effort immediately made the person "visible" .  Remi could only make himself telepathically invisible by adopting the part of Gambit that did that.

Remi felt the memories expand, filling his mind.  He struggled to control them, filter through for the ability he wanted to use.  Having experienced the flood once, he was much better prepared this time.  He found what he wanted, then went through the difficult process of pushing everything else back into the little box where he stored Gambit.  By the time he was done, he was trembling from the effort, but he was almost completely certain that he had kept a hold on all of the memories that actually belonged to him.

"Are you all right?" Everett was watching him with concern.

Remi nodded.  "I just had to make a few... preparations."  He drew in a deep breath of hot, dusty air.  "I'll start the scan now."

With a simple push, Remi stepped onto the astral plane.  It was an endless gray place-- empty and directionless.  Remi let his senses drift with the gentle currents that crossed the plane.  This was the source of Gambit's telepathic invisibility.  Telepaths had the ability to shape the astral plane, to mold it to reflect their desires.  And by molding the astral reality, they could influence the real world minds that the astral plane represented.  Most telepaths sent ripples through the astral plane simply by their presence, no matter how hard they tried not to disturb it.  But Gambit had found a way to mimic the emptiness, to hide in the meager shadows that existed.  Remi did the same now.  It felt strange to make himself so powerless, but that, too, was part of what would keep him from being seen by those sensitive to the astral plane.

As the currents carried him, Remi drifted toward the underground complex.  It was represented on the astral plane by a black castle that rose out of the ground as Remi neared.  The walls were made of giant blocks of stone, each more than ten feet long on a side.  Each corner of the wall supported a turret from which archers could fire on any attacker.  Remi did not see a gate or any other break in the walls, which didn't surprise him.  The defenses of the castle were synonymous with the defenses of the telepath inside the complex-- the relay.  Remi was nearly convinced that that was what he was dealing with, but he knew he would have to make sure.  He floated closer to the walls.  Now for the hard part-- he had to get through.

In this invisible guise, he was like a ghost.  But it took all of his will to keep from solidifying shields around himself as he sank into the smooth black surface.  He was letting Gambit's instinct to hide dominate, but it was hard.  Remi had been raised as a prince-- he didn't hide from anything.  Even as a small child, when something frightened him in the night, he simply had to send for Gladiator who would then spend the rest of the night standing guard at the foot of his bed.  He had never known the kind of insecurity Gambit had lived with on the streets of New Orleans.

Remi broke through the wall, emerging in a courtyard as barren as the castle walls.  It, too, was paved in the black stones.  An inner building of the same material sat in the middle of the clearing.  Flames licked the walls, white-edged.  Sparks seemed to jump from the white part of the flame, reminding Remi of the sparklers he had played with one Fourth of July.

He drifted closer to the burning building, wondering if the fire would hurt when he touched it.  But he clung to Gambit's thought processes and his instincts, and passed through both the fire and the wall without feeling anything.  The interior of the building was a raging inferno of the same kind of flames.  The light was incredibly bright, but Remi could just make out a dark form at the center of the room.  He strained to see more clearly as he drifted, but he was terrified that if he tried too hard he would make himself visible.  And if this telepath discovered him here, Remi wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to fight his way out.  Rogue had implied that a relay telepath would be of high caliber.  And even though chances were that Remi would turn out to be the stronger of the two, this was the other telepath's inner mind, which gave him an overwhelming advantage.

The dark figure turned slowly, and for one paralyzing moment Remi thought he'd been discovered.  But it continued to turn, and Remi realized that it was simply scanning, and that it did not see him hovering there.  Remi waited in agonized silence as he drifted slowly through the room.  He was hoping to get at least one good look at the relay before the currents pushed him out of the room on the other side.  Eventually, he did.  The relay was a man, wrapped up like a mummy in strips of black cloth.  The fire that filled the room leaked from between the strips that covered the man's chest and face, and Remi realized that he knew him.

"It's Chamber," Remi said when he finally found his way back to his own body.  He was shaken and exhausted, but he had done exactly what he'd said he would.  "It is the relay center.  Chamber's the relay."  Remi laid his head down on his arm, but kept an eye on Everett.

Everett looked back toward the compound and sighed softly.  "I'd hoped he was dead."  He put the field glasses away in the case at his hip, then turned to Remi.  "Did he notice you?"

Remi shook his head.

"Good job."  Everett turned to Rogue.  "Let's get back.  Now that we've got it pinpointed, we can start on an assault plan."  Together the three of them scooted backwards until they were well below the lip of the ridge, then went to the armored jeep that had carried them out into the desert.

#

Rachel Summers sighed tiredly and tossed another rock toward the scraggly bush that grew from a small fissure in the sandstone.  She was sitting in the meager shade provided by the run-down remains of a barn.  Jubilee, Cody and a mutant she didn't know from her own time, named Recluse, were still inside.  As she had been told, she continued to maintain the shields that should keep them hidden from the Shadow King's relay.  Rachel could sense him out there, searching.  But so far she had been able to avoid his notice.

Unfortunately, this had turned out to be another dead end.  She hoped one of the other teams was having better luck.  This was the third-- fourth?-- site they'd been to since arriving in Dallas, and all with the same result.  Rachel understood how important it was to find the new relay-- she could feel him extending his influence by the hour.  However, the process of searching was a long, tense one that left her drained.

A shadow fell over her and she looked up.  "Any luck?" she asked Cody.  He shaded his eyes as he looked down at her, then shook his head.

"Empty."  He settled on the ground beside her.  "Looks like the Shadow King might have used it for a storage depo a few years ago, but nothing more recent than that."  He leaned his head back against the faded wooden beams and closed his eyes.  Rachel was startled.  It was like he had aged years all of a sudden.  She knew he was doing his best to adapt to their new situation.  He was always the calm one, the one that helped the rest of them keep their heads when they got into trouble.  It was one of the things that had made the four of them into such close friends.  They each had characteristics that the others lacked, so they helped each other to do better than they could do on their own.  Cody was level-headed and pragmatic.  She had never seen him panic about anything.  Renee was gentle, kind and compassionate.  Remi was a leader-- quick to make choices and act on them.  And Rachel herself?  She stopped to think about it.

"You're the one that never lets us give up."  Cody didn't open his eyes as he spoke.

Rachel looked over at him in surprise.  "How did you know what I was thinking?"

Cody glanced sidelong at her.  "Since I'm not a telepath, I guess you wanted me to."

"Oh."  Suddenly uncomfortable, Rachel looked away.  Had she really been projecting?  Why?  But in her heart she knew that it had suddenly become important to her to know what Cody thought of her.  Terrified that she might be projecting that thought as well, she slapped up a wall between them and saw Cody wince.

"Geez.  Sorry.  I wasn't trying to make you mad."  Cody sounded annoyed.  He reached up to rub his temples.  Probably trying to ease the headache she'd no doubt just given him, Rachel realized.

Remorse filled her.  "No, I'm the one who should be sorry.  Here, turn around."  At her suggestion he put his back to her.  Rachel went to work on his neck and scalp, trying to erase his headache, and her own guilt.

"Is that... really what you think?" she asked after a moment.

"About what?"

"About me not giving up."

Cody straightened and turned to look at her.  "Of course."  His eyes narrowed.  "Why?"

Rachel shrugged, unable to meet his gaze.  "Because... I feel like giving up now."  She risked one quick glance up at him.  To her surprise, he was smiling wryly.

"Don't say that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to."  His expression had grown strangely solemn.

Rachel couldn't hide the surge of playful outrage she felt.  "What kind of reason is that?"

He shrugged and looked away.  Even without her powers, she knew that she'd made him angry somehow.  "Hey!  What did I say?  Cody?"

"Nothing."  But the anger in his voice was clear.

In that moment, all of Rachel's feelings of frustration and hopelessness converged.  "Cody, please.  Don't get mad at me.  I didn't mean it-- whatever I said.  I just-- I just feel so alone here."

Cody looked back at her, and Rachel found that she couldn't decipher his expression.  It was so strange.  They had been friends since before she could remember, but in the last week she felt like he was becoming someone different.  Someone she didn't know quite as well as she thought.  It wasn't bad, exactly.  In fact, it was somehow exciting and frightening at the same time.  She found herself getting lost in his gaze.

"You're not alone," he said softly and Rachel's breath froze in her lungs.  She had always had a secret soft spot in her heart for Cody, but until that moment, had never really envisioned it becoming more than that.  But as his lips touched hers, Rachel felt a ball of warmth forming inside her.  It was a release from her fear-- the knowledge that she didn't need to worry about being alone again.

Rachel blushed hotly as they separated, and Cody began to laugh.  But he reached over to hug her tightly, and Rachel was happy to stay in his embrace.

"This is insane," he murmured into her hair.

"Completely," she agreed.  But that didn't keep her from sneaking her hand into his as they stood and waited for Jubilee and Recluse to join them.

Chapter 11

Remi stared at the map spread out across one end of the long table.  Luckily, he was several inches taller than Everett, so his view from behind the older man was good.  The map, however, was hardly worth looking at.  It was only a sketchy outline of the new relay center.  Remi tried to banish the image of Chamber from his mind as he stared at the place on the map that was marked with a large "X".  But the psionic fire danced behind his eyes no matter how hard he tried to forget. 

Chamber was one of the most powerful telepaths of his generation, a fact Remi knew well because he had sparred with him on a number of occasions.  For purely psionic training, Remi had worked most with his father and Jean while he was on Earth.  But for the combination of physical and psionic combat, Chamber had been the most effective at training the young Shi'ar prince.  And because of that, Remi felt obliged to step in now, despite the guilty voice deep inside him that kept telling him that he would be helping to murder Jono.

"He's going to know we're coming," Remi told Everett.  The heated conversation that had been going on around the crowded room slowly quieted as Everett turned to look at Remi.

"How?"

Remi was uncomfortable with all of the eyes in the room fastened on him.  But he tried to keep his voice steady as he answered, "Because he can sense your brain functioning.  Unless you're completely brain-dead, he'll see you."  He shook his head at the memory.  "I could never sneak up on him."

Everett gave him an odd look.  "Then how did you keep him from seeing you yesterday?"

Remi paused.  No one but his father and Jean had ever known about Gambit's memories, and he wasn't sure he wanted to tell anyone about it now.  He didn't know how Cody and Renee might react.  "I... cheated."

Everett's eyebrows rose fractionally.  Remi chewed on his lip as he tried to decide what to tell them.  "It's a trick I know.  But it's a risk."

"How so?"

"I think I might forget who I am, if I try that again."

Everett stared at him blankly, but Mischa, Dallas' most senior telepath, had a furrow between her high drawn brows.  Rachel, too, watched him quizzically.  Everett glanced at Mischa, who simply shrugged.

"So, they'll know we're coming."  Everett's gaze swept the room.  "Now the question is, do we have the firepower to take the relay base despite that?"

Remi listened attentively as the adults drew up plans for the assault on the relay center.  He had been sitting in on such things since he was ten at his mother's insistence, and at her knee had learned a fair amount about the conquest of planets.  This raid was on a far smaller scale, but Remi found that many of the same principles applied.

"One of the things that is going to hurt us is the fact that we aren't going to get any aerial support for this."  Domino leaned across the table to tap a spot on the map.  "We're either going to have to come at them from the one direction-here-or we're going to have to find a way to take on the ground defenses."  She surveyed the room.  "Either way, just getting in is going to be expensive."

"We do have a telekinetic to give us an umbrella," Everett pointed out.  Rachel looked uncomfortable under the sudden gazes turned her way, but she nodded.

"And that's probably what we'll need to clear the ground defenses."  Domino reached up to adjust a battered purple beret.  "Still, the relay center will be a rabbit warren.  Most mutant powers aren't going to be worth squat down in there."

Everett looked like he was beginning to get annoyed.  "Are you saying we shouldn't try to take it?"

Domino shook her head.  "No.  Of course not."  She sighed.  "I'm just wishing out loud for a way to make them come to us."

"We have four telepaths now, including an Omega-- supposedly," said a young blond man on the far side of the table.  Remi bristled at his scathing tone.  "Between them, they should be able to kill Jono before anyone steps foot in the relay center.  We could waltz in and take the place easy, then."

Remi found himself staring at the other man.  His words held a deep-seated bitterness that was disturbing in someone so young.  He couldn't have been more than ten years Remi's senior.  Remi felt like he should recognize him, but he couldn't find a familiar face behind the patchwork of scars.  The most noticeable was a saucer shaped indentation in the side of his head.  The skin covering it was dark and wrinkled.  Wispy blond hair grew in a few places, but for the most part, the scar was bare.

"Who is that?"  Remi asked Everett in an undertone.

"Franklin Richards."

Remi recognized him immediately, and was stunned.  The version he knew was vastly different.  "What happened to him?"

Everett didn't look at him.  "The Shadow King had his powers cauterized."  Then he raised his voice to address the group.  "A relay can draw on as many of his fellow relays as he needs to.  I don't think our four can overcome him on sheer strength alone."

"Someone will still have to get to him physically."  Mischa chewed on her lip.  She was a tall, stern-looking woman, but Remi had taken an immediate liking to her.  She was very forthright-something he was coming to value.  "Perhaps we have enough power here to distract him."  Her gaze was fastened on the table as if she were voicing her thoughts as they came to her.  "The Hounds will be disorganized if the relay is too busy to hold them in check.  We might have more luck with a small team."

There was a murmur of discussion.  Remi turned to Mischa.  "By 'distract', you mean me, right?"

She nodded.  "I mean you.  With me for backup, of course, but I'm not powerful enough to really threaten a relay.  You are."  She watched him for a moment, her expression contemplative.  "If you're willing."

"I... don't think I could kill him," Remi finally answered.

"Neither do I."  Her smile was warm.  "But if you can convince him that you both can and will, given the chance, we can hope he'll drop everything else until he feels safe again."

"Killing Jono will be my responsibility."  Everett's expression was grim.  He turned back to study the map, as if he couldn't stand to hold Remi's gaze.  Maybe that wasn't so surprising, Remi thought.  They were close friends in his own time, and in this one too, it seemed. What would it be like to have to kill a friend, Remi wondered, and shuddered.  He never wanted to find out.

They spent the rest of the day hammering out the assault plan.  The insertion team would consist of Everett, Domino, Rogue and Cody.  To Remi's surprise, Rogue had argued long and loud against including Cody.  She had flatly denied any personal reasons beyond not wanting to risk the life of someone so young on an uncertain mission.  Remi didn't think that anyone believed her, but he was glad to see Rogue acting a little more like the woman he knew.  It was reassuring, somehow.

When the planning was finally done, he and Cody walked together toward the barracks where they had been given bunks.  The attack was set for the day after tomorrow, leaving the two boys less than forty-eight hours to prepare.  Remi felt like he was caught up in a whirlwind of events that he could not control.  Ever since they had landed in this timeline, they had been bouncing from place to place and battle to battle.  He still had no answers for his questions about the paradox that should have unmade them all.  No explanation for the timewave that had destroyed his home and his life.

Cody must have heard his frustrated sigh.  He glanced over at Remi, his expression pale.  "Are we really going to do this?"

Remi stopped and looked up at the wide Texas sky, sprinkled with stars.  It was an impossibly beautiful sight for such an ugly world.  "I don't know," he answered, truthfully.  "I guess it's time for us to decide if we're going to join this war."  He looked over at Cody.  "Since I was a little boy, people have been telling me that I would someday be responsible for billions of lives.  That I had to learn everything I could, and practice, so that when the day came, I wouldn't let those people down."  He looked back up at the stars.  He didn't want to, but he knew what his decision had to be.  "I guess tomorrow I'll start finding out if I learned enough."

Cody unclipped the pin that Everett had given him that evening and held it in his palm, studying it.  Made of simple aluminum, the pin was an "X", framed by a circle.  He started to laugh raggedly.

"What?"  Remi asked.

Cody looked over at him.  "I just realized that I got my slot."  He held up the pin.  "The X-Men."  The X-Men had only needed one mutant to fill their ranks when graduation had come around, and Cody had been determined that that one would be him.  Though, truthfully, Cody had been talking about growing up to be an X-Man like his father since the day he'd learned to talk.

Remi reached up to finger the pin attached to his collar.  It was identical to Cody's.  Fate was strange sometimes, Remi thought.  He was not Gambit, and never would be, but somehow he, too, had become an X-Man.

#

Much later that night, while the Dallas enclave lay silent save for the sentries who walked the walls and manned the radar, the Shadow King's forces attacked.

On a low hill nearly a mile distant, the air shimmered, forming the appearance of a giant face.  The Gamemaster watched the first explosion send a ball of fire rolling skyward and nodded in satisfaction.  The Shadow King had done what he expected with the information the Gamemaster had given him.  Another turn of the game was being played out in keeping with his plan.

Actually, this part was proving to be a simple matter.  There was little challenge to maneuvering the Shadow King.  He was brute—nothing more.  His sheer strength made him attractive, but he was not fit to survive.  And the other one—the boy.  After the long years of working with the Witness, of manipulations so subtle that even that canny fox had not realized he was being played, moving the boy Remi around the gameboard was nothing.  The Witness had been the only one who could have ruined his plans.  Now that he was safely lost in the cycling of timelines, there was little that could thwart the Gamemaster's final victory.  He had only to see the game through to its conclusion.

There was, of course, a small chance that the boy would be killed.  The Gamemaster didn't find that likely, though.  It was a risk he simply had to accept.  It was a rule of the game.  But he was confident that, even in this incarnation, the boy would prove to be the survivor he had always been.

A smile appeared on the shimmering face as the Gamemaster settled in to watch his play unfold.

Chapter 12

Remi jerked awake, convinced that the burning remains of a building were falling all around him.  But the image of fire falling on the rows of plush red seats was immediately overwhelmed by the peaceful interior of the darkened barracks.  Cody lay on the next bunk over, sleeping, and Remi heaved a quiet sigh.  What a horrible nightmare!

Then an incredibly bright flash of white light through the windows blinded him.  The flash was immediately followed by a booming roar that shook the building so hard it nearly tossed Remi out of bed.  He felt the blast through his mutant power as pieces of one of the corner towers flew outward.   Then the graying dawn was filled with cries and sudden chaos as the people all around him leapt up, grabbing clothes and weapons.

Remi felt the contact of John, Dallas' Guardian, as he was frantically lacing up his boot.  A second explosion, this time inside the compound, nearly drowned out the voice in his head.  Remi glanced over at Cody.  John's voice was inhumanly calm as he directed the two young mutants, but Remi was unsurprised by their assignments-Cody was to join Rogue, who was already airborne over the burning enclave, and Remi was to report to Everett in the command center.

They said nothing as Cody set Remi down gently in front of the command center.  There was no time for goodbyes, or for the vocal bravado that was the X-Men's hallmark.  Already there were bodies in the street, and Remi could feel others dying around him.  In that moment, he wished very much that he wasn't a telepath-that he could be deaf to the minds and deaf to the pain.  Cody lifted off immediately, rocketing towards the tiny green dot that was Rogue.  The wake of his gravity field left Remi reeling for a moment, but then he shook off the effect and ducked into the command center.

A psi shield coalesced over the city as Rachel put her powers to use.  Remi could feel it, like an iridescent soap bubble arching over his head.  He knew the shield was far stronger than it appeared, but telekinetic shields always felt so thin to him.  Briefly, Remi wondered how long Rachel would be able to hold out.  He could feel her strain as each bomb detonated against the shield.  And Dallas was a big place.  He was almost certain she'd never tried to cover several square miles of area before.

Everett nodded to Remi as he walked up.  Everett was standing in front of a rather crude electronic tactical display, but Remi picked out the outline of their walls along with the symbols representing the enemy closing in on them.  The mass of little triangles that crept ever closer was alarming.  Domino and Everett had their heads together over the display, planning, along with a small group of people that Remi recognized as Everett's command core.

"Rachel is well trained," remarked Mischa.  Her gaze was distant, and Remi could sense her on the astral plane, lending support to Rachel.

"Where is she, anyway?" he asked.  His kinetic power couldn't cope with the hundreds of people rushing around outside well enough to let him pick out one individual.  For that reason, crowds had always made him nervous.  It was just too much motion.

Mischa blinked and returned more fully to her body.  "The north tower.  She's got a good view of the city from there."

"The most valuable thing she can do is buy us some time to knock out their aircraft.  We don't have any other defense from those bombing runs."  Everett looked up from his conversation.  "Any chance you can help out there?"  He looked to Remi.

Remi shook his head, despite the ever increasing fear of going out into a real battle.  What little he'd seen already was enough to scare him.  "Not really," he answered, trying to conceal his feelings.  "Cody can do a lot more good against fighters than I can.  I should probably be out there--" he pointed to the appropriate place on the display, "with the ground assault vehicles."  To demonstrate, he pulled out a thin throwing spike and charged it, tossing it into the air where it exploded with an impressive bang for the closed space.

"How many powers does this kid have?" he heard Domino mutter to the man beside her.  Remi tried to ignore her, but the slight hint of fear in her voice rubbed on an old nerve.  Whenever someone learned about his powers, no matter who they were, there was always that... space.  Like they were afraid of him.  Of what he could do.  Cody understood, because he felt it too.  He had the power to send a sun nova.  But Remi could do far worse, and they both knew it.  Even his parents had a very healthy respect for his powers.  Remi had never asked, because he was afraid to, but he often wondered if he might find some of that fear in them, too.

"What about that black disk of yours?"  Everett either did not hear, or was ignoring, Domino's comment.

Remi shrugged.  "Not fast enough to get fighters.  They'll just fly around it because their maneuvering rates are so high."

Everett accepted his assessment with a brief expression of disappointment.  "All right.  Then I think I'm going to hand you off to Commander Azet.  He's running this light armored cav unit."  Everett tapped the display screen.  "They're setting up on the flank of the main assault group.  Primary targets are the Sentinels, which I know you can handle."

Remi studied the display again.  He counted fourteen Sentinels, each surrounded by a swarm of smaller vehicles-possibly the Mechs he'd heard of, and ground troops.

"The only objective is to keep them away from the city."  Everett's gaze pierced him, and Remi nodded.  Inside the city, they had only the Guardian and a few mechanized defenses.  If the Shadow King's forces made it that far, Dallas was lost.

"Good."  Everett gripped his shoulder.  "You'd better get out there.  John will handle all telepathic traffic, so you should go through him or Azet rather than making direct contact."

"Right."  Gathering his courage, Remi left the command center and worked his way toward the east wall of the city, where Commander Azet was waiting for him.

#

Cody dove away from the two missiles that tracked him, accelerating groundward.  The missiles followed suit, and Cody checked over his shoulder to see how much they'd gained on him.  In the air, they were a good deal faster than he was.  However, he thought with a grin as he dropped toward one of the Sentinels, those missiles couldn't make a forty-g turn.  Cody counted the seconds carefully, trying to gauge his own speed approaching the Sentinel, and the speed at which the missiles were approaching him.  Just as he was about to slam into the armored robot, he executed a maneuver that literally no other person or machine on the planet could manage and bounced away on a new trajectory like a rubber ball.  Unable to turn in time, the missiles flew into the shoulder of the Sentinel, staggering it as they exploded.

As Cody rose again, he spotted Rogue in the distance.  She was little but a green streak, dancing with the cloud of fighters that surrounded her.  Cody wasn't exactly sure what to think of his mother in this incarnation.  She was presently taking a brute force approach to their assignment of destroying the fighter aircraft that swarmed over the skies of Dallas.  Literally, she was chasing them down one at a time and then smashing into them, like a Kamikazi pilot of old.

Cody snagged a fighter that streaked by him in a gravitational well.  It felt a bit like hanging on to the reins of a runaway horse.  The fighters had the advantage of momentum-they were heavy and moving very fast, which translated into a lot of energy for Cody to absorb before he could grab hold of the things and crush them.  But, with a little practice and some common sense, he had learned that he didn't need to snag the planes for more than a moment-- just long enough to snap the wings.

Cody watched the suddenly de-winged plane cartwheel across the sky and then went looking for another target.  He had managed to stop thinking about the pilots that were in those planes, at least for the nonce.  When the city was safe he would have time to worry about his conscience.

#

Renee clung grimly to the sides of the bouncing jeep as the vehicle roared toward the wall of approaching Sentinels.  Mechs surrounded the giants' feet like a cloud of gnats.  This close, the Shadow King's weaponry was terrifying.  Already, the jeep's driver was forced to swerve and dodge as laser fire fell on them.  A cannon mounted on the back of the jeep returned fire.  Renee could feel the heat coming off the coil a few feet behind her, but didn't dare look back for fear that the flash of the laser would blind her at such close range.  Across from Renee sat a woman that she had always called "Aunt Kitty".  But Kitty Pryde was a stranger in this time.  She was a grim soldier whose assignment was to protect Renee.  Kitty gripped her weapon and stared resolutely forward, her close cropped hair unmoved by the rushing wind.  Renee briefly envied her the haircut.  Her own hair fell to the middle of her back, and was heavy and coarse like her father's.  Now, it whipped about her face in a frenzy that she could barely see through.  She hadn't had time to find anything to tie it back with.

Renee bit her lip.  This little vehicle was just one of many that were rushing headlong toward the Sentinels.  They were part of the first wave of defense from Dallas, and Everett had sent Renee with them because she could save lives, especially here where the fighting would be thickest.  Kitty's ability to render them both intangible should be enough to protect Renee from any direct attack, but she was still scared.

They were so close now that even the Mechs loomed over them.  They had squarish bodies mounted on long legs which bent the wrong way at the knees.  A large gun turret topped the vehicle, its stubby cannon barrel resembling a nose, in Renee's opinion.  The whole thing together looked like nothing so much as a giant mechanical kiwi bird.  But its five-story height and the way the ground shuddered beneath its feet kept it from seeming silly.  The Sentinels themselves were so huge that Renee could no longer really see their heads.  Like skyscrapers, they seemed to obscure the sky, leaving the battlefield in shadow.  And all Renee could really think about was how much she wanted to go home.

"Get ready!" Kitty shouted at her over the wind noise.  "We're getting off now."

Renee nodded.  The driver could not afford the time to stop to let them get out, so the two of them would have to jump off the jeep so as to stay just behind the main conflict. That way, they could go wherever they were needed, but hopefully be placed at slightly less risk.  As Kitty climbed up to crouch on the side of the jeep, Renee copied her.  They jumped at the same time.  Renee hit the ground and rolled, choking in the cloud of dust kicked up by the tires.  Other vehicles roared past her as she climbed to her feet and pulled out her bo staff.  The length of silver metal was a comfortable weight in her hands.  Kitty looked at her oddly as she tucked the butt of an automatic weapon against her hip in a ready position.

"Stay close," she admonished Renee.  "I can't protect you if you're out of reach."

Renee nodded and moved a little closer.  Ahead of them, the mixed assortment of vehicles from Dallas hit the first line of Mechs.  The smaller, more maneuverable ones, such as the jeeps, dodged between the Mechs' feet and then opened fire on the machines from behind.  The heavier vehicles were mostly covered trucks.  They stopped just short of the advancing Mechs, and out of their backs poured tiny armored forms-men and women in power armor.  They rose into the sky, the miniature rocket packs trailing twin jets of fire as they maneuvered to attack the Mechs with powerful hand held weapons.  Those who were mutants also brought their powers to bear, but Dallas had always been a small enclave, and the mutant population was small and relatively underpowered.

Renee watched as the Mechs turned to deal with the more threatening laser cannons that fired at their backs, only to find themselves unable to fend off the soldiers in power armor that landed atop them, mining the gun turrets.  Kitty cheered as the Mechs began to blow up.  Often, the explosions did not completely destroy the Mech, but with its weapons system disabled, it was reduced to trying to flatten soldiers and trucks beneath its mammoth feet.

Then Renee had no more time to watch the battle as she and Kitty caught up to the first of the damage.  A jeep lay on its side, the laser cannon and mount melted to slag.  The rear tire was on fire, exuding a thin line of black smoke into the air.  Two still forms lay on the ground next to the overturned vehicle.  Renee's stomach twisted at the carnage, but she forced herself to kneel beside the first soldier.  She didn't bother to check for a pulse, but simply laid her palms against his skin.   If he was still alive, he would respond to her powers.  After a moment, she pulled her hands away.  The man was dead.  Shaking, she wiped his blood off on the fabric of her pants, and went on to the next.

#

Rachel bit her lip against crying out as another fighter dove into her shield.  The Shadow Queen had given up on the aerial battle, and had turned her remaining aircraft into missiles aimed at the functional center of Dallas-the Guardian.  Cody and Rogue were still up there, destroying as many as they could, but every airplane they missed was a fifty ton missile that Rachel had to deflect.  John and Mischa were both lending her all the support then could, but neither were telekinetics.  John had admitted to having some very small telekinetic ability, but the vast majority of the burden fell on Rachel.

As if in the distance, Rachel could hear the telepathic babble that was John relaying information, hundreds of different conversations, all at the same time.  Trying to sort some of it out helped to distract her from the pain of keeping the psi shield up over the city.  She was unaware of how much time had passed since the battle had begun.  It might have been hours or days or only minutes.  Her private fear was that it had only been a few moments, and she was still facing an unguessable time of agony until it would be safe to lower the shield.  John was her anchor, even more than Mischa.  Rachel couldn't say why, but there was something familiar about John-something that evoked feelings of warmth, comfort and security.   She didn't even know him, really.  He had seemed uninterested in visitors when they'd arrived in Dallas, and had not responded to Rachel's somewhat reluctant overtures.  But now, as she clung to his vast psyche and sucked in the power that he lent her, she felt like she was curling up in one of her big brother's warm flannel shirts, as she had done as a little girl.  It was his power and his support that allowed Rachel to push her own powers so far beyond their normal limits.

Rachel felt John's warning on a level that transcended speech and tried to brace herself.  Another fighter was diving toward the building that housed John's body.  It spiraled toward the earth, afterburners on full as the Shadow Queen drove her hound to suicide in an attempt to break the shield.  Rachel was aware of the Queen's malevolent presence, and it felt like a tiny portion of her mind had been rubbed raw where Storm's psyche impinged on hers.

Rachel screamed in agony as the fighter hit her shield.  The psi shield buckled and Rachel grasped desperately at it, trying to force it back into place.  Her awareness narrowed to encompass only that one thing.  John's presence in her mind was rock-steady, a wall that she could put her back against as she struggled with the trembling shield.  But then a second fighter slammed into the shield, following directly on the tail of the first.  Rachel had no warning from John, and the already fragile psi shield shattered under the impact.  Reeling, she was barely aware of the bright explosion less than a quarter mile away, but John's scream drove through her brain like a spike.  His pain rolled over her in nauseating waves.  She was dimly aware of the heat of the burning jet fuel, and the distancing effect of John's physical shock.  Frightened, she tried to pull away from him as his consciousness dimmed.  Cold began to creep in, replacing the heat of the fire, though she knew it continued to burn, and the pain lessened in merciful degrees.  Instinctively, Rachel cut the ties that attached her mind to John's, snapping back into her own body with a jolt.  She knew the dangers of remaining mindlinked.

Crying silently, Rachel watched from a distance as the Guardian of Dallas died.

#

Remi staggered, instinctively throwing the charged spikes in his hand before they could explode, but his mind was numb.  With the Guardian's death, the telepathic shield that covered the inhabitants of Dallas was destroyed and they were left without protection from the Shadow King's relay.  Jono's presence filled Remi's mind like a sudden flood of sewage.  Remi floundered for a moment, stunned by the assault, but then he began to forge telepathic shields around himself strong enough to withstand it.  Jono's attack was straightforward-- he triggered the worst things he could find in Remi.  His fear, anger, frustration and loss, pushing those emotions to their limits.  As Remi's shields rose into place, he felt like he had suddenly stepped into a hole of sanity.  All too clearly he understood the Shadow King's power now.  Jono's control of him had lasted less than a second, but in that moment Remi had felt more helpless than ever before in his life.

He dodged a volley of laser fire, returning charged spikes.  He was immensely grateful for the long hours of training that had kept his body moving, protecting him from the physical threat of the Mechs that closed on him.  Around him, though, the men and women of Azet's command were reacting to the Shadow King's telepathic influence.  They had forgotten their targets, and Remi could hear the hateful thoughts that suddenly surrounded him.  Soldiers who had been friends for years suddenly remembered every little wrong ever done them, and Jono's presence in their minds encouraged them to take revenge, inflicting damage on anyone they could find in order to satisfy the need for justice.  Remi watched in horror as the muzzle of a nearby cannon begin to swing toward its neighbor.  Without the Guardian, Remi realized, the Shadow King didn't even need his army.  He could force the men and women of Dallas to destroy themselves and each other.

Desperately, he reached for the minds around him, pushing against the black miasma that Jono poured into them.  It became a contest of wills.  Remi clung to the knowledge that the people around him would die if he did not continue to fight, and he tried not to remember the Mechs that drew ever closer.  With his attention taken almost entirely by Jono, he had only his training and reflexes to protect him.  For perhaps the first time in his life, Remi was afraid that he was going to die.

Gritting his teeth, he forced his thoughts away from his fear and concentrated on resisting the telepathic assault.  The sooner he pushed Jono away, the sooner he would be able to think about the Mechs, and the better his chances of survival would become.  Driven by that thought, he poured every ounce of power he had into his defense.  He felt Jono's surprise as the relay was forced to give way, eventually surrendering the area around Azet to Remi. 

Remi tried not to crow as he drove Jono away from a widening circle of minds.  He also became more aware of his physical surroundings and was shocked to see two of the Mechs that had been attacking him lying in heaps on the bare Texas dirt.  The others continued their attack, but a withering volley of laser fire from Azet's cavalry unit was holding them at bay.  The realization that he had been completely unaware of his physical surroundings for some unknown period time shook him.

"Easy, kid.  You're doing great."  Everett clamped a hand on his shoulder, and Remi felt the unique sensation of Everett synching to his powers.  He had no idea when the older man had arrived, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it had been a while.

"Now, lets see if the two of us will be enough to keep the Shadow King out of all our minds."  Everett smiled grimly at him.

It was more than a little strange, Remi thought, to be combining telepathic abilities with someone who was basically borrowing a copy of his powers.  But the mesh worked well, and together they continued to expand the area of protection.

#

Rachel gave Remi a mental hug of pure relief as he helped her to push back the Shadow King's influence and clear her mind.  After the trauma of the destruction of her telekinetic shields, she was frighteningly weak, but she managed to take up the burden of holding Jono at bay.  Remi waited for a moment to make sure that she was all right, and then she felt him moving on, spreading his protective telepathic bubble even further.  She had no idea how much he would be able to do-- he couldn't replace John, no matter how powerful a telepath because his mind simply couldn't handle the traffic.  She had no idea if Dallas' army could function without their communication net.  Even if Remi could keep Jono from influencing any of them, they were still in a lot of danger.

Mischa's mental shout of warning set Rachel's heart to pounding.  Her eyes snapped open to the sight of a dozen missile trails tracking toward the city.  The seemed to have a number of different targets, but Rachel knew that at least a few of them were coming for her.  With a sob, she tried to invoke another psi shield to protect the city, but her mind spasmed, as if it were a muscle she had abused.  She clamped her hands to her head in protest of the pain, and succeeded only in erecting a small shield around herself.  The missiles rained around her, the explosions tossing her around in her psi bubble like so much chaff.  Metal and cement erupted all around her as the tower that had been her perch disintegrated, plunging Rachel into darkness.

#

Renee squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation as the foot of the giant Sentinel came down on top of them.  Kitty's hand was locked around her forearm.  Renee knew that she should be safe, but still she flinched as the gray metal expanse completely blackened her vision.  But then it was past, and all Renee could see around her was darkness, and the slightly luminous form of Kitty beside her.

Then the darkness was gone as the Sentinel continued on its way, unhindered by the two small mutants beneath its feet.  They returned to solid form, and Renee could once again feel the ground vibrating beneath her feet at the steps of the giant.  She slipped and fell to her knees.  Little grew on the dirt plain surrounding Dallas, but what little had been there was now crushed into pulp by the weight of the Sentinel.  It was a slick goo beneath her gloved fingertips.

