Crusade: Part 2

by Alicia McKenzie

 

 


"I used to think you were so very predictable, Nathan."

Cable stared in loathing at the familiar figure standing over Blaquesmith's body. "You never knew me," he said, his voice coming out a snarl. "You just flattered yourself you did. You needed a nemesis, to make yourself more than Parridian Haight's favorite thug. . ."

Stryfe looked up, a sardonic smile playing on his features. He was in street clothes, for some reason. Not his armor. "Well, that's a fascinating reinterpretation of our personal history, brother. . ."

"Don't CALL me that!" Cable lashed out in fury, and Stryfe was thrown back against the wall and pinned there. "Genes don't make kinship!"

"Really, Nathan," Stryfe said, shrugging out of his telekinetic grip as if he'd simply removed a coat. He floated there, a few inches off the ground, still smiling ironically. "Look at yourself. You're more my brother now than you've ever been before. . ."

His feet touched the ground, and the walls of the safehouse disappeared. They stood in the mountains around the citadle, knee-deep in the snow atop an unfamiliar ridge. Cable looked around wildly, his mind stumbling over the sudden change in location, not understanding what was going on. . .

"You're confused," Stryfe said, his voice strangely neutral. "I know that."

"Confused? You think I'm confused?" Cable swallowed, thinking he was beginning to understand. He'd left the safehouse. . .he remembered stepping through the portal, very clearly. So that couldn't have been real.

And this. . .

"You don't know me," he said, his voice distant, remote. The cold of the snow was seeping upwards from where it wasin contact with his body. Slowly, steadily, freezing him inside and out. "You don't know what I'm thinking. . ."

"Don't I?" Stryfe said challengingly. "One person can't know another any more intimately than I do you, Nathan. Wasn't I condemned to the hell of sharing a brain with you for. . ." He hesitated, his smile growing twisted. "Isn't that lovely? I've lost track of time. They saw that's the first sign of creeping senility. . ."

"Going senile implies you were sane to begin with."

"And are you sane now, Nathan?" Stryfe's smile was changing, growing wider, harder, more like Cable remembered it.

"Never been saner," Cable grated.

Stryfe's smile remained, but there was something strange in his eyes. "Interesting," he murmured. "It's not really you, is it? I can see you, Nathan, the pieces of you. . .but I'm not talking to the Nathan I know, am I?"

He took a step forward; Cable took a step back. "Stay away from me," Cable warned. The cold had stopped it steady advance, held at bay by a shifting, seething mass of anger and fear.

"And let him have you?" Stryfe said, shaking his head slowly. "Not in the game plan, brother. . ."

The flames roared into sudden, furious life.

"Stay AWAY!"

He reached out and shattered the world around him, scorching even the shards. In the distance, he heard a snarled curse in the Canaanite battle language, and a scream ripped from his throat as he fell into the void he'd created. . .

"Cable."

There were hands like iron vices gripping his shoulders, holding him back against a flat surface. Sweating, shaking, Cable opened his eyes and met Apocalypse's gaze.

"What?"

Apocalypse stared at him for a moment, a strange, measuring something in his eyes, and then released him, stepping back. Cable swallowed. His throat felt like sandpaper.

"You have been unconscious for nearly twelve hours," Apocalypse informed him.

"Why?"

Again, that considering look. "I thought perhaps you could tell me."

Cable closed his eyes briefly. Stop shaking, you idiot. . . "I don't know," he said, his voice still raw, but getting stronger. "Blaquesmith, he. . ."

"Is he dead?"

"Yes." Cable sat up, slowly, wincing at the dull ache in his head. Better, though, than it had been. But twelve hours? He looked around blearily, realizing that he was in his room. The healer hovered off to one side, watchfully. "I killed him," Cable continued, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed and standing up, trying not to sway.

It all seemed so distant. The safehouse, the confrontation, it had all receded to a distance, where he could see it from all angles, see what he'd done and hadn't done, what mistakes he'd made. . .

But the dream was slipping away, as always. He grasped at it futilely as it fled, a useless effort that only made the pain in his head increase steadily, in time with his pulse. Oath, how he hated this. . .there had been something strange, something important about this one. . .

"Then you have done what you intended to do," Apocalypse said almost brusquely. "The healer registered depressed levels of neural activity in your brain. . ."

"Forcefield," Cable said dully, sitting back down on the bed before he fell over. "Trying to. . .contain me, I think." He didn't like what that implied. Why would he have wanted to confine me? What did he want? Frustration mingled with weary anger. He should have looked more carefully, not let himself get so distracted. . ."You were right," he said through gritted teeth. "You were, and I need to remember that. . ."

Apocalypse looked thoughtful. "Right about what, Cable?" he inquired.

"Making this too personal. I nearly. . .he could have had me, I was so sloppy. . ." Cable took his head in his hands, fighting the urge to rub his temples. Mind over matter, it's just a flonqing headache. . . "I made it too personal. You only get yourself killed, with vendettas. . ." He laughed harshly. "And what the hell good did it do, anyway? The rest of them are still out there, still. . ."

"Yes," Apocalypse said, walking slowly over to the window and staring out at the mountains. "It rarely does any good to eliminate a single symptom of a disease. Is that not correct, healer?"

"Yes, my lord," the healer murmured, never looking away from Cable.

Cable glared at him, not liking the attention. "Stare at something else," he snapped, and the healer dropped his eyes to the floor. Cable heard a deep, rumbling noise that might have been a chuckle from Apocalypse's direction. "Is that how you look at them?" he asked Apocalypse sharply. "A disease?"

"It is one possible metaphor," Apocalypse said, without even looking at him. But his tone had changed, grown almost pedantic, like a teacher lecturing a student. "Consider this an exercise of sorts, Cable. Continue with the metaphor. . .where does it take you?"

This was familiar territory, this sort of philosophical discussion. And something to focus on besides the headache, at least. "You attack the source of the disease," Cable said restlessly. "But how do you do that here, when you can't reach it. . ."

"The disease here is one of the mind," Apocalypse pointed out. "The simple answer is, you cannot reach it. Not unless you choose to fight it on its own ground."

"Magneto," Cable murmured. Images floated back to mind, less painful than usual. "That's what he does."

"And over and over, it has led him to nothing but a stalemate with Xavier," Apocalypse said implacably, finally looking down at him. "What does this tell you? What lesson do you take away from this, you who once worked to build a bridge between the two?"

"That it doesn't work," Cable said roughly, the pain peaking again as he remembered, helplessly, trying to explain to X-Force how pointless the conflict was, the potential in a union of the two methodologies.

How'd they laughed at him, ignored him, and finally dismissed him. . .

"So what do you do, then?" he said finally, forcing himself to straighten and ignore the headache.

"You fight them on ground of your choosing. They change, or they die. It is the way of all things, Nathan."

"So," Cable murmured, the insane urge to laugh bubbling up inside him even as his pulse thundered in his ears. "What you're saying is, you kill them all?"

***

James Proudstar gave the still figure sitting in the chair in front of the console a troubled look. "Dom?" he said softly, so he wouldn't disturbe Madelyne and Nate, who were busy trying to do. . .something, he wasn't sure what. They were standing there staring at the spot on the safehouse floor where Blaquesmith's body had been, and neither of them had so much as blinked for five minutes. Part of him was fairly sure he didn't want to know. . .

"Dom?" he tried again, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Shh!" Madelyne said fiercely, giving him an angry look. Jimmy met her eyes coolly, not flinching, and she finally looked away with an exasperated curse, going back to her trance-state.

