Chapter Text
All she felt was the rage burning in her heart. Rage pulsed through her body as she flew through the air, seeing red in the middle of her rage. She could still see the bright purple-blue explosion happening as her love, the man who had many times professed his love for her, was skewered by the large piece of metal that had been thrown at him, the large piece of metal pierced him through his side, going through his stomach.
Despite the blood and the pain, Gambit simply smiled, uttering the words, “The name’s’ Gambit, mon ami, remember it.” followed by the explosion.
In the aftermath of that explosion, the huge three faced sentinel machine being taken out, all that was left was his cold lifeless body, burnt, and covered in dirt, blood, and her tears as she held him, touching him with her bare hands, trying to feel him, feeling for any signs of life within the limp body she now cradled in her arms.
“Sugah, I can’t feel you,” She whispered, before the choking sobs wracked her body.
Then rage had followed and now here she was, flying through the air, trying to locate the source of the sentinel, the ones who made it and the ones who sent it, or at least two people who had been known for making the sentinels. Henry Gyrich and Bolivar Trask.
She had already torn up a military base or two looking for them, and when she couldn’t at least find Gyrich, she flew to where he had supposedly been relocated, to a remote snow mountain area. But it was there that she was met by the star spangled man himself, Captain America, Steve Rogers, but after learning that both him and her were just a step behind whoever was protecting both Gyrich and Trask, she took to the skies once more until she finally found him somewhere in Mexico, hiding out in what didn’t look like a prison but a resort, a place where one could relax in safety and comfort.
By the time she had confronted Gyrich and absorbed his life force, her rage was burning out, she was beginning to crash and burn. She didn’t know what happened between placing her bare hand on Gyrich’s face and absorbing his life (and his entire memory) but somewhere in those few moments, she felt a flash of power. That flash of power made her black out.
She could barely hear the words, the fluent German being spoken to her. The tone was gentle, soothing and comforting and suddenly her eyes flew open and she was greeted by a blue furred face looking down at her with seemingly glowing yellow eyes. At first the eyes appeared red to her in her foggy hazed mind, and she uttered a single name.
“Remy?” but the yellow eyes staring at her seemed to shock her into a state of awareness and Rogue sat up, gasping for breath. “Kurt?” She breathed, groaning at the pounding in her skull. Damn did this headache feel like a damn hangover. But it wasn’t a hangover. It was stress built up from all the crying she did and all the rage and anger that had spilled out of her. All that was left was a strange emptiness and even more grief, a hollow sadness filled with regret and guilt.
“Indeed, it’s me, sister.” The gentle former circus acrobat turned monk said with a soft smile. He helped her sit up with one hand behind her back and the other grasping her hand gently. While it occasionally pained Rogue to see how much he looked like their mother (Mystique was a horrible person and a confused one at that), it never stopped her from finding comfort in his presence. Over the past year or two after their encounter with Mystique and their other brother, Graydon Creed (who had made himself mad from learning about his own mutant parentage despite him not being a mutant himself), the two had formed a real sibling bond. They would see each other as often as possible in between her missions as an X-Men and Kurt’s many freelance work as a priest (and as an ambassador to mutantkind, helping setting up Genosha as a mutant haven, a sanctuary for Mutants and others who feel ostracized by normal humans).
After a few moments of letting her get her breath and her bearings, Nightcrawler let his sister go, but he watched her carefully just in case the mutant female fell back down. “How do you feel now?” he asked with concern in his voice.
Rogue groaned again and rubbed her head. Her body was sore from all the flying and from being shot at with the laser weapons that the military bases had, her chest felt heavy, tight, constricted by the sadness that weighed in her heart, and she still wanted to yell and rage and beat everything down, but instead she took in a deep breath, trying to keep the sadness and grief at bay; she didn’t want to be overwhelmed again. She hated this feeling. “W-well, bit of a headache, but Ah, i-I’ll … l-live…, I’ll live.” These words struggled to get past her lips. But she got them out as she looked at him now.
Before either of the siblings could say another word, they heard the music in the distance. The blue elf and the southern belle looked over and saw the many families grieving for their lost loved ones but also celebrating the deceased. If Rogue hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought she stumbled into a weird foreign art film but she knew what was happening. She knew where she was. She was in a small town in Mexico, in an alley and the citizens of this town were celebrating Día de Muertos -- the Day of the Dead. There were bright decorations everywhere, especially of the painted skulls associated with the said holiday accompanied by the melancholic festival music.
Somehow this brought out the grief in her, making the emotions even stronger.
Don’t say it. Don't say it. He isn’t, it can’t be true! There was no way in hell she was going to join in on the festivities, to celebrate such a morbid reality, but he is. He was killed in Genosha, he sacrificed himself to kill the Master Mold! He is dead! R-
“Remy’s dead…” Rogue said quietly, the tears beginning to spill out once more. “But that don’t mean I'm ready to accept it…”
Kurt felt his own heart beat in pain with his sister’s. “We all grieve in our own way.” He said just as quietly, without looking at her. Hearing her choke back a sob, Nightcrawler looked over in time to see her look away, one of her hands toying with a few strands of her silver and brown bangs.
“Ya sure drew the short straw in the adopted sister department, didn’t ya?” It was all she could do to keep herself from breaking down again. But the pain could be heard in her tone as her voice trembled with each word, her bottom lip quivering with each spoken word. She took in a deep breath and lifted her head, her emerald green gaze focusing on the celebration going on across the street, “Got the gal who goes bonkers over… losing a…. Boy,..” her voice cracked, and tears blurred her vision now.