Kitty offered a hand to help her up, and Renee accepted it gratefully.  Then they turned away from the line of Sentinels.  Their passage left nothing but devastation behind.  Overturned vehicles and pieces of Mechs littered the ground, mixed with the bodies of the dead and wounded.  Most were hounds, but far too many were from Dallas.  Renee broke into a trot as she spied a man sitting propped against the side of a collapsed Mech.  He was drinking sloppily from a canteen and turned in surprise at the women's approach.

"Kitty," he acknowledged her with a wave of the canteen.

Kitty smiled.  "Hey, Jack."  She knelt down beside him, patted his shoulder.  "Today's you're lucky day."  Renee settled to her knees on his far side, unnoticed.

Jack turned a sour grin on Kitty.  "Guess so.  I'm still alive."  He winced as Renee began to pull the cloth of his uniform away from his blood-covered abdomen.  "Who're you?"

Renee looked up at him in surprise at his sharp tone.  "I'm Renee."  She finished clearing the wound.  "Now just relax.  This won't hurt."  She laid one hand flat against his chest and carefully laid the other one across the exposed lip of flesh.  He jerked at the sting of her light touch, but as her powers kicked in he relaxed, watching her in something akin to wonder.  When she was done, she sat back and rubbed at the blood on her hand self-consciously.  She was very aware of his stare, but she couldn't raise her eyes to meet his.

Jack touched his stomach gingerly.  "That's amazing.  What did you say your name was?"

"Renee."  She risked a quick glance up at him and found him smiling at her.  Renee wasn't sure how to respond.  His smile sent a thrill through her.  He was a young man, handsome beneath the grime.  Despite the inhibitor collar she wore at home, Renee was still deeply uncertain about touching people.  But this was a different situation.  It was one of the only times in her life she had touched another person's skin without even a shadow of fear.

An explosion on the city wall and Remi's mental cry brought Renee to her feet.  Through him, she knew what had happened.

"No!  Rachel!"  She grabbed Kitty's arm.  "We have to go!"

"Where?"  Kitty protested as the taller girl dragged her several steps across the hard packed dirt.

"Dallas."

"Are you crazy?"  Kitty dug her heels in and jerked her arm out of Renee's grasp.  "The Shadow King's whole army is between us and there!"

Renee turned to stare at her as Jack climbed slowly to his feet.  "She's right, you know," he said.

"But she could die!"  Renee was almost in tears.  Rachel was the only close female friend Renee had ever had.  The four of them had been together since they were children—even with Remi spending half of his time on Chandilar, it had seemed like they were always together.  The thought of losing a piece of the only family she had left terrified her, beyond anything she could explain to the two soldiers.

Jack gave her a sympathetic look.  "There are people dying out here, too, girl."  He bent down to pick up his rifle.  "And they probably need you just as bad as your friend over there."

Renee looked back toward Dallas.  She could barely see the walls through the line of advancing Sentinels and the haze of smoke that covered the plain.  Lasers lanced through the fog as the battle continued.  Renee tried to reach out to Remi, but he was struggling to hold the Shadow King at bay, and could only send her a brief message that Cody was still all right and that he didn't know about Rachel.

Renee tried to swallow her tears, and turned back to Jack and Kitty.  She knew what was right—what Cyclops or any of the other X-Men would do.  She nodded.

Jack gave her another glimpse of his dazzling smile and motioned her in the direction of the nearest wreckage.  As she stepped up beside him, he asked, "So, has anyone given you a mutant name yet?"

Puzzled, she shook her head.  She would have taken a mutant name when she graduated, though she'd never really found anything she felt belonged to her.  But he wouldn't have known that.

"Ya mind if I give you one?"

Renee kept her gaze fixed on the burning pile of metal ahead of them.  "What is it?"

"Nightengale."

Kitty chuckled appreciatively, and even Renee had to smile.  Florence Nightengale had always been one of her favorite heroines.  She used to make Hank read the story to her over and over, until the day he refused, insisting that she should now read it to him.  She risked a sidelong glance at Jack.

"I like it.  Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Strangely, the name bolstered her, just by its mere existence.  Perhaps it was psychological, but she suddenly felt as if she had truly graduated.  That she was an adult.  And that she had become an X-Man.

#

Cody watched the tower dissolve into a cloud of dust and fire, a scream of rage locked in his throat.  He had seen Rachel's slim form standing there only moments before, and now there was nothing.  Instinctively, he reached for the only person who could tell him what he had to know.

Remi!  Where is she?  Can you hear her?!  He looped sharply across the battlefield, searching for Remi's position on the ground.  He spotted the signature streaks of Remi's kinetically charged spikes and dipped lower.

No, I can't.  Remi's answer was distant.  Most of his attention was focused on Jono.  But I wasn't in contact when the tower blew up.  Cody felt a brush of Remi's mind, encouraging him to hold on to hope.  I know she had a shield up.  She could just be unconscious.

Cody grabbed hold of one of the innumerable Mechs with his powers and crumpled it with a wordless cry.  She had to be alive.  Somehow.  But in his heart he didn't have Remi's faith.  He was a realist by nature, and he had been watching people die-- had been killing people-- since the battle had begun.  If Rachel were dead, the Shadow King was going to pay dearly for her life.

He rocketed skyward, ignoring the mental voice that called after him.  Spying a target, he concentrated on developing a local gravity well around the midriff of the nearest Sentinel.  Fueled by his anger, the well deepened until the Sentinel simply folded in half, unable to withstand the forces pulling against it.  A ragged cheer floated up from the haze, but Cody didn't hear it.  He turned his attention to the next robot, treating it in exactly the same manner as the first.

A sharp stab of pain sent him tumbling.  He whirled, looking for the source of the attack, instinctively strengthening the gravity bubble that not only held him aloft, but also protected him.  Another flash of pain, this time accompanied by a familiar blinding light.  He turned as his vision cleared to find the Shadow Queen floating a mere fifty yards away.  Her long white hair whipped around her face, and her eyes were alight with an unholy glee.  Jagged streaks of lightning burst from her fingertips.  They struck Cody full on.  His gravity bubble bent the lightning around him, forming a ball of blue and then dissipating back into the atmosphere.  But the conflict between the lightning and his gravitational fields was a war of powerful natural forces, fueled only by the wills of the two combatants.  Cody found that he did not have the strength to battle Storm's savagery.  Her lightning struck like hot irons on his skin, driving him away.  He tried to retaliate with a gravity well to crush her, but her determination was as strong as the woman he had known in his own time.  She continued to pound him despite the pressure that forced the air from her lungs and threatened to snap her bones.

Finally, Cody's bubble collapsed under the unrelenting assault.  He tumbled out of the sky, catching himself only a few dozen feet off the ground.  He managed to slow his descent to a reasonable level, staggering in like a damaged aircraft.  The Shadow Queen, apparently satisfied by her victory, held her altitude and turned toward the walls surrounding Dallas.

Chapter 13

Remi touched Renee's mind lightly, trying to get an idea of her location.  There were so many people and machines, moving in too many directions, for Remi's spatial power to keep up.  

Can you see Cody? he asked her.  I think he's coming down behind the Sentinels.

Her response was a jolt of panic.  Is he all right?  He felt her searching the smoke-obscured sky.

Remi hastened to reassure her.   Pretty much.  The Shadow Queen hit him hard.  Remi felt strange talking about his best friend so impersonally.  It didn't change how much he cared about him, or the others, and his fear for their safety—especially Rachel, who he still could not find—was a hard knot in his stomach.  But the battle raging around him and the unrelenting assault by the Shadow King's relay forced Remi to think about his friends in terms of their powers, and how they could be used to defend Dallas.  Right now, they needed Cody to destroy the Sentinels.  If Renee could get to him, whatever damage the Shadow Queen had done would be healed, and Cody would be back in the air.

The eight remaining Sentinels had very nearly reached the walls of the city.  Remi could destroy them with his disk, but he would have to drop the psi shield protecting the people around him from Jono to do it.  He didn't think Everett could maintain it alone, and he wasn't about to suggest that Ev try to synch his time portal.  He had no idea what kind of control Everett would be able to maintain.

"Do you have anything else that could take down those Sentinels?"  Remi asked Everett, who shook his head.

"Nothing.  The Shadow King's never bothered with us before."  Remi could see the lines of exhaustion etched into his face.  "Somehow, they must have found out that you four were here.  I can't image any other reason for him to send this kind of force at us."

"This is all because of us?"

Everett gave him a sympathetic look, but didn't answer.  Remi pushed the thought away.  He didn't want it to be true, and he didn't have time to think about it.  Instead he touched Cody's mind.  Renee had just reached him.  Remi felt the flood of vigor her healing brought and smiled at the vicarious lift it gave his own flagging spirits.

Ready to take on some more Sentinels? he asked.

Storm'll come after me again.  Remi could hear the reluctance in his mental tone as he shied away from the painful subject.

I know.  I'm going to see what Rogue can do to buy you some time.  We have to destroy those Sentinels.

"It looks like we may have bigger problems than that."  Everett had remained linked in to the conversation through his mesh with Remi.  He pointed toward Dallas.  The Shadow Queen was rising slowly above the city, a limp form in her arms. 

Remi saw the trail of red hair and knew who it had to be.  "Rachel," he breathed.  He turned to Everett.  "What is she going to do with her?"

"She would make a powerful relay."  Everett's expression was bleak.

Noooo!  Cody's scream echoed in Remi's mind as the other boy launched himself into the air.  Remi felt his desperate mix of fury and terror, driven by a special affection that Remi had been unaware of.  Cody rocketed over their heads, a dark blur dodging between the arms of the Sentinels.  Storm noticed his approach and switched to holding Rachel by her long hair.  A small corner of Remi's mind acknowledged that that was a smart move on Storm's part.  All together like that, Rachel's hair would not rip or tear like her clothes could.  And now Storm had a hand free to fire jagged lightning bolts at Cody.

Remi reached for Rachel's mind, but found nothing.  She was still unconscious, and swung limply in the Shadow Queen's grasp.  Cody avoided the lightning this time, jigging from side to side under the incredible accelerations that his powers allowed.  Realizing that she was not going to be able to hit him, Storm started to move away, but she reacted too slowly.  Cody slammed into her, sending them both reeling across the sky.

Remi watched them struggle with a feeling of helplessness.  There was nothing he could do to help as they grappled for Rachel.  The shield holding Jono away was a constant exertion that took nearly all of his ability to maintain.  He could not mount enough of a psi attack to reach Storm through the influence of the Shadow King himself in her mind.  Mishca did not have that kind of power either.  And so he could only watch.  More than a mile away, Renee copied him, her mind still lightly linked to his as she watched her brother in mounting terror.

Remi heard Everett reach out to Rogue, calling her away from the Sentinels that she had been harrying.  Her tiny green form arrowed across the sky toward Cody and Storm.

Something alerted the Shadow Queen to Rogue's approach.  Storm glanced over at the approaching woman, then kicked viciously at Cody.  She landed a hard blow that staggered him and allowed her to break away.  Cutting her winds, she drew Rachel up against her chest, almost hugging the girl's head, and together they plummeted toward the ground.

Cody recovered and dove after them, and Rogue's course dipped as she aimed to intercept the falling pair near the ground.  But just as Rogue reached her destination beneath the two, the Shadow Queen released Rachel, darted to the side and then began to rise, her hair streaming above her head.  Rachel continued to fall as Rogue came up beneath her, catching her neatly.  Cody dropped down beside them, the retreating Shadow Queen momentarily forgotten.  But Remi's initial wash of relief was drowned in a rush of horror, followed by fury as Cody's thoughts relayed to him what the Shadow Queen had done.  Remi knew before he reached once more for Rachel's mind that she was dead.  The Shadow Queen had slit her throat.  Through Cody, the image was burned into Remi's mind, and inside him, something snapped.

Without warning, he dumped the telepathic shield entirely on Everett, not particularly caring whether the other man would be able to maintain it or not.  The Shadow Queen was still rising, though he rate was slowing since there was no pursuit.  But even if she had been flying away at her best speed, that would not have protected her from Remi.  With a cry that was half scream, half sob, he launched a portal next to the Shadow Queen.  She saw it and veered sharply away, but Remi simply turned it loose and the humming black disk exploded across the sky.  The edge caught Storm and passed through her as if she were nothing.  It was that easy.  Remi stared in numb horror as the pieces tumbled out of the sky.  He was appalled at himself, terrified by the emotions that had just pushed him to murder.

"Remi!  Control that thing!"  Everett was shaking him, his eyes frightened.  The disk was still growing, blocking out the sky.  Remi wasn't certain if he could control it, or if he even wanted to try.  In the blink of an eye, his entire world had changed.  Not the world around him, but the world inside.  He had changed-- irrevocably.  The things that he had found in himself in that single moment sickened him.  He sank to his knees, vomiting, and felt Everett's strong arms around him.

Then a roar of pure animal rage slammed through his mind as the Shadow King reacted to the death of his wife.  The pain of it was like a slap in the face, and it helped Remi to come back to himself.  Instinctively, he tried to raise shields against the Shadow King's presence in his mind, but he had too much power invested in the portal, which was still expanding at a frightening rate.  Desperately, he took control of the disk, halting its growth.  He needed the shields though, not only to protect himself but to keep the Shadow King from burning out the minds of the people of Dallas in his rage.  Remi knew he didn't have the time or the energy to dismantle the portal and then raise shields.  So he tried an experiment, transferring his power directly from one phenomena to the other.  To his surprise, he found that it was actually a little bit easier.  Taking down a portal on sheer will alone was a painfully intensive task.  Simply reshaping the forces into something else was easier, and did not require that he pull all of that energy down inside himself.

The black disk winked out as Remi finished solidifying the shield.  He clung to it as the Shadow King himself battered at the telepathic surface, seeking a way in.  All of the hurt and guilt and self-loathing Remi felt were pushed to the edges of his mind where they lurked, like tiny predators waiting to pounce.  But he refused to give in to them, to let them distract him.  The only thing he could do that would be worse than what he had already done, would be to allow the Shadow King to harm any of these people.  So he held grimly to the shields under the combined assault of the Shadow King and his relay, barely aware of the people and voices around him.  Time ceased to have any meaning for him.  He did not care if he stayed like this until someone came along and killed him.  No one else was going to die because of him.

#

Everett stared at Remi in concern.  His eyes had glazed completely, though Mischa said that he was maintaining the shield that kept them free from the Shadow King.  Everett had not missed the amazement in Mischa's mental voice.  The boy was a power to be reckoned with.  He was holding the Shadow King away on his own, though the Shadow King was acting like an enraged animal rather than a man.  Mischa's concern was that if he calmed down enough to think, and brought his other relays into the assault, together they would crush the boy's mind.

Everett pushed that thought away.  Such an event was on the order of an Act of God.  There wasn't a single thing he would be able to do about it.  He turned his thoughts to the other boy, Cody.  He and Rogue had just touched down near Everett's position.  Everett had been able to follow what had happened, and he just hoped that Cody would be able to pull himself together enough to go after the rest of the Sentinels.  They were running desperately low on time. 

The death of the Shadow Queen had disorganized her troops.  Already the Hounds had scattered, and many of the Mech's had ground to a halt as their pilots lost contact with their Queen, making them easy targets for Dallas' artillery.  But the Sentinels were robots with programmed instructions that were unaltered by the Queen's death.  The continued their relentless march toward Dallas.

Cody and Rogue walked up to him.  Cody carried the dead girl in his arms, and Everett was surprised to see Rogue's hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture.  Everett glanced down at Rachel.  He had seen a lot of death, and this was fairly clean compared to some of the things he'd experienced.  But he knew that would do nothing to ease the pain in the boy's eyes.

"I'm sorry about Rachel," he said as gently as he could.  Cody stared at him for a moment, then nodded jerkily.

"I tried..." he began.  "I couldn't—"

Rogue squeezed his shoulder.  "Ya did everything ya could, sugah."  Her voice was amazingly gentle—something Everett had not heard since he was Cody's age.  The boy swayed toward her, as if he wanted nothing more than to throw himself into her arms.  Which perhaps wasn't so strange, Everett reminded himself, since Rogue was supposedly his mother.

Everett met Rogue's clear, green gaze.  "I need you two to take out the rest of those Sentinels."   Hopefully Rogue would support him in this.  He could not afford to let Cody indulge his grief, despite his age.  They had too many children his age fighting this war, and fewer of them would die today if he could get this one boy back into the battle.

"C'mon, sugah, we've got work ta do."

Cody looked at her, his eyes full of protest.  "But Rachel—"

"Is dead."  Rogue's voice hardened as she stared at him.  "And we've got work ta do."  Her demeanor was uncompromising.  "Did ya hear me?"

Slowly, he nodded.  "Yes, ma'am."  Then he laid Rachel down on the ground next to Remi, who did not acknowledge him.  Cody looked up at Everett.

"Is he all right?"

Everett nodded.  "He's keeping the Shadow King off of all our backs."

That seemed to help Cody.  He took a deep breath and stood.  "I'm ready."

Without another word, Rogue launched herself into the sky and Cody followed her.  Everett allowed himself a sigh.  Without the Shadow Queen to distract him, Everett had no doubts that Cody would destroy those Sentinels in no time.  He wasn't wrong, either.  As he watched, the Sentinels collapsed, one after the other.

Still synching Remi's telepathic power, Everett contacted Mischa.  They needed to send to San Francisco for reinforcements, and for a new Guardian.  The battle here was basically won, though the mop up would go on for hours.  He found it almost unbelievable that they were still alive, and even more unbelievable that the primary reason for it was a single boy.

How's he doing, Mischa? Everett asked.

The telepath's answer was solemn.  He's got the shields locked in place.  They won't come down unless his mind collapses.

Everett chewed on his lip.  Can he hold out until we get another Guardian?

I think so.  Hank said they'd be in the air in less than two hours.

Everett did some mental calculating.  The X-Men would arrive in Dallas in about seven hours then.  He glanced back at the walls of the city.  Somehow, her great Texas spirit had prevailed, and they had snatched another day of freedom from the Shadow King.  But he was horribly afraid that this might be the last one.  The Shadow King would find a way to take revenge for his Queen, Everett was certain of that.

Chapter 14

Sighing, Renee bent forward and ran her gloved fingers through her hair, scrubbing lightly.  Her hair was full of grit and dust, which fell to the ground with a quiet patter.  She was bone tired, to the point that she could no longer really feel her body and it was an effort to force herself to move.  But the makeshift hospital was now empty of serious injuries.  The scrapes, bruises, sprains and fractures could all wait until tomorrow.

Cody sat beside her on the bench, his head leaned back against the wall and his eyes closed.  Though she knew he was awake, he hadn't moved since she'd sat down.  And Renee was just too tired to try to draw him out.  She didn't want to talk about Rachel.  She didn't want to think about Rachel.  But somehow her mind kept drifting back over the years, remembering.  It just didn't seem real that Rachel was gone.

"Ah thought y'all might want somethin' ta eat."  Renee started at the sudden voice and looked up to see Rogue standing in front of them, a plate in either hand.  She wondered if she'd actually been sleeping, since she hadn't heard Rogue's approach.  But the thought drifted away, too unimportant for her tired mind to hold on to.  The food smelled good, though, and her stomach grumbled.  She had no idea how long it had been since her last meal.

Hunger must have gotten to Cody, too, because he opened his eyes.  He stared at Rogue with a kind of angry reproach, but accepted the plate she offered him.  Lips thinning, Rogue handed the other plate to Renee, who managed a "Thank you."  Rogue stared at them both for another moment, clearly uncomfortable, and then turned and strode away without another word.  Renee didn't pause to wonder about it.  She was too tired to care, and too hungry to think about anything but her dinner.  Cody was already halfway through his, and she dug in with equal gusto.

With some food in her stomach, Renee felt a lot more human.  Cody seemed to bounce back too, and Renee found herself sliding up next to him.  Cody obligingly put his arms around her and she heaved a sigh of relief.  She was finally beginning to feel safe again.  The things that terrified her were at least out of sight for now, and she could ignore them if she wanted to.

Everett stepped out of the room directly across from them, closing the door quietly behind him.  He crossed to where Renee and Cody were sitting.  "How are you two holding up?"

Cody only shrugged.  Renee found herself mimicking him, but added, "Is Remi all right?"

"Far as anyone can tell.  The X-Men will be on the ground in about ten minutes with the new Guardian.  I'm going out to meet them now."

Cody straightened.  "How are they managing to bring a Guardian in by helicopter?"  Renee considered the description Cody had given her of Betsy, and decided that was a good question.  She knew Betsy would never have fit into a helicopter.

Everett frowned lightly.  "Why don't you come with me."  He seemed reluctant to explain.

Cody glanced at Renee in silent question.  She nodded.  "Go ahead.  I'll stay with Remi."

He disentangled himself and stood stiffly.  Then he and Everett walked away, leaving Renee alone.  She stared at the Remi's door, then finally closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall.  It would be good just to rest for a few minutes.  Soon enough, the Guardian would be in place.  Soon enough, they'd find out if Remi was still whole inside the telepathic shields that held the Shadow King away.  Mischa had admitted that only the new Guardian would stand a chance of breaking Remi out of his fugue.  But it would be all right, she supposed, to rest for the few moments until then.  Remi would understand.

That was her last thought as sleep claimed her.

#

Cody shaded his eyes as they broke out into the harsh mid-afternoon sun.  It seemed incredible to him that less than twelve hours had passed since that initial blast had announced the Shadow King's attack.  Too much had changed in that brief space of time.  He tried to push the thoughts away.  Rachel's death was too new, the wound too raw, for him to be able to think about her without the anger boiling up inside him again.

The distant whump whump of helicopter blades distracted him.  Grateful, he looked toward the sky, searching for the source of the noise.  Beside him, Everett did the same, and soon the dark speck that was the arriving chopper came into view.  As they watched, it swung out over the remains of the battle, flying low over the field of the dead so that the X-Men could get a good look. 

As the helicopter passed over the partially collapsed wall, Everett nudged him.  "Cover up," he suggested.  Cody turned his head and shielded his face as the helicopter settled to the ground in front of them.  Dust and grit kicked up by the rotor downwash whipped around them and Cody held his breath.  Then the whine of the rotor began to diminish, and the dust storm abated.

The helicopter was a Huey, and with its camouflage paint and door gunner, looked like it had just flown out of a war movie.  Cody didn't see anything in it that resembled a Guardian.

The X-Men began to climb out.  Jean and Bishop, Wolverine, Beast, Forge, Skin and Jubilee.  Cody wasn't terribly surprised when Jubilee threw herself into Everett's arms and kissed him exuberantly.  When he and Renee had been a little younger, they'd babysat the couple's kids on a regular basis.  Jean gave Cody a tremulous smile as she walked up, her eyes full of shadows.  Cody felt a fresh stab of pain and looked away.  She knew about Rachel.

Two other people climbed out of the helicopter after the X-Men.  One was Nate Grey, which surprised Cody.  He didn't think there had been an Age of Apocalypse in this timeline.  The second man was carefully unloading a case from the helicopter, and didn't turn around immediately.  But when he did, Cody's blood froze.

"Sinister!" 

The man turned in surprise, focusing on Cody.  He didn't look much like the Sinister Cody was familiar with.  He was dressed normally, with his black hair long and tied behind him in a ponytail.  But his skin was still deathly pale, and his teeth sharpened.   The blood red diamond in is forehead winked in the bright light, giving Cody a chill.  Sinister's interest in the LeBeau clan had only intensified once he learned who Gambit really was, and Cody and Renee had even been kidnapped once by the villain.  Luckily, they'd been very young and the X-Men had found them quickly.  Cody remembered little of the event except for that bloody diamond.

Sinister cocked his head, expression smooth.  "No one has called me that in quite some time.  My name is Nathan Essex."  His voice was the one Cody remembered.

"What is he doing here?" Cody demanded of Bishop.

Bishop shrugged minusculely.  "He has to install the new Guardian."

Essex stepped up beside Bishop, nodding pleasantly to Everett before turning once again to Cody.  "I have heard something about you and the future you come from.  Am I to assume that my own role in that future is somewhat... different... from this one?"

Cody nodded uncertainly.  A step behind Essex, Hank pulled off his glasses to clean them.  When he set them back on his nose, he suggested, "Why don't we go inside and get started."  He sounded uncomfortable. 

"But where's the Guardian?"

Hank blinked in surprise.  "Oh, I'm sorry."  He stepped aside and gestured toward Nate Grey.  "Cody LeBeau, this is Luke.  Luke, Cody."

"Luke?"  Cody was getting more confused by the moment. 

Luke nodded.  "I'm a clone of Nathan Summers, if that helps.  I am the twelfth successful replication, or the L version.  Dr. Essex named me Luke."  His smile was friendly, and Cody could only stare.  A clone?  That might explain Sinister's involvement, since he was a specialist in cloning.  Cody glanced at Jean, but her expression was closed.

Still confused, Cody followed the group as they made their way through the streets, toward the building that would house the new Guardian.  If this Luke was the L version, did that mean that John had been the J?  He stared at the back of Essex's head as they walked, mind churning.

The new location for the Guardian was the basement of an old restaurant.  They climbed down the narrow stairs into a low-ceilinged warren of storerooms.  Whole tree trunks that had been felled and stripped sometime in the last century formed supports, with more recently added ducting for heat and air conditioning running between them.  Luke wandered around for a few minutes while the others watched.  Then he seemed to settle on a spot he liked, and sat down on an empty crate.

"Are you ready?" Essex asked.  Cody was amazed to hear affection in his voice.  Luke nodded.

Hank approached him with a filled syringe.  "What's that?" Cody asked Everett.

"The Technovirus."  Everett's expression was flat.  He had pulled Jubilee tightly against his side, and with her arms snaked around his waist, the two watched the doctors with a vague air of apprehension.  Hank leaned down and injected Luke with the serum.  Then he stepped back, wearing an expression Cody had never seen him turn on a patient-- loathing.

With an angry exclamation in Bishop's direction, Jean turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.  Cody glanced at him, but the big man only shrugged.  "For her it is like watching Cable all over again."  He paused.  "You don't need to be here, either.  We--" he gestured to Everett and Jubilee, "are sufficient to protect Hank and Nathan."

Cody stared at him.  "Protect them from what?"  But his question was answered by an earsplitting scream.  Luke arched his back in a rictus of agony as metal cables sprang from his fingers and toes.  He tumbled to the floor as the cables found things to wrap themselves around, quickly climbing to the ceiling and weaving complex arches across the ducts.  As Cody watched, more cables exploded from other parts of his body.  And all the while, Luke continued to scream, until Cody wanted nothing more than to kill the man and grant him a merciful release from his pain.

Bishop held his gun ready, but had not moved as the living metal grew up around them.  It did not seem interested in entangling them, and, in fact, seemed to avoid them by choice.  Bishop's face was grim.  "It is not an easy transformation," he said.  "But at least it is quick.  This will be done soon."

He was correct.  A few moments later, the torturous sound ceased, as the last of Luke's recognizable humanity was swallowed up by metal.  The intricate structure continued to expand though its growth was now slowing.  In less than ten minutes, it had reached its final form.  Cody stared at it--at him?-- in a mixture of amazement and dismay.

Finally he found his voice.  "How-How often do you have to protect people...?"

Bishop looked uncomfortable at the question, but held Cody's gaze.  "We have had to destroy two," he finally answered.

Everett worked his way over to them, ducking between the thickly grown metal.  He gestured to Cody.  "We should go.  They're going to be busy running tests for a while."  Bishop shot Everett a look of relief, though Cody thought he probably wasn't supposed to see it.

"What about Remi?"  Cody asked both men, not bothering to hide the acrimony he felt.  His unquestioning trust for both Bishop and Beast had abruptly shattered.  "The Guardian was supposed to take over the shield as soon as he got here." 

Everett nodded.  "He's probably working on it already.  We can go check in with Mischa if you want."

Cody found himself nodding.  He wanted to get out of that place.  And he wanted a chance to talk to Everett away from the others.  He had the feeling he might be likely to get more information from him that way.  He didn't think that finding out the truth about Nathan Essex was going to be easy.

#

Renee woke slowly, with the feeling that she was climbing out of a great big pit.  She floated comfortably in the fuzzy warmth while true consciousness returned.  Unfortunately, memory came with it, and she sat bolt upright with a small cry of dismay.

"Sugah, what's wrong?"  Rogue straightened in her chair.  She had apparently pulled it up next to the bed and had been dozing when Renee woke her.

"Remi."  Renee was horrified at herself.  "Is he all right?  Is the Guardian here?  How long have I slept?"  The questions tumbled out of her.

Rogue's lips crinkled into a small smile.  "Relax, he's just next door."  She waved one hand at the appropriate wall.  "Sleepin' almost as hard as you."

Renee's tension drained away, and her shoulders slumped.  She ached in every pore from the abuse she'd given her powers.  Healing required a concerted effort of control and direction.  Even helping one person had a noticeable effect on her, and after the battle itself she had worked in the hospital for several hours.  However, she did feel remarkably better than she had before.

"Then he's o.k.?"

Rogue shrugged noncommittally.  "The Guardian said he was 'undamaged'.  That doesn't say anythin' about how he's feelin'."

Renee sighed.  "Poor Remi."  He hadn't broken his link with her until the Shadow King hit him.  She'd felt his horror and guilt, and she knew that it was less about being forced to kill Storm and more about having enjoyed doing it.  And that, she decided, was something she was going to have a little trouble getting over, too.

She stared at the tattered bedcover as a wave of loss threatened to overwhelm her.  She hated this horrible, ugly world and the forces in it that had cost her one friend and hurt another so deeply.  Almost everything she loved was gone, and the few pieces of her life that remained were unbearably different.

"Ah guess ya must miss ya family somethin' fierce."  Renee looked up to find Rogue staring at her with an expression of sympathy mixed with longing.  Her voice was softer than Renee had heard in this world.  Slowly, Renee nodded.  She was struck forcibly by the hidden pain in Rogue's eyes, and wondered if, maybe, this world had hurt others much more than it had hurt her.  Impulsively, she stripped away one of her gloves and held out her hand to Rogue.

"Would you like to see?"  Tears trailed down her cheeks, though whether they were for herself or Rogue, she wasn't sure.

As if it were against her will, Rogue shook her head, eyes wide.  Her fingers twitched, and she balled her hands into fists. 

"You can't do me any permanent harm," Renee tried to reassure her.  "Our powers reach a kind of... cancellation."

Rogue sucked in her breath sharply, her eyes never leaving Renee's face.  Then, in one swift, decisive motion, she pulled off her glove and caught Renee's hand.  Renee wasn't sure, as darkness reclaimed her, but she thought she saw Rogue's lips curve into a smile.

Chapter 15

Renee looked over at Cody and they both giggled.  Daddy was kissing Momma again.  Momma had her arms around him, but she kept her hands stuck way out because they were covered with flour.  Eventually, Daddy let her go, and she turned back to the cookies she was making.

"Remy, y'all're incorrigible."  Momma smiled at him over her shoulder as she stirred.

Renee went back to playing with her tinker toys, but she kept part of her attention on her parents.  It always started something warm and happy inside her when they were like this.  Even if kissing was gross.

"Moi?"  Daddy asked, trying to look innocent.  "It's all your fault, chere."

Momma turned around and put her hands on her hips, pretending to be angry.  "Me?" 

Daddy grinned.  "Oui, chere.  Y' jus' so incredibly beautiful, how could I possibly leave y' alone?"

Momma laughed and put her arms around him again.  "Such a charmer.  Sweet words'll get ya everywhere."  She was wearing that smile that Renee knew was reserved just for Daddy.

"I know," he answered.  "I figured dat one out years ago."

#

Renee squealed in delight as the swing arched ever higher.  She was so high up that her crossed toes blocked out the sun for just a moment before she started backwards.  Then the fast drop back toward the ground was exhilarating and scary, and she swung her legs straight out as the swing carried her high into the air in the other direction.  Below her, she could see her mother, smiling and waiting for her to swing down again so that she could give Renee another push.

Renee giggled.  "Higher, Momma!"

She felt strong hands on her back, pushing her back up toward the sun.  Daddy was a little ways away, watching.  He had Cody sitting on his shoulders, and he waved at her as she swung past him.

#

"No, Rogue.  Absolutely not."

Renee snuggled closer to her brother.  They were huddled together at the top of the stairs, listening to the argument below. 

"Ah'm not askin' permission!"

"I never said y' had to!"  A pause, followed by a frustrated sigh.  "But it's a decision we both have t' agree on, neh?  An' if we don' agree... "

"It wouldn't be like last time.  Ah promised ya I'd stay off the missions, no mattah what."

"Dat's not de point, an' you know it."

"Then what is?"

Silence.

"Y' almost died, Rogue."  They could barely hear him, his voice was so low.

She paused.  "Ah know.  But it was a bad situation.  If ah'd been in a hospital, or even in the Blackbird's medlab, Hank says it wouldn't—"

"Wouldn' be as bad?"  Renee cringed at her father's scathing tone.  "Chere, it's because y' human.  Y' can' carry a Shi'ar baby wit'out it nearly killin' y'."  Then his voice softened.  "I love my chillen wit' all my heart, Rogue.  But it's not worth losin' you."

#

"Grandpa!  Look!"  Renee ran toward the smiling man in the hoverchair, her prized possession held above her head.  It was a book, the new one he'd given her, and she'd been looking for him all morning.  "Will you read it to me?"

"Of course."  He picked her up over the side of his chair and settled her in his lap.  Then he took the book from her fingers and opened to the first page.  Renee settled against him happily.  She was just beginning to realize that the letters on the pages meant something, but more, she just loved to look at the funny animals and touch the portions of each page that were fuzzy or scratchy or bumpy.

"Here we go."  He started on the first page.  "Fuzzy yellow circle."  Renee swept her fingers across the yellow fur that poked through a circular cutout.  Then Charles unfolded the page.  "Ducklings."  The inside of the folded page was full of baby ducks, playing together.  Renee giggled and snuggled closer.  She loved the book, but mostly she loved finding a reason to sit in Grandpa's lap.

#

"Ewwww!  Daddy, that's gross!"

Daddy reached for her, his hands dripping with slimy orange streamers.  "Would y' like some pumpkin guts, little girl?" he intoned in his best monster voice.

Renee shrieked and jumped back, but then immediately started giggling.  Daddy grinned, and went back to scooping all the gross stuff out of the pumpkin. 

"Why are you taking all that stuff out?" she asked as he worked.  She was standing behind him, leaning over his shoulder to get a good view.  He paused and looked back at her as he answered.

"Well, b'cause we gon' put a candle in here t' make de face glow.  An' if I don' take all de pumpkin innards out, dey jus' catch fire an' burn.  Besides, if we didn' scoop out all de insides, we wouldn' get t' eat de seeds."

Renee glanced over at the pile of orange mush that had come out of the pumpkin.  Scattered across it she could see the fat white seeds, but they looked slimy and not very good to eat.

Daddy saw her expression and chuckled.  "After y' Momma toast dose up wit' butter an' salt, y' gon' love dem."

Renee doubted that very much, but she didn't want to hurt her Daddy's feelings, so she didn't say anything.  Instead, she changed the subject.

"Are you going to be a scary monster again?"  Daddy didn't have to do much to look scary since his eyes glowed red.  But last year (which was the only Halloween Renee remembered), he'd worn a black cape and fangs when they went out trick-or-treating.  Renee thought he'd had an awful lot of fun scaring all the kids.  Especially the bigger ones, if they were being mean.

"Would y' like me to, petite?"

Renee nodded vigorously and then hugged him from behind.

#

"Cody."  Renee hissed and shook the still form of her brother.  Their bedroom seemed awfully dark as she stood beside his bed, the shadows looming across the walls.

He groaned and she shook him harder.  "Cody!"

"What?"  He raised his head to look at her.

"I'm scared."

"You're always scared, Rennie.  Go back to bed."  He rolled over on his side, back to her.

Renee began to cry, and hugged her stuffed rabbit more tightly.