Jimmy turned back to Domino, wincing as he saw she was replaying the recording they'd found on the console screen, with the sound off. "Dom, you shouldn't. . ."

"Why not?" she asked in an empty voice, not looking at him. "We need to know what we're up against, don't we?" She reached out and froze the recording, right at the spot where Cable had walked out of the shadows and become fully visible.

Jimmy swallowed, hating the flicker of sick fascination he felt at the sight. "He looks like he's wearing. . .armor, on that side."

"I would think that's probably the point, Jimmy." Domino's voice was almost expressionless, still. "At least he's walking."

This time, Jimmy did flinch, memories of watching another recording of another confrontation, nearly three months ago in Apocalypse's fortress. Domino advanced the recording, freezing it again almost at its end, when Cable had fallen to his knees beside Blaquesmith's body.

"That took something out of him," she said. Almost thoughtfully. Jimmy caught himself staring at her incredulously, and swiftly blanked his expression. "I wonder why. . ."

"Maybe he. . .wished he hadn't," Jimmy said, a little unsteadily. "Second thoughts. . ."

"I don't think so."

He shook his head, half-frustrated, half-baffled. "You're talking like he's an. . .enemy or something, Domino. . ."

She looked up at him then, finally. He wished she hadn't. Those violet eyes were like chips of amethyst ice. They barely seemed human. "Let's recap things, James," she said, still in that neutral voice. "He broke in here, murdered Blaquesmith in what looked pretty much to me like cold blood, and teleported back out through some kind of portal that the safehouse's sensors didn't even register, and so, don't have a hope of tracing. And you don't think we have a problem?"

"I didn't say. . ."

"Because we have to look at this realistically," she continued, a bit of an edge to her words at last. A little heat in those frozen eyes. "We wanted to rescue him, at the beginning. Maybe that was possible, then." She looked back at the console. "Now," she murmured. "Now. . ." Her shoulders slumped. "Maybe all we can do is stop him."

Jimmy gritted his teeth. "I can't believe you," he snapped, and Domino looked up at him with something like wary surprise in her eyes. "You're just going to give up?"

"Don't put words in my mouth, Jimmy," she said, almost warningly, and he fell silent. "But we can't go around cherishing the illusion that when we're face to face with him, he's going to cry on our collective shoulder, tell us he missed us, and come home. If we do that. . ." She hesitated, looking back at the screen. "We're liable to end up like Blaquesmith," she said, more quietly.

"Dom. . ."

"He's dangerous enough when he's on our side, Proudstar." She swallowed almost convulsively, the first real sign of whatever she was fighting to keep under control. "I've never. . .we've been at odds often enough, over the years, but I've never had to look at him as an enemy. Not really. Maybe when Stryfe had control of his body, but even then, it wasn't HIM. And the thought scares me shitless, Jimmy."

Jimmy turned away from her, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. A year ago, he never would have imagined that this could affect him so strongly. He wasn't Sam or Tabitha, or Terry, whose relationship with Cable was just as close, if a little less intense than the other two. He'd never really gotten it straightened out how he felt about the man who'd given him a purpose, after his family had been killed. . .given him a second family. Not a replacement, never a replacement, but still. . .

"An enemy," he said hoarsely. "You can really. . .think of him that way."

"We have to, Jimmy." Her voice seemed eerily remote, all of a sudden. "All of us do. It's the only way we can save him."

***

Forward.

Reverse.

Sitting alone in his ready room, Xavier watched the record of Blaquesmith's last few minutes of life, studying Cable intently.

Freeze.

Cable was on his knees beside Blaquesmith's body, hunched over, tears pouring down his face.

Grief? No. . .physical pain, from the look of the way he had collapsed. But from what? He hadn't been injured. His initial attack had been reflected back on him, but the forcefield itself had been a neural dampening field, primarily. That shouldn't have hurt him. . .

It had seemed to happen as he had been standing over Blaquesmith's body, after he had killed him. Xavier's jaw tightened, and he shook his head with a sigh. What he would have given for a single telepathic impression of what had been going on in Cable's mind at that moment. . .it would be very telling, he suspected.

"You want to know what's going on in his mind?" a terrifyingly familar voice asked from what had been an empty corner, a moment ago. "I don't think you do. I don't think even your vaunted self-control would be able to handle it, Xavier. Only. . .I'm sorry, I totally forgot. Your self-control's not what it used to be, is it?"

Xavier extended his mind towards the presence, without doing anything else to acknowledge it, and was stunned to see shields wide open, a mind completely vulnerable to any attack he might launch.

"You're taking something of a risk," he said, very quietly, while he tried to figure out exactly how this was possible. The presence was certainly not a ghost. Neither was it entirely alive. It felt. . .

Like Madelyne.

"Why do you think I appeared to you, instead of to the highly excitable crowd outside?" Stryfe asked. Xavier turned his hoverchair, meeting those eyes so much like Cable's and ignoring the thoroughly unpleasant smirk Stryfe was directing at him. "And as for what I am, dear Professor. . .I would think that was obvious."

"What do you want?" Xavier asked levelly, stiffening slightly in his chairs as Stryfe raised his shields again. But the other man. . .for lack of a better word. . .made no move to attack. Xavier contemplated calling out to Jean, but hesitated. This situation did not need to be any more volatile. . .

"Why, what YOU want, Charles. Just because I'm an astral ghost doesn't mean I don't have my priorities in order." Stryfe smiled, his teeth flashing in the dimness of the room. "And I saw, Charles. I saw it all. I was right there in his mind when he was lying on the sands, bleeding. . .when he was strapped to that table in Apocalypse's lab, screaming his throat raw. Even when he was hanging out there in the desert, losing his grip on reality. I hid during the neural download, and when his mind collapsed. . .I went for a little walk and recreated myself." He shrugged. "I should find Madelyne and thank her. After all, it was Nathan's memory of what she was that showed me the way. . ."

"Stryfe. . ." Xavier grimaced.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was I getting off-topic? Bad brain. Very bad. . ."

Xavier shook his head. "What do you want?" he repeated, more firmly, even as he continued to examine Stryfe with his telepathy. Shields or no shields, he could still be dealt with if he became threatening. . .

"Come now, Charles. We're not still annoyed about that whole attempted assassination business, are we?" Stryfe asked, his whole demeanor dripping with sincerity. "It wasn't personal, you know. It really wasn't. . ."

"That's good to know. What do you want?" Perhaps if he repeated the question a few more times. . .

Stryfe sighed and threw his hands up, as if exasperated. "When did you develop SUCH a one-track mind, Charles?" His facade of amiability faded so swiftly that Xavier stiffened again. "You know exactly why I'm here," he said, his voice low and savage. He gestured at the screen. "That."

Xavier glanced at the screen, and then back at Stryfe, who stepped forward out of the corner, almost radiating tension. And anger. How very curious. "One might question why you would be bothered," he said mildly. "You and Cable have never been anything but at each other's throats. . .am I wrong?"

Stryfe's jaw tightened. "One might question, indeed," he said mockingly. "But then, one would be an idiot to do so." He gestured expansively at the screen. "If anyone's going to torture my dear, over-idealistic brother, Xavier, it's going to be ME."

Xavier steepled his hands, never looking away from Stryfe. "That's hardly reassuring." Yet this was a front, a facade, Stryfe was putting on. He could see it. Blood enemy of Cable's or not, he was substantially bothered by this.