“Over losing two boys.” Nightcrawler corrected gently but he wasn’t condescending, he wanted to help his sister overcome her grief. He knew she had been struggling with her complicated feelings for both Remy and Magneto. She’s admitted as much in one of their many phone calls that came about after Magneto took over the X-Men (Okay he didn’t take them over. He took up the leadership role after proving he wanted to change and make a better world for Mutants, just as Charles Xavier wanted to do).
Surprise rippled through her at hearing her adoptive brother’s words and she turned her head to look at him, staring straight into his glowing yellow eyes but she turned her head away, closing her eyes, as if refusing to acknowledge the truth. Sure she lost Magnus, too, but losing Remy hurt more somehow. But still, another part of her ached at having lost the master of magnetism as well. And that ache joined the pain that was brewing in her heart.
“And your confusion is only natural, but you did not cause Gambit, or Magneto to be killed.” Although his words were oddly comforting, hearing them made her entire body tremble, and she squeezed her eyes tight, straining for a second to fight against the sadness and grief that were dancing around in her soul and heart. “She helped them live.”
The final four words sparked something in her and the tears finally started flowing again as she opened her eyes. She choked back one more sob before the grief and sadness overwhelmed her once more. Only this time it was more sadness than it was anger. Rogue felt Nightcrawler draw her into a hug, holding her against his chest as she bawled.
It was rare for Rogue to cry like this but when she did, it was a moment of vulnerability. She hated being like this, being seemingly weak. Mystique had forced her to stuff down any human emotions such as sadness, happiness, and laughter and turn it all into rage. It was Mystique who had convinced her that no one could love her (mostly Mystique was talking about herself when she had told a teen Rogue this but teen Rogue thought it applied to her thanks to her birth father having turned his back on her for being a mutant). All that rage and anger had been learned from Mystique but the rage and anger was in Remy's and Magnus’s names.
As her cries were muffled by her brother’s chest, Rogue felt everything coming out. All the tears, all the sadness, and all the grief. And in the wake was a tiny shard of happiness and hope, and a sliver of guilt. She felt a touch on her shoulder and a gentle familiar presence in her mind. A whisper echoing in her mind.
“You’ll be okay, Rogue. It’ll all be okay.”
When she felt the hand touch her shoulder, remaining in Nightcrawler’s hug, Rogue looked up and saw Jean, in her battle gear, smiling at her with tears in her own blue eyes. And past Jean’s shoulder she saw the rest of the X-Men on the stairwell. The rest of her family, waiting for her to come down from the rage and grief and cry it all out. The only ones who were missing were Jubilee, Storm, and… Remy… This thought made the tears flow a third time and Rogue felt a whimper rising in her throat and she had to cry into Nightcrawler’s chest for just a while longer.
--
While being held by Kurt, with his three fingers stroking her head gently and Jean’s calming sisterly/motherly presence in her mind, Rogue smelt the aroma of limestone and smoke. Usually this smell that accompanies her brother would be comforting but right now, it smelled bad to her. Almost reminding her of the smell of charred flesh, blood, ash, and smoke. Feeling her stomach churning, Rogue immediately pulled away from her brother and everything she’s eaten (or didn’t eat) in the past 48 hours came up.
The memories of the smells that accompanied the deaths on Genosha made for a bad sight. Anyone looking at the X-Men from a distance would think they were a bunch of American Tourists who had let Rogue get drunk from the current festivities or something and that she was suffering the aftereffects of a bad hangover.
But she wasn’t.
Gasping for breath after the bad wave of nausea, Rogue breathed in deeply, trying to calm herself down as Kurt and Jean both patted her back, rubbing behind her shoulder blades soothingly.
“You okay now?” Jean asked gently as she took a bottle of water that Morph had procured from a vendor down the street and offered the bottle to the silver and brown haired woman.
“Y-yea, I’ll be ok now…” Rogue said with a sigh, “I think.” She took the offered water bottle with a quiet thank you and immediately opened it up for a sip. Once the cool refreshing wave of water washed down the bad taste and perked her up a bit, Rogue opened her eyes again and this time another troubling thought crossed her mind.
The possible fathers of her baby were dead, she didn’t know who the dad was, and she didn't know what she was going to do now.
Jean seemed to sense these troubling thoughts and the psychic squeezed her shoulder, “Rogue?” She started. Rogue let out another sigh, one of defeat this time.
“Anything wrong, kid?” Wolverine asked, standing straight now after having leaned against the wall for so long. His arms came uncrossed as he asked this.
Rogue gave a weak smile to her brother, who also shared the same smile and possible thoughts. It was Cyclops’ turn to look between the two, feeling confused and he frowned.
“Rogue?” Scott asked, “Kurt? What’s going on?”
“You should tell them, my dear sister.” Kurt said gently, sensing his sister’s reluctance.
Rogue nodded and breathed in deeply, feeling the last bit of a choked sob leaving her throat. “I…. I know I’ve, uh, had a thing with Magnus….Erik… Magneto.” The woman began. Grief was beginning to come back and fear was clawing at her belly, and on top of it, guilt. “And I know I was a bit, no really unfair to Remy in the process….”
Her friends were silent but patient as they listened, although she could tell Morph wanted to crack a joke about the situation but she was thankful they held back.
“But I’m… I’m pregnant and I don't know which of them is the daddy.”