"Aw—" Cody rolled back over to look at her.  "Did you have bad dreams again?"

Renee nodded.  Horrible dreams about the man with pointy teeth.  He always hurt her in her dreams, though she could never see what he was doing.

Cody sighed and scooted over.  "All right.  Get in."

Renee smiled hugely and climbed in bed next to her brother.  He immediately turned his back to her and snuggled down under the covers.  They wrestled with the blankets for a while, until both were fairly well covered.  No longer afraid, Renee hugged Mr. Rabbit and closed her eyes.

"Don't you dare wet the bed, Rennie."

#

Renee was terrified.  She clung to her mother with all of the strength in her six year old arms.  Daddy was holding Cody, and the house was full of people.  Renee knew most of them, but everyone was so quiet it scared her.  Something awful was going to happen.  She could feel it, lurking just around the corner like a horrible monster.  Momma and Daddy could feel it too.  They hugged each other, squeezing both Cody and Renee in between them.  Normally, Renee loved these family hugs—she and Cody would beg for them until their parents laughingly surrendered.  But this time, Renee just squeezed her eyes shut and clung to her Momma.  She didn't care that she could hardly breathe, they were holding her so tight.  She could feel the warmth of their arms around her, and that reassurance was the only thing that held her terror at bay.

But then something... lurched.  It was like part of the world had suddenly broken.  The pressure on her lungs disappeared.  Everything seemed to stand still for moment.  Even though Renee had her eyes closed, she could feel the waiting.  Then Cody began to bawl, and Renee jerked her head up to look at him.  He was sitting in the middle of the floor, head back and mouth wide open as he cried.  But even worse then that, Momma screamed and sank to her knees on the floor.

"Nooooo!  Remy... " She was crying too, and she pulled Cody up into her lap, rocking both of them while she sobbed.

Bewildered, Renee started to cry too.  She didn't know what was wrong, but suddenly Daddy wasn't there and Momma was crying so hard she was shaking, and the people were all pressing in around them, reaching out to touch them.  Renee struggled to free herself, but that was impossible.  Her mother was much too strong.  Finally, Aunt Ororo coaxed Momma into letting them go, and Renee crawled into Ororo's arms, which cradled her with familiar gentleness.  But even Ororo was crying, silent tears running down her face.

Ororo stroked Renee's hair.  "Rogue, look at your children."  Her voice was full of wonder.

Momma looked up, then over at Renee, and then Cody, who was curled in Uncle Logan's lap.  She seemed stunned.  "Ah still remember..." 

#

Renee settled on the damp grass and looked around.  Mist hugged the tombstones, darkening their pitted stone faces.  It was a little scary to be in the graveyard by herself, but she was a big girl, old enough to know that she wasn't likely to meet any ghosts.  And besides, all she had to do was yell if something did happen.  Cerebro would hear her.

She laid the flowers she'd picked from the garden down in front of one particular stone.  They were blue irises, her favorite.  Aunt Storm had helped her plant her own flower garden, and Renee felt a special joy in being able to bring flowers that she had grown herself.

"Hi, Daddy," she said quietly.  She pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them.  This was her special place—where she came when she needed to think, or to talk to someone she knew would listen.   She understood—vaguely, at least—that her father wasn't actually buried beneath the ground where she sat.  The tombstone was just a marker, and that he had disappeared instead of dying.  But still, she felt closer to him here than anywhere else.

"I hope it's all right to ask you about this Daddy," she began.  "I don't want to get Momma in trouble."  Renee imagined his face the way she remembered him.  Handsome and smiling.

She took a deep breath before going on.  "Momma went out and had dinner with a man last night."  She paused.  "I hope you already knew that."  She shrugged.  "Anyway, I guess I just wanted to know if that's... all right with you.  Aunt Jean says it is, and that it would be really good if Momma found someone else to fall in love with."

Renee hugged her knees more tightly.  "But I really hope she doesn't."

#

"Marco!"  Remi called as he swam slowly towards Renee.  She could see that he had his eyes tightly shut, as he was supposed to.  Not that she was surprised.  Remi didn't cheat at these kinds of things.

"Polo!" she yelled directly into his face as the others in the pool echoed the call from their own places.

He jerked in surprise, then leaped toward her.  Renee dove for the bottom of the pool, twisting as she did so.  Remi missed her feet by nearly six inches and she swam away, coming up for air in another part of the pool.

#

Renee sat next to her mother on the garden swing, content for the moment to lean on her shoulder.  Rogue rocked them lazily with one foot, humming to herself.  The summer sun was almost hot, but not quite. Renee felt like it was kissing her skin.

Out on the grass, Cody and Remi were wrestling with Bishop.  Not very well, of course, but Bishop was pretending that the two boys were capable of pinning him to the ground.

Rogue chuckled.  "Ah sure wish y' Daddy could be here ta see this."

"Why?"

She shrugged, eyes glinting with humor.  "Well, because when Daddy was alive, Bishop was always such a stiff ol' thing.  Now look at him."  She stroked Renee's hair with gentle fingers.

Renee thought for a while.  She had some questions that she had always been afraid to ask.  "Mom?  Why does Remi look so much like me?  I met Tracy's uncle at her house the other day, and he doesn't look anything like her at all.  Tracy told him that me and Remi look like twins, and he said that was really strange."

Rogue sighed.  "It is strange, sugah.  And right now, ah don't think ah can explain it to ya.  Not ‘til you're a little older."

#

"Please, Mom, can we keep him?"  Rachel was holding the puppy that had found them as they walked home from school.  It was horribly skinny, with its ribs showing through the ragged coat.  But it had cute floppy ears, and had bounced and yipped all around their feet until Rachel had picked it up.

Jean looked between the two girls, her expression torn between the instinct to say "no", and the plea in her daughter's eyes.  Finally, she sighed.  "It's all right with me—"

"Yeahhh!"

"—but you'll have to ask Charles.  This is his house."

"Thanks, Mom!"  Rachel darted forward to hug her mother, and then both girls were gone, racing through the house towards Renee's grandfather's study.

#

"Skunk girl!"

"Mutie!"

"Freak!"

Renee was thirteen years old, and she'd been in the seventh grade for four days.  As the boys closed in on her, she tried not to cry, but all she could think of was that she hated this new school.  All six grades, seventh through twelfth, were together in the new building, and some of the older kids had immediately picked her out as a good one to torment.  Just because she was shy, and her hair looked funny.

Renee backed away from the three boys.  They were the worst school bullies.  She'd figured that out on the first day when one of them had tried to trip her in the hall.  But with her Shi'ar reflexes, she'd been able to keep her balance and not drop any of her books.  They were also Seniors, and they seemed awfully big compared to her.

A hand closed on Renee's shoulder and she jumped.  Cody stepped around in front of her and faced the three.  He was more than a head shorter than the smallest of them, and still boyishly slim.  "Leave my sister alone!"

The bullies looked him over and started to laugh.

"Hey, this one looks like a skunk, too!"

"What are ya gonna do, skunk boy?  Fight us?"

In response, Cody executed a completely passable spin kick. The boy went down with a face full of blood.  Cody, too, had inherited their father's speed and agility, and despite his size was quite capable of planting his foot in the taller boy's chin.

"Cody, no!"  Renee jumped back as the small area dissolved into chaos.  Renee hated fights, but she joined in to the extent of planting her shoulder in one boy's chest, pushing him back so that he and his friend couldn't gang up on Cody.  The boy staggered back, but then regained his balance and came after Renee with a roar.  Her training kicked in, and then Renee was in it for good, until several teachers arrived to break the combatants apart.

Renee sagged against the arms that pulled her away.  Another teacher held Cody by the arms.  His face was smeared with blood that welled out of his nose, but other than that he looked all right.  The other boys weren't in as good of shape.

Renee cringed under the glare that Principal Morrow pinned on her.  Cody had gotten in trouble for fighting before, though not in this school.  And this time, they were both going to get it.  It wasn't a very auspicious start to the seventh grade, she thought.

#

Renee ran lightly up the mansion's front steps, following just behind Rachel.  She was grateful when Jean greeted them at the door with a cheerful smile and a hug for both girls.  Rogue was off campaigning, and she wasn't going to be home for another couple of days.  Renee knew it was important for her mother to make so many trips, and that it was important that she was running for office.  But deep inside, Renee hated coming home to find that her mother wasn't there.

Frizzles bounded into the kitchen to greet the girls.  The scrawny puppy had turned out to be part curly-haired terrier and part horse.  He stood as tall as Renee's hip, and his coat was a cinnamon-colored mix of straight and curly hairs.  No matter how much the girls brushed him, he always looked unkempt.

"Frizzles!  Get down!"  Renee's arms were full of books for a history report she had to do and she vainly tried to keep them from falling victim to the dog's enthusiasm.  She turned away, hunching her shoulders, as Frizzles did his best to get to her face.  Normally, she would have gotten down to hug him and suffer the slobbery dog kisses, but she really didn't want to drop her books. 

Rachel caught Frizzles' collar.  "Here.  I've got him."

Renee heaved a sigh.  "Thanks.  Just let me put these things down."  She suited actions to words and dumped the entire stack on a nearby end table.  "Whew!"

"How was school?"  Jean asked.

Rachel shrugged.  "O.k.  I got a B on my math test."

"All right, Friz."  Renee patted her thighs.  "C'mere."

Rachel turned the straining dog loose.

"That's good" said Jean.

Frizzles bounced across the short space, and Renee sank her fingers into his wiry coat and felt his tongue on her cheek.  But his cheerful snuffling turned into a sudden squeal of pain.  Renee jerked her head back to look at him, frightened by the sound.  As she watched, leathery growths sprouted across his skin, swelling with terrifying speed until his fur coat was entirely swallowed up.  In the space of seconds, more growths formed on top of the first, obliterating Frizzles eyes and covering his nose so completely that his jaw dropped open to allow him to breathe.  The only sound he made was a piteous whine, while his body continued to mutate at a furious rate.  Only then did Renee begin to feel the tingle in the palms of her hands.  The sensation of something going out of her.

Horrified, Renee shoved the dog away.  The nearly unrecognizable form tumbled to the floor and lay there, twitching.  As if in the distance, she heard Jean order Rachel to go get Beast, but it didn't matter.  Renee already knew what had happened.  She had been waiting for her powers to surface for almost a year.

Jean's steps echoed loudly on the wood floor.  She knelt down just behind Renee, and Renee could imagine Jean reaching out to comfort her.  Renee ached for the gentle touch, but pure panic slammed through her as she stared at Frizzles' ruined form.

"NO!  Don't touch me!"  Renee jumped to her feet and ran for the door.  Sobs shook her as she crashed down the front stairs and started across the lawn toward the trees.  All she could think of was that she would never be able to touch anyone again without killing them.

#

The adults found Renee in the graveyard, shivering in the damp air, her tears exhausted.  And though all of the X-Men gathered as the word spread that they'd found her, only Ororo and Jean approached.  Behind the two women, Cody and Rachel stood with Scott, each clinging to the arm that encircled their shoulders.

Renee shrank back as Ororo knelt next to her.  "He's dead, isn't he?" she asked without looking directly at Ororo.

"Yes."  Ororo's voice was sad. 

Renee felt fresh tears well up.  "I'm so sorry," was all she could think of to say.  "I didn't mean to hurt him.  I—" She choked on her words and felt Ororo's arms close around her.    Terror filled her until she saw the gloves on her godmother's hands.  Then she sank into the warm embrace and cried.

#

Renee walked quietly through the upstairs hall.  There was no way she could sleep.  Not tonight.  Her bare toes sank into the thick carpeting with a familiar feeling of comfort, but then she paused.  Was it all right to wander around without anything on her feet?  She wasn't likely to touch anyone with them.  She needed to be able to let some body head escape.  The gloves and long-sleeved robe over her pajamas made her uncomfortably warm.

Renee started to turn toward her mother's room, but then decided to go on downstairs.  Rogue was likely to still be up anyway.  She'd dropped everything with her campaign for a few days at least, to come be with her daughter.  Renee wasn't sure how to feel.  Her mother's eyes had filled with so much pain when she'd looked at Renee, and somehow, Renee couldn't help but feel like she'd disappointed her in some way.

Strident voices from the living room made Renee pause while she was still on the stairs.  People were arguing.  Frightened, Renee crept closer.  They had to be arguing about her.

"Beast, we had this conversation fifteen years ago!"  Rogue sounded like she was on the verge of tears.  "Y'all promised me they wouldn't get mah powers!"

"No, Rogue."  Hank sounded tired and sad.  "I didn't promise.  I said it was unlikely.  Remy's Shi'ar DNA makes it harder to say for sure, but my models have always indicated that his genetic attributes would be dominant.  Considering their physical appearances, I'd say that's mostly true."

"Mostly!"

"Rogue, please calm yourself."  Ororo's voice was firm, but very gently.

"How can ah?"  The question was so piercing that Renee bit her lip.  From the living room, she could hear the sudden sounds of someone crying, and guessed immediately who it had to be.  Unable to hide in the shadows outside the doorway any longer, Renee burst into the room.

"Momma, stop it!"  She was nearly in tears herself.

Everyone turned to stare at her.  Rogue's hands flew to her mouth.  "Renee... baby..."  She crossed the room with uneven strides and wrapped her arms around Renee.  Renee knotted her hands in the fabric of her mother's jacket and held on to her in desperation.  She was terrified by the anguish in her mother's voice and the confusion in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Momma," she whispered, and felt Rogue's arms tighten almost painfully around her.

#

"Look!  Look!  Check him out!"  Rachel nudged Renee rather forcefully.  Renee turned her head, trying to see who Rachel was talking about, but with the throng of teenagers crowded into the tiny mall eatery, she wasn't sure.

"Who, that guy?"  Remi nodded toward the thickest part of the crowd.  They were a mixture of guys and girls, mostly older than Renee.

"Which?" asked Cody.

"Blue shirt.  Yankees hat."  Remi sipped his soda.

"I see him," said Renee.

"Isn't he gorgeous?"  Rachel had turned sideways in her chair and crossed her legs, on the off chance, Renee supposed, that the guy might turn around and notice her.  Of the four of them, she was the only one who was allowed to date, officially.  Well, Remi was, too, but only on Chandilar.  And that was only because he was the Prince.

"You've got to be kidding."  Remi grinned at Rachel's glare.  "He looks like somebody stuck a tire pump up his—"

"Remi!  Behave!"  Renee swatted his shoulder.

Remi ducked ineffectively, his eyes never leaving Rachel.  "Don't tell me you think all that really looks good," he told her.

Rachel managed to look disgusted.  ""All that' is called muscles.  And yes, I do.  Renee does, too.  Don't you?"

"Uh..."

"So why don't you go introduce yourself?"  Remi ignored Renee entirely.  His smile held a dangerous challenge.

Rachel flushed bright red.  "No way."

"Chicken."

"I am not." 

"Yes, you are."

"Am not."

"Are too.  I dare you."

#

Renee stared at the maelstrom created by the portals that Cody and Remi had overlapped.  The Gamemaster's words rang in her ears with frightening implications.  She wanted to wait, to think things through for a little while.  But she knew there was no time.

More afraid of being left behind—being left alone—than of what might lie on the other side of the portal, Renee followed Remi into the swirling darkness.  But as the sickening sensation of the portal overtook her, she felt an overwhelming sense of loss.

"We didn't say goodbye."

#

Rogue grasped desperately at the memories as they slipped away.  Not yet!  There were so many that she wanted to hold on to, but they faded away as Renee's consciousness returned.  Renee turned her head slowly on the pillow, groggy from the effect of Rogue's powers. 

Rogue wasn't certain she could stand to look into the girl's eyes.  Her life was so full of things Rogue had given up dreaming of.  Quietly, she rose from her seat and walked to the door.  With her hand on the doorknob, she paused, fighting the urge to look back.  Eventually she opened the door and left.

Chapter 16

Bishop peered through the tiny window at Remi, then turned to the two people beside him.  "Is he all right?"

Hank shrugged.  "Physically, yes.  But I would rather you didn't try to visit right now."

Bishop's brow creased.  "Why not?"

Mischa and Hank traded glances.  "Because your thoughts are hard and practical," Mischa finally answered.  Bishop blinked at her analysis and she continued, "Right now, Remi wants to hide from the realities of where he is and what he did out there."  She gestured toward the site of yesterday's battle.  "He would only run from you."

Bishop glanced back at the window.  The boy laid quietly, his strange eyes open and empty.  Bishop felt another stab of guilt.  He had sent these children here—he and Jean.  They'd been trying to protect them.  Obviously, they'd failed miserably.

He sighed and looked back at Hank.  "Will you let me know when he wakes up?"  He refused to say "if".  One child was already dead.  He did not want to believe that they might lose another.

Hank nodded, and Bishop turned away.  Then he paused.  "The Dresden surfaces in three days," he said softly.  He didn't turn around.  "I don't know what I'm going to tell Charles."

#

Hank McCoy entered Remi's room with a sense of foreboding.  It grew worse with every visit to check on the boy's condition.  Twenty-four hours after Remi had emerged from the deep sleep of exhaustion, he still had not responded to any physical or telepathic overture.  Hank's equipment as well as his instinct told him that Remi was awake.  He just didn't want to be.

Hank walked over to the bed, glancing at the somewhat antiquated displays that tracked Remi's physical condition.  Not that there was any use to it, but it was a long-time habit.

A small sound behind him startled Hank.  He whirled to find Rogue standing in the corner of the room.  The whisper of her boots as she'd stepped out from behind the opened door was the sound that he'd heard.

"Rogue?"

She nodded jerkily.  "Hi Hank."  She walked over to join him, glanced at Remi.  "Is he going to be all right?"  Her frank gaze demanded the truth.

Hank couldn't help his sigh.  "I wish I knew."  He tossed the pile of notes he'd brought with him onto the side table with a little more force than necessary.  "Actually, since there's absolutely nothing I can do for him as a physician, I came to test out my own pet theory of how to entice him back into the land of the living."

Rogue's eyebrow's arched.  "Ya've got an idea?"  Hank was surprised by the sudden flare of hope in her eyes.

"A very small one, I'm afraid.  But, if nothing else, I can sit here and talk to him for a while.  That's always good for a patient."  He looked around briefly for the room's single chair.  "You're welcome to stay, if you'd like."

She pursed her lips as she considered.  "Ah suppose," she finally agreed.

Hank walked around the bed to fetch the one chair, then brought it back and offered it to Rogue with a gallant wave of his arms.  He wasn't sure why—Rogue's temper was an uncertain thing.  Often it was the small courtesies that would set her off.  But to his delight, she smiled instead and took the offered seat.  Then he went out into the hall to find another chair, and soon settled himself beside Rogue.

Hank picked up his notes from the table and shuffled through them.  "Well, Remi," he began, "I've been thinking about some of the questions you asked me while you were in San Francisco.  In particular, about the reason you and your friends are able to exist here at all."  He glanced over at Rogue who was watching him with a surprised expression on her face.  "And I think I may have some answers for you."

With such a captive audience, Hank settled quickly into his lecturer mode.  "Now, I'm going to assume you don't know much about ‘paradox physics'.  Take note, I've just coined the phrase."  Hank smiled briefly.  "And under that assumption, I'll go through everything in detail."

The form on the bed did not respond.  Hank reigned in his disappointment.  It was only a longshot, anyway, that he might tweak the boy's curiosity enough to bring him out of his fugue.

"I think I'll start with a short discourse on the nature of time."  Hank fumbled with his notes a little longer.  "As I'm sure you're aware, there is only one real timeline.  Each decision made, each action taken, results in a single course of events.  The long-held idea that each action could spawn another reality—for example, two separate realities-- one in which I had chicken for lunch, and the other where I chose fish for lunch instead—is entirely false.  Such concurrently existing realities are not possible.  Now, there are other dimensions, but they are separated from our own by a rather... intriguing form of physical distance.  Their relationship to our dimension has absolutely nothing to do with time." 

Hank pushed his glasses up on his nose and settled more comfortably in his chair.  "In general, we can represent time as a linear quantity—like an infinite string laid out on an equally infinite table.  If you remember your geometry, the string would be a ray, with a finite end at our present point in time, and the ray extending infinitely into the past.  As time passes, the string grows longer.  The shape of the string is then caused by all of the events that occur at that particular point in time.  Using my previous example—if I choose to have chicken for lunch, the string will bend ever-so-slightly in one direction, and if I choose to have fish, the string will bend in a different direction.  The accumulation of all of the events that happen at one particular time will determine the ultimate shape of the string.

"Now, the question is ‘What happens when someone goes back in time and changes something?'.  Keeping with the string analogy, this would simply mean that the point in time where that person arrived would get kinked in a new direction, and the rest of the string would adapt.  We have seen this effect in the fact that people like Cable and Bishop have arrived in our time from the future and the timeline has gone on about its business with little or no distress.  We can speculate—with fair certainty, I think—that their presences in this time have had significant impact on the events of our time-- but the string has adapted to them.

"Unfortunately, my simple string analogy begins to break down when we start talking about paradox.   Obviously, the string is a vastly simplified model of what is really happening, and when events lead to paradox the nonlinear effects become noticeable.  Oddly enough, paradox seems to be highly probabilistic—like valence electron clouds."

Hank paused, suddenly aware of the bemusement written on Rogue's face.  "Is something wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head, grin widening.  "No, sugah.  But ya lost me with that last bit."

"Hmmm.  Then I suppose you're not familiar with Schrodinger's equation?"

She cocked her head.  "Is that anythin' like Schrodinger's Cat?  It's a book ah remember seein' somewhere."

Hank frowned, surprised.  "Actually, yes," he answered.  "Schrodinger was a famous mathematician.  He developed some of the basic tenets of modern physics.  He used his cat in a rather infamous illustration of one of his theories."  Hank pulled of his glasses and began to clean them with the corner of his coat.  "You see, Schrodinger was investigating the behavior of electrons, and beginning to come to some—for his time—rather radical conclusions.  He held that electrons in an atom didn't really orbit the nucleus the way the Earth orbits the sun.  Instead, there are different "orbits", if you will, that are based, not on distance, but on the amount of energy in the electron.  These are called valence shells—so think of various hollow circular shells at different distances away from the nucleus.  That's not quite accurate, but it gives you the idea."

Rogue nodded, "Ah think so." 

"The heart of Schrodinger's theory," Hank continued, "was that it is impossible to accurately know the position of an electron—meaning its energy level-- at a certain point in time.  If you know a position for the electron, you can't know when it will be in that position.  And if you go looking for the electron at a certain point in time, you can't know exactly where it is.  The electron's position is a function of probability.  There's a certain probability that the electron will be in such-and-such an energy shell, and a different probability that it will be in a different energy shell, etc.  So when you do all the calculations and plot all of the possible locations for the electron at any one point in time, the plot looks like a cloud of dots around the nucleus.  That's called an electron cloud."

Rogue flashed him a sardonic smile.  "Well, thanks foh the physics lesson, Hank, but couldn't ah just get a microscope and go look ta see where the electron was?"

Hank nodded.  "Yes, of course.  But by looking at the electron, Schrodinger's theory is that you actually determine its position.  Right then and there.  Until then, the electron actually exists in all of the possible positions in the cloud at the same time."

Rogue's expression became puzzled.  "That doesn't make any sense."

"Well, this is where Schrodinger's cat comes in.  In presenting this theory to his peers, Schrodinger was faced with the same response, so he gave them the following illustration:  Suppose you have a cat sealed up in a box.  The box cannot be seen into by any kind of instrument or by the naked eye.  However, there is some means for air to enter it, and the cat has plenty of food and water, and so should be able to live quite happily in the box for some time.  Also enclosed in the box is a radioactive isotope with a half-life of one day.  So there is a fifty percent probability that after one day, the isotope will decay into a deadly poisonous substance.  There is also a fifty percent probability that at the end of the day, the isotope will not have decayed, and so remain harmless.

"So, we close up the cat and the isotope and wait for one day."  He paused to dramatize the wait.  "Now, it is twenty-four hours later.  Is the cat alive or dead?"

Rogue considered him for a moment, her brows drawn together in thought.  "It could be either one.  Ya can't know that until ya open up the box."

Hank cleared his throat.  "Well, in real life, yes.  But in this example, the truth is that the cat is both alive and dead.  It exists in both states until someone opens up the box.  Only then, when it has been observed, does the cat take on one state or the other."

"Hank, how in the world can just lookin' at something change what it is?"

Hank couldn't help his smile.  "My dear, that is one of the mysteries of the modern world."

Rogue sighed and brushed a stray hair out of her eyes.  "Do ah dare ask what all this has got ta do with time travel?"

"Well, in the case of paradox, time behaves much like Schrodinger's poor cat.  Except that, instead of having only two states in which it exists concurrently, there are an infinite number."

"Like an infinite number of possible futures?"

Hank nodded.  "Exactly.  I'll use Remi's case as an example."  Hank felt suddenly abashed.  For a short moment, he'd forgotten about the boy.

"Apparently, when Remi was five years old, the X-Men were betrayed by Peter Raspu—"

"Ah know all about it, sugah."

Curious at her tone, Hank stared at her.  "Then you know the nature of Remi's paradox?"

"Yes."  Hank finally identified the emotion filling her voice.  Sadness.  But her green eyes met his without giving anything else away.

"I... see."  He paused, debating whether to ask her anything further about it.  But then he decided against it.  Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he went back to the safer topic of science.

"Well then, the two extremes of that paradox are the possibilities that the X-Men are betrayed and murdered, and that they aren't.  In the first, Remi would have gone back in time and grown up to be someone named Gambit.  In the second... well, we are the second possibility."

Rogue's expression had grown troubled.  "But what about his timeline, then?"  She waved toward Remi.  "What about...?"  She pressed her fingers to her lips suddenly, as if she couldn't continue without losing her composure.  She paused, then continued in a strained voice, "How can they exist?"

Hank shrugged minisculely.  "The two possibilities I just mentioned are only the extremes.  Our timeline, here, is the extreme in which the X-Men are not betrayed by Peter, and the paradox surrounding Remi collapses completely.  There are an infinite number of other possible timelines in which the paradox collapses only to some partial degree.  These children are from one of those timelines."

"But ah thought ya said there was only one timeline, and there's no such thing as alternate futures."

"Normally, that's true.  But during the actual physical collapse of the paradox, all of these possibilities do exist.  They form a probability cloud just like the electron."

"Ah don't understand."

Hank sighed.  He barely understood himself, and a lot of what he was saying was more conjecture than provable scientific fact.  But he was pretty sure he was right.  "Here.  I'll try a different analogy.  Do you remember Koosh balls?"

"Those fuzzy rubber things?"

  Hank nodded, grinning at her description.  "Good.  Then let's think about time as that string again.  Now, we're going along the string, happy as can be.  But then we hit a paradox.  It's not an instantaneous thing, so for some finite amount of time, our string changes to become a Koosh ball.  All the possible futures are like the little rubber pieces that stick out of the ball.  The people that live in those futures are all real people, but just like Schrodinger's cat, each one exists in lots of different states at the same time.  Now, normally, the paradox would finish collapsing and all of those futures would just go away—like looking into the box to find the cat either alive or dead, but not both at the same time.  However, Remi's mutant power allowed him to do something amazing.  These kids jumped out of one of the possible futures while the paradox was collapsing.  By going backwards in time, they somehow escaped the paradox.  They landed here, in the real timeline."

Rogue absorbed that for several moments.  "Then their world... it isn't real?"

Hank shook his head.  "Not any more.  It was, but only for a very short period of time about eleven days ago."

Hank glanced over at the bed.  Remi lay still, his position unchanged.  Hank suppressed a sigh.  It had been a small hope, anyway.  Feeling incredibly old, Hank stood up.

"I'll be back to check on him again in a few hours."

Rogue nodded, but did not look up at him.  She continued to stare at Remi with an expression that Hank could not interpret.  She seemed to be deep in thought, though.  Hank watched her for a while, but she did not acknowledge him again.

Chapter 17

"What's the word?"  Everett leaned against the edge of the table and crossed his arms.  His organization here in Dallas was generally a bit looser than the way Jonah and Bishop ran things in San Francisco, and Bishop's heavy-handed manner was beginning to irk him.  With the threat of another attack by the Shadow King looming over them, Bishop had effectively taken over military operations in Dallas.

Everett sighed.  He couldn't complain too much.  Bishop was one of the best tactical planners they had. Dallas was lucky to have him.  But he hated feeling like he'd been reduced to the role of a lackey.

Bishop glanced up from the map he was studying.  "Luke has contacted all of the other Guardians, so we're as ready for an attack as we can get.  All of the enclaves are arming up.  If the Shadow Kings makes a move before the Dresden rises tomorrow, Jean will take the focus point."  His voice was tight.  Jean wasn't powerful enough to corral the full might of the Guardians in a head-to-head battle with the Shadow King.  She might effectively delay him for a while, but she would have no hope of winning—or of surviving.

"Have we really come down to it, then?"  For so many years, the rebels and the Shadow King's forces had danced around each other, making small strikes here and there, but never committing everything to a single assault.  The supposition was that the Shadow King was no more certain about defeating Xavier and the Guardians than Xavier was about defeating the Shadow King's relay network.  And so the two forces remained at something of an impasse.

Bishop's expression didn't change, but he nodded.  "The Shadow King isn't going to let this go by.  No matter how much it costs him to avenge her death."  He fiddled with the map.  "The fact that he hasn't attacked already means that he's marshaling his forces."

"And maybe that he doesn't know about Remi?"

Bishop's mouth twisted grimly.  "Be grateful for small favors.  If he knew that that kid was comatose, we'd all be dead by now.  Dallas would not be that difficult for him to take."

Suddenly uncomfortable, Everett decided to change subjects.  "When are you leaving for San Francisco?"

"Tonight.  We'll take the kids with us and hope the Shadow King can be lured into coming after them there.  With the Dresden coming up tomorrow, we may even be able to take them to the Council."

Everett nodded in secret relief.  He'd feel a lot safer once those children were out of his city.

#

Cody stared at Jean, unable to speak.  He wanted to say he was sorry about Rachel, that she had been the most wonderful person he'd ever known and that, if it was in his power, the Shadow King was going to pay dearly for hurting her.  But everything he tried to say seemed to get stuck halfway up his throat, choking him.  Still, Jean was a telepath and Cody made no effort to shield his feelings from her.

Jean smiled tremulously, and nodded.  "Thank you.  I—I'm very glad I got to meet her."

The ache in her eyes was so apparent that Cody was uncomfortable meeting her gaze.  "I don't know if anyone told you, but in our time you have a son, too," he finally said.

"Scott... and I?"  The ache redoubled.

Cody nodded, suddenly afraid he had made a mistake by mentioning it.  "His name is Brian.  He's ten."

Jean seemed to roll the name around in her head some.  Her expression lightened.  "What is he like?"

Cody couldn't help his smile.  "Honestly?  He's an obnoxious squirt.  Most of the time, anyway."

To his surprise, Jean laughed.  It was a wonderfully merry sound, and Cody realized suddenly how much he missed the frequent laughter that filled his home.  This world was so grim.  He'd almost forgotten what real laughter sounded like.

As Jean's mirth faded, Cody found his thoughts turning to the thing that had been bothering him since the X-Men arrived in Dallas.  He was uncertain who to trust anymore, but Jean appeared the most unchanged from his own time.  More and more, she seemed like the only person he could confide in.

"Jean?  Can I ask you something?"

Her expression became solemn, as if she sensed the change in the direction of his thoughts.  "Of course."

"How can the X-Men be working with Sinister?"

Jean regarded him, her green eyes shadowed.  "We had no choice," she finally answered.

"What do you mean?"

Jean shrugged.  "We needed him."  She levered herself to her feet and began to pace, her arms wrapped around her waist.  "When the Shadow King was just beginning to build his relay network, there were still a lot of alpha-class telepaths working with us.  At first, we were pretty effective at thwarting him, Magneto's powers notwithstanding."

She paused, stared at her toes.  "But then he got smarter.  He started systematically targeting telepaths.  To kidnap and use as relays... or to kill."  Unconsciously, she rubbed a spot on her ribs as if trying to soothe an old pain.  Her gaze was distant.

Eventually, she came back to herself and looked up at Cody.  "We were getting desperate.  Cable became the first Guardian, and then Betsy.  Their powers were so vastly increased by the technovirus that we thought we would be able to hold on."  She shook her head, her expression bleak.  "But it came too late.  Maybe, if we'd done it earlier, when there were still more telepaths around..."

Jean's words began to sink in.  "So you needed Sinister to make more telepaths for you?  Clones?"

She nodded.  "Yes.  In return for protection from the Shadow King and freedom to continue with his research, he gives us Guardians." 

"His research?"  The question came out half-choked.  Cody knew perfectly well what kind of research interested Sinister, and it send little spider legs crawling up and down his spine.

Jean was deathly pale.  "We provide a lab.. and we don't interfere."  She looked as sick as Cody felt.

"But, why?"  Surely Jean, who had suffered as much as anyone at Sinister's hand, would never allow him conduct that kind of evil right under her nose.

Cody saw the shine of tears just before Jean turned away.  "For the Guardians," she whispered.

Cody stared at her.  Because the Guardians are the only things keeping these people alive. The anger coiled in his stomach tightened another notch.  People should not have to sell so much of their souls just to survive.

#

Hank sat quietly at the rickety table that served him for a desk and sipped his coffee.  He knew he'd been staring at the same piece of paper for something like twenty minutes, but he just couldn't summon the concentration to actually read it, or to go on to something else.  He felt a great deal older than his forty-one years.

But, tomorrow is another day, he reminded himself with a sardonic grin.  The show must go on.  When life gives you a bunch of lemons, make lemonade.  It's always darkest before the dawn. He snorted at his litany of trite platitudes.  Life was much too complicated to be encompassed by a single sentence.

"Hank?"

Hank's head jerked up at the voice.  Remi leaned against the door jamb, watching him.  Hank simply stared at him for one stunned moment as his eyes tried to convince his brain of what he was seeing.  Then he leapt to his feet, and found himself sweeping the boy up into a bear hug.

Remi was laughing in embarrassment by the time Hank released him.  "I'm o.k.  Really."

Hank stared at him, wondering if it would be wise to ask what had been going through his mind for the past three days.

Remi looked down at his feet, as if he could read Hank's question in his eyes.  He seemed ashamed.  "I... just needed some time to think."

"That's certainly understandable."  Hank tried to keep his voice gentle.  The marks of pain were still very evident on the boy's face.

"Are you hungry?" Hank asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

Remi nodded.  "Starved.  But I really wanted to talk to you some more about your time theory."

Hank grinned.  "So you were listening."

Remi flushed.  "Yeah."

"Do you agree with my hypothesis?"  Hank pulled off his glasses and laid them down on the desk.  Then he gestured for Remi to precede him out the door.

Remi brushed his bangs out of his eyes and glanced sidelong at Hank.  "I think you're right that my timeline was part of the paradox.  It never did make any sense that Gambit wasn't completely erased."  They walked side by side down the hallway as Remi continued, "So I understand where we came from now—where our timeline is in relation to this one.  I'm still not sure exactly how I brought us here, though, or why we're able to exist in this timeline.  I mean, it seems that since all of the events that would lead to our births has been undone here, none of us should be able to exist."

They left the hospital and crossed the street to enter another building.  It had once been a school, and now the cafeteria served as the mess.  They took their place in line.

"Well, I'm afraid I don't have any good answers there."  Hank surveyed the room as they talked.  The lunch crowd was only beginning to trickle in, but if they wanted to talk in peace it would probably be best to go back to his office with their food.  "I can't give you a scientific explanation for how you kids ended up here.  I can speculate, however, that you continue to exist here because you've somehow become completely disassociated from the timeline of your origin, making you immune to the paradox you so amazingly escaped from."

Remi was looking at him oddly, and Hank grinned.  "Of course, I could be wrong."

"Who, you?"  But Remi's expression was thoughtful rather than teasing.  "I wonder what would happen if I tried to jump back in time from here.   Could I jump past the paradox?"  He seemed to be musing, not expecting an answer.