"You don't understand, do you?" Stryfe snorted, almost contemptuously. "You're a blind fool, you know. You see it as a slap in the face to your pride. . .Apocalypse corrupting the first child of your precious dream. Scott and Jean are wallowing in parental anxieties, Nathan's group of brats want their surrogate daddy back, and dear, sweet Domino is losing it, bit by bit. None of you understand at ALL." He pointed to the screen. "Apocalypse isn't preparing him to be his host. It would be so much easier if he was doing that, wouldn't it? You could fight THAT. But this sort of corruption is far, far more insidious. There won't be any dramatic rescues, not this time, and you're all just CHOKING on that, aren't you?" Stryfe laughed, almost bitterly, and Xavier raised an eyebrow at the sound. "He's making him into his paladin, Xavier. And the process is well underway."

"Apocalypse referred to that before. I'm unclear as to what it means."

"I'm sure you know the meaning of the word," Stryfe sneered. "But what it is to Apocalypse is something very different." His left eye blazed, the similarity to Cable troublesome in a vague, remote way. "Apocalypse's paladin is his hand. . .his sword. The embodiment of his will. All four Horsemen in one body. . .with one very important distinction." Stryfe took a step closer. "Devotion," he almost spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Faith, to replace brainwashing."

"The alterations to Nathan's memories. . ." Xavier started slowly.

"Inconsequential," Stryfe snapped. "More or less. . .all that did was clear away the obstacles, Xavier. It made Nathan vulnerable to manipulation, but it didn't change his personality. It got rid of all those troublesome scruples and left excellent material for Apocalypse to work with. Nathan is still the fanatic he always was, and if you leave him in Apocalypse's hands for very much longer, it'll make the days when you were all trying to cope with that idiot Worthington seem like the sweetest of memories."

Xavier was silent for a long moment. "What are you proposing?" he finally asked, masking his reluctance as much as he could. There could be no possibility of trusting Stryfe, the man who had released the Legacy virus and who had perpetrated countless unspeakable atrocities in his own era, to hear Cable speak of it. Cable. . .Xavier's eyes strayed back to the screen, despite the part of him that wanted to watch Stryfe like a hawk. Perhaps to reclaim a soul from the devil, one needed to deal with a lesser demon, whether one liked it or not. . ."Why come to us?"

"Because, dear Charles," Stryfe said, the 'smile' showing all his teeth, "I know where he is."

***

Cable blinked down at the body of the Dark Rider on the floor, momentarily baffled. He'd barely touched him! What the flonq was that about, keeling over after two minutes of sparring and one tiny telekinetic tap. . .? Puzzlement settled into a sort of seething disgust, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Oath, this is pitiful. . .at this rate, they'll be dropping dead the moment I LOOK at them, sooner or later. . .

"All right, that's IT!" a voice growled from the edge of the room, and Cable turned his head, staring at Longrifle as the Dark Rider's leader came stalking over, obviously incensed. "That is it, Dayspring, that is the LAST of my people you kill sparring just because you're BORED!"

Cable straightened, irritated. "Would you give it a rest? If they were better trained, I wouldn't. . ."

"So then TRAIN them, you arrogant son of a bitch!" Longrifle snarled, reaching out and shoving him. Cable staggered for a moment but regained his balance almost immediately, glaring incredulously at Longrifle. "Stop slaughtering them for no damned reason!"

Cable's eyes narrowed and Longrifle gave an 'oof' as he was hurled back through the air, hitting the ground hard and skidding for several feet. But he rolled to his feet, coming up with. . .his gun drawn?

"You have GOT to be kidding," Cable said contemptuously, studying Longrifle's expression and smirking at the sudden uncertainty in the Dark Rider's eyes. "There's something to be said for instinct," he continued, reaching out with his telekinesis and forcing Longrifle to raise his arm and hold the gun to his own head. "When it makes you do stupid things like that, though. . .I mean, holding a gun on me? Let's put things in perspective for a second, here. . ."

"Dayspring. . ." Longrifle grated, sweat standing out on his forehead.

"The more you talk, you realize, the more appealing I find the idea of forcing you to blow your own brains out," Cable snarled, seriously debating the option. He was tired of Longrifle, tired of the way the man watched him all the time. . .

"You wouldn't," Longrifle muttered, his gaze hardening as he strained against Cable's telekinetic grip, trying to lower the gun. "Apocalypse would. . ."

Cable grimaced and made a dismissive gesture, flicking his hand outwards as if batting away an insect. Longrifle flew backwards again, a little harder and faster than before. He reached the wall this time, and Cable took a moment to yank the gun away from him telekinetically and crush it, just to make sure he didn't have to worry about being shot in the back on the way out of the room. Not that Longrifle looked like he was going to move anytime soon. . .

Ignoring the other Dark Riders, he left, part of him worrying at Longrifle's words like a dog with a particularly vexing bone. Apocalypse hadn't said anything to him about wear and tear on the Dark Riders. . .he hadn't seemed to care.

Yet it was. . .uncomfortably pointless, to be killing them as often as he did. He stopped for a moment, in the middle of the hall, the headache coming back as he remembered his own time, remembering training totally inexperienced men and women until they were proficient soldiers. . .

Wasteful. That was the problem. It was wasteful, to be using them as targets to vent his anger upon. He swayed on his feet, throwing a hand against the wall beside him for support. What was WRONG with him? He hadn't been at the mercy of his emotions like this for a very long time. Here he was, with the chance to look at his life clearly for the first time, and what did he do but engage in casual, pointless slaughter. . .

Like Stryfe. Lashing out just because he felt like it, just because he wanted. . .

What DID he want?

"An excellent question to ask, Dayspring. Would that you had asked it before now," a hollow voice said, coming seemingly from empty air.

Cable froze, scanning outward frantically. But there was nothing, not even the impenetrable shadows of a Dark Rider's mind or the blank spot he'd come to identify automatically as Apocalypse. He turned slowly, but there was no one behind him. Nothing. . .

"You and I have met before, and shall meet again," the voice continued, implacably. "I have watched you, Chosen One . . ."

"I don't know who you are," Cable said hoarsely, every muscle in his body tensing at the name. "But you will NOT call me that."

"Truth does not change, Dayspring. Even when pain leads you to deny it." Movement in the shadows, and Cable struck at it telekinetically. . .

Only to be hurled across the hall and into the opposite wall, the impact driving the breath from him. He slid to the floor, wheezing, as the figure emerged from the shadows and stood over him.

"Y-You," he choked out, ignoring the stabbing pain in his chest. But it soon became nothing, negligible beside the roaring agony that exploded inside his skull as he met blank stone eyes that stared down at him pitilessly. "I know y-you. . .know w-who you ARE. . ."

But they'd never met, not that he remembered. . .

"Memory is transient," Ozymandias said in that hollow voice. It seemed to echo. Not like thunder, not like Apocalypse's voice. . .but like a bell, ringing in a tomb. "What do you mourn, Dayspring?"

Cable shook convulsively, images blazing through his mind at a speed that turned them into nothing but a blur. "Get out," he gasped, fighting for breath. "Get. . ."

"What part of you mourns in silence and what part of you yearns to drown in blood?"

Mourn? If he'd had the breath to laugh, he would have laughed from now until the end of time. "What is there to mourn?" he choked out, tasting blood at the back of his throat as the memories scorched through his mind's eye relentlessly. "L-Lies. . .they LIED to me! They n-never did anything BUT lie to me! They. . .n-never. . ."

Ozymandias's expression never changed. "You ignore the weeping in the shadows," he said, almost reprovingly. "You are divided. . .must be divided, but you must know the rift in your soul, Dayspring. You must know it, to walk the path into the void."

The pain crested again, white-hot, and he heard his heart thundering, laboring in his chest. . .

