by Alicia McKenzie
DISCLAIMER: The characters in this story belong to Marvel, and are used without permission for entertainment purposes only. This is a response to my own Storyteller's Challenge on OTL, where I challenged the list to write about the 'legend' of the X-Men. And for those of you who know me and my biases, and who are having great difficulty picking your jaws up off the floor at the identity of the narrator here--yes, hell HAS frozen over. ;)
You want to hear the story again? I would have thought you might have grown tired of it by now, child. No? Your favorite story, you say? But it is so sad--
No, no, child. I could never be angry with you. But I was there that day, little one. I saw it happen.
Did I cry?
Bright Lady, yes.
I suppose there is time. Perhaps there is nothing but time, in the end. Come and sit beside me. Yes, there. We can keep each other warm.
It is very cold, isn't it? I remember how beautiful the days could be, before the war. Warm sunlight, cloudless skies--yes, before the Sentinels. And the camps. Back when we were free to live to live as we chose, free to dream of a world that welcomed those like us, instead of treating us as monsters, as less than human--
No, child, I am all right. It merely hurts to remember, that is all. So much has been lost. Family, friends--even my own mutant gifts. It has been so very long since I rode the winds, so long since I was at one with nature. But it hurts more to look at you, little one, and realize that you have never known what it is like to run through the fresh grass and greet the spring sunrise.
The story. Yes. Forgive me, child. My mind wanders sometimes, when I think about the past. Especially about him. It seems so sad, so terribly ironic, that it should have ended this way. He did nothing wrong, nothing at all. Only what he was sent here to do.
He saved us all. And yet here we are.
Did I ever meet Apocalypse? Oh, yes, child. I had never looked upon true evil, before that. He was a monster, in truth. All he believed in was the survival of the fittest. He did not value life--yes, my dear. Very much like the Sentinels. But he was human, not a machine.
You do not think that makes any difference? What a cynic you are, child. But maybe you are right.
Did he frighten me?
Yes. Yes, he did. Why? Perhaps--perhaps because of what I saw in his eyes. What did I see? Nothing, child. Nothing at all. His eyes were empty. As if his soul was dead.
Nathan hated him more than any of us. I used to wonder if there was room in his heart for anything but that hate. But I learned otherwise, once I truly watched the way he looked at her.
No, child, I've told you before. We never knew her name. Only what she called herself. Domino--yes, child, because 'things fell into place' for her. You remember. Perhaps you should tell the story, then? No? Do not worry, little one, I was only teasing.
Did I--like her?
I--did not know her well, child. None of us did. Only Nathan. I heard him call her Beatrice once. It means bringer of joy--did you know that? That was what she was for him, I believe. She could make him smile--very few of us could do the same.
She was there with him, when he fought Apocalypse. Right there beside him, even though her own mutant powers were of little help in such a battle.
Goddess, what a day that was! I remember it so well, even after all these years. It shames me to remember how few of us believed in him. We thought it was impossible, that he could defeat this creature who had lived for five thousand years, destroying everything he touched.
But when the sun rose over Akkaba that morning, Apocalypse was dead. His presence was gone from our lives, his shadow from our world. It seemed like anything was possible, as if the universe itself had been remade.
Was Nathan happy?
Happy? I--do not know. He seemed more--weary, than anything else. Oh, child. There is nothing triumphant about a victory like that. Only relief that it is over.
Yes, child. The war came very soon afterwards.
Why?
You have not asked that question before.
Well, what have you heard? Yes--that is right. It was because of Apocalypse. For those who were terrified of us, of mutants, he was the last straw. The excuse they needed, even after he was gone. What Apocalypse did during those last few months, before Nathan defeated him in Akkaba--such terrible destruction, child. That was all they saw. Not the sacrifices we made in those last days, not Nathan's courage in facing Apocalypse--only the deaths, the lives lost and the damage done. They blamed us, blamed all mutants.
No, child, it was not fair. But the people who did this, who built the Sentinels and created the camps--they did not care about fairness, or justice. All they knew was their fear. Human nature, little one. It is a very sad thing.
They attacked us in the middle of the night. We were taken entirely by surprise. Some of us they clearly wished to take alive. Others, we heard later, were to have been killed out of hand. Those deemed too dangerous to live--Logan, Jean, Joseph.
Yes, child. And Nathan. Do you really wish me to go on? I have told you what happened so many times.
As you wish. We fought, of course. We were the X-Men--we would not be led tamely away in chains. But there were too many of them, too many Sentinels capable of negating our powers.
Yes, child, I am coming to that part. We soon realized that we could not win. All that was left to do was flee, and live to fight another day. But to do that, we needed a diversion. And Nathan offered to provide one.
The Sentinels were not programmed to counteract Nathan's chronal-variant powers. He stayed behind as we fled, to guard our escape. I remember looking back over my shoulder, and seeing him--rip a hole in the very fabric of reality. It was a great, gaping rift that seemed to open onto chaos itself. The Sentinels were pulled in--to where, I cannot even imagine. Perhaps they are still out there somewhere, caught between time and space.
Goddess. I can still hear Nathan screaming. It was too much for him, you see. The forces he manipulated that day were beyond even his control. Yes, child, he was very powerful, but there are some lines beyond which no human being can cross and survive.
What, child? Of course he knew. We saw it in his eyes, even as he told us to go. He knew he would die, but he was not afraid.
I am coming to that, child. She came with us--he begged her to go, of course. But when she heard him screaming, she all but tore herself out of Bishop's grasp and ran to him, right back into the madness. There was nothing any of us could do to prevent it. Jean did, but Logan stopped her. It was her choice, he said. Her decision. It was not right, I remember him shouting, to make her leave him if she decided otherwise. Not fair, to make her go on alone, without him.
I remember looking back once more as we fled. Nathan was glowing so brightly, it was almost painful to look at him. But I could still see her there next to him, holding off the human troops as he forced the Sentinels into the rift. That was the last I ever saw of them. Nathan wrapped in a nimbus of light, Domino little more than a shadow in black beside him. Neither faltering, even for a moment. Together, side-by-side, until the end.
Do you think it was easy to leave them, child? But to stay would have made Nathan's sacrifice worthless. And who would have lead the resistance, had we not won free that day? The other teams were decimated in the first days of the war. There was no one left but us, child.
No. It does not make me feel any better. You can be rather impertinent at time, do you realize that?
We found their bodies, when we returned days later to salvage what we could at the mansion. Why the government's troops had simply left them there, I do not know.
It was very strange. The temporal energy released by the rift had somehow affected them, preserved their bodies in perfect condition. It was as if they had simply fallen asleep in each other's arms. I remember Sam kneeling beside them, weeping. Calling their names, as if he expected them to wake up.
Yes, child. We buried them together. How else?
As far as I know, the grave is still there. But the mansion is in a restricted zone now. No one goes there any longer. Part of me wishes I could, just once. Even just to pay my respects, to plant some flowers, perhaps, if there was any life left in the soil there.
No, child. They are not forgotten--never forgotten. None of our lost ones are truly gone. Not as long as we remember them. And Nathan--I see his face almost every night, in my dreams. I remember that dry sense of humor he so often kept hidden; the loyalty and courage so few of us ever appreciated.
What?
What did you say?
Did I--did I love him?
fin