"Did you ever try something like that in your own timeline?"

Remi shook his head.  "No.  I wasn't really supposed to use my power at all, except to practice keeping the portal under control.  I did make a couple of jumps, but they were only over short time spans.  The biggest was a year.

"Our best theory says that I can only jump within the bounds of a certain timeline.  If I jump back, I'm forced to stop at the point in time that that particular permutation began.  At that point, you—my version of you—believed I could somehow get aligned with the previous permutation and then jump back again within that timeline, until I hit the event that started it, and so on.  But we never tested it.  Dad wanted me to be a little older before I started bouncing around through time by myself, and I think he was afraid of what the consequences might be if I accidentally messed something up somewhere in the past."

Hank was intrigued.  He found himself wishing briefly that he could have been that other Hank who had had so much liberty to investigate such a fascinating topic.  "What about jumping forward in time?"

Remi shrugged noncommittally.  "I can, if that's what you're asking.  But it seems kind of dangerous since nobody knows what might be there.  I could jump out into a burning building, a tidal wave, or whatever.  I could land in the middle of solid rock if there were mountains where I didn't expect them."

They reached the front of the line and accepted the trays that were handed to them.  Hank glanced at his lunch without enthusiasm.  Food was food and he should be grateful, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a truly good meal.  He dragged his thoughts back to the conversation.

"Put that way, it does sound a bit risky.  But a jump backwards... " Hank trailed off as he turned the ideas over in his mind.  The implications were staggering, if it was possible.  He glanced over discretely.  Remi was still just a boy, and the responsibilities that had already been dumped on his shoulders had nearly made him unravel.  Hank wasn't certain they could ask anything more of him without breaking his strained psyche.  He would certainly have to do a great deal more research, and be a great deal more certain of the results, before he would ask Remi to risk a leap through time.

Chapter 18

Remi drew his knees up, hugging them tightly, and stared out at the night sky.  He was continually amazed by how dark the night could be here on Earth.  On Chandilar, the stars were almost entirely hidden by the glow of the city lights.  The capitol city of his homeworld stretched across the entire continent.  But here, the stars were incredibly bright, and they had a shimmering quality they lacked when viewed from space.

"Ha.  I thought I'd find you here."

Remi turned to see Cody stepping lightly across the rooftop toward him.  He settled next to Remi then used the sloping rooftop as a perfect opportunity to lay back and stretch.

"How did you know?" Remi asked.  At home, the roof was his refuge from the chaos that usually possessed the Imperial Palace.  It was a place where he could hide from everything—his responsibilities, his mother, his tutors, even the guards.  Few could climb well enough to follow him, and of those who could fly, few had access to imperial airspace.  More often than not, it was Gladiator who was sent to fetch him if he refused to listen to a telepathic summons.

But on Earth, Remi was banned from the mansion roof for reasons he didn't entirely understand.  It had something to do with Gambit, of course, but he had never gotten a satisfactory explanation.

Beside him Cody shrugged, his shirt rasping across the shingles.  "I dunno.  You always seem to go up when you're upset.  Remember the treehouse?"

Remi couldn't help his smile.  He'd spilled chocolate sauce on Jean's brand new dress and then spent the whole day hiding in that treehouse in mortified terror.  Being seven, it hadn't occurred to him that Jean would know what had happened just by sensing the distress in his mind.  And although she was upset at having her dress ruined, she had been kind enough to wait for him to decide to come down and apologize.  From that day on, the treehouse had become his hideaway on Earth.

"I guess you're right," he admitted.  ‘It's just so... quiet up here."

Cody sat up.  "It is that."  He looked around, taking in the sporadic lights shining from the decaying buildings and the incredible expanse of stars that outshone the paltry man-made glows.  But if he had an opinion of the view, he didn't share it.

He finally turned to face Remi directly.  "So what's up?"  His mind was full of concern, mixed with a little of both fear and anger.

"Nothing's ‘up'."  Remi really didn't want to talk to Cody or anyone else about the last few days.  That was one of the reasons he'd come out here—to get away from the curious looks that followed him wherever he went.

Cody's anger flared.  "You had me and Renee thinking you were going to die, cousin."  His voice was harsh.  "That's hardly nothing."

Remi paused, and for the first time since the Shadow King's attack, began to really listen to the echoes from another person's mind.  He didn't pry into Cody's thoughts, but he could feel the hurt and anger that tumbled around inside his friend.  To his surprise, he discovered that a fair amount of it was directed at himself.  Cody was genuinely concerned for Remi's well-being, but he had really come looking for him because the pain inside him demanded answers.

"I'm sorry."

Cody shrugged uncomfortably.  "Well, you should be."  His anger was undiminished.

Remi stared into the darkness, unable to look at his friend.  "I just needed some time to sort things out."  He found himself rocking back and forth and forced himself to stop.  "I... couldn't cope, Cody."  He risked a glance but couldn't read Cody's expression.  "I'm sorry I left you guys."

Cody stared at his feet.  "You should have helped us bury Rachel."  It was hardly more than a whisper.

Remi felt the blood rush to his face.  He remembered Cody coming in to tell him that the X-Men were having a ceremony for Rachel.  But thinking about Rachel only brought back the memories of Storm and the Shadow King more strongly.  Rachel was dead, and he hadn't wanted to think about her.  It had never occurred to him that Cody and Renee might have needed him to be there.

Remi closed his eyes.  "I'm sorry."

Cody was silent, but Remi could feel his acceptance.  He strengthened the link between them, allowing his own feelings to show as plainly as Cody's.  It was only fair, and it was one of the unspoken rules of their friendship.  Cody trusted Remi not to use his telepathic powers to give him an advantage.

They sat side by side in silence, communing through the telepathic link.  It helped to have someone to share the pain with, both ways, and slowly Remi began to relax.

After a while, Cody turned to him.  "What did happen to you?"

Remi sighed and stretched his legs out, wincing at the stiffness in his knees.  "Other than the fact that I killed Storm?" he asked.  He was surprised by how calmly he admitted it.

Cody's expression twisted.  "She murdered Rachel.  I would have gone after again if you hadn't."  Through their link, Remi knew it was true.  But Cody's motive would have been nothing more than his hurt and the desire for revenge.  That was what made them different.  In that short moment when Remi had turned his powers loose on Ororo, he had felt an incredible surge of adrenaline and of emotion.  It was heady, exhilarating, even sexually intense.  And as he'd felt Ororo's mind darken to nothing, and watched the pieces of her body tumble from the sky in a rain of blood, he'd felt... sated.  As if a hunger he didn't know he possessed had suddenly been satisfied.  It had frightened him like nothing else.

"Ouch," Cody said softly.  To Remi's immense relief, there was no condemnation in his voice, only sympathy.

Remi nodded, but didn't look at him.  The shimmering stars held his gaze with their perfect, limitless beauty.  He wished fervently that people could be that perfect.  That he could be that perfect.

#

Kitty Pryde looked up as Rogue wandered into the room.  She seemed entirely preoccupied as she sank onto the battered couch that was the only seating other than Kitty's bunk.  Without acknowledging the other woman's presence, Rogue let her head fall back against the couch and closed her eyes.

"Rogue?"

Kitty set what she had been doing aside and concentrated on her friend.  She hadn't seen Rogue looking so upset in a very long time.

When Rogue didn't respond, she added, "Are you all right?"

In answer, she got a snort of sour amusement.  Then Rogue opened her eyes.  She glanced sidelong at Kitty, and then fastened her gaze on the water-stained ceiling.  Kitty had the feeling she'd been crying.

"Ah finally met him," she said softly.

"Met who?"

A bittersweet smile lit Rogue's features momentarily.  "The man of mah dreams, sugah."

Kitty watched her in concern.  Her emotions didn't seem to match her words.  "Oh?  Who is he?"  Kitty tried to keep her tone light, encouraging.

But Rogue only shook her head.  "It doesn't matter," she said quietly.  "He's already dead."

#

"Hey! Renee!  Wait up."

Renee paused in surprise at her name. She turned to find Jack trotting across the street toward her.  She hadn't seen him since the battle, but so much had happened since then that she really hadn't thought about him.  Still, coming face to face with him again, she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks.  Her palms immediately began to sweat, and it seemed like a hundred butterflies had suddenly taken up residence in her stomach.

He's way too old, she reminded herself sternly as he reached her.  He's at least twenty-five.

"There you are!"  He beamed at her as if he were truly thrilled to have found her.  "I've been looking for you for two days."

"For me?  Really?"  The words came out in a breathless gasp, and Renee mentally slapped herself.  He was going to think she was a brainless idiot if she kept talking that way.

"Yes."  If he noticed her discomfort, he didn't show it.  "Listen, I know you're leaving for San Francisco soon, but I really wanted to get a chance to apologize." 

Renee blinked in confusion.  "Apologize?  For what?"

He shrugged uncomfortably.  "I was pretty hard on you out there."  He jerked his head in the direction of the outer wall, and Renee realized that he meant the battle.

"Oh."  She noticed then that his eyes were the color of warm cinnamon.  Flushing violently, she looked away.  "You were right," she managed to say.

"Maybe."  There was a great deal of humor in his voice, and Renee wondered if he knew how much he had flustered her.  "I just didn't want you to leave thinking I'm always that mean."

Renee dared a quick look at his face.  He was smiling, but he didn't seem to be laughing at her.  "I... don't think you're mean" she told him sincerely.  He and Kitty had helped keep her alive.

His smile widened.  "Well, that's a relief."  Then he paused and crossed his arms as he considered her. 

"Renee, how old are you?" he finally asked.

"Sixteen."  She tried not to fidget under his scrutiny, but there was something about the way he was staring at her that made her nerves jump.  "Why?"

He seemed oddly disappointed.  "That's what I thought."   He sighed and smiled crookedly.  "I guess this is good-bye, then.  For now, at least."

Renee was surprised by how sad she felt.  "I guess so," she agreed.

They stared at each other for a long moment, and then Jack turned away.  As he walked away from her, Renee raised her hand in a farewell, but he didn't turn around.

Chapter 19

Remi sat quietly inside the helicopter, listening to the increasing whine as the rotors wound up to full speed.  He found it hard to believe he was finally going to get to see his father.  The Dresden had surfaced only a few minutes earlier, which the pilot of the helicopter had relayed to them over their headphones.  Now they were waiting for Bishop's final go-ahead to take off so they could rendezvous with the submarine.

The X-Men, with Remi, Cody and Renee in tow, had arrived in San Francisco the night before.  They had seen absolutely no sign of the Shadow King, which Remi could sense worried Bishop a lot.  He was convinced the Shadow King would attack them.

Remi was terrified of that possibility.  The Shadow King's mental presence was putrid—full of the most evil and horrible things human beings had ever even considered inflicting on others.  Exposing himself to that again was something he did not want to do.

Opposite him, Cody and Renee sat together, fingers intertwined.  Renee had put her head on her brother's shoulder, but her eyes were open and seemed to notice everything.  She had changed tremendously, Remi thought.  There was strength beneath her gentle heart, a new confidence.  He doubted she would ever be as brazen as her mother, but he was glad not to have to worry about her so much.

Bishop and Jean sat beside Remi on the hard metal seat.  They were both preoccupied as they communicated with Besty in preparation for the flight.

Bishop gave the pilot the go-ahead, and Remi heard the rotor whine change pitch as the helicopter began to rise off the ground.  They couldn't have been more than a foot up when they suddenly tilted and then slammed back down onto the skids.  Heart hammering, Remi craned his neck to see past the pilot.  He was startled to see Rogue hovering in front of them, her hands on the nose of the helicopter.

"Rogue!  What are you doing?"  Bishop demanded angrily, and Remi heard Jean relay his thoughts to Rogue.

In answer, she flew around the side of the helicopter, stopping at the open door with its empty gun mount, and stared in at the five of them.  Her face was set in an expression of stubborn determination.

"Ah have ta talk ta Remi," she yelled over the noise of the rotor.

Everyone turned to look at Remi, who could only stare at Rogue in bewilderment.  What was so important that she had to chase down their helicopter?

"Rogue," Bishop said, "we're taking off.  Whatever it is, it will have to wait."

She shook her head vehemently.  "No!"  Then she looked past Bishop to Remi, her eyes pleading.  "Please, sugah.  It's important."

After a moment, Remi decided.  Rogue had sort of been... lurking around him since he'd woken up, but she'd never said what was clearly on her mind.  He felt strangely reluctant to leave San Francisco without hearing what she had to say.  It was almost a sense of foreboding.

He unhooked his harness and stood in the cramped cabin.  "I'll make it short," he told Bishop as he passed him and jumped down to the ground.  He walked a short distance away from the helicopter with Rogue following.  When he felt like they were far enough away not to be overheard, he set a shield to ward off Jean and Betsy, and then turned to Rogue.

"So, what is it?"

Rogue's normally emerald eyes were a stormy sea green that seemed to echo some inner disquiet.  She crossed her arms over her breasts and bowed her head as if gathering herself.

"Before ya leave... there's somethin' ah have ta know."  She looked up, directly into his eyes.  Remi was stunned by the wild churning emotions that filled her.  He didn't say anything, but waited for her to speak the thing that was so vivid in her eyes.

"Could..." She seemed ashamed of what she was about to say.  "Could ya go back and change it?"  She gestured toward the crowded streets of San Francisco.  "Make all this different? Better?"

The tiny, guttural flame of hope that flickered in her eyes tied his heart in a knot.  Beneath the hard, uncaring exterior was a woman of incredible sensitivity.  He could see it in her eyes as well as feel it from her mind.  All of the abuse she'd suffered in this world, all of the isolation, all of the pain, had been unable to destroy that one most precious quantity. 

For the first time in his life, Rogue did not make him uncomfortable.  He suddenly understood what it was about her that captured men's hearts, whether they were husband, family or complete strangers.  It was impossible to see her perseverance in the face of such hardship and not be moved to want to do anything within his power to grant her heart's desires.  But he didn't know if what she wanted was even within his ability.

He found himself shaking his head.  "I don't know if I can jump past the paradox.  I don't even know what will happen if I try to jump anywhere at all."  He spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness as he tried to explain.  "It could kill me as easily as anything else.  I don't belong to this time."

Her face fell, and Remi felt like he'd been stabbed.  But before he could say anything else, he felt Bishop approaching.  He looked up to see him over Rogue's shoulder.

"We have to go now," he told Remi.  His expression brooked no argument.  "Otherwise we'll miss the Dresden."  The submarine would not stay on the surface very long.  It was too vulnerable to the Shadow King there.

Remi nodded.  "I'm coming."  He looked back at Rogue, but she did not meet his gaze.  He wanted to reach out to her, to do something to restore the hope he'd just crushed, but he didn't know what or how.  Feeling frustrated and helpless, he finally did nothing, and turned to follow Bishop back to the helicopter.

#

The hatch closed with a metallic clang as the last of the daylight was cut off.  The interior of the submarine seemed immediately colder, and Remi found himself staring up at the hatch as he descended the last few rungs.  He wasn't particularly claustrophobic, but he wished he were still out in the fresh Pacific air.

His foot touched down on the mesh walkway and he turned reluctantly to face the men who waited for him.  There were two of them, and they stood with Bishop and Jean in the cramped passageway.  Cody and Renee had moved around the ladder to give Remi room to climb down, so he found himself facing the two men alone.

As always, he thought grumpily.  However, he was not going to forget proper manners just because the two intimidated him and Cody and Renee were hiding behind the ladder.  He recognized both men, as well as the ranks that decorated their collars.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain Fury?" he asked formally.  Shi'ar naval customs were amazingly similar to human ones, so he knew it was at least close to the proper way to address the submarine's captain.

Nick Fury considered him appraisingly, his one good eye giving nothing away of his thoughts.  But then he nodded, and the corners of his mouth turned upwards in what Remi hoped was an expression of approval.  "Permission granted."  He extended his hand. Remi took it hesitantly. Nick Fury was a name out of history.  He felt entirely inadequate to be meeting the man this way, but he tried to carry himself with some kind of dignity.  "You must be Remi Neramani."

Remi nodded, throat dry.  Fury glanced past Remi to where the twins stood.

"Cody and Renee LeBeau," Remi supplied. 

Fury nodded as if he'd known that already, and his gaze returned to Remi.  "Welcome to the Dresden."

Before Remi could answer him the second man stepped forward.  "I'm Reed Richards.  If you're ready, I'll take you to Xavier."

Remi's stomach twisted into a knot.  He had been waiting for this since they'd arrived in this world and he'd learned that his father was alive.  But he was also very afraid of what his father would think of him.  He didn't feel like he'd done a very good job of upholding the ideals on which the X-Men were built. 

Reed took his silence for assent and turned away.  Remi hastened to follow him as he began to move away down the narrow passageway.  The twins fell in behind him, and Bishop and Jean brought up the rear.  Remi felt like he was in a parade as the various crew members they passed paused to stare at them.  But eventually they wound their way toward the nose of the boat.

Remi and the twins were forced to hold on to the safety rails as the floor tilted beneath them, signaling the beginning of their descent.  At least the floor sloped down in the direction they were headed, Remi thought, so they were walking downhill.  Reed led them to a hatch at the end of a hall.  He opened it with a practiced twist, then stepped through.  He held the door open and motioned for Remi to enter. 

All activity in the room they entered halted as the men and women turned to look at the new arrivals.  There were seven, total, and they stood or sat in conversational bunches around an oblong table that was covered with nautical charts.  Remi was more than a little surprised at some of the faces he recognized, but his eyes sought out one man in particular. 

Charles Xavier stood near the head of the table, a sheaf of papers held in one hand.  As he stared at Remi, he slowly lowered the papers to the table and allowed them to scatter across the cluttered surface.  Remi was stunned.  The physical differences between this man and the one he'd grown up with were insignificant, but there was no way Remi would ever confuse the two.  This Xavier seemed to almost vibrate on the astral plane with the strain of forcibly repressed power and emotion.  He stood ramrod straight, despite his surprise at meeting Remi, and his mind emanated an aura of horrible forces, tightly controlled.  There was nothing of the thoughtful but generally lighthearted man Remi knew and loved.  This man was driven solely by the force of an unrelenting will. Remi suddenly understood what people meant when they said that his father had been a very different man before Remi was born.  Wolverine had said that he'd gotten a hard lesson in the important things in life when he'd learned Gambit was his son.  That he'd made a vow not to waste the time they'd been given together, and that he'd changed radically in the following years.  If this was what his father had been like before that...

Xavier said nothing, and eventually turned his attention to the others who had come into the room.  He looked Cody and Renee over with the same intensity he'd given Remi, and then his gaze settled on Bishop.

"Any sign of the Shadow King?"  His voice, too, was not what Remi was accustomed to.  It was harder, thinner, and lacked the warmth Remi associated with his father.

Bishop shook his head.  "None so far.  We've been tracking movement around the larger bases, but there haven't been any obvious relocation or massing of his forces."

"Then he's still planning," said a familiar-looking man further down the table.  Remi stared at him for a moment, searching his memory for a name.  Eventually, he found it.  Peter Gyrich.

"Maybe."  Bishop's expression was doubtful.  "It's gotten awfully quiet out there.  The Shadow King seems to have suspended most of his normal activities."

"We should not wait for him to attack us," a man beside Xavier said.  His deep voice boomed in the enclosed space.  His face was entirely obscured by a metal mask, making him seem all the more frightening.  Remi wanted to ask Cody if he recognized him, but there was a Guardian on the sub who acted as a psychic damper, making it difficult to do more than pick up general impressions from the minds around him.  He could only assume that the Guardian was there to help protect the submarine from detection by the Shadow King's forces, but it made him nervous to have his powers blunted that way.

"We won't wait," Xavier answered.  "But we need to know what he is planning.  Even now, we can't afford to attack blindly."

Several of the gathered people glanced in Remi's direction.  Remi tried to return the gazes confidently, but he was secretly certain that he looked as frightened as he felt.  These people were the heart and mind of the resistance, and they were expecting him to bring them a miracle—a chance to defeat the Shadow King.

Xavier, too, looked at Remi.  Remi couldn't bring himself to think of the man as ‘Dad'.  He was too... different.  In a strange way, Remi was disappointed by the man his father had become in this world. 

"Jean has given me a summary of your powers."  Xavier's nod took in all three children, but he remained focused on Remi.  "But I would also like to hear your own assessment.  We need to figure out how your powers can best be used."

Remi could only shrug.  He was feeling more than a little overwhelmed.  He had held tightly to a secret hope that his father would be the same man here, and that he could throw himself into his father's arms and tell him everything that had happened.  That man would have understood, and been able to help him figure out what to do.  This man was scary.  A little voice inside Remi screamed at him not to reveal his ability to time travel.  As far as he knew, only Beast and Rogue were aware of it, and he was terribly afraid of what this Xavier might ask him to do if he knew.

The floor lurched violently, nearly causing Remi to fall.  The metal shell around them groaned in mechanical protest as Remi's stomach leapt into his throat, and he closed his eyes against the brief bout of nausea.

"We're rising!" Richards snapped and bolted toward the door.  His face was full of both fear and anger.  Remi guessed he was going to the bridge.

Suddenly, the heavy telepathic damping disappeared.  Remi shuddered as the Guardian's mind shattered, her screams echoing across the astral plane.  He was immediately aware of Xavier's full astral presence and, towering over them both, the Shadow King.  The shield he'd used before against the Shadow King snapped into place, without thought.  It was an instinctive fear reaction, but Xavier joined him in maintaining it with a brief flash of approval.

He must have followed us somehow! Deep inside, Remi wanted to wail.  Everywhere they went, disaster followed them.  First Dallas, and now the Shadow King had found the Dresden.

Xavier's mental voice was stern.  We knew the risks when we decided to bring you here.  We are not without recourse.

As he spoke, Remi could feel him reaching out across the globe.  Everywhere he sent a tendril of thought, another mind responded until there was a giant net with Xavier at the center.  The Guardians who were the nodes of those many lines poured power into the net until it vibrated.

The Shadow King picked that moment to attack.  Remi could sense a similar net surrounding him—his relays, no doubt.  The entire structure around Xavier shuddered under the attack but held. Remi was amazed.  That much power would have blown any one mind away, including his own, but the intricately intertwined minds were much stronger.  Remi stared at the pattern.  If he could step in and become a second focus like his father, they could nearly double the strength of the net because he could maintain a second link between each mind.

It was easier than he expected, despite the pummeling the Shadow King was giving them. Slowly the net firmed.  Though the stretching sensation of linking with so many minds was painful in a way, it wasn't as bad as he expected.  Every time he forced his powers to be sufficient for what he needed, they grew stronger.

Now what? Remi asked.

He's here. Xavier sounded amazed.  We didn't see him following you because he tracked you physically—not telepathically.  And if he came alone, it would be almost impossible for us to pick him up on radar.  He's actually here.

Remi pushed his senses back toward his body.  Now that he was entrenched on the astral plane, he wanted to know what was happening in the physical world.  He was immediately flooded with information from the minds of the men and women on the submarine and was shocked by what had happened in such a short time.  The entire submarine—thousands of tons of titanium and steel—was suspended thirty feet above the surface of the ocean in a crackling ball of magnetic force.  A second aura of power writhed inside the first as Cody fought to keep the submarine's hull from being crushed by the Shadow King's magnetic power.  So far he seemed to be holding his own, Remi thought as he glimpsed Nick Fury's thoughts and through him, the tactical readouts on the bridge.

What about the nuclear core? Remi asked in sudden alarm.

I've got it, for now, Cody answered.  He's not... really trying for it.  Remi could tell the strain made it difficult for him to string his thoughts together.

How long can you hold him?

He felt Cody's tight grin.  Until you... get him off my back, I suppose.

A spike of pain robbed Remi of a chance to answer.  He darted back to the astral plane and the immense net that was tied to his mind.  Something had been broken.

Xavier pointed out the missing link before Remi could ask.  They were so tightly connected through the web of minds that Remi hardly had to form a thought for his father to understand it.  The thing that had broken was a link between Xavier and one of the Guardians.  Remi's own connection to that Guardian remained intact, and through it, he could sense that the Guardian was injured but still conscious.  But Xavier was too busy now trying to hold off the Shadow King's full scale attacks.  He had no resources to use to reconnect with the Guardian that weren't desperately needed elsewhere.

Xavier was taking the brunt of the assault, leaving Remi in relative safety in his telepathic shadow.  Remi added power to the net for Xavier to draw on, and he strengthened the structure immensely by his presence, but he wasn't actually in contact with the Shadow King.  Even the shield he had originally raised had been completely taken over.  In one sense it was good, because it let him keep track of the physical plane better than he otherwise would have.  But it also meant that Xavier was on his own against the Shadow King, and Remi was not at all confident that any one person, no matter how much power backed them, had the plain strength of character and will to hold firm against the Shadow King.  Merely touching his mind was such a... violating experience that even the memory made Remi shudder.  The truth was, he didn't want to step up beside Xavier.  He would do almost anything to avoid touching the Shadow King again.

For a moment, he slid back toward the physical plane to check on the status of the submarine.  It was easiest just to touch Fury's mind, listen to his thought and words, and to watch the information displayed on the bridge of the high-tech vessel.  But when Remi looked around the bridge, he saw nothing but blank, dead screens.

What happened to all the systems? he asked Fury.

They're shorted out. Fury didn't seem the least surprised by the sudden voice in his head.  Electronics can't take the temperatures.

What?

Look. Fury pointed to an old-fashioned thermometer mounted beside the now defunct displays.  The temperature read 104 degrees, and the mercury appeared to be climbing.  Kid, if you can get to Xavier, tell ‘im we can't take much more of this.  He's got to shut down Magneto's powers.  Hear me?

But how is the Shadow King doing it?

Fury shook his head.  It's not just the Shadow King.  It's your friend, too.  They're pouring so much power into crushing or saving this boat that the energy is leakin' out all over.  We're gonna get cooked if Xavier can't do something about it!

Remi took one more look around the bridge.  Maybe there was something he could do about it.  Reaching back up into the net of minds, Remi singled out Betsy and made contact.  Touching her mind that deeply brought him close to the Shadow King and the intense battle being fought all around him.  He could feel the echoes of pain from all of the Guardians which he had been able to block out before.  The structure of the web of minds vibrated continuously as the Shadow King ripped at it with giant hands tipped with talons.  The astral imagery was powerful and frightening, but Remi clung to his self-assigned task.

After a moment, Betsy responded, and Remi was flooded with awareness of the thousands of processes she was handling at the time.  There was no way for him to take all of it in, but he gathered before she said anything that there was a battle raging around San Francisco.  The Shadow King's forces had attacked the city only a few minutes ago.

Rogue can bring Iceman to you, Betsy told him.  She's the fastest thing we've got.

Send them!

He heard Betsy reaching out to the two mutants and then released his tight hold on Betsy's mind, shifting back toward the sub.  He searched through it quickly, checking on Cody and Renee.  Cody was still deadlocked with the Shadow King, their struggle invisible save for the rising temperature and the occasional groan as the titanium hull twisted in their combined grasps.  Renee was with her brother, watching over him and trying to hold her fear at bay.  Remi touch her deeply enough to feel the pain of the hot air searing her lungs and then withdrew.  He had no solid hope to offer her.  Rogue and Iceman had miles of ocean to cross, with nothing less the Shadow King himself to face once they arrived.  Remi had no idea if they would be able to help, but it was the only thing he could think of.

Well, the only other thing, anyway.  He did not want to admit how much the Shadow King frightened him.  Their last contact had brought out parts of Remi that he wished he'd never seen.  But now he was losing hope that Xavier would be able to take the Shadow King alone.

Remi decided.  Bracing himself, he threw his astral presence at the Shadow King.  If he was going to get into this fight, he would do it without holding back anything.  Fear and reservation would only get him and the people he cared about killed.  That was something he'd learned from his mother.  Absolute commitment was the greatest advantage a soldier could have.

He hit the Shadow King with every ounce of power he possessed, drawing on the Guardians for whatever they could give him.  Xavier knew his plans through their link, and Remi felt him readying a second blast even as Remi streaked toward the Shadow King.  It was like hitting a hard wall of darkness. The shock of impact left him stunned.  The Shadow King staggered.  Remi felt Xavier hit him a mere second later, and the giant form shuddered again.

Remi felt the first ray of hope.  They were hurting him!  He struck again, unsure where he would find the power to do it.  He forced his body and mind to give him what he needed, and felt the Guardians struggling to support the massive drain.  Now, though, the Shadow King had found the means to brace himself.  He roared in pain as Remi drove his telepathic powers into the massive form, and this time he retaliated.  The psi blast hit Remi with the force of a hurricane, shredding his senses like paper and sending him tumbling into darkness.  Against the full fury of the Shadow King and his relays, he was no more than a kitten. 

His last conscious thought was that the Shadow King was more powerful than anyone could have guessed.  There was no way for them to beat him.

#

Remi woke to a searing pain in his lungs and the acrid smell of burnt metal.  Someone was shaking him violently, and he opened his eyes to find Renee leaning over him, her expression filled with terror.

"Remi, wake up!  Wake up!"  She was sobbing, gasping in the intense heat.

Remi sat up slowly, trying to understand where he was and what had happened.  His head felt like there was a spike driven through his temples, but the sight that greeted him as he sat up banished all thought of the pain.  Cody hovered just above the floor, his eyes closed and his whole body tensed in concentration.  An incredible white glow filled the area in front of him, a giant round ball that existed where the rest of the submarine had once been.  Remi wasn't sure if the rest of the sub was inside the glow somewhere, but he doubted it.   He looked around in dismay.  This conference room and whatever might lie ahead of it was all that was left of the submarine.

"What is that?" he asked Renee.

Renee clung to his arm.  "The nuclear core.  After he hit you, the Shadow King tried to blow it up, but Cody caught the explosion."  Her eyes on her brother were huge.  Remi was stunned, too.  Somehow Cody was containing all of the blast forces, including radiation, in a gravitational bubble.  Remi didn't dare try to touch his mind for fear of breaking his concentration.  He had become completely separated from the net of Guardians by the Shadow King's blow, and for the moment, he was unsure if he had enough power left to get him back onto the astral plane.  His head hurt so much that he felt as if using his powers again would tear his mind apart.

The members of Xavier's council were gathered around a prone form at the end of the table.  Remi recognized him and scrambled to his feet, ignoring the heat of the metal floor on his palms.  He knelt down beside his father's still form.  Xavier's body was strangely twisted, his hands locked into claws that echoed his pain.  Remi could tell from looking at his face that he continued to fight the Shadow King, but as he sat there, he heard the distinctive crack of a bone breaking, and saw his father's body shift a little further.  Horror filled him.  The Shadow King was crushing his father's body and his mind even as he watched.

"What about Rogue and Iceman?" Remi asked Jean, who knelt across from him, her hand resting lightly on Xavier's forehead.

The confused look she gave him was all the answer he needed.  Bishop reached over to grip Remi's shoulder.  He didn't say anything, but there was a quiet fear in his eyes, and a strange kind of acceptance. 

Remi twisted out of Bishop's grasp with a savage cry.  He reached out to touch his father's mind.  It had to be possible to kill the Shadow King.  Whether with power, conviction, or sheer force of will, together they would find what they needed to destroy him.

He wanted to scream at the pain in his head as he extended his mind to touch his father's.  But he never had a chance.  Not to scream.  Not to feel his father's touch one last time.  With a piercing cry, Charles Xavier shattered—mind, body and power destroyed in the blink of an eye.  Remi felt his death, like the sudden extinction of a million candles lighting the astral plane.  And where he had been, there was nothing but a gaping hole of darkness and loss.

The Shadow King paused, perhaps stunned by the abrupt destruction of his opponent.  In that moment, Remi understood his choices.  If they were to have any chance of surviving, there was only once course they could take, no matter how poor the odds.  Shoving shock and grief aside, he touched Cody's mind.  He could not explain in words where they needed to go, what they needed to do.  There was no time for anything so clumsy as words, so he dumped the concepts directly into his friend's brain, hoping desperately that Cody would be able to handle it without losing his grip on the glowing ball of nuclear fire before him.

Then, before the Shadow King could gather himself to strike the final blow, he dug inside himself for one last burst of power.  The glowing black nimbus that was his most powerful birthright spread out around him.  Cody's gate appeared inside the black sphere, and Remi staggered under the added burden.  He didn't have much left.

Renee, go!

Renee jumped to her feet and dashed into the portal as the Shadow King swung around.  Remi could feel him gathering power.  They had only an instant left.  He ducked into the gate behind Renee.  Cody had to be last, and Remi saw him only a step behind as he went into the darkness.

Then the absolute nothing inside the gate crumbled as something hot and heavy hit Remi from behind.  It clung to him, burning his back even as he clawed at it, struggling to push it away.  In some part of his mind, he wondered if the nuclear blast behind them had somehow thrown molten metal into the portal.  He worried for a moment about radiation that might have gone through the gate with them too, but the strain of maintaining his grip on where and when they were going made it too hard to think about anything else.

Remi felt the horrible twist that meant he had hit the endpoint of Cody's gate and was dropping back into the real world.  As always, the lurch threw him into a huge black pit of unconsciousness.  If they'd ended up where they were supposed to, they would be safe for a little while at least, and he wanted nothing more than to just rest in the darkness for a short time.  He couldn't feel the burns he knew covered his back, and he didn't really want to think about how bad that damage might be.  Renee was there, he reminded himself.  She would be able to heal him.

As he drifted in contentment, something pricked his senses.  He wanted to ignore it, to rest in peace for a bit, but the sound wouldn't leave him be.  It was a tiny sound, but shrill, and it repeated over and over maddeningly.  He was dragged toward consciousness despite himself, and as he became more aware, pure terror filled him.

The sound was Renee.  She was screaming.

Chapter 20

Remi opened his eyes and immediately recoiled with a cry of disgust.  He was lying with his face only a few inches away from a charred skeleton.  The smell was overwhelming.  Gagging, he rolled away and came to his feet in a crouch, eyes searching for the threat, the fire.  He collapsed back onto the ground almost immediately, his breath ragged.  He was still disoriented from the gate, a mixture of dizziness and nausea that made everything around him waver in time with the throbbing pain in his back.

Renee knelt in the grass a few feet from him, her hands balled into fists in front of her mouth, muffling her constant cries.  Those were dying down now, reduced to little mewls of distress.  She didn't seem to see him.  Her gaze was locked on the crumpled skeleton that lay in a patch of blackened grass.

Remi missed the significance at first.  But as memories of the last few minutes flashed through his mind, he understood in a rush of horror.

"Cody..." 

It felt like someone had stabbed him.  Cody had been right behind him.  Not more than a second or two.  He, too, could only stare at the remains of his friend.  How could this have happened?  Had the Shadow King attacked before he'd gotten into the gate?  Or had the nuclear blast overtaken him?  But he had been controlling both the explosion and the gate.  Surely he wouldn't have misjudged it.  It had to be the Shadow King.  With Xavier dead and himself inside the gate, Cody would have had no defense.  If the Shadow King had attacked in those last moments before Cody entered the gate, he would have lost control of the explosion.  The thoughts tumbled around in Remi's head as he replayed the events of their last moments on the submarine.  He should have waited that last second.  But he'd been so sure that there was enough time.

In the cool evening air, he began to shiver.  Cody was dead because of him.  His back ached horribly, burned by the body of his friend as they collided inside the gate.  Hot tears filled his eyes and he squeezed them tightly shut, doubling over to rest his forehead on the ground.  Eventually, his lungs began to burn and he realized that he'd quit breathing from the agony in his heart.

A strange howl, very close, brought his head up.  He looked around to see a Hound perched on the nearby wall.  It stared down at them with a mixture of curiosity and menace.  Remi returned the stare blankly.  He was sure the creature's appearance held some kind of significance, but for the moment he couldn't figure out what.  All he understood was that something deep inside him was clamoring for his attention to its warning.