"You must understand how deep the sacrifice must go."

Light. A hand reached out to him, a hand fading to transparency even as he grasped at it desperately.

PLEASE! Don't leave me, Slym. . .

You'll never be alone, son. Not in your heart. . .not in the only way it really matters. Because I'll be there, Nate. . .

Fading into nothingness. . .

A moan of anguish ripped itself from his throat. "No. . .NO!" he sobbed, curling into a fetal ball, tears pouring down his face. "Don't. . .no. . ."

It was gone. He was empty, again. The memory fading, wisps of radiance dimming as they sank into the shadows.

He laid there on the cold stone of the floor, gasping for air, shuddering violently. The ability to speak seemed to have left him entirely, and all he could do was stare at the edge of Ozymandias's stone robes as the ancient being took a step towards him.

"You are asleep," Ozymandias pronounced. "You have not slept for three moons."

Cable reached out, using the wall to pull himself upright. His knees were weak; he wasn't sure they'd hold him. "I don't know what you're talking about," he rasped. "You're not making any sense. . ."

"You have ceased to dream. You have been dreaming since you laid broken on the sands. . ."

Heat, blazing heat. The sun beating down on him. Blood in his eyes. . .

In a blind panic, he pushed himself away from the wall, and ran.

***

Apocalypse took in the scene at one look, and frowned. "Are you responsible for this?" he asked Longrifle ominously, glancing at the Dark Rider, who paled and shook his head immediately.

"We. . .had a confrontation, my lord, but he. . ." Color came rushing back into the Dark Rider's face. "He was quite. . .content with the outcome, and rightfully so. Whatever happened must have occurred after he left the sparring chamber."

Apocalypse looked away dismissively, turning back to Cable. His paladin was huddled in the corner of the empty antechamber, trembling convulsively, his eyes wide and unseeing as he murmured a constant stream of unintelligible words under his breath.

"Leave," Apocalypse instructed Longrifle curtly. "And tell the healer to attend me."

"Yes, my lord," Longrifle muttered almost gratefully, and all but ran to do his bidding.

Apocalypse scowled and studied Cable intently. Things had been proceeding so well; what could have caused this sort of setback? If Longrifle was concealing something. . .

"Cable," he said bluntly. Cable shuddered more violently, withdrawing even farther into the corner, as if he was attempting to meld with the wall. He continued to mutter in his own language, however, the flow of words never stopping. "Cable," Apocalypse repeated, more firmly. "To whom are you speaking?" Cable trailed off mid-sentence with a shuddering gasp. His arm crept around his side in a strangely familiar gesture, and Apocalypse's frown deepened. "Are you injured?" he asked sharply. "Cable!"

Cable's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. "N-No," he finally said, in English, his eyes still unfocused, staring at nothing. "I. . .I'm. . ."

Apocalypse took a step closer, cautiously. "Answer me," he said harshly. "What. . ."

"Thinking," Cable muttered, drawing in on himself even further. "I'm thinking."

"You seem. . .disturbed," Apocalypse said measuringly, his eyes narrowing as he moved closer. That was obviously a considerable understatement, but he was not willing to jeopardize his work up to this point without a more compelling reason than impatience. "Has something happened?"

"Not. . .anything important. I. . ." Cable closed his eyes, swallowing, and then abruptly pulled himself to his feet, using the wall as support. "I'm fine," he said roughly, his expression hardening. "I didn't. . .intend to alarm you."

The not-quite apology was not particularly reassuring. "You are obviously in distress," Apocalypse said curtly. "What caused this?"

"Maybe it's the psionic damage you kept talking about," Cable said calmly, staring back at him, unblinking. This sudden, total composure was unsettling, Apocalypse decided. "I'm fine now, though."

Apocalypse continued to block the doorway as Cable approached. "You are keeping something back," he murmured as Cable stopped in front of him. "I cannot aid you properly without knowing the facts."

Cable lifted his eyes from the ground and met Apocalypse's gaze unflinchingly. There was a flicker of the old defiance there. Barely a shadow, but Apocalypse noted its presence with considerable displeasure.

There was something wrong here. A step back, perhaps not of the same magnitude as the step forward Cable had taken by disposing of Blaquesmith, but lost ground, all the same. He was debating an appropriate response when Cable finally broke the silence.

"Have you ever heard the word closure?" Cable asked, his voice cold, much at odds with the way that every word sounded as if he was forcing it out from behind clenched teeth.

"I am familiar with the nuances of English language, yes," Apocalypse said, a bit dryly. At least the half-unconscious insolence was familiar. He had likened it, many times over the last three months, to a child testing his parent's tolerance.

"Longrifle's right, you know. I'm. . .wasting a great deal, here. Time, lives. . ." The glow in Cable's left eye steadily increased, the cold mask of his features shivering, straining, twisting into something else. "I listen to you, and you make sense, but I'm empty, don't you understand that?" His voice had turned into a snarl, taut with rage and something more vulnerable. "I can't fill that void with words, and I can't. . ." He stopped, jaw clenching. "I have to know!"

"Know what?"

Cable's shoulders slumped. "I. . ." he started and then hesitated, his eyes widening and the color draining from his face as he looked up, as if scanning the sky hidden from view by the bulk of the fortress. "Do you hear that?" he whispered.

Apocalypse frowned, and listened. "I hear nothing," he said bluntly, after a moment, regarding Cable suspiciously. No, this was not an attempt to change the subject. . .he was hearing something.

"How can you not hear that?" Cable asked dazedly, and then stumbled forward. Apocalypse reached out to support him, and Cable jerked away from him, falling to his knees in the process. "I don't understand," he said wildly. "They're c-coming?"

***

It was beautiful here, a distant part of Domino's mind noted impassively as she stepped off the plane. Snow, mountains, clear sky. . .could've been a postcard. Having a great time, wish you were here. . .

What was she doing? She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing Madelyne and Jean hadn't insisted on shielding her end of the link as soon as they were within range. She felt like half her mind was asleep. . .

She could still feel him, though. Not clearly, because of the shielding - it had been mostly Madelyne, creating some kind of block that would stand on its own - but more strongly than she had since before the link had been broken. She could barely distinguish what she was sensing, but it felt. . .wrong, to an extent she couldn't even begin to explain.

It didn't feel like Nate.

He could use the link to kill you, Madelyne had said, bluntly. Unless you want to risk that. . .

Like she was the only one risking something. . .he could kill ANY of them, and Domino honestly didn't think that had gotten through to most of the 'rescue party'. She snorted bitterly. For a group that'd had so many of their own go bad over the years, the X-Men were being remarkably naive.

At least X-Force understood. She'd made a point of making sure they did. It hadn't been a pleasant conversation, but they knew what they had to do. . .

"And here we are at the ends of the earth," Stryfe said merrily, materializing beside her. "Lovely scenery, isn't it?"

Only the fact that she knew there was absolutely nothing she could do to him kept her from reacting. As if it wasn't bad enough having one near-invulnerable astral ghost around. . .at least Madelyne was relatively friendly, as far as child-sacrificing Goblin Queens went. "You must be reading my mind," she said coldly, folding her arms across her chest and glowering straight ahead, steadily. His proximity was giving her goosebumps, and not the good kind.

"Well, that's what I do, isn't it? Even dead telepaths can't keep their thoughts to themselves," Stryfe chattered on cheerfully. "I think it must be some kind of unwritten law or something. . ."

If he touched her, she was going to forget that she couldn't really hurt him. . .and probably embarrass herself horribly in the process. "Aren't you supposed to be helping shield us?" Domino asked pointedly, not looking at him. Maybe if she didn't look at him, part of her could pretend he wasn't there. . ."Maybe you should keep your mind on THAT."