Finally, survival instinct overcame his horror. Remi began to think about where the were.  He looked around as much as he could without taking his focus off of the Hound.  He and Renee had landed in the midst of a well-manicured lawn.  To his left and behind them, he could see the outlines of a large house, perhaps fifty yards distant.  The windows that he could see were darkened, though a light shone on the back porch.  To his right was more lawn, studded with shrubs, and beyond that a quiet street.  Ahead of him was a tall brick wall, the Hound still perched atop it.  The wall appeared to be decorative though it was tall enough to keep out a casual intruder, and behind it he could see part of the second story of a house.

As he realized he had seen this house before, relief rushed through him.  They'd made it.  The Hound before him was all the testament he needed to believe that they had arrived at the right time as well.

The Hound didn't seem inclined to attack them just yet, so Remi cautiously moved toward Renee, crawling across the grass.  The Hound watched them, snuffling and woofing softly to itself.  It seemed playful, as if it were trying to decide the most interesting way to jump at them.  Remi grabbed Renee's shoulder and shook her without taking his eyes off the beast. 

"Renee!" he hissed.  She didn't respond.  He shook her again, harder.  "Renee!  C'mon!  We have to go."

He felt her take a shuddering breath.  "Cody—" It was barely a whisper.  Remi risked a glance at her and was appalled by her empty expression.  Her face was pale, so pale that what blood was there made her skin look mottled, and her eyes reflected her savaged soul.

"I know."  He touched her mind lightly, enough to convey his pain as a sympathetic echo of her own, but also with a gentle urging to get up.  It was probably an unethical thing to do, but he telepathically blocked her hurt, damping it to a level she could function under.  The Hound on the wall gave him little choice.

"Do you recognize this place?" he asked as he climbed to his feet, pulling her up behind him.  That way, he stood between Renee and the Hound.  The Hound continued to watch them, its tongue lolling out of its mouth in a strange parody of a smile.

Renee looked around.  "I... I think so.  Where are we?"

"Cairo, Illinois.  Do you remember when Ororo brought us here?"  Ororo had been the most willing of all the X-Men to talk about Gambit.  She had even shown them some of the places that had significance to his life.  Most were in New Orleans, but she had also brought them here, to the place where she'd first met him.

With silent ease, two more Hounds appeared on top of the wall.  This was, apparently, what the first Hound had been waiting for.  Immediately, all three leapt toward Remi and Renee.  Instinctively, the two mutants moved apart to give themselves room to maneuver, but kept their backs to each other.  Renee's staff appeared in her hands. Remi could hear the dangerous hum as she spun it.  Her thoughts echoed the sound of the staff.  All of her pain and anger at her brother's death crystallized in that moment, and she channeled it toward the one who had killed him.  The Hounds were simply an extension of the Shadow King. They would get no mercy from her.

Then there was no more time for thought.  Remi ducked the first Hound that leapt at him. Its jaws snapped just behind his neck as he planted his shoulder in its chest and used its momentum to throw it across the lawn.  It landed with a yelp, but rolled quickly to its feet.  Another dodged and darted around Renee's feet, seeking a way past her staff.  The third gathered itself and lunged at Remi.  He drew one of his precious few remaining spikes, charged it and threw.   His aim was good, and the Hound collapsed with a ragged hole torn out of its chest.  Like Renee, he could no longer see the Hounds as anything but a portion of the Shadow King himself.  They would die, if he had anything to say about it.

He heard a squeal as Renee connected, but couldn't see if the Hound was seriously hurt or not.  The one that he'd thrown was back on its feet, snarling and leaping at him from the side.  Remi drew another spike, but didn't have time to charge it as the Hound hit him.  He threw his arms up in front of his face instinctively, and let himself collapse under the Hound's weight.  He landed on his back, and the weight of the Hound on top of him knocked his breath away.  The Hound dug its claws into his torso and strained forward to get its teeth at his face.  Remi braced his forearms against its chest, turning his face away from the gaping jaws.  He had charged the spike, but didn't know what to do with it.  If he dropped it here, the blast would probably kill him along with the Hound.  But to throw it away, he'd have to let go of the Hound, and he didn't think he'd be able to hold the creature off with just one arm. 

The Hound shifted its weight, digging in with its hind claws.  Remi felt the hot stabs of pain as the talons tore his skin.  Then the Hound found its balance as its claws lodged against his hip bones, and Remi bit his lip against a scream.  His vision filled with bright points of light and without thought he lashed out against the pain, driving the charged spike into the creature's neck.  He didn't have much leverage, but the spike was sharpened to a clean point and went through the soft flesh without protest.

He let go of the Hound to cover his face with his arms and turned away as the spike blew.  Hot blood splattered him.  The body atop him immediately went limp and Remi pushed it away with an exclamation of disgust.  Beyond him, he saw Renee bring her staff down on the skull of the third Hound with a resounding crack.  It collapsed as if its strings had been cut.  Renee nudged the body with the tip of her staff, and when she got no response, planted the tip in the grass and leaned against the staff for a moment, breathing heavily.

Everything around Remi began to spin.  He tried to call Renee's name, but he could no longer see well enough to tell if she heard him.  There were so many things he wanted to say to her, to apologize, but he couldn't force his mouth to form the words.  As the darkness closed in, the only thing he could think of was that he was an idiot for not expecting the Hounds in the yard.  The X-Men's log even said that Gambit had avoided several sentries on his way into the house.  He hadn't remembered that until now.

Something warm and comforting touched him.  It was a moment before he realized it was simply the lack of pain.  The sensation spread from his head, expanding until it had run through his entire body.  He opened his eyes to find Renee bending over him, her hands cupping his face.  Her expression was frighteningly intense.  She sat back when he looked at her, the momentary intensity fading to her normal expression.

"Don't you dare leave me here by myself," she said quietly as she slid her hands back into her gloves.  Remi could see the glimmer of tears in her eyes, so similar to his own.  He sat up, quietly marveling at how good he felt, and drew her into a tight hug.

"Let's go get Ororo," he told her after a moment.  He would have liked to stay there longer, to let Renee gather herself, but they didn't have time.  The explosions would surely draw the Shadow King's attention.

Renee clung to his hand as they stood.  "What do you mean?"  By unspoken accord they did not look back to where Cody's body lay in the cool grass.

Remi studied the brick wall, trying to decide whether to go over it or through it.  "Well, Gambit isn't here to save Ororo from the Shadow King.  So we're going to have to do it."  And do it right, he amended silently.  He couldn't afford any more mistakes.

He felt comprehension dawn in her mind just as two more Hounds leapt up on top of the wall, directly in front of them.  Their presence decided him.  He pulled out two of his remaining four spikes, charged and threw.  They struck the wall squarely beneath the Hounds, and the ensuing explosion flung the creatures backward.

Remi didn't wait.  Pieces of brick and mortar dust rained down on them as he and Renee darted through the gap in the wall.  They passed the bodies of the Hounds without slowing, and broke into a full out run to cross the fifty yards to the house.  Remi tried to scan the house as they approached.  He was dismayed by how weak he felt—the Shadow King's blow had done him more damage than he wanted to admit. 

The familiar malevolent presence filled his senses again as he pushed his thoughts toward the structure before them.  The Shadow King was on the second floor, surrounded by his Hounds.  There was a woman named Chen there, too.  She was a Hound, Remi sensed, but not the same as the others.  Ororo's thoughts were almost unrecognizable when he found her.  The structure of her mind was much the same, but without memories of her name or her life, she was just another child.  The purity of her thoughts stood out against the Shadow King's filth, but had Remi not known from history that it was her, he probably couldn't have identified her.

"They're upstairs, in the master bedroom," Remi told Renee.  To his amazement, the Shadow King was still preoccupied with Ororo, and had not yet started looking for the source of the explosions on his lawn.  Remi didn't try to push deeper, for fear of drawing his attention.  The closer they could get without his notice, the better their chances.  But he had to bite his mental tongue to keep from reaching out to reassure Ororo.  Her mounting terror was plain to him, and he could feel the Shadow King soaking it up with groans of ecstatic pleasure.

They worked their way around the edge of the house, coming at last to the front door.  Remi grabbed the doorknob experimentally, and was suitably startled when the door swung open.  They went inside, only to find themselves faced with another Hound.  It sat halfway up the banister staircase and seemed to be waiting for them.

Mine, Renee said succinctly. Remi let her move past him.  She walked to the stairs, staff held ready, and made as if to start climbing.  As her foot touched the bottom step, the Hound leapt.  Renee used the step as a launching point for a neat back flip.  She landed several feet away just as the Hound struck where she had so recently stood.  With the grace of a dancer, she brought the staff whistling around and hit the crouched Hound across the base of its neck.  Remi winced at the sound of bone shattering, but didn't let it slow him.  Renee was already heading up the stairs three at a time, and he pushed to catch up with her.

They reached the upstairs hallway.  Remi pointed toward the master bedroom and Renee nodded, pausing to allow him to retake the lead.  Despite her desire for vengeance, he could feel very clearly her reluctance to face the Shadow King.  He couldn't blame her.  He was terrified, too.  This Shadow King wasn't nearly as powerful as the one they had just left—he didn't have the tormented population of an entire planet from which to draw his energy, nor did he have a network of telepaths to back him.  But he was still a telepath of nearly unparalleled ability, and Remi was already taxed from the battle on the Dresden.  A momentary vision of Deathbird swam before his mental eye.  She was forever lecturing him about the honor of dying in battle for a righteous cause.  Remi had generally ignored his war-mongering aunt, but for once he could begin to see her point.  He was deliberately setting himself against a superior enemy because the consequences of not doing so were too devastating.  He'd been there. He'd seen it. 

Bolstered by his conviction, Remi touched Renee's mind, erecting the shield he'd used twice before to hold off the Shadow King.  He felt the Shadow King's attention immediately focus on them, and knew that, inside the master bedroom, the Shadow King had turned toward the door.  That left them nothing to do but go inside.

Remi quietly opened the door to the master bedroom and walked through with Renee on his heels.  They found themselves facing a slickly handsome man of Middle-Eastern descent.  He stood in the center of the room, surrounded by Hounds.  An Oriental woman leaned against his shoulder in a sultry pose—the Chen woman whose mind Remi had brushed earlier.  Ororo was on her knees before the Shadow King, held there by two Hounds.  Her blue eyes, wide with fear, jerked to the door as Remi and Renee entered.  Even though he was expecting it, Remi still found it strange to meet his aunt as a child.

The Shadow King's eyebrow twitched in surprise.  "More children?"  Remi felt the touch of an exploratory probe against his shield.  "And at least one is an adept.  How fortunate."  His smile was as cold as a shark's.

Time seemed to slow for Remi as he thought through his options.  None of the Hounds had yet moved. The Shadow King did not seem to consider them a serious threat.  He and Renee had one precious opportunity to strike, but he wasn't quite sure how to make the best of it.  The Hounds holding Ororo seemed like the necessary first targets.  Freeing her was their absolute objective.  But he was uncertain how long he would be able to fight before the Shadow King attacked him on the astral plane.  At that point, he would be unable to defend himself physically.

Through their link, he knew that Renee was ready.  She, too, understood that the Hounds would primarily be hers to deal with after the first strike.  Remi fingered his last two spikes, then drew them, the pinkish glow of his power radiating from the two pieces of metal.  All eyes focused on him, and the Shadow King's eyebrows rose in an expression of curiosity.

Before Remi could throw, Ororo drove her elbow into the ribs of one of the Hounds holding her with savage force.  The Hound yelped and staggered, momentarily freeing Ororo on one side.  A tiny lightning bolt leapt from the palm of her hand into the face of the other Hound.  Distracted by its pain, the second Hound could not hold on to the fiercely struggling girl.  Ororo twisted free of her captors and bolted to her feet.  Although she was not quite panicked, Remi could tell that she had no thought of the two mutants in her mind.  She simply wanted away from the Shadow King.  Without hesitation, she turned and sprinted for the far wall and the bay window that overlooked the pool.  Through the window, Remi saw the water glinting in the glow of the poolside lights just before the glass shattered.  Ororo dove through the window headfirst.  The two Hounds made as if to follow her, but a tremendous bolt of light ripped straight up past the window and they leapt back.  The electric sizzle was frighteningly loud and the intensely bright light seared Remi's sensitive eyes.

Through his tearing eyes, he took aim and threw.  Now that Ororo was safely out, he could concentrate on the Shadow King.  He knew that Ororo would land in the swimming pool.  In his own time, Gambit had dragged her out and they had escaped together.  Remi was fairly confident that she would be able to find her own escape route so long as the Shadow King was unable to pursue her.

One spike was aimed directly at the Shadow King's chest, and Remi grasped at a momentary hope that he could be killed with a single blow.  But then the Chen woman gave a cry of dismay and threw herself forward, trying to shield the Shadow King with her body.  Remi's spike struck her squarely between the shoulder blades and exploded on impact.  The second spike exploded at their feet, throwing them both backward as the Shadow King instinctively held on to his dead Hound.  The other Hounds in the room dodged the blast with yowls of terror, scuttling away from the two mutants.

The Shadow King screamed commands at the Hounds as he struggled from beneath Chen's body.  Remi had a momentary vision of attacking while the Shadow King was hampered, but he had no weapon, and didn't for a moment believe that he could defeat the Shadow King in hand-to-hand combat.

Responding to their master's commands, the Hounds turned on Remi and Renee.  There were only three of them, but they were the most intimidating Remi had seen.  He suspected that they were something more than regular Hounds, though not quite what Chen had been.  They circled the two warily, snarling and snapping.  The Shadow King climbed slowly to his feet behind the circle, but seemed content to watch his Hounds.  Remi could read little from him, but he seemed supremely confident that Remi and Renee were no real threat.  He seemed to be treating the entire event like a show being staged for his amusement, despite the blood that soaked his shirtfront.  Or perhaps because of it.  Remi could tell he was pleased the conflict would surely end in death on one side or the other.

Remi searched vainly for something else to charge.  He was out of spikes and his uniform was form-fitting, without pockets or buttons.  There was nothing on the floor around them, nor even on top of the nearby dresser.  Perhaps in the drawers, but Remi didn't think he'd have the time to go through them.  He did have his X-Men insignia, but that wasn't going to make much of a bang.

At first, he thought it was his own growing despair at the lack of weapons with which he could defend himself against the Shadow King.  He felt like there was a tiny voice of panic clawing at the edges of his mind.  The fear was suffocating and dark. He pushed it away with determination.  He was not going to give in to his terror.  But the voice came back, despairing, choking, calling out to anyone that would hear.  Startled, Remi reached for the source of the voice, testing to see if the Shadow King was trying to manipulate him.  Sensations flooded him at the contact—cold, wet darkness that sucked at him, tried to swallow him.  It was impossible to fight back.  He could not force his limbs to move, to struggle toward the rippling surface above him.  He could not breathe in the darkness, and as it seemed to close in on him, terror of becoming trapped in that awful place filled him, nearly destroying his thoughts.

Remi broke the contact with a gasp.  "Ororo!"  But he didn't get a chance to do or say anything else as the circle of Hounds attacked.  Remi saw Renee's staff flash as she swept it around and then there was nothing but the press of bodies, the putrid breath and the sharp stabbing pains of teeth and claws.  Remi fought the Hounds desperately.  Ororo was drowning, too badly stunned from her fall to swim to the surface of the pool.  He tried to reach her telepathically, but she was too frightened for his appeals to draw a response.

Remi reached for the collar of a Hound as it closed its jaws around his forearm.  Concentrating against the pain, he charged the studded leather and then pushed the beast away as well as he could.  Its teeth shredded his arm as he struggled to free himself from the clenched jaws. Finally he could only duck as the collar exploded only a foot from him.  Hot metal scraps from the collar studs were driven into his arms and shoulder by the force of the blast, but the Hound went limp and he threw the body away.

Remi risked a glance in Renee's direction.  Blood flowed freely from a gash in her thigh, but other than that she seemed to be all right.   Beyond her, Remi could hear the Shadow King ordering other Hounds in the house after Ororo.  He, too, had realized her danger.  Remi was surprised.  There was a sense of fear from him, as if Ororo's life was precious to him.

Another Hound leapt at Remi.  He spun tightly and kicked it in the ribs, deflecting its path.  The Hound landed awkwardly, and in the single moment that it took to regroup and come after Remi again, the young mutant had a moment of utter clarity. The final pieces of the puzzle fell into place.  Outside the window, Ororo was drowning as much from her own claustrophobic terror as the water.  Gambit had never realized how paralyzed she was by her disorientation and the mistaken impression that she was trapped by the dark water.  He had dragged a conscious girl out of the pool, not realizing his action was the only thing that allowed her to gain control of her fear.  To him it would have seemed that he had only helped, that without him she would have climbed out of the pool on her own.  That was why the Witness had not predicted the timeline Remi and Renee had just left.  It had never occurred to him.

The most horrible thing was that Remi was only perpetuating the mistake.  Ororo's life slipped away even as he realized the truth, leaving only an empty gap where she had been.

The Shadow King's cry of rage startled everyone in the room.  The Hounds turned toward their master, cringing. Remi and Renee looked at each other.

"Ororo's dead," Remi told her plainly, and her eyes widened.

The Shadow King spun on them.  "You!"  He stared at the two mutants.  "This is your doing!"

Remi barely had time to strengthen the shield around himself and Renee as the Shadow King lashed out at them.  The blow was staggering, and Remi felt Renee's hands under his arm as he fought to keep the shield erect.  Despair filled him, even as he tried to gather himself to step entirely onto the astral plane and meet the Shadow King on more even footing.  No matter what happened, they'd failed.  Ororo was dead, and Remi had no idea what the future would now hold.  His mind spun as he tried to consider it.  How pivotal had the X-Man Storm been in shaping the world?  In directing the course of his own people, the Shi'ar?  How many of her actions were the only ones that could set history on an acceptable path?

Sudden understanding flooded him. He straightened abruptly in Renee's grasp.  The Shadow King was not the problem, really.  Remi firmed his shields as he turned the idea over in his head.  He already knew how to force the course of history to go the way he believed it should.  The Shadow King couldn't stop him.  In fact, he'd already tried and failed.

Remi couldn't help his smile as he turned and caught Renee's arms in his hands.  But then his smile died as he realized what the cost would be.  Without Cody, he couldn't take Renee with him.  His portal would kill anyone but himself.  Remi stared into her red and black eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by the choice he had to make.

Even the Shadow King paused in his attack, as if realizing that Remi was ignoring him in favor of something of greater portent.

Remi found himself squeezing Renee's arms rhythmically.  "I'm sorry," was all he could find to say.

Understanding filled her eyes and she began to shake her head vehemently.  "No!  Don't leave me!"  Her fingers grasped at the torn cloth of his shirt, her eyes pleading with him.

Remi wished he had time to explain everything to her, but the Shadow King would not wait very long.  Remi knew he could hold off a telepathic assault for a while, but there were still two Hounds who waited on either side of them.  If the Shadow King decided to set them loose again, Remi would loose his chance.

He touched Renee's mind, pouring as much of his thought process into her as he could in the hopes that she would get the chance to sort it out and understand what he had done.  Beyond that, he could do nothing but try to express how much he cared about her, and hope that she would be willing to forgive him. 

Remi pulled out of her grasp as the swirling black maelstrom of a time portal opened behind him.  He had to do this.  It was the only way to protect the future.  But every step he took away from Renee was like a knife to his heart.  Nothing would ever erase the knowledge that he had left her and betrayed the trust she had in him to somehow keep her safe.

Hating himself for it, Remi took the last step backward into the portal.

#

Renee stared at the shrinking black circle in numb amazement.  Remi was gone.  He'd really left her.  Very slowly, she turned to look at the Shadow King, who watched her in return with a bemused expression.  They remained like that for what seemed like a very long time, until the Shadow King shook himself and straightened.

"So, child, what shall I do with you?"  His voice was mild.

Renee stared at the man who, in another life, had killed her best friend, her grandfather, and her brother. She began to tremble.  The Shadow King smiled. 

At an invisible command, his Hounds moved to flank her.  Renee did not resist.  She had no defense against him and they both knew it.  But secretly, Renee tried to hold on to the knowledge Remi had passed her.  He was going further into the past and the timewave would come rolling through the here and now as his actions changed the timeline.  All she had to do was stay alive until it hit.  She was immune to paradox—Remi had been certain of that.

The Shadow King crossed to stand before her, and for a moment Renee held to the fleeting hope that he would be stupid enough to touch her skin.  She knew he could read every thought in her mind, and his expression told her that he had read the nature of her powers.  But she didn't know if he had read the end of his existence at the mercy of the timelines.  He didn't seem to have, as he appraised her with a hungry stare that made her skin crawl.  With gentle fingers, he reached up to stroke her breast through her uniform and Renee felt a stab of pure terror.  He knew about her powers and wasn't afraid.  She bit back a sob as the Hounds pressed against her on either side, forcing her closer to the Shadow King.

Then the world lurched, a sickening shake she had only felt one other time in her life.  In an instant, everything around Renee changed.  The bodies that had surrounded her so closely were gone. She staggered.  The Shadow King stood across the room, facing away.  He was looking toward the shattered bay window that overlooked the pool.  His Hounds surrounded him, and the Oriental woman that Renee had seen die leaned out over the window sill, looking down.

The Shadow King's head snapped around, his eyes narrowing when he spied Renee near the door.  To him, she realized dimly, it must seem as if she had suddenly appeared out of nowhere as the timeline reformed around her.  A small part of Renee rejoiced that Remi had been able to do something, and that if he was correct, the world had just been made right again.  But most of her was terrified beyond reason. 

The Shadow King turned his head slightly, back toward the window as if he was torn between Renee and the activity outside.  Renee didn't hesitate.  She turned and ran.

Chapter 21

Remi shivered in the early morning air as he stood and tried to stretch out some of his stiffness.  His arm and shoulder ached from the wounds the Hounds and his own powers had given him, but the blood that had seeped through the makeshift bandages was mostly dry.  His stomach rumbled as he looked around, taking in the dim interior of the garbage filled alley.  He hadn't seen much when he'd arrived there the previous night.  Exhausted, hurt and terrified, he'd had only the strength to find a doorway to curl up in. He'd cried himself to sleep.  In the cool morning mists, his cheeks felt dried and taut from the salt on his face, and he rubbed them with his palms.

Now what, Remi?  He desperately wished that Renee was there, but she was some eight years in the future.  He'd left her, and now he was more alone than he'd ever been in his life.  Part of him wanted to run to Westchester, or better yet, to use a portal to take him to Chandilar, but he knew he couldn't.  His parents wouldn't know him.  And even if they accepted him, his chances of keeping Ororo Munroe alive that one night in Cairo would be nullified.

Remi took a deep breath and faced the mouth of the alley and the broad thoroughfare beyond.  He tried to push away all of the events of the past weeks—all the loss, all the fear, all the doubts.  There was still hope.  In defiance of all laws of reason and probability, Remi was in the right place and the right time to make the future what it ought to be.  He just had to go do what needed to be done.

Resolved, Remi Neramani stepped out onto Bourbon Street, deep in the heart of the French Quarter of New Orleans.  There was someone he had to find.

#

Remi slid a few bills and scattered coins across the counter of the tiny diner with only a twinge from his conscience.  He'd been forced to use his telepathic talents to shield him from notice as he filched enough money for some dinner from one of the other patrons.  Despite his best intentions, he'd discovered that being a time traveler and a Shi'ar prince did nothing to fill his stomach here.  There were too many children on the street looking for handouts, and most people didn't seem to have much charity.  He pushed the thoughts away and dug into his gumbo with such zeal that the woman behind the counter chuckled.

"Ain' seen a real meal in a while, looks t' me," she commented.  She was a heavy-set woman, dressed in an apron and with a kerchief tied in her hair.  A pair of black eyes peered cheerfully at him from a face the color of a walnut.  "Y' got a home, boy?"

Remi glanced up at her.  "Not anymore."  Behind her, he could see his reflection in the mirror that backed the counter.  He certainly looked the part these days—gaunt, with a week's worth of grime caked on him along with the blood.  His long hair was tangled and matted, and his clothes nearly in tatters.

The woman's expression turned sympathetic.  "Where y' been sleepin' den?"  She nodded toward the street outside her little eatery.  "Dey's some bad ‘uns out dere."

"I know, Mamman."  It had been easy enough to absorb the Cajun dialect from some of the locals, and Remi tried not to think about how easily it came to him.  There was a part of him that found this city very comfortable.  He picked up his bowl to drink the last of the broth and then set it down regretfully.  He was still hungry, but he was trying to use his powers as little as he could to get by.  Mutants were almost unknown at this point in history.  He couldn't afford to draw attention to himself.  Unfortunately, he had to do a lot of telepathic work, but what little he could avoid, he did.  He really didn't like stealing.  It left a bad taste in his mouth and a twinge of guilt in his heart.

The woman ladled another serving into his bowl, shushing his protests with a wave.  "Eat y' fill, boy.  I don' charge dem dat doesn' have it."  She grinned over her shoulder at him as she sashayed toward the kitchen.  "An' den y' gon' have a bowl o' my famous bread puddin'."

Remi didn't spend very long wondering what bread pudding was.  It was a relief to simply sit and think of nothing at all.  This was his third day in New Orleans, and like the ones before it he'd spent the entire day wandering the streets, telepathic senses thrown wide in the hopes of catching a reference to the people he sought in the minds of some passerby.  So far he'd found nothing.  No thoughts of a Thieves Guild or of a family named LeBeau.

#

Charles Xavier turned in surprise at a sudden beeping sound behind him.  A red light had begun to flash on the main panel of a truly monstrous pile of computer equipment.  The device was Charles' pet project, part of his growing vision for the future of mutants.  It was still in the prototype stage, rarely operating for more than eighteen hours at a time before some bug or another brought it crashing down, but Charles had already located several mutant signatures with his Cerebro device.  Now it appeared the device had found another.  He wheeled his chair over to the main panel and put on the headset that hung beside it.

Images flooded his mind as the Cerebro device began transferring data.  Charles absorbed it all, wincing at the less than perfect interface.  He quickly forgot about the small pain as excitement filled him.  The signature of the new mutant indicated a power level equivalent to Magneto's or his own.

He pulled off the headset, tucking it under his arm, and touched the button on the intercom.  "Scott?"

"Here, sir," came the immediate response.

"Scott, assemble the X-Men.  The Cerebro has detected a new mutant."

"Yes, sir!"  Charles smiled at the young man's enthusiasm.  He released the intercom button and looked back at the monitor that gave him a two-dimensional representation of what the Cerebro was working on. 

What an addition this new mutant could be to the X-Men, he thought as he peered at the map the Cerebro had brought up.  I should have known that Magnus and myself couldn't be the only ones. He tapped the flashing dot that was the city of New Orleans thoughtfully.  Let us only hope this mutant believes in the cause of peace.

#

Remi stiffened with a tiny gasp.  There!  He grasped after the voice in his head, trying to separate it from the crowd.  A low voice, full of knowledge and secrets. It had whispered the name LeBeau.

He looked around, only belatedly remembering that he wasn't supposed to act frantic, lest he draw unwanted attention from his quarry.  He didn't immediately spy the owner of the stream of thoughts that ran through his head, though he knew the man couldn't be very far away.  The thoughts were dark, leaving Remi chilled.  It was a little like touching the Shadow King again, so he made no effort to penetrate the mind more deeply.

Remi stepped out into the street, following the voice in his head.  He had only a vague instinctive knowledge of which way to go, so he melded with the crowd and let it carry him in the general direction.  All the while, he held tightly to the tenuous thought strand that promised him a connection to the man he needed to find.

People crowded all around Remi, none of them moving in quite the same direction, and yet he marveled at how smoothly the crowd moved him down the street.  It was like being caught in an ocean tide, pulled smoothly yet inexorably in a direction of the water's choosing.  Remi looked around, still somewhat awed by his surroundings.  He had never seen a city like New Orleans.  The French Quarter had a festive spirit that seemed to emanate from the very streets themselves, a kind of cultural pageantry that Remi found breathtaking. The air was filled with the scent of flowers that nearly overwhelmed the smells of cayenne and garlic.  Huge garlands of white and pink blooms were strung along doorframes and guttering, shedding petals like snowflakes.  The sultry sound of a tenor sax floated through the air, undiminished by the human noises.  Remi finally spotted the musician standing on a crate, a circle of listeners surrounding him.  People lined the storefronts as well, standing or sitting on narrow balconies on the second stories.  They were drinking and laughing, the conversations often spanning the distances between balconies or spreading down to the street level. 

After a while, the voice led Remi off of the main street into a vacant side way.  Remi paused at the mouth of the alley.  It was a perfect place for an ambush, though of who or why, Remi couldn't begin to guess.  But his voice was definitely down there, and now that most of the crowd was behind him, Remi could find two other minds very near the first.  They weren't any more pleasant than the other, and Remi skimmed the surfaces, gaining one important piece of knowledge.  One of the men was named Andre LeBeau.

Uncertain, Remi backed out of the alley.  He didn't necessarily want to contact the thief he'd found.  He just wanted to follow him.  Once around the corner, and back amid the festivity of the main street, he settled himself on the curb next to one of the tall iron lamp posts and leaned his head against it.  He listened to the distant saxophone, letting it all but obliterate the ugly thoughts of the thief. 

Remi started out of his daze when a man stepped into the mouth of the alley.  He was dressed in black leather, with a short gray cloak thrown back over his shoulders.  He peered into the alley cautiously, and his thoughts slid toward the various weapons he carried.  Remi was surprised.  The man was a walking arsenal.

Eventually, the man started down the alley.  His thoughts remained alert for trouble, but he also seemed expectant and not terribly afraid. 

"LeBeau?"  Remi could not physically hear the word, but it echoed in his mind.  "Are you here?"

Remi turned his attention to Andre, following him as he stepped out into the other man's sight.  "Right here, Devereaux."

The two stared at each other, and Remi was amazed by how deep their mutual hatred ran.  Both would have killed the other in an instant and enjoyed it.  Remi shuddered and withdrew until their thoughts were nothing more than a murmur.  He knew what it felt like to kill that way, and it terrified him.  Still, their spoken words echoed loudly on the surfaces of their minds.

"Is everyt'ing ready?"

"Oui.  On de Rue de Fleur.  Two days."

Without another word, the two men parted.  Andre stepped back into the shadows where his friends waited. Devereaux came out of the alley a moment later.  Remi watched as he stepped into the crowd and disappeared.

Andre and his companions waited nearly ten minutes before they emerged, and even then they were careful.  One of the three turned up the street, passing Remi without a glance.  The other two went the other direction.  Remi gave them a short head start and then climbed to his feet.  He truly did not want to listen to their minds, so he only did what was necessary to be certain he would not lose them in the crowd.

#

They walked for nearly an hour, until the tightly packed shops gave way to spacious homes in an area Remi thought was called the River District.  He followed Andre over a low stone wall only to find himself in a graveyard.  Many of the markers were in the form of elaborate statuary, and Remi stared in surprise at the image of Ky'thri.  Then he shook his head.  No, not Ky'thri.  Not on Earth.  But the winged woman standing over one of the graves reminded him of the statue that stood outside of the Temple of Stars.  A sudden wave of homesickness washed over him.  It would be a very long time, if ever, before he stood in the Temple of Stars again.

He shook off his preoccupation and looked around for Andre.  To his dismay, both men had disappeared.  Remi expanded his telepathic powers, sweeping across the graveyard, and even back toward the houses.  He found nothing except the thoughts of ordinary people in the midst of normal dinnertime activities.

Remi cursed himself for his moment's inattention.  Where could they have gone that he wouldn't find them telepathically?  Feeling suddenly frantic, he made another search, but was forced to conclude that the thieves were gone.  As was his chance of finding Jean Luc LeBeau.  Eventually, he sank to the ground next to the statue.

Now what? he asked the stone face silently, but there was no reply.

#

"This way.  We're getting closer." 

Cyclops ducked and dodged between the throngs of people crowding the street as he tried to follow Marvel Girl's retreating figure.  She had finally found another trace of their mutant quarry after hours of searching, and had taken off after it with her usual single-minded determination.  Now Cyclops was left trying to catch up.  Not very auspicious for the supposed leader of the X-Men, but Marvel Girl had a talent for confusing him.  One glance from those green eyes was usually all it took.

Marvel Girl stopped so abruptly that he nearly ran into her. 

"Hey!"

She didn't look at him.  Her attention was still focused in the direction she had been traveling.  "He's shut down again.  I can't track him."  After a moment, she looked up at him, her expression apologetic.

Cyclops glanced at the darkening sky.  "Maybe we should find someplace to stay until morning.  We can start looking again then."

Marvel Girl nodded.  "Do you want me to have the others meet us?"  The other three X-Men had stayed with the hidden jet to give Cyclops a chance to get the feel of the city before he brought his entire team in.

He nodded.  "Go ahead."  He was confident now that the perpetual party atmosphere and riotously dressed people would only serve as useful camouflage for the X-Men.   Tomorrow, they would look for their mystery mutant.  Cyclops was confident that they would eventually find him.

Chapter 22

Remi leaned casually against the railing of his balcony perch, watching the street.  He was on the first floor of a combination restaurant and club, a square building with balconies running completely around it on both floors.  The lunch crowd had mostly thinned out, leaving Remi alone on his stretch of the balcony.  He felt very small, standing there.  For the first time in his life, Remi was invisible.  He had never been anyplace where absolutely everyone ignored him.  On Chandilar, and throughout the Empire, his face was known by all.  And on Earth he rarely left the mansion grounds.  If he did, it was in the company of his friends and perhaps some of the X-Men.  People who knew him and would know if something happened to him.  But here in New Orleans Remi could simply disappear.  No one would ever come looking for him.  No one would ever know that he was missing.  It was a frightening feeling.

He scanned the street again.  A regular stream of people flowed up and down La Rue de Fleur as they browsed the many shops and eateries.  The crowd was primarily made of local traffic, residents of the French Quarter out doing their own business.  These places did not cater to the tourists—their faces were plain and even unmarked in some cases.   Remi wasn't interested in the shopping.  He had waited impatiently the two days until the rendezvous and his second chance at finding the Thieves Guild.  Now he kept his telepathic senses thrown wide in search of the men he'd seen before.

#

Jean Grey sat up with a jolt.  The astral presence she had been watching for was suddenly there again, a bright star on the landscape of her mind.  "Scott!  I've got him!"

Scott stuck his head through the door that joined her hotel room to the men's.  "Where?"  Beyond him she could see the other X-Men rising to their feet.

"Not more than a couple of miles."  She pointed.  "That way."

Without another word, Scott disappeared from her doorway. Jean could hear him giving orders to the other X-Men as she stood and hurried to join them. 

Not that I really need to rush, she thought somewhat pettily.  They need me to find this guy.   But she hurried anyway.

#

Remi felt the touch of a familiar mind and turned, leaning out over the balcony to look up the street.  At first, his roving gaze could find nothing familiar, but then he caught a glimpse of the thief Andre over the crowd.  He felt a stab of triumph.  The two days of waiting had paid off.  Then he noticed the man who walked with Andre and froze.  Tall and unremarkable, with long red hair tied behind him in a ponytail, the man had nothing particular to draw Remi's attention to him.  Yet once Remi had seen him, he couldn't look away.  He was filled with a sudden sadness, mingled with regret, and his throat tightened in response to the burst of emotion.  He knew, though he had never seen the man before, that this was Jean Luc LeBeau.

Without thinking, Remi took the stairs to the street.  Part of him was ecstatic that he had found the elusive leader of the Thieves Guild.  It was unimaginable good luck that Remi was going to be able to encounter him on the street.  Gambit, he knew, had been caught trying to pick Jean Luc's pocket, which was how he'd ended up a thief.  Remi had decided his chances of doing the same were almost impossibly small—yet here was his opportunity. 

As he worked his way toward the two thieves, he tried to plan his approach.  He knew precious little about picking pockets.  Then he smiled.  That ought to make it all that much easier for Jean Luc to catch me.