She still couldn't believe Xavier had agreed to this. Or that Scott and Jean had supported the idea. . .this was STRYFE, damn it! They were playing with fire, dealing with him. Worse than fire. . .astral ghost or not, this was still the man who'd released the Legacy virus. He couldn't be trusted. . .

But he knew where Nathan was.

They'd discussed it, all of them together, X-Force and the X-Men. . .after the initial shouting, screaming, and blowing things up was over with, of course. Domino shook her head irritably, trying to get rid of the image of Logan with his claws buried up to the knuckle in Stryfe's midsection. Manners, Stryfe had murmured with a wide smile, completely unaffected by the attack.

Had they had a choice, in the end? It was the only lead they had, even coming from such a dubious source. And Xavier had pointed out there were more than enough telepaths among them to keep an eye on their 'ally'. But the thought of exposing X-Force to Stryfe like this still made her want to crawl out of her skin. . .

"Oh, I am shielding us. Still, I was hoping we could talk," Stryfe said.

She swore she could feel him grinning at her. "About what?" Domino snapped, breaking her resolve to ignore him as much as possible and looking around at him, grimacing at his bright smile.

He looked so much like Nathan. It hurt.

Stryfe's smile never wavered. "About doing what needs to be done," he said, pleasantly. He leaned closer to her, looming over her in a way that made her bristle. "And you know all about necessity, don't you, Domino?"

Those so-familiar eyes bored into her, holding her trapped for an endless moment. Somehow, she managed to shake her head, break the spell. "You stay away from me," she said warningly, and turned away from him.

She realized she was shaking as she walked over to the relative 'safety' of X-Force, who'd clustered together in a group, as if for comfort, as soon as they'd gotten off the plane. "Everyone all right?" she asked calmly, reading the expressions on their faces and not liking what she saw. "Come on, kids," she said, laying a hand on Tabitha's shoulder. "Game faces on."

Tabitha swallowed. "I feel almost like I'm going to be sick," she said. Domino looked more closely at her, worried, and Tabitha gave a shaky laugh. "I'll be all right, Dom. I can handle it."

"We all can, ma'am," Sam said, firmly. Domino raised an eyebrow, and he smiled weakly. "Not that we're happy t'be handling it. . .but ah don't think any of us are gonna freeze or nothin'."

"Are ye all right, Dom," Terry said firmly. It wasn't a question, and Domino smiled faintly at her.

"Necessity's a great motivator," she said in a low voice, feeling a little uneasily at how she was echoing Stryfe's words. She glanced over her shoulder at him. He waved, grinning, and she couldn't help a shudder. "Watch him," she muttered as she turned back to X-Force. "I don't trust that son of a bitch as far as I can throw him. . ."

#Really, Domino. I'm hurt. . .#

Domino closed her eyes, trying not to snarl.

***

"My lord, shouldn't we. . ."

"No, Longrifle," Apocalypse said bluntly, studying the scene on the screens. The X-Men's planes had landed just outside the citadel's security grid. That spoke of some knowledge of the defense systems. . .but how was that possible? "We will let them exhaust themselves against the the citadel's defenses. Then you and your Riders will be permitted to finish the battle."

He glanced over at Cable, who was standing there, staring at the screens with an utterly unreadable expression on his face. "Have any of their telepaths attempted to contact you?" he asked bluntly. Cable twitched, as in surprise, but didn't look away from the screens, and Apocalypse sighed heavily. "Cable."

"Not yet," Cable muttered. "I don't. . ." He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward, holding on to the console for support. "She's with them," he said tautly, jaw clenching. "I can feel her. . ." He gave a raw laugh, shaking his head vehemently. "So much for not caring, one way or the other!"

She? Apocalypse wondered for a moment, but answered his own question almost immediately. The woman, of course. Domino. His eyes narrowed as he studied Cable and considered potential uses of this situation. Truth be told, he would not be entirely surprised if the X-Men played right into his hands. . .

"My lord," Longrifle suddenly said, urgently, drawing Apocalypse's attention away from Cable. "Look."

Apocalypse glanced at the screen the Dark Rider indicated, the one showing those disembarking from the X-Men's second plane. "How very interesting," he murmured, focusing on the figure of Nate Grey, standing beside Xavier's hoverchair. A series of snarled curses in Askani came from Cable's direction, and Apocalypse watched impassively as his paladin started to pace. "Control yourself," he said curtly.

"Flonq control," Cable almost hissed, continuing to pace. "I'm trying to figure out what they want, and I'm not liking any of the options!"

"I am certain they will tell us," Apocalypse said dryly. "Attempt to exercise a measure of patience." Cable did not grow noticeably calmer, and Apocalypse frowned. "They do not have the ability to penetrate the citadel's defenses," he said bluntly. "Even in such numbers. You are perfectly safe here. . ."

"Safe," Cable said contemptuously, and stalked over to the other side of the room, back to the screens. Apocalypse shook his head and returned his attention to the matter at hand.

"Looks like the X-Men's full roster, plus X-Force," Longrifle said.

"How very observant of you," Apocalypse rumbled. They did not appear to be advancing. . .

#Apocalypse.#

Apocalypse straightened, smiling coldly as he recognized the voice inside his mind. "Xavier," he said aloud. From Longrifle's expression, he could hear it as well. Cable still stood where he had been standing, but there was a rigidity to his posture that had not been there before. Clearly, he could hear Xavier as well. "It is. . .surprising to see you here."

#I doubt you are truly surprised, Apocalypse. You must have expected us, sooner or later.#

Apocalypse glanced at Cable again, wondering briefly if Xavier was carrying on more than one conversation. Cable turned, as if sensing his sudden attention, and Apocalypse was oddly reassured by the bleakness of his expression, so at odds with the rage in his eyes. Xavier might be speaking to him, but he was clearly not reaching him.

"What do you want, Xavier?" Apocalypse asked, almost casually. "To take Cable and finish what you began three months ago? Or perhaps the boy is not proving an adequate substitute. . ."

#Substitute? That's what you. . .# It was a different voice. Young, angrier.

The boy, of course.

#You're not going to get away with this, Apocalypse!# Nate Grey snarled. On the screen, golden radiance started to surround his figure. #I'm not going to let you!#

Cable, quite suddenly, started to laugh. Apocalypse looked over at him, alarmed by the wildness of the sound. "Stupid, stupid kid. . ." Cable choked out.

"He seems to have changed his opinion of Xavier's philosophy," Apocalypse said casually. "An impressionable youth, your young counterpart. . ." He hesitated as the walls of the citadel shivered slightly. "Longrifle?"

"A telekinetic attack. No effect."

Cable, not longer laughing, walked back over to the console, staring down at the image of Nate Grey floating in mid-air, glowing fiercely. "Idiot boy," he muttered. There was another faint impact against the citadel's impervious walls, and then Grey lowered himself to the ground once more. The tension coming off Cable as he watched was almost palpable.

#The boy is correct, if overenthusiastic,# Xavier's voice said coldly. #We will not permit you to continue holding Cable. . .#

"You believe I am holding him against his will?" Apocalypse asked, eyeing Cable thoughtfully. "Tell me, Xavier, what do you intend to do with him once you 'free' him?"

No answer, for a moment. #You have a great deal of faith in your manipulations, don't you?# Xavier finally asked, the first trace of anger in his tone. #We'll see, Apocalypse.#

Cable suddenly stiffened, a strangled moan escaping him. "No!" he snarled viciously, his left eye blazing. "I won't listen to you, you lying old flonq. . ." He gasped, clutching at his temples and nearly doubling over. "Get out of my HEAD!"