He cut across the last of the traffic that separated him from his quarry.  He was coming towards Jean Luc from behind, and as he studied the man, he realized in horror that he didn't have the faintest idea where the man's wallet was.  Feeling panicked, he hung back for a moment, trailing several yards behind the two men.  Tentatively, he touched Jean Luc's mind and began sorting through his thoughts for the most recent memory of putting the wallet someplace.  He watched the events of Jean Luc's day in reverse, and felt horrible doing so.  He was going against everything he'd ever been taught to so casually sift through another's mind, but he didn't know what else to do.

He found the memory then, of Jean Luc dropping a small moneyclip into a pocket stitched into the lining of his jacket.  Sighing in relief, Remi let go of the thief's mind and picked up his pace.  He closed on Jean Luc, intending to bump into him as he passed and go after the money then.  He was immensely glad that the fate of the world didn't depend on whether he succeeded.

Just as he reached Jean Luc, he had the distinct impression that someone else was angling through the crowds to intercept them as well.  He was too close to his quarry to give it much thought.  His attention was focused on the man and his jacket.  With one last prayer to the gods of his people, he drove his shoulder into Jean Luc.  The thief staggered a step. Remi stayed with him, reaching for the pocket.  His fingers caught the lip after a moment of scrabbling, but then a hand clamped painfully around his wrist and jerked it away.

"An' jus' what do y' think y' doin', boy?" Jean Luc stared angrily at him.  One hand held Remi's wrist, the other was knotted in the collar of the grubby shirt Remi had found to cover his badly torn uniform.  Remi stared back, almost giddy with relief.

After a moment, Jean Luc's angry expression faded, to be replaced by surprise.  "Look at dis, Andre," he said to the other man.  "He's not afraid in de least."

Andre's gaze jerked away from his survey of the street to look at Jean Luc.  He shrugged.  "Stupid gutter rat.  Prob'ly don' know better."

Jean Luc's brows dipped as Andre turned to scan the street once more.  His expression, when he looked back at Remi, was one of consternation.  "What's y' name, boy?" he asked more gently than Remi would have expected.

"R-Remi."  All of a sudden, the enormity of where he was and what he was doing struck.  Remi found himself unable to do anything but stare at Jean Luc in horrified anticipation.  Until that moment, he had been able to push aside the realization that he was never going to see his home or family again.  That to force history into the correct path, he would have to live a life that didn't belong to him.  He would have to adopt a family that would end up exiling him, and even when he caught up to the X-Men, he would never be able to acknowledge the truth to the people he loved.

Remi's introspection shattered as his senses began to scream.  His mutant power continually catalogued the motion of people moving all around them, but now something was wrong.  The normal flow of people on the street was broken by someone whose pace had just gone from a casual walk to a darting lunge.  Remi twisted in Jean Luc's grasp, desperately trying to turn to face the hurtling form.  He managed to drag the startled thief around just far enough to see a flash of motion that resolved itself into a human figure.  He felt a stab of recognition from Jean Luc, mixed with outrage and fear.  Unfortunately, Jean Luc reacted in a direction other than the one Remi was already moving in.  They tangled, going around like a pair of drunks, and Remi was forced to grab the other's jacket to keep from falling down. 

Remi gasped as a bright stab of pain turned his vision red.  It was like someone had just stuck a hot poker between his ribs.  Without warning, his legs gave out under him. He fell to his knees with a cry.  A part of his mind continued to follow the motion of the person who was now running away.  Andre had taken off after him, but Remi didn't think he held much chance of catching him.  The gap was already widening.

"Easy, chile."  Jean Luc's hands were supportive now instead of binding.  Remi looked up to find him kneeling on the street beside him, concern written on his face.  People gathered around them curiously.

Remi reached for the source of the agony in his side.  His fingers touched something slick and wet.

"Get a doctor!" he heard Jean Luc commanding someone in the crowd.  "De boy's been stabbed." 

Remi brought his hand up where he could see it.  Blood covered his fingers. Pieces of information coalesced in Remi's mind.  He turned to Jean Luc, straightening so that he could look into the man's face.  "He was trying to kill you."  It was a startling revelation. As heir to the Shi'ar throne, the threat of assassination was something Remi had grown up with.  He had never considered that the head of the Thieves Guild might face the same thing.

Jean Luc's face grew hard.  "Assassins gon' pay for dis, don' you worry.  Right now, y' should be worryin' ‘bout y'self.  Doctor'll be here soon, so you jus' rest an' let me take a look at dis."  He pulled Remi's shirt away from the wound.

Remi concentrated on the pain in his side.  "How bad is it?" 

Jean Luc surprised him with a smile.  "Considerin' dat you're still talkin' t' me, I'd say it ain' too bad."

Remi found himself returning the smile ruefully.  Jean Luc seemed to be chiding him for taking it all too seriously.  He wasn't sure if that was a calculated gesture meant to reassure him, or if the wound really wasn't as bad as it felt. 

Jean Luc seemed to read his uncertainty.  "It's jus' a scratch.  Bleedin' plenty, but dat's all."

A concert of gasps and startled exclamations made Remi and Jean Luc look up.  Many in the gathered crowd had turned suddenly and were looking up into the sky and pointing.  Remi followed their fingers and stared in stunned amazement at the winged man who hovered thirty feet in the air.  He was dressed in red and white, and his feathered wings beat idly as he held himself aloft.  The crowd spread out as people vied for a better view and through the scattering bodies, Remi glimpsed several other people standing in formation beneath the winged man.  A last person moved out of his line of sight and Remi nearly choked in surprise.  He hadn't recognized Warren immediately, but now that he could see the four who stood on the street he had no doubts.

The X-Men had found him.

#

Jean Luc heard the boy in his arms murmur a horrified "Oh no," and glanced down at him in surprise.  He was staring at the strange people on the street, an expression of utter dismay on his young face.  Jean Luc was immediately curious.  This street rat obviously knew the others, but he didn't seem afraid.  No more so than when Jean Luc had snagged the hand reaching for his pocket.  It was that lack of fear that piqued his curiosity so.  Most kids surviving on the street were afraid of their own shadows, but not this one.

The boy—What was his name?  Ah, Remy.  That was it.—Remy struggled to his feet, hissing in pain.  Jean Luc felt a stab of guilt as he caught the boy's arm.  That knife had been meant for him.  Had it not been for the boy's unintentional interference, it would most certainly be Jean Luc lying in the street, probably far more badly hurt than this one, if not dead.

He surprised himself by stepping protectively in front of the boy.  But he did owe him a debt, and he had no idea what the five oddly dressed and obviously mutant people wanted with him.  Of course, Remy was a mutant, too.  Those eyes were a dead giveaway.  But if he didn't want to tangle with the five, Jean Luc felt he owed him the chance to get away.

#

Marvel Girl stopped abruptly in the middle of the street and pointed toward a crowd of people gathered around something.  "There!" she said triumphantly.  "He's in there."

Cyclops came up beside her.  "In the crowd?"  She nodded and he turned to Angel.  "Get up there and take a look.  Maybe we can draw him out."

"He may flee when he sees such a blatant display of mutant powers," Beast suggested as Angel rose into the air.

Cyclops shrugged.  "If he runs, we can follow him.  We are trying to make contact, after all."  He kept hidden his silent fear that sending Warren into the air was a tremendously stupid mistake.  His imagination could conjure a dozen scenarios in which the Angel was promptly blown out of the sky by their unknown mutant.  But Marvel Girl had said that he was a telepath, so he held to the hope that Warren would not be attacked physically.

As expected, the crowd noticed Angel immediately and began to scatter.  Not exactly terrified, they moved to gain a better look at the mutants and also to get out of possible harm's way.  And revealed in the center of the crowd was a man on his knees, holding a teenage boy.

"But... he's just a kid," Marvel Girl said with a hint of disbelief.

"Do you mean to say it is the boy we are here for?" Beast asked in surprise.  She nodded.

Cyclops stepped forward.  They might as well go introduce themselves.  But as he moved, the two on the street stood.  The man placed himself between Cyclops and the kid, his protective stance unmistakable.  Cyclops made a disparaging noise.  Look who he was calling a kid.  The boy was only a year or two younger than himself. 

With Marvel Girl beside him and the remaining two X-Men trailing, Cyclops walked toward the man, who watched them warily.  He stopped at what he hoped was a non-threatening distance and nodded to the two.  But before he could say anything, the boy stepped out from behind the man—his father, perhaps?  Cyclops was startled by the sheer terror in his eyes.  One hand was pressed to his side where Cyclops could see a dark stain he thought was fresh blood.  The other hand was raised as if to throw, and Cyclops tensed at the sight of the lurid glow of power that surrounded his fist. 

"Go away, X-Men!" he shouted, but it sounded like a plea.  "You're going to ruin everything!"

Chapter 23

Remi stared at Cyclops, his mind tumbling frantically.  The handful of change he held glowed with charge, but that was all the ammunition he had.  He wasn't sure what he could do with it, anyway.  He didn't want to hurt them.  In another life he had loved them each dearly as aunts and uncles in an extended family few could rival.

Cyclops' expression had gone from surprised to worried to grim.  "How do you know who we are?" he demanded. 

At the same time, Remi felt a questing touch of Jean's mind against his.  Terrified, he shoved her probe away more forcefully than he intended.  That wasn't a question he could afford to answer.  Every moment he spent with the X-Men put the future in greater jeopardy.

Jean winced visibly and touched the fingers of one hand to her forehead.  Remi had always wondered why she did that.  Putting his hands on his head had certainly never benefited him any, but maybe it helped her to focus.  Slowly, she began erecting shields around herself and her companions.  Remi was amazed.  He was used to Jean's shields snapping into place instantaneously—tall, thick and impenetrable walls that intimidated him by their mere presence.  This Jean was obviously new to her powers.  He watched the shields take shape with something akin to bemusement.  He had never imagined a place and time when he would be a better telepath than the Phoenix.

Cyclops pinned Remi with an invisible stare, but he could feel the anger that he couldn't see in the other's eyes.  "I'll ask you again... How do you know who we are?"  His voice was tight.

Remi tried to control his fear as he returned the stare.  He felt like he was standing on a precipice.  He and Scott were faced off, teetering on the verge of combat.  Remi knew he would be hard pressed to react in time if Scott decided to fire his optic blast, and so it seemed that his options were either to try to talk his way out of the situation, or to attack first and hopefully buy himself time to run. 

He made the choice instinctively as his spatial power tracked something driving out of the sky toward him.  He threw the charged coins in a wide scatter toward Scott and Jean and whirled to face the new threat.  Angel slammed into him with enough force to knock his breath from his lungs.  They went to the ground together.  Remi landed on his back with Warren on top of him, the impact making his wounded side scream.  Warren's sweeping wings bowled Jean Luc off his feet as well, and Remi felt a sudden surge of rage as he saw the thief roll to his feet and move cautiously away.  If the X-Men had cost him his contact with the Thieves Guild...

Remi drove the heel of his hand into Warren's solar plexus and then shoved him to the side as the older boy doubled over, gagging.  He scrambled to his feet, searching for Jean Luc.  To his surprise, he found the thief with Hank.  The two circled each other warily, though from the body language Remi could tell that there had been at least one round of blows already.  Hank was barely recognizable in his very human guise.  Remi had nearly forgotten that his color and fur were not a product of natural mutation, but now he was grateful.  Jean Luc would not have stood a chance against the Beast Remi was familiar with, but this Hank did not have nearly the strength or weight advantages of his later self and Jean Luc seemed to be holding his own.

Jean's telepathic attack felt like a hard slap through the protection of his shields.  Though it didn't harm him, it stung, and he retaliated in kind.  Unfortunately, he was still thinking about the Jean he knew.  His psi bolt was just enough to let her know she'd been tagged without really hurting her, as they'd done so many times in practice sessions.  But this Jean was only a girl, barely older than Remi himself and not nearly as experienced with her powers.  She cried out in pain as the psi bolt struck her and fell to her knees.

Remi paused, horrified.  "Jean?  Are you all right?"  He took two steps toward her before something struck him from the side.  He was thrown to the ground, half skidding, half rolling across the cobblestones until he came to a rest.  He stared up at Cyclops, stunned.  Unconsciously, his fingers crawled across the rough street, searching for anything he could pick up and charge.  A shock of cold stopped him.  Ice encased his hands and crawled up his forearms as Bobby stepped up beside Scott.

Remi charged the ice and shattered it.  But before he could move, a ruby colored beam struck the street just short of his fingers in an explosion of stone chips.  Staring up at Cyclops, Remi felt the tears of frustration and hopelessness welling in his eyes.  The X-Men were ruining their own future.  Had ruined it.  Everything Remi had been through had come to nothing because of the X-Men themselves.

The despair that had lain dormant on the edges of Remi's mind saw its opportunity.  It rushed into him, filling his mind and heart, and threatening to overwhelm sanity.  Every time he'd found a way, sacrificed another friend or a piece of himself to buy the future a chance, the effort had been ruined somehow.  This had seemed like the last chance, and now it, too, was gone. 

In that moment, Rem'aillon Neremani ran out of hope.  He closed his eyes and laid his head back down on the hard stone of the street.  It didn't matter if he fought the X-Men or not.  It wouldn't matter if he won or not.  A tiny portion of his mind insisted that there were still things he could do.  He was a telepath.  He could modify their memories.  He could force Jean Luc to take him into the Guild.  He could step back in time a day or two and avoid the X-Men somehow.  But those ideas seemed far away—too difficult, too complicated, too unlikely to succeed.  More than anything, Remi simply wanted for it to all be over.  He was so tired.  He just wanted to open his eyes to find familiar faces surrounding him, people he knew and loved and a world that didn't demand pieces of his soul in exchange for every victory.

He was vaguely aware of people moving around him, but he had ceased to care.

#

Cyclops stared uncertainly at the boy who now lay quietly on the street, eyes closed.   He had not noticed until that moment how thin he was, with hollowed cheeks and a bruised look to his eyes.  Marvel Girl came to stand beside him.

"It's like he just gave up all of a sudden," she answered his unspoken question.  "I've never felt such-- " She paused to search for a word,  "abandonment."

Cyclops looked up as Beast approached.  The man who had helped the boy stood at a wary distance, watching them all.  Cyclops couldn't tell who had won their contest, but neither seemed hurt.

"Is this your son?" Cyclops asked him.  In the back of his mind Scott was furious with Angel for starting this.  Who had told him to attack the kid, anyway?

After a moment, the man shook his head.  "Non.  I don' know who he is."

Beast was kneeling next to the boy.  He cleared his throat and looked up at Scott.  "In that case, he needs medical attention."

"Is he hurt?"  Cyclops felt a new alarm.  Hurting the boy certainly hadn't been part of their mission.

"He's in shock, but I don't think his wounds are too bad."

"We should take him to the Professor, Scott."  Marvel Girl's voice was thick, and she continued to rub her temples as if her head ached.  "He swatted me like I was some kind of fly."  She glanced up at him, her gaze surprisingly direct.  "We should be glad he didn't want to hurt us."

They watched as Beast put his hands under the boy's shoulders and helped him to his feet.  He was obviously conscious, but he did not acknowledge Beast beyond a guarded glance.  The rest of the X-Men he completely ignored.

"Where y' takin' him?" the man demanded.  He had moved forward several steps, and now he regarded Cyclops with stern disapproval.

Scott suddenly felt very young.  He shoved the feeling away and raised his chin.  "To a private facility that specializes in mutants."  He watched as the man debated with himself.  After a moment, it was obvious that he could not decide whether to interfere or not, so Scott motioned to Beast.

"Let's go."

Together, the X-Men began to move away from the lone man standing in the middle of an empty New Orleans street.  Beast supported the boy with one meaty arm, and Scott couldn't help but notice that, as they walked away, the boy's gaze remained fixed over his shoulder on the man who claimed not to know him.

#

Remi came back to himself once they were in the air.  He looked around, taking in the interior of the jet.  He didn't recognize it.  In fact, he wasn't even sure what kind of plane it was.  Not the Blackbird, and certainly not the X-Men's current Aurora.  The accouterments were much rougher than he was used to.  There wasn't even a medlab.  Instead, he found himself strapped into one of the seats.  A bandage covered the wound in his side, which he vaguely remembered someone applying.  The X-Men were seated around him, but they rode in silence.  Remi watched them surreptitiously.

It was strange, he thought.  The further he got from New Orleans, the clearer his head felt.  It was as if a great, dark blanket were lifting from his mind and heart.  He knew exactly why, too.

Quietly, Remi unlatched his harness and got up.  He walked to the front of the plane, stopping just behind the pilot's seat.  Four sets of eyes tracked him, but he ignored them.  Right now, they didn't matter.  All that mattered was the fact that every mile away from New Orleans was another mile closer to New York.  If the future had been ruined, then it was ruined.  The damage was done.  He could think about that later.  Right now, Remi was going home.

Chapter 24

Jean stared out the windshield at the empty expanse of sky.  She was seated directly behind Scott. Her peripheral vision gave her a good view of their strange new companion.  A few minutes ago, she might have said "prisoner", but now she would almost swear she saw anticipation in his gaze.  His heavy shields gave her no access to his mind or feelings, but his stance did not betray any hostility.  In fact, he seemed oddly comfortable with them.

"What's your name?" she asked quietly. 

In the pilot's seat, Scott turned to look over his shoulder at them, but held his tongue.  The boy glanced down at her, his dark eyes strangely luminescent.  After a moment, his mouth quirked into something both wry and sad.  "I can't tell you."

Jean frowned.  "Do you know what your name is?" 

Obviously curious, Beast turned sideways in the co-pilot's seat.  The boy didn't seem to notice as he watched Jean.

"Yes."

"Oh."  Jean felt her cheeks redden, but she pressed on.  "Then, do you have a mutant name I can call you?"

"No."

Hank cocked his head.  "Perhaps when you tire of ‘Hey, you!' we can invent one."

To Jean's surprise, the boy cracked a smile.  It lit his face for a moment, revealing a warmth and a penchant for mischief she would never have guessed was there.  But then the expression faded once more into that strange longing as he turned to stare out at the sky.  For the first time, she found herself considering him attractive.  She was pretty sure he was a bit younger than her, but it couldn't be by much, and he had a smile that made her palms tingle.

She quickly rubbed her hands on her skirt to extinguish the sensation.  "Um... maybe we should tell you where we're going."

"I know where we're going."  He continued to stare out the windshield.

Jean and Hank shared surprised looks.  "And how is that?" Hank finally asked.

The strange eyes snapped to him and Jean held her breath.  On the boy's other side, Warren watched them all with ill-concealed concern.  But all the boy did was shake his head helplessly.

"Well then, maybe we should introduce ourselves."  He sounded like he was trying to be chipper, to smooth over the uncomfortable moment.  He motioned to Scott.  "This is our fearless leader, Scott Summers.  A.k.a Cyclops.  The origin of the name is self-evident, I believe."  Scott threw him a dirty look, which Hank blithely ignored.  The boy's lips quirked as if he were trying to decide whether to play along.  Finally, he nodded.

"Next," Hank went on, "we have the lovely Jean Grey, a.k.a Marvel Girl."  Jean flushed despite herself and looked away.  "I, of course, am the ever-so-bubbly and boisterous Beast.  Or Hank McCoy, if you prefer.  That's Warren Worthington the Third," he waved at Warren, "the high-flying Angel, and way in the back is Bobby Drake, better known as Iceman.  Stand up Bobby, so we can see you."  Bobby waved half-heartedly.

Jean watched as the boy took everything in.  He seemed very interested in each of them, studying their faces intently, as if he were somehow comparing them to some other standard.

"What did you mean when you said we were going to ruin everything?"  Hank's voice had grown solemn, though his curiosity was still evident.

The boy blinked at Hank, and Jean felt a wave of that black despair that had engulfed him before.  He closed his eyes as if against some overwhelming pain. Jean was appalled by the feelings of loneliness and loss.  "It doesn't matter now," he answered in a whisper as a small knot of fear began to form in Jean's stomach.

"You'd better sit down."  Scott glanced over his shoulder at the boy, apparently unaware of the conversation.  "We're beginning our approach."

The boy's head jerked up. Jean watched as his expression closed in on itself.  Silently, she cursed Scott and his talent for bad timing.  For such a wonderful guy, he was sometimes terribly insensitive. 

Without further comment, he moved back to his seat and strapped in.  He didn't have any trouble with the complicated four-point harness, Jean noted with interest.  But then, he'd also obviously been trained with his powers, and they didn't have a clue how.  In all honesty, though, she thought he would be a great addition to the X-Men if they could convince him to trust them.  It was just a gut level reaction, but she was coming to believe her intuition.

She sighed and laid her head back against the rest, bracing herself against the deceleration, as the plane dipped through the hidden hangar door and settled onto the runway.  The roar of the engines was incredibly loud in the enclosed space, but she kind of liked the rumble she could feel through her entire body.  Eventually they rolled to a gentle stop, and the engines cut back to idle.  She looked back at their guest. 

"Ready?"

He nodded, released his harness and stood.  Jean joined him along with Bobby as they opened the side door and climbed out.  The boy stopped a few steps from the plane and looked around the hangar.  His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, giving Jean the impression he could barely stand still.  What little she could sense from him was a whirlwind of raw emotions that tore at her heart.  Then, without warning, he took off running—straight for the lift doors.

#

Remi ran with his heart in his throat and his stomach tied in knots.  The sheer familiarity of the hangar, after so much alienness, was more than he could stand.  Without consciously willing himself to, he swept the house above them in search of a certain mind.  He found it where he expected to, and felt the surprised response.  There was nothing he could say in words to explain himself, not a coherent thought he could send to Charles Xavier.  All Remi knew was that he had to see his father.  He hit the button on the lift, hardly able to breathe as he waited for the doors to slide open.  He was distantly aware of the X-Men running after him, but their shouts cut off abruptly as the door closed at his back.

Telepathically, he heard Jean send a warning to Charles, but he didn't care.  Jean hadn't labeled him as a threat.  She seemed more worried about Remi than anything.

The doors opened again on the mansion rec room.  Remi could only stare for a moment, but then he darted out of the elevator and ran for the East wing.  The door to his father's office was the second down.  He hit it without slowing, never considering that it might have been locked, and burst into a room filled with books, and with memories of love.

There he stopped, as Charles Xavier slowly put down the file he was reading.  He stared at Remi with both curiosity and surprise, but after a moment found his voice.

"Please, won't you come in?"

Remi felt like he was frozen in place.  He could hardly breathe for all the feelings that crowded in his heart and climbed up his throat, seeking release.  He wanted to scream and laugh and cry, all at the same time.  He could only stare in silence as his father slowly wheeled himself from behind his desk and approached.  He stopped a short distance away and extended his right hand towards Remi.

"Hello, I'm Charles Xavier—"

He never got to finish.  The conflicting forces that held Remi in their grip shattered beneath the power of the simple gesture of a hand reaching out.  With a sob that tore his throat, Remi threw himself into his father's lap and buried his head against his chest.  Instinctively, he reached for the telepathic embrace that had so often comforted him as a child, and at the responding touch of his father's mind, began to pour out all of the horrors of the past weeks.  Not just the destruction of his world or the deaths of his friends, but also the overwhelming burden of a single child responsible for changing the   course of the world.  All the things he had forced into the back of his heart—emotions and reactions that he had not been able to afford at the time—came boiling out.  Remi clung to his father with desperate strength, and after a moment's recoil of shock, he felt that mind engulf him in reassuring warmth.  The familiar hands were on his back and in his hair, holding him tightly as he cried.  And slowly, in the pit of Remi's stomach, a tight knot began to unravel inside that comforting embrace. 

#

Charles was nearly swept away by the flood of emotions and images coming from the boy in his lap.  He could make little sense from the jumble, save that the boy's name was Remi and that he had been through a terrible time that somehow involved the X-Men.  Charles kept seeing familiar faces flash by, but in settings that sent a chill of apprehension through him.

Scott and Warren burst through his door at a dead run, skidding to a stop in the middle of the room and staring at the scene with twin expressions of confusion and surprise.  Had he not been so preoccupied with the wave of information coming from Remi, he might have found them rather humorous.  Instead, he gave Scott a reassuring nod and waved them both away.  Reluctantly, the two left without comment.  Scott was even so thoughtful as to close the door behind him and Charles sighed, bending over the form that continued to sob brokenly.  The rush of images was fading, giving Charles the chance to try to sort out what he'd seen.

As best he could, he tried to start at the beginning and put the events in their proper order.  What he saw astounded him.  Charles stroked the grimy red hair of the boy in his lap absently as his mind screamed in denial.  This could not be happening.  This boy could not possibly be his son.  The future could not be so bleak.  But he had met the Shadow King before, and something deep inside told him that the world he saw in Remi's mind could indeed come to be if that monster held the power to make it so.  He stared at the ragged remains of humanity, fighting desperately for a few more days of freedom, felt the sickening mindtouch of the Shadow King's minions, and watched as people that Remi loved died at his hands. 

But how could it be?  There were so many tangles in Remi's memories that he remained confused despite himself.  He simply couldn't follow the convolutions of this time paradox that had shaped and then so brutally re-shaped Remi's life.  He felt like he was missing some vital piece of the puzzle that would make everything clear, but the harder he searched for it, the more elusive it seemed.  He chased through the memories in desperation.  Somewhere, there had to be an answer.  Something that would make sense out of the overwhelming images.

For his part, Remi seemed willing to open up any memory that Charles wanted to see.  His need for contact was so great that Charles had the feeling he would have done almost anything to keep hold of the touch in his mind.  But at least his sobs were easing now.  Charles could feel him relaxing slowly as the tension drained away.  Eventually, he sat back on his heels.  He wiped his nose and brushed away the last of his tears with the cuff of the over-large shirt he wore and stared up at Charles.

"I think I have to show you Gambit," he said in a surprisingly calm, though snuffly, voice.

Charles searched for a reference for the name.  Gambit was an X-Man when Remi had been a child.  He was... an older brother?  That wasn't exactly right.  But he did have something to do with Remi, the paradox and the shifting futures, Charles was sure.

"Of course.  Whatever you think is important," he agreed.  Remi nodded, and Charles felt his hurt as he watched the boy's face settled into an expression of sad determination.  Charles kicked himself mentally.  Fool!  This is your son!  You should be able to say something more personal than that!  For Remi's sake, if nothing else.

Remi's eyes flew wide as the thought was relayed to him through their link.  Charles felt the blood rising in his cheeks, but forced himself to meet the other's gaze.  "I'm afraid I haven't got the faintest idea what, though," he admitted.

Remi smiled faintly.  "That's O.K., Aban."  Charles could feel his relief, though the hurt didn't fade completely.  Still, for the moment, Remi really didn't care that this was not the father who had raised him.  This Charles was close enough.

Smiling a little at the analysis, Charles reached down to take Remi's hand.  Whether he accepted this boy as his son or not, it was clear that he needed every ounce of affection Charles could summon for him.  "Now, show me Gambit."

To his surprise, Remi opened a large box in his mind that Charles had, until that moment, been unaware of.  He felt Remi's momentary panic as he struggled to keep the contents of the box completely separate from himself.  But very soon Charles was too caught up in the life of the X-Man Gambit to notice much else.  The pieces of the puzzle fell into place with terrible finality, leaving Charles too overwhelmed for words.  Now he understood, and his heart ached with the knowledge of both what he had gained... and what he had lost.  He could no longer deny that Remi was his son.  He had seen too much of the life they had had together and, from Remi's perspective, had seen himself lose and then find the child that had been the light of his heart.

Feeling dazed, he helped Remi return the memories to their storage place.  Then they simply sat and stared at each other.  Charles could not have spoken coherently had his life depended on it, but for the first time he had to opportunity to study Remi and try to place him with the memories that whirled around inside his head.  He stared at the aristocratic features, marred by pain and exhaustion, and was immediately guilt-stricken.

"You should be in bed."

Remi's expression said that that was a phrase he had heard out of his father's mouth before, and Charles was inexplicably shaken.  This was all far too real. 

Remi levered himself slowly to his feet.  "Where should I--?"

Charles turned his wheelchair toward the door.  "Here, I'll show you."  He had no idea how to ease the boy's pain, which left him feeling helpless and frustrated.  But at least he could meet the physical needs. 

#

Much later, Charles found himself sitting quietly beside the sleeping form of his son, unable to tear himself away just yet.  Remi was curled up on the bed, his fingers knotted in the corner of the pillow.  His features had smoothed out in sleep, erasing the lines that pain and experience had left.  Charles was amazed by how young he seemed suddenly.  How innocent.  He sighed and tucked the covers in a bit more tightly. 

He had been sitting there for more than an hour, reflecting on the amazing circumstances that had brought Remi to him.  Even now, he didn't know how to feel.  His heart went out to this child, as it would to any child who had been through so much.  But to find love for a son... that he wasn't sure he knew how to do.  And yet, there was a tiny voice inside that whispered to him.  A feeling that, if anyone or anything tried to take Remi away, they would find themselves facing the full fury of the world's premier telepath without hesitation. 

He sat in silence until a tentative knock sounded at the door.  Jean opened the door part way and peeked around it.  Her roving gaze took in both himself and Remi.

"Professor, are you all right?"

With a final look at Remi, Charles turned and wheeled himself to the door.  "I'm fine, Jean."

She stepped aside doubtfully as he moved into the hallway.  "Who is he?"  She closed the door with a soft click.

Charles tilted his head to look up at her.  Everything he had learned about the future tumbled through his mind as he wondered what he should tell her.

Chapter 25

Jean Luc LeBeau raised his hand to knock on a plain wooden door, then paused.  What are y' doin'? he asked himself, but that didn't keep him from rapping gently on the door.  It opened after a moment to reveal half of a woman's face peering through the door.

"What y' wan'?" she asked suspiciously.

Jean Luc gathered his best manners and bowed courteously.  "I'm lookin' f' Marco, Madam.  Is he here?"

The woman watched him a moment longer, then stepped back and closed the door.  He heard the rattle of a chain and then the door swung open.  Jean Luc contained his reaction to the clash of colors that assailed him.  The decor of the tiny living room had been out of vogue for at least fifteen years, and even then had probably not been in the best of taste. 

"Downstairs," the woman said, nodding toward a door on his left.

Jean Luc stepped into the room.  "Merci."  He skirted the plastic covered couch in unconscious distaste and went down the stairs.  The basement was nothing but cement and unpainted wooden crossbeams.  It smelled of the damp and stale cigarette smoke.  A single light bulb hung over a collection of tables.  Every available surface was stacked high with electronic equipment.  Jean Luc recognized ham radio equipment, police scanners and more conventional receivers, tape players, seismic cores and even an aircraft black box data recorder.  The rest of the equipment was an unidentifiable jumble of circuitry and wires.  A man sat in the middle of the morass, the smoke from a cigarette in one hand and soldering iron in the other floating above him. He looked up as Jean Luc approached, his expression changing swiftly from annoyance to a broad smile.

"Jean Luc!  Long time!"  He set both smoking instruments down on the table before him and leapt to his feet, arms wide.  Jean Luc endured the enthusiastic hug, but backed away as soon as was politic.

"I came t' ask a favor, Marco."

Marco took a drag on his cigarette.  "You always want a favor.  What is it?"  He settled on the edge of his table.

"I wan' t' find an airplane dat left New Orleans sometime yesterday afternoon."

"What airport did it take off from?"

Jean Luc shrugged.  "I don' know.  Somet'ing private, I expect."

Marco grimaced and flicked the ash from his cigarette.  "What kind of plane was it?"

"I don' know dat, either.  But it had t' be able t' carry at least five or six people."

Marco's grimace deepened into a frown.  "That's not much to go on.  A Cessna 182 can carry six people.  Is there anything else you can give me?"

Jean Luc was beginning to feel uncomfortable.  He had little information to give Marco, and worse than that, he had even less understanding of why he was pursuing this.  True, he was concerned for the boy, but he still couldn't explain to himself even why he was there in Marco's basement.

"De people on de plane aren' local," he finally answered.  "Dey sounded like dey were from up north somewhere.  Eastern seaboard, maybe.  An' it's only a hunch, but I t'ink dey pretty well financed."

Marco considered him.  "Well, I can get you a list of private flights that were headed for the East Coast, but that'll be quite a list.  The flight plans will all be on record."

"What about de ones wit'out flight plans?"

Marco pursed his lips thoughtfully.  "That'll be more difficult."  He shrugged.  "But I'll see what I can do."

"T'anks, Marco."  Jean Luc clapped him on the shoulder. 

Marco grinned.  "You owe me for this one."

Jean Luc could only nod agreement.  "I bring y' somet'ing nice f' y' wife."

#

Remi took the stairs cautiously.  He could hear voices below him, familiar and playful.  From the smells wafting through the house, he had hopes that they were involved in lunch and that he would be able to commandeer a portion for himself.  He wasn't terribly hungry—his body having adapted to eating only what he could scrounge—but his mouth was watering almost uncontrollably at the smell of hot roast beef.

He was amazed by how much more human he felt today. Just the act of waking up in a familiar place, and the little luxuries like being able to take a shower and finding that someone had left him a pair of jeans and a clean shirt, were incredibly heartening. 

He stepped down onto the ground floor and walked toward the kitchen.  He felt oddly reluctant to scan for his father telepathically.  Perhaps because he was secretly afraid that his father would tell him to stay away from the X-Men, and he craved human contact.  In his own mind, he knew that he would influence the timeline least by avoiding the X-Men.  But in his heart, he could only think that there were other kids in the house like him, and that their presences might help ease the gaping hole where Rachel, Cody and Renee had once been.

Remi paused near the doorway to the kitchen, listening.  Unsurprisingly, the conversation inside was about him.  But it seemed to be more speculation than anything, about who he was and how he knew the Professor.  Remi grinned to himself.  Not in a million years would they guess the truth.

He gathered himself and stepped inside.  The conversation died abruptly as the five teenagers turned to face him.

"Speak of the devil," Hank said brightly and waved a mayonnaise-covered knife in Remi's direction.  "Do you want some lunch?"  He didn't seem the least perturbed that he had been caught talking about Remi behind his back.

Remi nodded, suddenly at a loss for words.  But Jean gave him an encouraging smile and Hank was watching him expectantly, so he crossed the kitchen to where they were all gathered around the small dinette table in the corner.  Jean handed him a paper plate with a couple of slices of bread as he approached.

Scott stared at him appraisingly.  "So you're an Omega."

Remi looked up at him in surprise.  Scott had always been one of his favorite uncles.  The sudden antagonism in his voice was unnerving.  Still, he refused to be intimidated.  "Yes."  Then he surprised himself by extending his hand.  "My name is Remi Neramani."

After a moment, Scott returned the handshake.  Remi could tell he was uncomfortable, but he wasn't certain why.

Hank grinned at both of them.  "I take it you found the ‘Hey you' option to be unacceptable?"

Remi couldn't help his smile.  "Yeah."

The short exchange seemed to break the tension.  Remi went to work building himself a galaxy-class sandwich while the X-Men bombarded him with friendly questions.  Most of them he managed to answer without giving much away, and the conversation eventually drifted off into more neutral topics.

Remi finished his sandwich and tossed his crumpled napkin onto the plate with a contented sigh.

"So are you going to be staying at the school?" Warren asked curiously.

Remi straightened in his chair, all too aware that he had suddenly become the focus of attention again.  "I—don't know," he answered honestly.  "I don't think so."

"Really?  Why not?"  Jean sounded disappointed.

Remi sighed.  "It's really complicated."

She smiled.  "We have time."  Beside her, Scott frowned. 

Across the table, Bobby rolled his eyes.  "Bo-ring."

Jean glared at him.  "Do you have a better suggestion, Icicle?"

He grinned and looked at Remi.  "Yeah.  Do you play any hoops?"

Remi blinked at the sudden turn.  "Basketball?  A little, I guess."  He had played some with Cody, though he'd never gotten all the rules straight. 

Bobby jumped to his feet.  "So?  C'mon."  His gaze swept the group.  "Anybody else in?"

"Indubitably."  Hank laid a large hand on Warren's shoulder.  "And so is Warren."

"I am?"

"Yes."  Hank hauled him to his feet.

Warren grinned.  "I guess I'm in."  He looked at Remi.  "Are you sure you want to play with us?"