"You know the truth, Nathan," Apocalypse said, with a calm he did not feel. What he had done to Cable's memories could not be undone with mere words, but if Xavier tried anything more drastic, the failsafe could be triggered. . ."You KNOW the truth," he repeated insistently, reaching out to support him. Cable shuddered, and Apocalypse tightened his grip, realizing that it was the only thing holding Cable upright. "Actions speak louder than words, Nathan, is that not the saying? Do not listen to him. Block him out. . ."

Cable suddenly jerked away from him. #Get out!# he projected feverishly, his eye flashing brightly. He reached out a hand, golden light lashing outwards and dancing over the console.

And a wind blew up in the room. Apocalypse actually cursed as a teleportational portal took shape, perhaps ten feet away. The fool boy! he raged inwardly, and reached out to stop him, halted by what was unmistakably a telekinetic shield. "Cable!" he snapped.

Cable's head whipped around, and Apocalypse cursed again at the utter lack of anything resembling reason in his expression. "I know the truth!" Cable shouted, wild-eyed. "And it's time I put an end to this!" Turning, he all but leapt through the portal.

"Damn him!" Apocalypse raged as it closed behind him. He turned away, in time to see Cable materialize outside. . .and outside the security grid. "Longrifle!" he thundered, already calling up another portal. "Get your Riders out there!"

"To retrieve him?"

Apocalypse hesitated for a moment, wrath at Cable's precipitous behavior fading slightly as he considered the possibilities. The sheer number of telepaths out there. . .yet there would never be a better time to gauge the degree of Cable's alienation from Xavier's path. "No," he finally said, after a moment. "To assist him." He would find some way to express his displeasure, later. . .

"My lord. . ."

"Tests come in many forms, Longrifle," Apocalypse murmured, watching Cable thoughtfully. "Many forms. Now obey me."

***

Scott froze as the Professor suddenly stiffened in his chair, the color draining from his face. "Charles, what. . ."

He never got to finish the question. A portal identical to the one on the safehouse record opened on the ridge above them, and Nathan stepped out. In the next moment, Charles cried out and slumped in his chair. On his other side, Nate Grey toppled without a sound, and Scott nearly fell himself at the scream that washed up his link with Jean.

Jean! No answer. One eye still on Nathan, who'd made no move towards them, he checked to make sure Charles was still breathing, barely noticing Storm doing the same with Nate, and then ran to Jean.

She was on her knees in the snow. Conscious, unlike the other two. "Madelyne. . .Stryfe," she gasped out as he pulled her to her feet. "They discorporated, he did something to the astral plane. . ." Her head came up with a gasp, and Scott grunted as an invisible force shoved him to the ground.

Surrounded by a growing rosy glow, Jean looked up at Nathan, raising a hand as if to forestall something. Still standing on the ridgeline, he was glowing too, a fierce, angry gold. "Nathan!" Jean called. "Nathan, we're not here to. . ." Gasping, she staggered backwards, her other hand coming up as if to shield herself. Her whole body jerked again, as if from a sudden impact, and this time, she went to her knees.

There was a growl from Logan's vicinity, and Scott pulled himself back to his feet, cursing. "Logan! No!"

But Logan was already running for Nathan, claws out, snarling incoherently. He got maybe twenty feet before the ground exploded underneath his feet, hurling him backwards.

Nathan still hadn't moved. He stood there, still glowing, still sizing them up. . .

"NO!" Scott bellowed, as loudly as he could. "All of you, hold your positions!" He stared up at the figure on the ridgeline, meeting eyes that blazed with hate. He could see it, feel it, even at this distance. . .but what was he waiting for? Why was he just standing there. . .? *Nathan!* he thought at his son as loudly as he could, searching desperately for that tiny thread, the faint link they'd shared before the battle with Farouk. There had to be something left of it, some way to reach him. . .

#Think again!# Nathan's voice snarled in his mind. Scott saw the telekinetic shockwave erupt, a moment before the world went mad around him.

The ground vanished, the sky tilting crazily and snow flying all around him in a sudden blizzard. The shockwave rolled over him, blindingly gold, alive with a malevolence he could almost taste. Scott hit the broken ground hard, snow and rubble falling around him.

He pushed himself up to his elbows, gasping for air and trying to blink away the afterimage of the shockwave. He wished he hadn't, almost immediately. The pristine terrain looked like it had been at the mercy of a backhoe for several days, and X-Force and his fellow X-Men were strewn around the devastated areas like broken toys.

All of them. All, in a moment. Jean was curled up in a fetal ball beside him, whimpering. Some of the more resilient - Rogue, Wolverine - were beginning to haul themselves to their feet.

But slowly. So slowly. Scott forced himself to look up, to focus through blurring vision at the figure of his son, still standing on the ridgeline. Still surrounded by a golden nimbus.

The light of his mind. The fire of his hate.

Hating himself, Scott cut loose with the strongest optic blast he was capable of producing.

It was, quite casually, deflected.

Then, the other portals appeared, and a horde of Dark Riders rushed onto what now was, much to Scott's despair, a battlefield.

***

Logan threw himself, snarling, at a Dark Rider who leaned back like a major-league pitcher and threw some sort of small greenish fireball at him. He dodged it, barely, cursing as it singed the hair on one side of his head, but didn't let it slow him down.

The Rider fell with a scream, and Logan turned to look for another opponent. Another Dark Rider ran at him, only to be struck down by one of Storm's lightning bolts.

"Logan!" Ororo shouted, clearly about to say something before she found herself fending off another flyer. Logan growled and scanned the area briefly.

Too many of them, damn it. . . And they were fighting harder than the Dark Riders he'd fought before.

Another Dark Rider tackled him, but let go with a howl as Logan's claws raked across his back. Logan kicked him away and sprang to his feet, swearing as he saw how much worse the melee had gotten.

Where's Cyke, damn it? We need a plan here. . .

***

"Gotcha, sugar!" Rogue said, catching Siryn as Banshee's daughter fell limply through the air, dazed by a blast of some sort from a Dark Rider on the ground. "You all right?"

"Just. . ." Terry coughed, and then nodded vehemently, opening her mouth and taking flight on her own again.

Rogue let her go, shaking her head as she rose and surveyed the battle from above. At least thirty Dark Riders, and all of them holding their own, not like the usual cannon fodder the X-Men were used to seeing.

Her lips pursed as she saw Cable glance at Colossus and send Piotr tumbling head-over-heels into a snowbank. He's makin' for Scotty and Jean, she realized. Ah think there is where ah step in. . .

Pulling off one of her glows, Rogue dove at him, hitting him at what Logan, after a Danger Room exercise that had gotten a little out of hand, had sardonically called 'full ramming speed'. It knocked him off his feet, and Rogue brought her bare hand around, knowing she had only a second before he recovered and blasted her to kingdom come.

"Nathan, sugar, this is gonna hurt you a lot more than it does me," she grated, and touched the side of his face.

And screamed, as a bizarre procession of images cascaded through her divided consciousness like a wave of liquid fire.

A hard blow across the face, knocking him/them to the ground. Concentrate! Slym snarled angrily. You think the virus is going to control itself?

Your fault, Aliya breathed, loathing in her eyes as she turned her face away from him/them and died.

I don't know you, Domino said in cold contempt as he/they reached out to her. Turning away, as his/their heart shattered in anguish. I wish I never had. . .

The decision wasn't yours to make! Blaquesmith raved at him/them, punctuating his words with more blows. You think you've saved these people, Dayspring? Do you?

You did WHAT? Scott snarled, and blasted him/them back into a wall.

I can't believe I ever thought of you as my son! Jean raged, ripping into his/their mind with fiery talons, the pain making Rogue scream again. . .

Something wrong, the part of her that was still only her thought dazedly. The memories were brilliant, TOO vivid. Something too bright about them. . .something wrong. . .

The next series of images was faded, like film stock that had been left out in the sun for too long. Like hazy dreams, or things half-forgotten. . .

But again, Rogue screamed.

Kneeling on a cold stone floor, his/their whole body afire with pain. Arms bound tightly, restraints that didn't give an inch.

If you win, you go free, unmolested by any of my servants. If I win. . . Shuddering at Apocalypse's thunderous voice. If I win, you are mine. To do with as I please.

And if I say no? Hurt to speak, to force the words out. . .

Then you die, here and now. Do not make the mistake of believing that this is a choice, Dayspring. This is your only option.

Sun. . .sand. . .

Something slamming into his midsection, throwing him to the ground. Apocalypse's huge shadow standing over him.

Spare yourself this. Yield, merely kneel to me, Dayspring, and this can be over. . .

Rogue didn't feel the blow from Cable that sent her backwards, into the snow. She was lost in the faded, fleeting memories. . .

She was broken over Apocalypse's knee and thrown to the sand.

She was lying on the table in the lab, screaming.

She was staggering out of the hole in the wall of the fortress, into the desert, knowing this wasn't an escape, despair swallowing her with every step.

She was. . .hanging on the 'X' in the desert, the sun beating down on her, seeing the dead and the living, all of them blaming her, hating her. . .

You do believe I'm going to get you out, right? Domino said gently, touching the side of his/their face. You do WANT to be free? A nod, a flicker of disbelieving hope. That's what I'm here for. . .

The feel of the knife, sliding into his/their chest. . .

And Rogue screamed her throat raw as her mind exploded.

***

Someone was tugging at him, pulling him to his feet. "Get up, Cable, damn it!" a familiar voice was snarling.

Snow. Sand. The battle. The empty desert. The two overlapped, flickering, each transition making the pain in his head soar. Each flicker left a burning afterimage, etched it onto his eyes. Between that and the pain, he could barely see at all, and only instinct made him struggle with the person dragging him backwards.

"I'm trying to HELP you, you idiot!" the voice shouted.

You're lucky the master wants you alive! the same voice snarled in his mind. Different words, words from a different time. . .but the same voice. More trouble than you're worth, Dayspring. . .

A cell. It had been a cell. . .he'd been in chains. He'd lost a fight, a fight he hadn't expected. . .

Dazed, he tried futilely to pull away, knowing only that the owner of the voice was an enemy. The voice cursed, and Cable reeled as something smashed against the side of his head.

A rifle? Warmth dripped down the side of his face. He remembered trying to use his powers. . .the Dark Riders, bursting into the cell. . .

But hadn't. . .no, that was BEFORE. . .

Get that little worm of a psi-vamp in here!

Glowing eyes within the shadows of a hood. Hands like something out of his worst nightmares, reaching for him, ready to drain his life away. . .

A moan of denial escaped him as he lashed out wildly with his telekinesis. There was a cry of pain from the voice, here and now, and the rough hands holding him upright let go and vanished. Staggering, still blinded by the flickering transitions between desert and mountains, he tried to straighten.

Had to focus. . .put the pieces together. . .but he couldn't even see, flonq it. . .

Away. He had to get away from here, someplace out of the noise, where he could think. . .

He was running before he knew it, staggering, swaying, barely managing to keep to his feet.

He didn't get far.

There was a strange, familiar noise and a stink like brimstone. Something slammed into him from behind, driving him to the ground.

"Apologies, mein Freund, but you are clearly not in your right mind," an accented voice said. "I do not want to hurt you. . .please stay down."

He knew that voice. Brimstone. . .shadows, why did he think of shadows? If only he could see. . .

Tried to get up, and was smashed back down by a fist like a wrecking ball. "Bozhe moi!" a different voice shouted. Steel in the voice. . .steel fist. . .steel man? Nathan's mind skittered erratically from image to image, trying to pull them together, trying vainly to remember. "Where are the telepaths? We cannot allow him to. . ."

All the voices around him were suddenly muffled, as if they were shouting at him through a long tunnel. He coughed, tasting blood in his mouth.

"Redd," he choked out, a weak rasp that he himself could barely hear as his mind reached out for hers blindly, instinctively. "Redd, help. . ."

Needed her. . .she'd know what was happening, where he was. . .

He reached out telekinetically and pushed away everyone in the vicinity. He tried to stand, nearly fell. The world wouldn't pick one place or the other to be. . .he could still barely see. . .

"Redd. . ." he whispered, swaying on his feet. Something or something went past him, so close and so fast that the wind it created nearly toppled him.

Then something else slammed into his chest and exploded, sending him to the ground again. He laid there, gasping for air, smelling burnt flesh - his own, he realized as the pain hit him - and the peculiarly acrid stink of charred T-O fiber. He could feel the burns there too. . .but how could he feel pain, in the virus, how could he feel anything. . .?

"What y'do to Rogue, homme?" a furious voice asked him. "And dey t'ought I was de traitor!" More, the voice said more, but he couldn't make out the words as the pace of the flickering increased, and all he could see was sunlight and snowlight. . .

Somehow, instinct let him avoid the follow-up attack, but just barely. He rolled, coming back to his feet, and then went down again as someone tackled him from behind.

"Damn it, Nate, would you just flamin' well stay DOWN?" a different, much more familiar voice growled. An arm went around his throat, cutting off his air. "LeBeau, get one of the telepaths over here already!"

His head was swimming, an odd counterpoint to the pain, as he gasped for air. He couldn't seem to focus enough to use his powers. . .

"Sonuvabitch. . ." the voice grated, and the arm around his throat tightened as he continued to struggle weakly. "Hard-headed bastard. . .EASY, Nate. . ."

#Logan! Hold on to him, I'm coming. . .#

That voice. . .

"Redd. . ." He used up his last bit of air, gasping out her name, and felt the weight pinning him down suddenly freeze, motionless.

"Son of a. . ." the gravelly voice breathed. "JEAN!"

#Nathan? Oh God, Nathan. . .# The rosy light was almost incandescent as it reached for him. #It's all right, Nate, it's going to be all right. . .#

She was inside his mind.

Inside his mind. . .

There was a soundless detonation inside his skull, and suddenly the void was filled, the confusion blown away like mist in the wind. . .

Inside his mind. Just like she had been before.

I can't believe I ever thought of you as my son!

Match to the tinder, and the anger erupted like a volcano inside him.

#GET OFF ME!#

***

Scott, struggling back to his feet, shocked into sudden, desperate hope by the incredulous joy flowing along the psi-link, saw two things happen simultaneously.

Rogue, who had been lying on the ground, gripping her head and screaming ever since she'd touched Nathan, let loose with one last, deafening cry that echoed in his mind as well as his ears, and then went limp.

And Nathan, whom Logan had pinned to the ground, was surrounded by a blaze of burning golden light. #GET OFF ME!# his voice thundered, the sheer volume nearly driving Scott to his knees.

Logan went flying a good thirty feet through the air.

Scott froze as Nathan got smoothly to his feet and glared at him, still glowing like the sun. Jean, halfway between them, started to say something. Nathan gestured at her, and she crumpled to the ground.

Jean!