Remi laughed at his expression and went to join them.  He was willing to ignore, for the moment, the fact that these were younger versions of his aunt and uncles.  They were familiar enough that he did not feel like he was among strangers, and different enough that he could treat them as friends.  More than anything, it simply felt good to have people around him again.  It wasn't perfect, by any means.  He missed his life, his family and his friends immensely, but he had the feeling that this was as good as it was likely to get.

#

Charles heard the laughter and shouts through his open window and turned, curious.  He spied the basketball game in progress and almost dismissed it, but then he realized that Remi was with them.  Concerned, he turned his wheelchair around to watch the game more closely.  The things that Remi had shown him spun through his mind in disjointed pieces, counterpoint to the sound of the basketball rebounding off the blacktop. 

The truth was, he didn't know what to think.  He had seen the future of the X-Men—the first twenty years through Gambit's eyes, the next ten through Remi's.  And although Gambit had not been present for the X-Men's early years, he had known the history and heard the stories retold many times.  Charles found it all together terrifying to know what would happen to these children, and the others who would join them, for the next three decades.  They would suffer so much, and he wondered deep in his heart if the dream were worth that price.  Yet the reward could be so great.  Remi's world—his life—was testament to that.  What the X-Men had accomplished in that one future fulfilled Charles' every hope and expectation.

Charles suppressed a sigh.  Remi had turned over to him the responsibility for choosing the course of the future, and he had no idea what to choose.  On one hand, they might be able to manufacture a means for Remi to return to New Orleans and become a member of the Thieves Guild.  He could follow the course of Gambit's life and insure that they would not find themselves subject to the Shadow King.  Charles had met that foul creature once, and the thought of the planet under his rule terrified him, yet his soul rebelled at the idea of returning Remi to New Orleans.  He had seen Gambit's life, and it was not an easy one.  He would have been hard-pressed to impose such a sentence on one of his enemies, let alone a fifteen-year-old boy who happened to be his son.  But if Remi stayed with the X-Men, they would find themselves facing an entirely new future, with no knowledge of how their decisions would affect the course of history.

Perhaps that was the thing that was bothering him so.  Charles closed his eyes.  One thing that had become crystalline to him as he thought about what he'd learned, was that the X-Men would play a major role in determining the future of the Earth.  Whether he wanted it to or not, his dream would become the cause of major turnings in the course of mankind.  The responsibility was overwhelming, and it was not one that he could give away.  Even if he were to disband the X-Men today, that decision would have just as great an influence on humanity because of their absence.

A burst of noise from the yard yanked Charles' attention back to the game.  Before his eyes, the scene wavered and changed as he allowed the memory images of the X-Men's future selves to impinge on the here-and-now.  It amazed him how much they would change.  Hank's very bestial appearance, muted only slightly by his brilliant blue color.  Warren's skin, also blue—and the horrible knowledge that he would lose his feathered wings to Apocalypse.  Jean dead and then risen.  The Phoenix force.  Madelyn Pryor and Sinister.  Cable.  Storm.  Nightcrawler.  Shadowcat.  Wolverine.  Rogue.  The Brood.  The Shi'ar.  Lilandra.  Deathbird.  Stryfe.  Legacy.  Bishop.  The Phalanx.  Colossus.  Gambit.

The future swam before him until he cried out and banished the borrowed memories to a shadowed corner of his mind.  How could he know what to choose? How could he know the consequences of changing any of those things?  Belatedly, he began to understand the overwhelming despair that a young boy had poured out in his lap.  It was too much for anyone, but now the burden had been given to Charles, to carry as best he could.  He was desperately afraid that he would not be equal to the task.

Chapter 26

The brittle crunching of feet on dry leaves made Remi look down.  He was perched in the crook of a young maple tree that, in his time, would stand nearly fifty feet high.  There would be a tree house in it then—a place that Remi had adopted as his private refuge on Earth.

Jean Grey stood beneath him with her hands shoved into her coat pockets and her neck craned to look at him.  "There you are!"  Her posture and the thick mane of red hair blowing around her face reminded Remi forcibly of Rachel.

He didn't respond immediately.  He had been looking for solitude and a chance to think through his options.  Staying with the X-Men was not what he had planned when he'd first jumped to this time, but it was growing more and more appealing by the hour.  Still, he was terrified of the possibility that he might condemn the future for the sake of this little slice of home.  His parents had taught him over and over again that power brought responsibility, and that he would always have a great deal of both.  Until recently, he'd liked that idea.

Jean, apparently, did not intend to be ignored.  Remi watched in bemusement as she started up the tree, working her way through the slim branches until she was nearly even with him.  The tree trunk wavered, not really strong enough to hold them both up without bending, but since they were perched on opposite sides their weights balanced fairly well.  Jean looked a little uncertain of their perch, and he could see her carefully adjusting her grip on the branch.  Remi wondered suddenly what would happen to his future treehouse if they broke the top of the tree.

"Are you o.k.?" Jean asked.  She watched him intently, her gaze filled with concern.

Remi suppressed a sigh.  "Yeah."

"What are you doing up here?"

Remi looked away from her, out over the mansion grounds.  "Thinking."

"I've heard that can be dangerous."

Remi looked back at her in surprise.  Jean was grinning, her green eyes dancing.  Remi couldn't help but return the smile.  "Almost as bad as climbing trees that are too small."  He deliberately shook the trunk, upsetting the balance.  The top of the tree began to bend sideways and Jean let out a tiny shriek, grabbing for his arm.  Remi laughed as he caught her.

"You're a telekinetic!  What are you scared of?"  They were less than twenty feet off the ground.

With his help, Jean moved back around the trunk until they we again mostly balanced.  The trunk quivered slightly, and Jean grabbed it with both hands.  "How did you know?"  She was slightly breathless, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.  There was something strange about her reaction, beyond being afraid of falling, but Remi couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"How did I know what?" he asked, distracted.

"That I'm telekinetic.  I've only just started practicing."

"Oh.  I—" Remi wasn't sure what to tell her.

After a moment, her expression turned rueful.  "Part of that long story you mentioned?"

He nodded, relieved that he might get off that easy and not have to explain.  Or lie. 

She smiled.  "Well, that's o.k.  You don't have to tell me."

He returned the smile.  "Thanks."

"I'll just bug you ‘til you do.  I can be very persistent."

Remi's eyebrows rose at the cheerful menace in her tone.  "You sure you want to waste your whole life that way?" he countered

"Ha ha."  She shifted her position.  "I'm getting out of this tree before I die at a tragically early age.  Are you coming?"  She started to climb down.

Remi shrugged and followed her.  Being alone was no longer so appealing.  He swung down off the lowest branch and dropped to the ground beside her.  Jean stuffed her hands back into her pockets.  "I was actually coming to tell you it's time for dinner."  She sounded just slightly defensive, as if she thought he might ridicule her for her effort to reach out to him.

Remi paused.  This wasn't Jean Summers, the Phoenix, X-Men veteran and mother of two.  This was just Jean Grey, a very sweet girl who had gone to a lot of trouble to try to be his friend.

"Thank you," he said gravely.

Her eyes widened slightly, and then, unaccountably, she blushed and looked away.  "It's no big deal."

Not to you, maybe, he thought, looking at her.  After a moment, he reached out and caught her hand.  Jean looked up at him in surprise.

"We're going to be late for dinner," he said.

Jean stared at him as if she had completely forgotten the reason she'd been looking for him in the first place.  But then her expression cleared and she smiled, her fingers tightening around his.

Remi scuffed the fallen leaves as they walked back toward the house, an undefinable tension running out of him. 

#

Jean Luc drummed his fingers absently on the table as he studied the map before him.  Marco had given him a list of flights and destinations in remarkably short order.  Six private aircraft with registered flight plans had left New Orleans for the East Coast during the time frame Jean Luc was interested in.  Two he had already investigated and discarded.  Of the other four, two were business jets for legitimate companies , one was a Saab commuter being used as a private courier, and the last was a King Air owned by a triple-A baseball team.  The courier was a possibility, and he had someone looking into it.  The rest he considered unlikely, though he would investigate them as well, as he had opportunity. 

What consumed his attention now, though, were the two red lines he had just drawn on the map.  They represented the last known trajectories of two unregistered flights that were believed to have come out of New Orleans.  He had extended the lines clear across the country and out into the Atlantic, and now was looking along the flight lines for likely destinations.  One of the lines led into the general vicinity of Charleston, West Virginia, the other, New York City.  Both were impossibly big targets.  He would never find a single boy in either city—assuming that he had guessed correctly about the destinations of the two aircraft in the first place—unless he could find some kind of confirmation on the other end.

Sighing to himself, Jean Luc rolled up the map.  He would send Henri to New York.  They had contacts in the Guild there that might be able to help.  As for Charleston... well, he would have to be more creative.  The Guild had never had any interest in that part of the country.

He tucked the map and the folded list of flights into his vest.  The little voice inside his mind that kept asking why he was doing this had finally fallen silent.  He was committed.  He knew that every time he closed his eyes he would see the boy's face as he was led away.  The strange eyes had been filled with dismay, betrayal, and a kind of emptiness as the last of his hope had been snuffed out.  Jean Luc had no idea what kind of fate he had condemned the boy to by not intervening, but he intended to find out.  His conscience would allow no less.

#

Unobserved, a man stood atop a nearby hill, watching the two teenagers walk between the autumn trees.  His appearance was only one of many that he would present to the X-Men over the course of time.

The Gamemaster chuckled to himself.  To the Witness he had shown only the Face—an inhuman, unchanging representation designed to remind the aging mutant of his own mortality.  Subtly, of course.  The Witness had always required careful management lest he accidentally discover the true reasons he lived while the X-Men died.  That was always the risk-- that he would come to understand.  Ignorance was the Gamemaster's greatest tool, and the one thing that gave him power over this, perhaps the world's most powerful, mutant.

Now there was the question of what to do with this boy.  The concept of allowing him to grow up with the X-Men was an intriguing one.  It was by far the most thorough training he could possibly receive in the full range of his powers.  A valuable asset, when the time came.  But that had to be weighed against the risk that the boy would not be strong enough to do what needed to be done.  It was the harsh environments that bred the strongest survivors.  The Gamemaster snorted privately.  Look at the Witness. There was his proof, if he needed any.  He would risk sacrificing some of the boy's mutant potential in exchange for strength of will and the ability to endure.

The Gamemaster turned away.  In truth, there had never been a question about what he would do.  He had invested everything in this, and it was far, far too late to change his mind.  He would see the Game through to its end.  The playing field was set, the players present.  He had chosen his piece and all that remained was to manipulate him through the endgame. 

Chapter 27

Henri LeBeau stared at the brochure in his hands with both interest and trepidation while the phone held against his ear continued to ring.  This had to be the place.  It was a gut-level instinct, that sub-conscious warning bell that told him that his life was about to become interesting.

Father, what have y' gotten us into?

The brochure said "The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters" in ornate lettering across the top, just above the picture of a stern-looking bald man in a dark suit.  The interior of the brochure was all text, a glowing description of the school and its program designed to help "special" students adapt to their "unique physiologies" and become contributing members of society.

On the other end, the phone was finally picked up.  "LeBeau residence," a polite female voice said.

"Bonsoir, Marie.  It's Henri.  Is my father there?"  Marie was, to all but a careful observer, just the family's housekeeper.  What most didn't know was that she ran the informational center of the LeBeau household and, by extension, the Guild.

"No, m'seur Henri, I'm afraid not.  He left town on business for a few days."  Her voice was slightly high-pitched, conjuring images of a pretty, but not terribly bright girl.  It was an act that Marie had down perfectly.  Henri had long enjoyed baiting her to see if he could entice her to break the bubble-headed persona and show him a glimpse of the sharp wit hidden beneath.

"Would y' mind leavin' a message for me?" 

"Not at all, m'seur.  What should I tell him?" 

"Jus' tell him I think I've found de person he was lookin' for."  Anyone watching her would see her scribble a note down on the pad of paper beside the phone.  But Henri knew that it would not stop there.  A flash-traffic signal would be sent to the receiver Jean Luc always carried with him when he was out of the city, and he would have the message within the hour.  It wasn't as efficient as one of those new wireless phones, but the Guild was often slow to adapt new technology.  There were advantages to waiting until the many ways of listening in on a new device were known quantities.  So they were stuck with radio burst transmissions for a few years longer.

Henri hung up the phone and settled on the hotel bed to read through the brochure one more time.  He wasn't certain which of the contacts he'd made in New York had left the information for him.  It had simply been slipped beneath his door while he was out.  That in itself worried him slightly, but the New York Guild didn't have any interest in being drawn into a conflict with mutants.  They, like all the guilds, could not afford to have the name "mutant" associated with them in any way.

There was, he supposed, a slight possibility that someone else knew that he was in New York, and further, knew what he was searching for far better than he did.  That was a frightening thought because it meant that this Xavier School could be nothing but a trap.  Still, who would do such a thing, and why?  The Assassins?  But they had no mutant children like the ones his father had described.  Still, it was a certainty that they had been behind the attack that the boy had foiled.  They question was, had the boy done so intentionally or no?  Did someone knew Jean Luc LeBeau well enough to know that he could not turn away from a blood debt?  Or was it simply a bizarre coincidence? Henri sighed and discarded the thoughts.  Once his father arrived, they would check this school out very carefully before ever setting foot on the grounds. 

#

Charles entered his study and was startled to find it occupied.  Though there was no explicit rule, the X-Men avoided the study when Charles was not present.  But apparently Remi felt comfortable letting himself in.  At the moment, the young mutant was standing at the window, watching the heavy rain sheeting down outside.  Lightning illuminated the night sky as a jagged yellow bolt arced across the darkened clouds.  Charles found himself unconsciously counting the seconds until the rumble of thunder shook the floor beneath their feet.

Remi spoke without turning.  "Too bad Stormy's not here.  She'd be out dere," he nodded toward the blackened sky, "dancin' on de winds."

Charles blinked, momentarily stunned.  That wasn't Remi's voice.  But it was similar, and Charles had spent enough time over the past days looking through the things Remi had shown him to recognize this voice as well.

"Gambit?" 

He didn't answer, and Charles cautiously approached.  He was only a few feet away when the other started violently and spun around.  His expression faded from alarm into reproach as he recognized Charles.  "Aban, you startled me."

Charles did his best to keep his expression under control.  "What... were you doing?"

Remi shrugged and glanced back toward the window.  "Not much.  Watching the rain."  His exotic Shi'ar accent gave the words a lilting quality that reminded Charles of some of the Polynesian languages he'd heard.  It was remarkably different from the rolling Cajun accent of the moment before.

"Is there anything particular you were watching?"  Charles asked the question carefully, not wanting to seem like he was fishing for information.  He was fairly certain Remi was unaware of his temporary lapse.

Remi turned back to the window, peered out at the flickering sky.  "Oh, I was just thinking how amazing these rainstorms are.  It doesn't do this at home." 

Home.  Charles released the wheels of his chair and folded his hands in his lap.  A planet called Chandilar.  It was mind boggling to think that Remi came from a civilization that evolved on a planet circling a different sun.  A civilization that the X-Men would soon meet.  And a woman that Charles was destined to love.

He shoved the thoughts away.  "It doesn't?"

Remi shook his head.  "No.  It rains plenty, but not like this."

Charles watched the rain for several moments.  "Were you looking for me, Remi?" he asked. 

Remi glanced at him and then crossed his arms, as if suddenly chilled.  "What's going to happen now?" 

As if I could tell him, Charles thought bleakly.  In Remi's words he could hear the unquestioning trust of a child for his parent.  The unshatterable belief that Charles somehow had the power to make everything right.  It was, perhaps, the most terrifying position Charles had ever found himself in.

"I suppose that we are going to change the future," he finally answered.

Remi looked up at the blunt statement.  "What about the Shadow King?"

Surprised, Charles forced his mind to slide into gear.  The short moment of vulnerability was gone and Remi's expression was one of business-like interest.  When it came to the management of millions of lives, Charles reflected wryly, Remi was far more prepared than himself.  He still struggled with the idea that his dream would actually affect the destinies of more than a few mutants.  Remi, on the other hand, had been raised with the understanding the he would one day become the final ruling authority over an empire than spanned hundreds of planets and governed billions of lives.  And stranger still, Charles himself was one of the people who had trained him for that role.

He forced his attention back to the question.  What about the Shadow King?   "We know that the X-Men were unable to defeat him while Ororo was in his grasp."  It was amazing to think that the street thief Charles had stumbled upon so long ago in Cairo could become so important.  And, in a way, gratifying that the simple suggestion he had planted in her at that meeting would strike such a chord as to finally lead her halfway across the world to take up a place of leadership among his X-Men.  "But you weren't present then.  An added telepath of your caliber could possibly swing the course of the battle."

"Maybe."  Remi settled on the low window ledge and propped his elbows on his knees.  "But the last time you and I went up against the Shadow King, we lost."  The expression in his eyes showed just how clearly he felt that loss.  Belatedly, Charles remembered that he had lost his best friend in that conflict.

Carefully, Charles went over the events aboard the U.S.S. Dresden.  He had eventually gotten over his horror at the scope of the destruction, but other things about that future world still made his gut twist.  Foremost among them was the image of himself—cold, hard, vengeful.  Whatever dreaming that Charles had done in his youth, it had been forgotten.  Destroyed.  In that place, there was nothing left except the battle to survive.  And yet, the mutants who lived in that horrible future had done some amazing things.  Things Charles could barely believe.  The immense networks of linked telepaths were truly astounding.  Charles pushed his admiration aside as he tried to evaluate the relative strengths of each member of the network.  He wanted to be able to isolate the Shadow King and make an educated guess of his true capabilities.  Working from Remi's memories was frustrating, though.  Charles didn't own those memories the way Remi did.  He couldn't experience them.  They were just snapshots in his head, and some of the critical details simply weren't there.

Finally, he opened his mind and invited Remi to help him with the project.  Reluctantly, Remi brought out his personal memories and together they tried to evaluate the Shadow King.  Their final conclusion was somewhat disheartening.

"We couldn't guarantee a victory," Charles put the thought into words.  "He draws so much power from the emotions around him that he can become far more than even you and I together could defeat.  The only reason I was able to beat him in your own time was because the X-Men joined me on the astral plane.  We would have to be able to insure that that would happen, I think, for us to be certain we would defeat the Shadow King."

Remi leaned his head back against the window.  "And that depends on whether the X-Men are able to get to Lorna and free her, which they won't be able to if Storm is with the Shadow King."

"Suppose the X-Men intercepted her before she could encounter him?"

"They were still in Australia."

Charles forced down his frustration.  "Point."  He stared at the rain blowing outside the house, his thoughts whirling through the tangled paths of cause and effect.  The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that the entire discussion was useless.

"Remi, there is no way for you or I to choose what will happen to Ororo."  He spoke softly, but Remi's head snapped up nonetheless, his dark eyes narrowing as he stared at Charles.  Charles pressed on.  "If you stay here, everything will change.  In fact, the change has already begun.  How can we possibly guess what will happen in the future?  There are so many possibilities—and so many trials that the X-Men must face.  This year.  Next year.  In eight years, the future may bear no resemblance whatsoever to what you know.  Ororo might never be turned into a child.  She might be dead.  In fact, she might never have joined the X-Men at all."

Charles watched as Remi's face went through several contortions, mirroring his conflicting thoughts.  Charles knew he was right.  Adding Remi to the X-Men would change the future into something entirely new.

Remi was shaking his head.  "Too many variables."  He almost seemed to be talking to himself.  But then he looked directly at Charles.  "You're right.  We would have no way of knowing the effect of our actions on the future."

Charles couldn't help his sardonic smile.  "That is the way most people must live.  Why should we be any different?"

Remi didn't seem to share the humor.  He closed his eyes and laid his head back against the window once more.  He was silent for a long time.

"What if we choose wrong?" he finally asked.  Charles could feel his terror at the thought of another world like the one he'd experienced.  A world ruled by someone like the Shadow King.  Or Apocalypse.  Or an anti-mutant government bent on genocide.  And Charles wondered if they had the right to leave the future to the whims of circumstance and chance when the consequences could be so terrible.

Chapter 28

Remi followed the sounds of voices to the rec room to find the majority of the X-Men present. Jean was sitting on the couch, her bare feet curled up beneath her as she read from a magazine.  Scott, Warren and Bobby were gathered around the pool table where a game of some sort appeared to be in progress. 

Jean was the first to look up as Remi entered.  "Hi!" she said brightly.

He waved to her and wandered over to the pool table.  Remi liked pool.  His mutant kinesthetic sense gave him an innate knowledge of how to hit the ball.  It was also one of the few Earth games that had a Shi'ar equivalent, though cam'lir was a lot more like snookers than pool, he reflected as he studied the table.  He remembered vividly the rainy afternoons that he and Cody had spent at this very table—the endless games of Eight Ball and the television playing in the background with Rachel's soap operas.  He stroked the polished wood reflectively.  Those had been great times.  Far more precious than he'd ever realized while his friends were alive.

"Hello?  Earth to Remi.  Are you in there?"

Remi jerked his head up to find all three of the boys staring at him in varying degrees of curiosity and concern.  "I'm sorry.  I was just—" He shrugged, still uncertain what to tell them.  He'd been there six days, but his father still hadn't suggested telling the X-Men the truth about him.  "I used to play a lot of pool," he concluded somewhat lamely.

That earned him odd looks all around.  Then Bobby grinned, breaking the uncomfortable silence.  "Well, you can take my place for the next round if you want.  I'm getting tired of losing to these guys."  He gestured to Scott and Warren.

Remi agreed, hoping to shake his solemn mood.  The previous evening's conversation with his father kept running through his mind.  To distract himself, he went to the wall to pick a cue from the rack, but that was easily done and he found himself back beside the table trying to keep his mind on the conversation. 

"Did you get your report done on ‘Wuthering Heights'?" Warren was asking Scott as he lined up for a shot.

Scott grimaced.  "Yeah, for all the good it'll do me with the Professor.  That has got to be the worst book I've ever read."

Jean looked up from her magazine.  "But it's so romantic!"  She managed to gush without losing her sincerity.  "How could you not like it?"

"It's boring," he answered.  Jean stared at him reproachfully.  "And depressing," he added after a moment.

"No it isn't.  It's tragic."  Remi was startled to realize that she had a very cute pout.

"Don't worry, they're always like this," Bobby leaned over to murmur.

"Like what?"  Remi asked.

"Arguing.  You'd think they couldn't stand each other."

Remi managed not to smile.  That was one thing he would probably never think about Scott and Jean.  Then the familiar feeling of telepathic contact prevented any further discussion. 

X-Men, I've scheduled a training exercise in the Danger Room in twenty minutes.   Remi was always surprised by how stiff his father sounded in this time.  It was most obvious in his telepathic voice, which did not have the benefit of facial expression to help convey the emotion.  Remi had jokingly decided that he must be tying his ties too tight, but the explanation he liked most was simply that his father was much happier with Remi's mother than without her. 

"Does that include you?" Bobby asked Remi aloud, startling him out of his thoughts.

It does, came the answer before Remi could ask, and Remi felt a hard knot of uncertainty forming in his stomach.  One more step toward the unknown.

"I thought you said you weren't going to be staying?" Jean's eyes were wide and curious as she stepped up beside him.

Remi shrugged uncomfortably.  "I didn't think I would be."

Scott frowned, looking between them.  "If you're going to be in the Danger Room with us, you're going to need a uniform."

#

Jean Luc crouched in the wet grass, contemplating the mansion across the street from his position.  He could see most of the main building through the gaps in the wrought iron gate.  Who are dese people? he thought in amazement.  The security on the grounds was downright imposing, and he couldn't even begin to guess about the house itself.

"Father, are y' sure we wan' do this?"  Henri knelt beside him.  They had spent the entire morning circling the estate, just beyond the limit of the motion sensors.  To the East they were cut off by sheer cliffs that dropped off into the ocean, but Jean Luc had noted the picket line of sensors that ran along the edge of the bluff.  Even if they had wanted to come in that way, it wasn't likely to do them any good.  The rest of the estate was wooded, with an ornate, but much too high to be merely decorative, wall wandering through the trees to surround the property.  Interestingly enough, the outer line of motion sensors were in front of the wall rather than on it.

Whoever dey are, dey definitely want advance notice of visitors. All in all, it made Jean Luc highly suspicious.  This was not just a school, no matter what their brochure claimed.  The question now was, how were they going to find out if Remy was inside?  The idea that popped into Jean Luc's mind was incredibly simple—a tactic he had used for years as a thief.  It was perhaps a long shot that he would actually see the boy, but at the very least he would get a look at the inside of the house.  They hadn't had any luck finding plans for the mansion, which was odd since there were records indicating that it had been demolished and then rebuilt very recently.  He wondered briefly what the going rate was around these parts for that kind of invisibility.  This Professor Xavier would have had to pay a pretty penny to erase all of the building permits, surveyor's reports and other official paperwork that should have been accessible to the two thieves.

"Let's get back t' de hotel," Jean Luc told his son.  He had seen everything that could be seen from the outside.

"Y' see a way in dere?"  Henri asked.

Jean Luc nodded.  "Oui, but I need t' make a few phone calls first."

#

Remi stared at his reflection in the mirror in a combination of horror and awe.  Horror because it was a long-standing family joke how ugly the original X-Men uniforms had been.  Awe because that picture—the one with the original five X-Men in uniform, gathered around Charles Xavier—still hung in the place of honor at the mansion, with the rest of the X-Men's history surrounding it.  The other X-Men were already dressed and had drifted over to see Remi's reaction to the rather unusual school uniform, and as he stared at their combined reflections, Remi could imagine his own face appearing in that photo.  The five original X-Men would become six, and all of history would be rewritten.

"I must say, you certainly look the part."  Hank was grinning at him over his shoulder.

"I do?"  Remi was momentarily stunned by the cavalier assessment.  He did not feel the least bit capable of carrying the burden time had placed on him. 

"Indubitably.  The X-Man extraordinaire."  Beside him, Hank struck a gallant pose and Jean laughed.  Remi, too, was forced to smile, but the humor faded as he gave himself a critical review.  He was in the unique position of knowing exactly what he would look like as a grown man, but he was still four inches and nearly fifty pounds shy of that.  Still, the purely physical demands of the training both of his parents had always required of him showed in the clean lines of the form-fitting uniform. 

In truth, he had worn X-Men type uniforms very rarely.  He had always preferred his Imperial armor, and had generally used that for his training.  In retrospect, he wished he had decided to wear it for the fateful graduation ceremony that had started all of this.  Not that it would have made much difference to the events of the past weeks, he reminded himself, but he missed the familiarity.  He felt intensely vulnerable in the thin cloth of the X-Men's blue and gold.

A hand closed on Remi shoulder and he looked around in surprise.  Bobby had come up between himself and Hank, and now had a hand on either of their shoulders. 

"Your mission," he intoned solemnly to their reflections in the glass, "should you choose to accept it, is to teach this guy how to smile." His guileless grin was the same one Remi had grown up with.

Remi felt his cheeks growing hot, but the barb was effective and he found himself chuckling.  Bobby immediately pointed at Hank.  "You owe me ten bucks, Hankster.  I told you I could make him laugh."

Remi turned to stare at Hank and Bobby as, behind him, Jean dissolved into giggles.  Her laughter killed his burgeoning outrage and left him feeling almost ashamed of how quickly the friendly teasing had gotten to him.

To his surprise, it was Scott that came to his rescue.  "Why don't we go on down to the Danger Room and give Remi a chance to get used to it," he suggested before Bobby could think up another joke.

Remi shot him a grateful look and received a half-smile in return.  Remi had the sudden impression that Scott understood all too well how hard it could be to bear the brunt of the others' humor.  Considerably heartened, Remi followed Scott as he headed down the familiar halls toward the Danger Room.

#

Archaic, was Remi's first thought as they began the exercise.  The robots were slow and bulky, and all of the holograms were either green or amber.  None were at all realistic.  He knew it was the current level of Earth technology, but he found himself immediately wishing for the full-sensory Room of his own time.

"Pretty amazing, huh?" Warren said as they watched the group of assault drones rise into their programmed positions.

Remi managed to keep his reaction under control. He fingered the pocketful of throwing spikes his father had given him just before they'd started.  This was going to be a purely physical attack, since the robots were not affected by telepathy, and that meant that Remi would be working on Alpha powers only.  He didn't mind.  To be honest, he was hoping to use the exercise as a chance to unwind a little.  He fingered his ribs reflexively.  The stitches had come out two days before, and as quickly as the shallow gash was healing, he was fairly certain he wouldn't tear it open again.  Obviously, his father felt the same way or he would never have included Remi in today's exercise.

Beside him, Warren leapt into the air, the downdraft from his wings blowing Remi's hair around his face in wild confusion until the other had gained some altitude.  Remi brushed the last strands out of his eyes and looked over at Scott for direction.  The X-Men were arrayed in a loose "V", with Cyclops and Phoenix—no Marvel Girl, Remi reminded himself—at the point.  At Charles' suggestion, Scott had given Remi the right flank position, and put Beast and Iceman together on the left. Angel turned slow circles over their heads.  Remi was fairly pleased with the arrangement. He had the freedom to move over a wide area without worrying about running into one of his teammates.

Five of the hovering robots moved away from the flock and began to accelerate toward the X-Men.  They separated as they moved, making it obvious that each was targeting a different person.  Remi watched his approach, a charged spike in hand.  When it was close enough for an easy throw, Remi let loose and the robot exploded with satisfying violence.  To his left, Cyclops' optic beam speared the closer of the two approaching himself and Jean, giving her an additional moment to concentrate.  Remi was still amazed by the amount of time and effort she needed to use her powers, but the results were undeniable.  The robot shuddered under her assault and then the dome top housing the electronic brain crumpled.  It fell to the floor in a lifeless heap, followed quickly by a second as Cyclops blasted the one that Angel obligingly led into his field of fire.

Remi didn't get a chance to see how Bobby and Hank were doing, though his mutant power tracked the motion of both, and the single remaining robot that circled them.  A new wave of the robots swooped down from the ceiling.  Remi charged more spikes, picking targets.  He glanced at Cyclops who waved in a long-familiar hand sign.  Remi nodded and began to move away from the group, giving both himself and Scott more room to take on multiple targets, and hopefully dividing the attention of the attackers.

Remi let fly at the first two robots as they approached, destroying them.  He drew two more spikes, gauging distances, and decided that he was in the best position to take down the others as the came around to bring their lasers to bear.  He adjusted his footing, more out of habit than any real need.  Then the floor seemed to buckle, throwing him off balance.  He recovered, and found himself rising quickly into the air on a pillar of metal.  Around him, the floor of the Danger Room had broken into jagged pieces, all of which seemed to be in motion.  Other pillars like his own rose up around him while neighboring portions of the floor sank.  Parts of the floor tilted or shifted, and the X-Men were left scrambling for solid footing.

Remi felt more than saw the robots that swept past him, firing.  The rising pillar had put him almost directly into their flight path.  He leapt off of the pillar to avoid the laser fire, somersaulting midair as his kinesthetic power worked out the direction and timing for him to retaliate.  He threw the charged spikes while he was still in the air, and then turned his attention to the ground rushing up at him.  The floor beneath him was jagged, offering little in the way of safe landing places.  If he wasn't careful, he knew, he could easily break an ankle on the sharply canted surfaces.  Overhead, the drones exploded, and the blast shoved Remi forcefully toward the ground.

At the last possible moment, the dangerously uneven floor filled with white.  Remi landed on a flat sheet of ice.  Surprised, he looked up for Bobby and waved thanks to the other mutant.  Bobby grinned in response and then his ice slide arced away, pursued by several of the relentless flyers.

#

Charles watched the X-Men with a sense of pride.  They had accepted Remi into the team, almost from the moment he had stepped into the Danger Room with them.  Even as Charles was still wrestling with what to do, what to tell them-- if anything-- the X-Men were busy drawing Remi into their circle of friendship. 

As he watched, Scott called Remi in closer.  The two boys ended up back-to-back, with Jean between them.  The thorough protection allowed Jean to concentrate on choosing tactical targets rather than on defending herself.  Her effectiveness increased dramatically, and she began to attack the robots that harried Warren.   Bobby was raising a thick wall of ice behind him as he swooped around the hot zone where Scott and Remi were.  A small flock of the robot drones raced after him, their lasers falling all around Bobby and knocking chunks out of his ice slide. 

Charles had to smile as he realized what they were doing.  The ice wall created a kind of corral, trapping the robots inside where Scott, Remi or Jean could easily destroy them.  Warren and Hank were also playing decoy—destroying a few of the robots, but most often maneuvering them into position for one of the others to take out.  The coordinated attack was very much Scott's style, and Charles was pleased by how much he was improving in effectively organizing his team.  He estimated that it would only be a few more minutes before they had destroyed the remaining drones.

Perhaps it is time for something new, he thought and turned to the controls.  He had been working on several modifications to the Room, most of which he had kept secret from the X-Men so that they would not have a chance to prepare.  The first such was a set of mechanical tentacles that would attempt to snare the X-Men and drag them down into the crevices in the uneven floor. Charles manipulated the controls and moved the fifty-three tentacles into position beneath the loose circle formed by Scott and Remi. 

Those two are entirely too effective together like that, he thought as he watched them.  Let's see how they do when they're separated.

As he hit the final button to execute the new attack, the phone rang.  Grimacing at the unexpected interruption, Charles turned to pick up the receiver.

"Xavier School," he said curtly, and turned back to watched the X-Men's reaction to the sudden explosion of enemies from the ground.

"Can I speak to Admissions, please?" said a polite male voice.

Charles was taken by surprise.  Requests for admission were extremely rare since enrollment was by invitation only.  Most people had never heard of the school, and even if they had, Charles had purposely avoided developing a reputation for excellence that would attract the attention of elitist parents.  What little advertising they did was narrowly focused, to the point that Charles should have recognized the voice of anyone calling for information on the school.

"I am Charles Xavier, the Headmaster," Charles said in a carefully controlled voice.  "Can I help you?"

Below, in the Danger Room, the new assault had thrown the X-Men into confusion.  Since Charles' first command to the simulation controlling the tentacles was to separate Scott and Remi, the writhing coils had grabbed the first of the two they'd encountered.  That happened to be Scott, and the silver tentacle wrapped itself around his chest, lifting him off the ground.  It then uncoiled as quickly as the servos would allow, tossing the surprised young man across the Danger Room floor.

"Yes, I have a son with some... exceptional qualities.  I was hoping you would consider him for your school."

Something about the voice tickled at Charles' memory, but he was far too engrossed by the activity in the Danger Room to pursue it.  Distracted, he assumed that the vague familiarity meant that this was indeed someone that the school had contacted.

"Of course.  I would be glad to make an appointment for your son to come see the school.  What is his name?"

Scott landed hard on the canted lip of a large pit.  He immediately began to slide down into the darkness, unable to find purchase on the slick face.  Charles knew that the drop wasn't far enough to hurt him seriously, and the crash mats at the bottom would absorb even a bad landing, but the X-Men didn't.  Warren wheeled abruptly and dove toward the pit.  He was almost to Scott when the other slid off the lip and plunged into darkness.  They both disappeared from Charles' view for a moment, then reappeared as Warren carried Scott aloft.

"Henry."

Charles had almost forgotten the man on the phone.  He dragged his attention back to the conversation.  "When would be a good time for him to come?"

There was a short pause.  "Would it be possible for me to come alone first?"  The man sounded slightly hesitant.  "My son, he's... uncomfortable in public situations."

Possibly a physical mutation, Charles thought.  "Certainly," he answered.

"Good."  The relief in the man's voice was obvious.

In the Danger Room, Remi was being driven further and further away from Jean by the mass of tentacles.  So far, his agility had allowed him to stay out of their grasp, but the sheer number of them were slowly overwhelming him.  Jean was safe inside a telekinetic bubble, though the sense Charles had from her was that she doubted her ability to hold the shield in place for very long.  On the outskirts of the area infected with the tentacles, Bobby and Hank were methodically destroying the coils one-by-one as Bobby's ice froze the servos and Hank used a long steel rod salvaged from one of the downed drones to crush the tentacle at even intervals, destroying its flexibility.  Unfortunately, it was a slow process.