#S-Scott. . .# Her voice was weak, barely more than a whisper. #Don't. . .#

"Well, DAD," Nathan snarled, stalking across the ground between them. "I think we need to talk."

Scott grunted as he was slammed to the ground by what felt like a telekinetic sledgehammer. "Nate. . ." he gasped out. "Nate, don't. . ."

"Don't WHAT?" Nathan snapped, standing over him. Scott tried to get up, and Nathan gestured angrily, smashing him back to the ground again. "I think I like you better down there, Scott. And do us both a favor and don't even THINK about using your powers? I'd have to stop you, and I'm not in the mood to be subtle about it."

Scott swallowed, concentrating on breathing for a moment, trying to gather his composure. "What do you want to talk about?" he grated, not looking up at Nathan. . .not wanting to provoke him.

"I want to know WHY!" Nathan shouted at him. Scott turned his head to the side, flinching as he saw the glow of a TK shield. Just outside, Jean was struggling to her feet, still obviously stunned. "Stab your eyes, you heartless bastard, LOOK AT ME!"

Scott looked up at him, jaw clenching as he caught a glimpse of the raw pain beneath the anger in his son's eyes. "You want to know why?" he asked hoarsely. "Why what?"

"I want to know why you. . ." Nathan's voice was uncertain, suddenly, and Scott searched his face, looking for something, some sign that. . .

"Why I what?" Scott asked softly, ignoring the noise of the fighting going on all around him. "You're not sure, are you?" Nathan shook his head, almost irritably, but he seemed dazed, almost. . .afraid. "You're confused, Nate, you don't know what the truth is. . ."

"I know what the truth is! I know. . ." Nate clutched at his head, just as Rogue had done, and nearly doubled over. "I know what you did," he gasped out, the color gone from his face. "I tried to do what I thought was right. . .what you TAUGHT me was right. . ."

"Nathan. . ." Scott began pleadingly, and grunted in pain as he was smashed back to the ground again.

"Shut up!" Nathan sounded almost hysterical. "You lied to me. . .you USED me! I wasn't anything to you, to ANY of you, except a tool!"

"That's not TRUE!" Scott managed, trying to catch his breath. "Nathan, damn it, whatever he's made you believe, it's not TRUE!"

"Made me? You were the ones made my life nothing but this flonqing crusade of yours!" The words came out in a tortured scream. "I've been living in this nightmare you blind flonqs call a dream. . .you TRAPPED me in it, until I had nothing BUT it!" Nathan was swaying on his feet, breathing raggedly, by the time he fell silent.

Scott shifted, and realized in shock that the force that had been pinning him down was gone. Almost before the decision to move formed in his mind, Scott lunged to his feet and tackled Nathan, the impact enough to bear them both to the ground. Nathan's head came down hard against a rock, stunning him.

"You don't know what I did!" Scott shouted bitterly, anguish boiling inside him, fighting for an outlet. "He's twisted your memories, damaged your mind. . .I don't know what he put in your head, Nathan, but it's not REAL!"

Nathan's expression twisted. . .in pain? He started to struggle again, but more weakly, not using his powers. Scott didn't know why, but he was going to take advantage of it.

"Listen to me," he begged. "I'm not trying to shield against you. . .look for yourself! Whatever Apocalypse made you think we did to you, whatever hurt you so badly that you're turning against us like this, it didn't HAPPEN!"

"Trick. . ." Nathan gasped out, his gaze disoriented as he tried to focus on Scott's face.

"No, it's not a trick, it's NOT," Scott repeated, ignoring the tears running down his face. "Damn it, I will NOT lose you to him! I WON'T!"

"Let me GO!" Nathan started to struggle more violently, and Scott slammed him back against the ground.

"No!" he said anguishedly. "I am NOT going to let you go. . .look at yourself, Nate, look at what he's done to you!" He bit back a sob. "Damn him! I fought him for you when you were a baby, I'm not letting him do this to you now!"

Nathan threw him off with a sudden surge of strength, and was back on his feet before Scott had even pushed himself up to a sitting position. "Stab your eyes!" he snarled feverishly, and although there were tears on his face as well, Scott could see in his eyes that he hadn't reached him. Not really. Maybe for a moment, but a moment didn't count. . .not with three months of brutal manipulation standing in the way. "I KNOW the truth! I know what you did, and if you think I'll EVER trust you. . ."

Scott turned his face away for a moment, courage failing him at the rage that seemed to come off Nathan in waves. "Please. . ." he breathed, not knowing who he was talking to. "Please. . ."

"Please WHAT?" Nathan shouted. "Please FORGIVE you?" Scott flinched, closing his eyes against the brilliance that gathered around his son's shaking figure once more. "Please don't kill you like you deserve. . .please don't put you out of your misery like the MISERABLE EXCUSE FOR A FATHER THAT YOU ARE?"

Scott squeezed his eyes tightly shut. "Please. . .don't let him do this to you," he said hoarsely. "Do what you have to do, Nathan. . .but understand what you're doing." He opened his eyes, met his son's furious gaze unflinchingly. "Don't let him use you. . ."

"SHUT UP!" The light grew, until he couldn't see Nathan anymore. "I won't listen to you, I WON'T. . ."

A blurred streak shot through the TK shield that wasn't there anymore and slammed into Nathan, throwing him to the ground.

"Sam!" Scott shouted hoarsely, struggling to his feet. "Sam, be careful, don't. . ."

Another telekinetic shockwave erupted, knocking him off his feet, and the next thing he knew, Nathan was standing over a prone Sam, still glowing.

#Do I have to make an EXAMPLE?# his voice snarled in Scott's mind. Their eyes met, briefly, and Scott nearly recoiled. #Do I have to show you how much I hate you all, what I'm going to do to destroy this precious dream of yours?# He brought his hands together in front of him, and a blazing psychic blade formed, almost too bright to look at. #THIS is how you burn your bridges, Cyclops!#

***

Domino threw aside the dead Dark Rider that had fallen on her. Damn it, I'm getting sidetracked here. . .where the hell did Nathan go? She'd been trying to fight her way towards him, the entire time, but always, there had been Dark Riders in her way. She shot them, she beat them into the ground, but they just kept COMING, kept getting between her and Nate.

Her luck, for once, seemed to be entirely bad. Or maybe it was good. Maybe she wasn't supposed to get to him, and this was the universe telling her something, preventing her from. . .

NO! It didn't matter. Nothing matter. Only what she had to do. She had to find him, had to reach him. . .

She hauled herself to her feet, looking around wildly. . .and saw him. "NO!" she screamed, as she took in the sight of Nathan standing over Sam, some sort of psychic blade raised, ready to plunge downwards.

Nathan.

Sam.

She brought her gun up, without a moment's hesitation.

And shot him.

The bullet creased his skull, and his head jerked backwards as he fell, seemingly in slow motion. She felt the impact, the pain reflected, her body spasming in reaction, but somehow managed to keep herself from falling.

Something screamed inside her as she struggled to stay on her feet, something that wept and sobbed and cursed her as she stared at Nathan's still body, crumpled in the snow, a spreading stain of red marring the white.

Sam sat up, half-crawling over to Nathan's side, leaning over him. Scott, staggering, followed.

Her feet wouldn't move. She couldn't take a single step, it was like something had frozen her to the ground. . .

Nate. . .NATE! that part of her screamed, reaching out frantically to the dull thread of the link, trying to batter through the shield that was still inexplicably there, even after Madelyne had discorporated.

NATHAN!

And, just as it had been for the last three months, the link was silent.



to be continued...


Part 3

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