"When would you be able to come by?"  Charles asked the man as he mentally ran through his schedule for the next few weeks.

"Would tomorrow be too soon?  I'm in town on business for the next few days, which is why I called."

Small warning bells began to ring in the back of Charles' mind.  "Tomorrow?"

Scott was firing his optic beam from his vantage above the mechanized monster in an attempt to destroy its hidden core.  But the tentacles were placed so closely that he was not yet having any success, though he was causing significant damage to the tentacles themselves.

"I'm sorry for the short notice, Mr. Xavier.  This trip came up very suddenly, but I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity."

He sounds sincere, Charles thought.  Which either mean he is, or he's a very capable liar. But he momentarily forgot about the conversation as Jean's protective shield crumpled and the three tentacles that had continued to assault her position moved in.  They wrapped themselves around her, lifting her off the ground as they began to retract.  Remi was nearest to her, and the first to respond.  He scooped up several scraps of metal from the debris littering the floor and threw them at a point well below Jean's dangling toes.  The explosion severed two of the three limbs that held her.  Satisfied that Jean was in no terrible danger, Charles returned his attention to his caller.

"Of course.  I understand." he found himself saying.  "Tomorrow will be fine.  What time?"

"Three o'clock?"

"All right.  Three o'clock.  And your name?" 

"Jean Luc LeBeau."

Charles nearly dropped the phone. His immediate reaction was a flush of anger, born of fear, and his first coherent thought was that he was not going to let this thief have his son.  It was a reaction that surprised him. 

He almost canceled the appointment then and there.  He wanted to.  But a rational corner of his mind insisted that this was an opportunity whose implications had to be explored.  Mind whirling, Charles forced himself to say, "I will see you at three, then, Mr. LeBeau."

"Thank you."  Charles heard the click as the connection was terminated, and he slowly replaced the phone in its cradle.  He stared at the console before him without seeing it, until a scream jerked his attention to the Danger Room.

Charles had not really registered the fact that the remaining tentacle holding Jean was wrapped only around one wrist, and tangled in her long hair.  Now, she was dangling from that precarious hold, and her scream was one of both fear and pain.  Had Charles been watching the Danger Room closely, he might have been able to shut the simulation down in time.  As it was, he didn't have the chance.

"Nooo! Rachel!"  The cry echoed in Charles' head as well as his ears, and he felt the tremendous swell of power from Remi.

Remi, don't! he cried, but without effect.  A black vortex erupted in the Danger Room, a thin black disk whose surface swirled with a maelstrom of forces.  The accompanying buzz conjured images in Charles' mind of a swarm of giant bees.  Skin crawling, he stared down into the Danger Room in horror.  The disk's edges exploded toward the reaches of the room, searching for a target that Charles knew it would not find.  There was no airborne Shadow Queen here.  But there were X-Men.  Warren's quick thinking saved both his life and Scott's.  The edge of the disk was directly in line with their position above Jean, but rather than try to maneuver, Warren simply folded his wings.  The two boys plummeted to the floor as the disk passed over their heads.

Charles forced himself to shut down the simulation before he did anything else.  The functioning tentacles froze, and then slowly lowered to the floor.  Jean was deposited on the ground, and he could sense her mixture of frustration and leftover fear as she tried to pull her hair free from the limp metal coil.  Scott and Warren were slowly picking themselves off the floor.  Charles could tell that they were not hurt badly, though Warren was limping.  Hank and Bobby had been out of harm's way, to Charles' relief, and were only a bit confused as they cautiously made their way toward the others.

The black disk collapsed suddenly, even before Charles could turn his scan on Remi.  He was still standing where he had been, and his mind, when Charles touched it, was completely closed.  After a moment of stillness, he walked over to Jean and crouched down next to her.

"Are you all right?" Charles heard him ask through the Danger Room sound system.

"Just fine," she answered shortly as she yanked a handful of hair out of one of the tentacle's joints.  Her voice quavered, but her expression dared him to comment on it.

Scott, with Warren leaning on his shoulder, walked up behind them.  "What were you doing?" he demanded angrily.  "Trying to kill us?"

Remi turned to look up at them, and Charles desperately wished he could feel something through his shields.  But the regret on his face was honest enough.  "No, I—I'm sorry."  He looked away.

"So who is Rachel?"  Jean had finally freed herself, and now was running her fingers gingerly through her gnarled hair.

Remi looked over at her, and Charles felt an odd stab of sympathetic pain.  For Remi.  For Jean.  He wondered if he should interfere, but was loathe to.  Whether Remi decided to explain to Scott and Jean about their daughter or not, the choice was his.  Charles was determined not to run his students' lives.  They would never become adults, let alone the soldiers he knew they would need to be, if he did not leave them to make their own decisions.  In the depths of his mind, though, he wondered how hard it would be to know the future and the consequences of their decisions, and still balance that against allowing them to choose their own paths.  Part of him was frightened that, in wanting to protect them, he would end up trying to control them.

"Rachel... was a friend of mine," Remi admitted slowly.  "She looked a lot like you."

"Oh."  Jean's anger had almost completely disappeared.  "What happened?"

Remi looked out into the Danger Room.  Charles' gaze followed his, and he was surprised to realize just how much the scene looked like a battlefield.  Remi shrugged.  "She was killed."  His voice was flat.  "It was a lot like this..."  He took a deep breath.  "I guess I overreacted."

"This is ‘overreacting'?  I'd hate to see you really get mad."  The comment was in Bobby's usual joking tone, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness that struck a chord with Charles. 

Remi's head snapped up, and he stared at Bobby until the younger boy took a half-step back.  Remi stood slowly, painfully, and Charles once again cursed the shields that kept him out of Remi's mind. 

"No, you definitely don't want to see that," Remi finally said, and Charles felt a chill.

Chapter 29

Remi made it out the door before the reaction set in.  His knees buckled, and he sagged to the floor with his shoulder pressed against the cool metal of the massive door.  He was trembling violently, and wrapped his arms around himself to try to contain it.  He could see the edges of his vision turning black and fought against the encroaching darkness.  I will not do this, he told himself over and over again.  I will not black out.  I can handle this. Unfortunately, the tendency to become comatose in reaction to extreme emotional stress was something his very species made him susceptible to.

Unlike humans, who were mammals, the Shi'ar were descended from avian ancestors.  And unlike the human forerunners that had been forced to run to evade the predator, the Shi'ar's earliest form had been capable of flight.  Height had been their prime means of protection, rather than stealth or speed.  On the grand scale of things, the small birds had been rather delicate creatures, and when faced directly with a predator, they had very often responded by dying in their tracks from the sheer fright.  Their sentient descendants were much tougher than that, of course, but despite the Shi'ar people's prowess as fighters and their reputation for tenacity, they still retained some shadow of their avian ancestry.  As a point in fact, the Shi'ar language had no word for suicide.  Remi had found it a baffling concept because among his own people, if someone were ever to become so desperate as to carry through on the act of killing themselves, they would already have long since died from the emotional stress.  It was called "dying of pain".

Remi Neramani did not intent to die of pain.  He was as much human as he was Shi'ar, and to humans, pain was something that couldn't kill.  In fact, that's what they said, "It's only pain.  It won't kill you."

He jumped at the sensation of a hand touching his face, and succeeded in slamming the back of his head against the door.  Blinking away tears, he found himself staring into his father's concerned face.

"Remi?"

Remi nodded, unable to speak.  The blackness around his vision was slowly receding, chased away by his father's mere presence.  The hand on his face stroked his cheek gently before moving to his hair.  Remi slid forward so that he could lean his head against his father's knee and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Remi.  I didn't mean for this to happen."

Remi squeezed his eyes shut more tightly.  "I almost killed them."  It was an ashen whisper. 

The strong hands cupped his face and forced him to look up.  His father's expression was stern, but his eyes were shadowed with worry.  "What happened?"

Remi thought back through the confusing montage of impressions.  "I don't know," he was forced to admit.  "For a minute, I wasn't in the Danger Room anymore.  I would have sworn to you that I was—that I was in Dallas again.  I could see it and feel it.  And all I could think about was getting to the Queen before she killed Rachel."  Deep inside, Remi was terrified.  Every sense he possessed had deceived him into believing for those critical moments that he was in Dallas.  Even his kinesthetic sense had identified the airborne forms of Scott and Warren as Ororo instead.  He wondered if he was beginning to lose his mind.

"Will you show me?"

Remi bit his lip.  The thought of anyone going through his memories was almost sickening.  He didn't want to look at the past right now.  He didn't want to think.  He didn't want to remember.  But this was his father asking, and there was no one else who could help him.

Hesitantly, he lowered his shields and felt his father step into his mind.

#

Charles steadied himself against the brief disorientation as he looked around at Remi's mindscape.  He was standing in the midst of a desert plain.  The brown dirt beneath his feet was hard and cracked, and stretched away from him in unbroken monotony.  Far in the distance, Charles could see bluffs, more cheerfully colored in oranges and dusty roses.  Overhead, the cloudless sky was a blue so intense it seemed purple.  He found the desolation of the scene alarming, coming from the mind of a fifteen year old.  Still, he could not deny that it had a kind of beauty to it as well.

Charles forced himself to quit gawking and get to work.  He started walking toward the bluffs.  The structure of Remi's mind would have to be around here somewhere, though Charles couldn't guess how it might be represented.

He found out quickly enough.   As he walked, frameworks began to rise out of the ground around him.  At first, Charles compared them to the I-beam skeletons of incomplete buildings, but then he began to see that the shapes they outlined were far more fantastic than any mere skyscraper.  They stretched toward the sky, twisting and twining about each other in pure defiance of the law of gravity.  The structures did seem to be made out of metal, and each piece was a different color until all Charles could see around him was a riot of different shades stretching up toward the purplish sky.

Relieved, Charles touched the nearest beam to identify it, and then began working his way up and along the intertwined frames, searching for what might be wrong.  At one point, he reached for a new handhold, only to find it wet and slippery.  When he climbed up to get a better look, he discovered that liquid was dripping down from above and pooling on the short stub of metal.  The liquid had the consistency of water, but where it lay on the smooth surface Charles could see it swirling opaquely with colors, like a pool of mixed paints.  He cautiously reached over to touch it, and felt a sudden sensation of warmth, along with a vision of a woman's head nestled against his shoulder, the white streak in her hair shining in the moonlight.  Then the image was gone, almost before Charles could register what he had seen.  It confirmed his fears about Remi's memory, which had been growing since he had heard the boy speak in Gambit's voice.

He went on, finding other signs of trouble easily now that he knew what kinds of things to look for.  In many places, he found corrosion eating away at the undersides of the beams, and more of the watery substance running down the vertical surfaces in rivulets.  What it meant was that the basic structure of Remi's memory was breaking down from the slow leakage of Gambit's memories into his mind.  The hard box that contained Gambit's life was beginning to disintegrate, and the memories that were leaking out were running down through the structure of Remi's mind.  Unfortunately, there was no physical means for Remi's brain to discern between the memories that belonged and the ones that didn't, and in some cases it was adopting Gambit's memories in place of Remi's real experiences.  That, added with the terrible stress Remi had been under for the past weeks, and his subconscious desire to block out some of those more recent memories, was rapidly weakening his mind's ability to organize memory in general.  Even to the point that he could become so confused as to think that a remembered event was occurring in the present.

Charles sighed and stepped back into his own body.  He had seen enough.  He opened his eyes to find Remi staring at him expectantly.  The fear and confusion was still visible in his eyes, but he had gained control of himself.  Briefly, Charles described what he had seen.

Remi stared at the floor, his gaze unfocused, then looked back up at Charles.  "Can we fix it?"

Charles nodded slowly.  "Some, yes.  I can strengthen the walls around Gambit's memories so that they won't cause any further damage.  But what has already been done... that will only heal with time."  The task of figuring out which memories belonged to Remi and which were mixed with Gambit was an impossibly big one.  But over time, he believed that Remi could, whether consciously or subconsciously, separate the two.  Time would also help heal the raw wounds of his friends' deaths and cover over many of the terrible experiences that were still very fresh in his mind.  Charles could not force any of those things to happen more quickly.

"Am I going to have any more of these... spells?"  Remi's voice held a quiet terror that disturbed Charles.  He wanted more than anything to tell him no, that it would never happen again.  But he knew he couldn't lie about this.

"It's possible," he answered slowly, "but I don't think so unless you're in another situation like today."

Remi looked relieved, but Charles was secretly afraid that there would be far too many days like today.  He knew the enemies the X-Men would soon face.  The Inner Circle, Magneto, Apocalypse, and eventually, even the Shadow King himself.  They would run across Sentinels much like the ones Remi had fought in Dallas, and Nimrod and MasterMold.  The X-Men's lives would always be hard, and Charles was uncertain if Remi would be able to control his memories, considering the damage that had already been done.

#

The grandfather clock nestled in the corner of Charles' study chimed once, but Charles didn't bother to look at it.  He knew it was hours past midnight, and the exact time had no meaning for him tonight.  He was not going to be sleeping.  The burden of decision weighed heavily on his shoulders, so much so that he felt like he was being bent double by the sheer immensity of the choice he had to make.

Charles glanced at his coffee mug, but did not pick it up.  The dregs inside had been cold for hours, and he did not feel like going to the kitchen to brew more.  Frustrated, he wished he could walk, simply for the ability to pace the floor tonight.  His whirling thoughts demanded action that his body could not provide.

There were two basic issues that Charles could identify.  The first was the matter of choosing the course of the future.  On one hand, he could do everything in his power to hold the X-Men to the path of history Remi had shown him, in the hopes that it would be close enough to bring them the same rewards of peace and acceptance that existed in Remi's time.  The price for that choice was sending Remi to New Orleans, condemning him to live Gambit's life.  And Charles would spend the next twenty-five years knowing the future, both good and bad, and knowing that he could not interfere, no matter how painful the consequences.

The other choice was to build an entirely new future.  Remi could remain in his home, and neither of them would know the consequences of their choices until they happened.  The risk was that they would fail in the dream, and condemn the entire world to darkness.  It had happened twice already, both with Apocalypse and the Shadow King.  Charles held no illusions that it might not happen again.  But, with the sheer volume of knowledge they now possessed, about the enemies they would soon face and the mistakes that the X-Men had made, they stood the chance of building a world far better than any they had yet seen.

The second issue was far more personal—the matter of Remi's mental health.  In Charles' mind, the chances were good that Remi would always be the most powerful of the X-Men, with the possible exception of the Phoenix Force.  For that reason, he would also always bear the bear the brunt of the conflicts with their most powerful foes.  Charles was afraid that Remi simply would not be able to handle the strain, and his memory structure would disintegrate.  Charles had no desire to see him lose his mind, for many reasons.  In a small corner of his mind Charles admitted that it would break his heart to see that happen, but the most pressing reason was the damage that an insane mutant with the kinds of powers Remi possessed could do. 

An example from the future came to mind, and Charles shivered.  Legion had very nearly destroyed them all by creating an alternate future where Apocalypse reigned supreme.  Charles wondered if he might be able to convince Gabby to let him see the son he had never met.  If he could somehow act now to prevent the psychosis that had made Legion who he was.  But if he could not, what would happen when the brothers ended up pitted against each other, both with the ability to travel through time?  Or, if instead of facing one psychotic, the X-Men were faced with two?  The thoughts was staggering as Charles began to imagine the possible results.  He was almost appalled at himself for portraying the boys in such a cold light, but he could not deny the possibility that such things could happen.  And perhaps were destined to happen, if Charles did not interfere.

Charles closed his eyes and covered them with one hand.  He could chase these thought around in his head forever, but it would not change the facts.  And he could not avoid his responsibility.  He had to make the best choice he could, for everyone.

Chapter 30

Charles started at the knock on his door, despite the fact that he'd been expecting it.  He had been finding it increasingly difficult to keep his thoughts from wandering as the hour approached.

"Come in," he said, and watched as Scott opened the door and stepped inside.  The man who entered behind Scott quickly claimed his attention.  Jean Luc LeBeau was dressed neatly in a rather expensive suit, and Charles found it surprisingly difficult to see the thief beneath the businessman veneer.  He walked up to Charles' desk and extended his hand. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Xavier."

Charles shook his hand.  "Charles, please."  He waved to one of the leather bound chairs that fronted his desk.  "Have a seat.  We have a much to discuss."

As Jean Luc settled himself, Charles nodded to Scott, dismissing him.  Scott left, the door latching softly in his wake.  To Charles, the tiny click seemed like a death knell.  He clasped his hands together on the desk and turned to Jean Luc.

"I'm afraid this isn't going to be the interview you were expecting," he admitted softly.

Jean Luc's eyes narrowed. Charles could feel the wash of suspicion from him, but his expression did not move beyond innocent curiosity.  "What do you mean?"

Charles took a deep breath, acutely aware of the moment.  The entire world seemed to pause as he gathered himself.  His next words would set the course of history.  "I mean that I know you're here because of Remi."

He saw Jean Luc stiffen, his eyes darting toward the windows as his mind tumbled through various escape routes.  Charles held up a hand.

"Please, hear me out.  I am no danger to you."

Jean Luc paused, considering.  Charles could feel the conflict between warning instinct and curiosity.  Finally, he relaxed against his chair, though Charles knew he could be moving again almost instantly.  "All right.  I'm listening."  He made no effort to disguise the wariness in his voice.

Charles nodded.  "Good.  I have a story to tell you.  And then I need your help."

#

Remi shivered as a new gust drove sporadic raindrops against him, but he did nothing save wrap his arms more tightly about his knees.  In spite of the fact that he was not supposed to, or perhaps because of it, Remi was seated on the mansion roof.  He could feel Jean Luc LeBeau's presence below him, though he made no effort to listen in on the conversation.  The exact words weren't important to him.  He already knew what they were talking about, and what his father was going to ask of the thief. 

Remi didn't know what to think.  He felt like his heart had frozen, and the cold was creeping into his lungs, making it hard to breathe.  The truth was, he couldn't argue with the logic.  He knew, intellectually at least, that it made the most sense for him to go back to New Orleans with Jean Luc, to pick up Gambit's life at that point.  That was what he'd originally intended when he'd jumped to this time, and it remained the only way to keep history on a track that he knew was safe.

So why did it have to get so complicated?  After talking with his father this morning, he had come to understand that even that wasn't enough.

A scrabbling sound diverted his attention, and he realized that someone was climbing the side of the house.  After a moment, a hand appeared over the edge of the roof.  It wandered around, searching for something to grab hold of.  Remi watched for a moment and then sighed as he pushed himself to his feet.  There was only one person he knew of who would be physically climbing onto the roof.  He reached down and grabbed Scott's hand, pulling him up over the shingled lip.

"Thanks."  Scott adjusted his jacket and ran a hand through his hair.  They ended up staring at each other in uncomfortable silence. 

Finally, Remi returned to his previous spot and sat back down.  Scott followed him, with a grimace for the wet shingles.

"That man from New Orleans is here."  Scott wiped his palms on his jeans.

"I know."  Remi rested his chin on his knees, closing his eyes as another smattering of rain blew into his face.

Scott's mouth quirked in a mixture of concern and curiosity.  "So who is he?"

Remi glanced over at him, but could read little else behind the quartz visor that covered much of his face.  He shrugged.  "His name is Jean Luc LeBeau."

Scott digested that with interest.  "Do you know why he's here?"

Remi gave him a pained smile.  This was the part that amazed him.  "He's looking for me."

"But, in New Orleans he said he didn't know you."

"He didn't."  The knowledge that Jean Luc had come for him despite that, sent a small burst of warmth radiating through him.  He understood that it was more of Gambit leaking into him, but that didn't change the fact that knowing Jean Luc cared about him made some part of him very happy.  "He wanted to make sure I was all right."  Remi had been unable to resist brushing his mind against the older man's, just to know what had brought him to the mansion.

Scott shivered and hunched into his coat.  "Sounds like you know him, though."

Remi stared out over the grounds.  The sudden cold snap, mixed with the rainy weather, had caused a layer of mist to form just above the ground.  It blanketed the mansion grounds and twined between the trees like an ethereal blanket of snow.  "I guess," he admitted slowly.  "In another life."

Scott gave him a weird look, but Remi ignored it.  There was little point in trying to explain.  They sat in silence as the rain intensified into a steady mist.  After a while, Scott reached over to place a hand on Remi's shoulder.

"I can't say I understand what's going on, but I'm sure the Professor will do what's best."

Best for who? Remi wanted to ask him, but he was fairly certain he knew Scott's answer.  Cyclops was aptly named, not just for his appearance or even his mutant power, but for the black-and-white clarity with which he viewed the world and his place in it.  Remi had known his uncle to doubt himself and his ability to accomplish his goals, but he had never seen him question the lines of right and wrong, of conscience and choice, by which he navigated. 

"How do you make yourself do something you don't want to do?"

"Huh?"  Scott was caught off guard by the question.

"If you know that you have to do something that you absolutely can't stand the thought of... what do you do?"

Scott cocked his head.  Remi could feel him gravely considering the question, and was oddly grateful.  Scott could have brushed aside the rather personal question, or given him a flip answer, but instead he was carefully thinking through his response. 

"I guess I'd need to know what the consequences are of not doing whatever it is, first," he said.

Remi shrugged.  "It could be a lot of things.  But chances are that it'll be bad for a lot of people.  Including me, maybe."

Scott watched him a moment, as if hoping he would expand on his statement, but then went back to his contemplation.  "I guess," he finally said, "that it all boils down to how selfish you want to be."

This time, it was Remi who was startled.  "Selfish?"

Scott nodded.  "How much is it worth to you to get to do what you want?"  He sighed and looked away, out over the grounds.  "The Professor wants me to lead the X-Men.  I don't know why he picked me, or why he thinks I'm the right person."  He shook his head, and Remi could feel his fear of the responsibility.  "I really don't want to do it."  He turned back to Remi, his expression set.  "But I believe in the Professor's judgment, and I trust that his choice is best for the team, even though I don't like it."  His mouth crooked in a lopsided frown.  It was an oddly wistful expression.  "Sometimes, I think I'm going to spend my whole life taking care of other people and never get to do anything I want to..."

Remi could only stare at him as he trailed off.  He had always thought that leading the X-Men was Scott's driving ambition.  The fact that he was almost as frightened of his future as Remi was comforting to the young prince.  Scott had always been one of his heroes.  To know that they were this much alike gave Remi hope that he could do what he needed to, and maybe it would all still work out in the end.  The Scott Summers that Remi had grown up with was a very happy man. 

They sat in comfortable silence, each wrapped in his own thoughts, until a telepathic touch shattered Remi's small measure of peace.

Remi, it's time.

Scott looked up as Remi climbed to his feet.  "Good luck," he said.  His smile was uncertain, but genuine.

Remi nodded.  "Thanks."  He walked down the slope of the roof and leapt neatly to the ground.  This was not what he had wanted his life to be.  But he trusted his father's judgment, and, just like Scott, he was willing to accept a future not of his choosing because of that trust.

After a moment's hesitation, he turned his steps toward the mansion and the two men who were waiting for him.

#

Charles' hands tightened convulsively on the handles of his chair as Remi let himself into the room.  Despite all of the reasons, the solid, logical reasons, Charles hated himself for being there.  For doing what he was doing.

Jean Luc turned as Remi came in, and the two stared at each other for a long moment.  Then Jean Luc rose, and to Charles' surprise, bowed.  He felt Remi's surprise as well, and his gratification.  It was an appropriately respectful greeting for the Imperial Prince, though one that was almost never used on Earth.  With a single gesture, Jean Luc had acknowledged the true scope of the sacrifice Remi was making.  Charles could see the impact in Remi's eyes, and felt a swell of gratitude toward the Cajun thief.  Fate had chosen well when it had brought Jean Luc into their lives.

Remi's gaze moved to Charles' face, the red eyes piercingly direct.  Charles wished that he knew some way to tell Remi how proud he was of him, but he felt like all of the words had been torn out of his heart, leaving him speechless.  Instead, he turned his wheelchair and pushed himself out from behind the safety of his desk and approached his son.  Remi needed no further invitation, throwing himself into Charles' lap with nearly the same desperation as the day they'd met.  Charles wrapped his arms around him, and pressed his lips against the damp red hair.

They had talked everything through that morning.  Charles found himself going back through the conversation, hoping that he might discover some flaw in his logic that would offer them an escape.  But he knew there was none.  Remi could not stay with the X-Men.  For his own protection, as well as for the rest of them.  The structure of his mind was too badly weakened to withstand the pressures he would face.  And for that reason also, he had to be hidden from the villains who would otherwise seek him out.  There were too many who would try to manipulate Remi and use his powers for their own ends.  He needed time to heal, so that he would be able to maintain control over his powers, and so that he would never become a threat to the X-Men or the world.  The best way to do that was to bury him in the Thieves Guild, in Gambit's life, where no one would ever think to look for him.  Not one of the many villains the X-Men had faced over the years had ever had even an inkling of who, or what, Gambit was, and Charles was confident that he would be safe.

In other circumstances, Charles might have been willing to trade the security of the timeline Remi had shown him for the chance of an even brighter future.  Had Remi been able to stay with the X-Men, he would have welcomed the chance.  But with the need to protect Remi, they had little choice but to try to recreate the events they knew would lead them through the dangerous maze created by mutants like Apocalypse and the Shadow King.  Remi's part in that would be to re-live the events of Gambit's life.  Exactly.  And here was where the horrible necessity became apparent, because Gambit had done some very ugly things.  It was... unconscionable to ask Remi to deliberately choose to repeat some of those actions.  Gambit had been party to murder and worse.  To do such things out of ignorance was bad enough, to do them deliberately would require a coldness that Remi did not, and hopefully never would, possess.

The only solution Charles could see that would protect Remi from himself and from those who would try to use him, and also protect the rest of the world from the Shadow King, was what they were doing now.   Very gently, he touched Remi's mind, and felt the shields quiver and then slowly lower, granting him access.  Before he could lose his nerve, Charles moved into Remi's mind, going directly to the place where the hard box containing Gambit was located.  To Charles, it looked like a cube of some obsidian material.  Patches covered it, gray against the black, where Charles had attempted to strengthen the walls and keep the memories from leaking out.  Now, he was glad that he had not suggested destroying these memories rather than resealing the container that held them.  But, like Remi, he had been loathe to erase the last remnant of the man who had done so much for them all.

Turning away from the chest-high cube, Charles started to work building a second box.  He tried to make it sturdier than the other one, well aware that it would take at least as much abuse.  He was not terribly surprised when the structure taking shape beneath his mental hands took on the same obsidian color.  It was the color of regret. 

Remi's presence surrounded Charles, watching as he finished the box and then took a moment to examine it.  He was cautiously pleased with the result, and so started on a second, identical to the first.  When he was done, Charles stood back and stared at the two boxes.  The open tops gaped at him like hungry mouths, and he suppressed a shiver.

Remi? There were no more reasons left to delay.

I'm here, Aban.  I'm... ready.

Charles felt as if his heart might burst at any moment.  He could never have imagined how much Remi would come to mean to him in the course of this one week.  A week that had changed his life forever.

I love you, Remi, he whispered. 

Then, while he could still force himself to, he began to strip out everything in the mind around him.  Layer by layer and piece by piece, he took away everything that was Rem'aillon Neramani and placed it gently in the first box.  Every experience, every hope, every dream and every fear, folded up neatly into that tiny space, until the box was completely filled.  To Charles, the interior of the box seemed to shimmer with a million colors, in a design so complex no human mind could encompass it.  As he set the last piece in its place and began to close the lid, he could feel Remi fighting his panicked terror.  But his trust in Charles was stronger than his fear, and he offered no resistance as Charles set the lid in place and sealed it.

The silence was deafening.  Charles looked around, his hands still resting possessively on the box.  There was nothing there.  The mind around him was completely and utterly empty.  Trembling, he opened the patched box and allowed the memories inside to flow out and surround him.  He was careful, though.  He only needed the first fifteen years of Gambit's life.  The rest, he forced into the second box.  Every memory of his family, of Chandilar, and even of the X-Men's deaths, went in as well, leaving only the boy who had grown up on the streets of New Orleans. 

Charles sealed the second box and turned to his final tasks.  He was rapidly tiring on top of the agony in his heart, but this was crucial.  There was a four year discrepancy between Gambit's life and the new timeline.  The original Remy had been taken into the Guild at eleven, and this version was now fifteen.  Jean Luc was aware of the problem, and would do what he could to smooth over anything that came up, but Charles had the responsibility of creating a new set of memories to cover those four years.  He drew on Remy's previous experiences, extrapolating a set of events to cover that time, but there was no way for him to match the depth and intensity of real memory.  Remy would simply have fuzzier memories of those four years than of the rest of his life.  And as long as he never got too curious, it was unlikely he would discover what Charles had done.

After that, it was a simple matter to block access to the time portal, the black disk.  With no memory association whatsoever, and Charles' blockade in place, it would be almost impossible for Remy to accidentally discover the power.

The very last step was to build the telepathic psi defense that would mimic the behavior of Gambit's damaged power, and would also protect him from the probing of telepaths, so that none could discover the truth. 

Finally satisfied that he had done everything, Charles reached for the solace of his own body.  He was completely wrung out, aching with the knowledge of what was now done.    Remy lay in his lap still, sleeping peacefully.  Charles had planted a suggestion that would keep him that way for about eighteen hours—long enough for Jean Luc to return him to New Orleans.  Quietly, Charles stroked the thick hair and fought the tears that blurred his vision.  He wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever, but he knew that it could not be.  Savoring his last moments with his son, Charles slowly straightened and looked at Jean Luc.

"It's done?" the other man asked.  His face was solemn and sad.

Charles nodded as Jean Luc stood slowly and came toward him.  The thief leaned down and gently took the boy from his arms.  Their eyes met in unspoken understanding.

"Take care of him," Charles said softly.

Jean Luc looked down at the limp form nestled against his chest, and nodded.  "Like he was m' own."

Without another word, Jean Luc turned and left.  Charles stared at the door long after it had closed in numb silence.  Later, he would spend a moment with each of the five X-Men, erasing their memories of the last week.  Later, he would program Cerebro to overlook a certain mutant signature.  Later, he would begin to think about the future again, to dream of a world where mutants and humans could live together without hatred.  

But for now, Charles Xavier could only bury his face in his hands, and cry.

Epilogue:

Remy LeBeau walked through the dimly lit halls beneath the mansion, lost in thought.  His steps made no sound on the metal floors.  Even his shadow was indistinct in the sparse glow of the emergency lighting.  Most of the other X-Men were still in the War Room, their strident voices mixed with those of the newly arrived Avengers.  Remy had listened for a while, but the disquiet in his soul had eventually driven him out.

"Alex?!  Kurt?  Sean?  Cable... anyone?"  Jean's voice, desperate and frightened, echoed in the distance.  Remy's head snapped up in alarm, but his spatial sense was still tracking her presence in the War Room.  This voice had come from the direction of the Danger Room.  Curious and wary, Remy quickened his pace.  The mammoth doors leading into the room were open. He paused at the entrance, startled despite himself.

Jean's image was displayed on the giant main screen, her expression filled with dismay.  A single figure stood in the middle of the room, watching her.  Remy had not yet seen the recording, but he knew instinctively what it was.

"The mansion has sustained massive damage."  Jean's voice was strained from the effort of controlling her emotions.  "I don't even know if this transmission is being received.  If you can hear me—you have to know what happened here.  The X-Men have been hit hard...  worse, we were taken totally unaware.  Both teams—Blue and Gold—have been decimated!"

Remi stared up into her magnified face.  At the time, Jean hadn't known whether the X-Men had survived Onslaught's first blow.  Like all of them, she had been taken completely unawares.  Even Remy himself hadn't seen it coming, and that surprised him.  Not because he'd been blindsided—that happened sometimes—but because of the reason why.  The clues about Onslaught had been there.  Easy enough to find and put together, for someone as universally suspicious as himself.  But Remy had discovered something amazing today.  Until just a few hours ago, he had trusted the Professor. Trusted him completely, which was something Remy never allowed himself to do. 

"If you respond to this distress call, be advised that mansion security has been deactivated from within!  As hard as it is for me to say this, you need to know... we've been betrayed... by one of our own!"

Betrayed by one of our own. Remy looked toward Bishop, who did not seem to have noticed him.  Remy felt a pang of sorrow for the man.  He had tried to warn them.  Over and over again, until they were all sick of hearing it.  Especially Remy, since it was him that Bishop had accused of doing the deed.  Strangely, he didn't feel any sense of vindication to have been so suddenly cleared.  Perhaps because he'd done enough evil in his own time.  All Bishop had done was try to protect them.

Jean's face was becoming more animated as horror overcame her.  "Incredible as it sounds, Professor Xavier has gone insane.  The most powerful psi on the planet is no longer in control of his mutant ability!  As near as I can tell, Juggernaut was the first to die.  I'm the only one left standing who can make this message, and he's seen to it that my power's negated."

Remy felt a chill crawl down his spine.  The Professor had gone mad and tried to kill them.  It was all wrong.  It didn't make sense.  And it hurt, in a little place deep in his heart.  He could see the same ache echoed in Jean's eyes as she stared out of the screen.

"It's our own fault, really.  After what I saw in his mind... We should never have trusted that there were no aftereffects from Professor Xavier shutting down Magneto's mind!  We knew so little about the psionic damage that would result from—"

Jean broke off and Remy tensed.  He knew these events were hours past, but to watch them occurring, even as a recording, sent a rush of adrenaline through him.

"Wait!  I sense... He's here."  Jean turned, her desperation sliding into anger.  "You?!"

Onslaught's voice echoed mockingly in the giant chamber.  "Of course child.  Did you truly believe, even for an instant, that you would escape the same fate which befell the rest of your team?"

"I don't believe you!  I can't believe you!"  A blast of power struck her, and her face contorted in agony.  But still she cried out defiantly, "You may have killed the X-Men, but the dream will never--!"

"Die?" asked Onslaught from the darkness as she fell.  "On the contrary, Jean Grey-Summers, the dream is dead."

The screen froze on that final empty image.  In front of the screen, Bishop bowed his head. Remy winced at the defeat he saw written there.  Pushing himself away from the door frame, he walked into the room.

"Y' okay?" he asked.  Stupid question, but it had come out anyway.  Testament to how unsettled he was himself.

Bishop didn't turn.  "I knew someone would betray the X-Men," he said softly.  "I saw this very tape one hundred years from now.  But how could I have known--?"

"Dat it was Xavier?"  Remy wished he could answer the question for himself.  "Y' couldn'.  No one could."  None of them had seen it coming, and that was what was puzzling him so deeply.  From the day Bishop had arrived, spouting accusations about Remy and telling them all that the X-Men were going to die, Remy had believed him.  He still wasn't certain why, but he had believed him.  He had always kept a quiet lookout for the traitor among them.

"I owe you an apology, Remy."

Remy couldn't help his grin.  Two months ago, he would have paid good money to hear an apology out of Bishop's mouth.  "Don' bother, mon ami."  But things had changed, and Bishop needed a hand to keep him from drowning in guilt for something that wasn't his fault.  He clapped Bishop on the shoulder and tried to summon some of the obnoxious persona that annoyed Bishop so thoroughly. 

"I jus' have one o' dose personalities people find suspicious.  Take comfort in de small certainties, Bishop.  You'll always be a raving paranoid—"  Bishop looked up sharply.  "An' I'm always gon' be a charming louse."

Bishop blinked at him, nonplussed, but the angry dip in his brow was easing.  Remy figured that was the best he was going to be able to do.  Unfortunately, he couldn't lighten his own mood so easily.  The cold that invaded his insides just wouldn't go away.  His instincts screamed at him that something was very wrong.  Beyond the Professor betraying them, even.  It seemed so unreal.  Remy could not begin to explain what he felt, but inside he knew that this was all wrong. 

Deep in his heart, he wondered why it seemed to him that it wasn't supposed to happen this way at all.

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