Age of Apocalypse: Peripeteia

[x-eidolon.livejournal.com]

Certain realisations are made as truths come to light. The final betrayal is revealed and Rachel pays the price to fulfil her end of the bargain.



Rachel could not help but gape at the gasping figure Essex held tenderly in his arms. Carefully disentangling herself from the machine she had been hooked up to, she walked around it for a better view.

“That’s a child. He is the weapon that will save our world?” She demanded, uncertainty creeping into her voice. “Really?”

"Dear boy..." Essex murmured, smoothing back the light brown hair from his slick forehead. The child was no older than three or four; not long out of the toddler stage. Essex' absorption was complete, focused entirely on the boy. To her astonishment, she could see tears sliding down Essex' face, ignored by the scientist. "My dear boy; my son..."

“Son?” The incredulity in her voice rose, demanding his attention even as hands dropped limply to her sides with nothing else to occupy them as her mind raced to catch up with what she was witnessing. “Prof. What’s going on? Professor!”

"So long... so damn long..." His touch gentled the child. "This is my son, Rachel. He was taken from me a long time ago. Forever, I thought. Then there was Betsy, and I knew it could be fixed. And then you. A victim of stupid and cruel fate but also an opportunity. And how you succeeded, child. How you succeeded..."

“What have I done?” Doubt surfaced and persisted at the uncanny sight of her mentor in tears with a child in his arms. This was far from what she had expected. What was he saying? “What have you done?”

"We have succeed where only God has done so before." He laid his hand on the child's forehead, like a benediction from a priest. "Adam has been dead for three decades, but thanks to you, he can live again. Not some hollow template or poor imitation. My _son_ is alive."

For a long minute, Rachel struggled with words and expressions. But nothing could adequately convey the sheer confusion and whirlwind of questions that churned in her head. Essex had a son and they had saved him? The professor was not making any sense, and there was little she could wrap comprehension around at that point. So she grasped at the familiar.

“What about our world? Destroying Apocalypse and saving this Earth?”

"Yes, this could be awkward for you." Essex said, holding the boy. "You see, child. You died in Genosha."

She arched her brows so high, they disappeared behind the fringe plastered across her damp forehead.

“Genosha was a dozen years ago. And I’m clearly alive.” And not for much longer if they did not find the virus.

"Oh, it is ever so much more complicated than that. And we are separated from that day by months, not years." He said, his tone oddly gentle. "You were taken from your home less than thirteen months ago, and Moreau ordered you dead. I could not compromise my pursuit of Adam to stop his actions, but I could manipulate them to give you a chance - an extraordinary chance - to survive. It was my theory that your powers, pushed to the highest extreme, would shed a physical form and transition you into a being of pure psionic energy. Which is exactly what happened."

What the fuck. No, really. What the fuck. Rachel took one step toward the pair, and then another. “So I died,” she repeated flatly, eyes hard. “In Genosha. Which was months away. You killed my body… to save me?”

She cocked her head at her teacher, studying him with a critical eye and a gaze too calm for the barrage of emotions within her that were demanding to be let out. “No, you did it to save Adam.”

Her stony verdant gaze snapped to the entrance as footsteps thundered down the steps, and Rachel exhaled only when the first familiar face came into view. Guilt overrode feelings of betrayal, anger and hurt in that moment, and she could only pray that all of them survived the encounter.

For if they did not – it would have been for absolutely nothing.

Jim was the first one through the door, half-helping Angelo over a piece of debris; the younger man's broken arm was in a skin-sling, but the other was missing a massive swatch of skin and oozing blood. The telepath himself was in little better shape. Distracted by a foundation-rattling explosion from somewhere behind them, it was a moment before he realized they'd reached their destination.

"Rachel," the telepath said, voice heavy with relief and fatigue. The information poured out in a rush, punctuated by the labored gulp for air.

"The Horsemen are coming -- everyone's alive, they're almost here, Remy and Wanda have been collapsing the tunnels behind us, but that's not going to hold them off. Did you find the virus? Is it here?" Please let the sample be viable -- and fast-acting. Death might not be close enough to be affected immediately, but the other three . . .

“Not a virus,” Rachel shook her head, the movement rigid as her fists clenched. “It wasn’t a virus we were searching for.”

How does one explain the biggest, monumental fuck up and betrayal there was to be had?

“Everything was a lie. Everything.” The teenager snarled, teeth baring as she flung an accusing finger in the direction of Essex and his precious bundle. “We were looking for his son.”

Sam entered the room next, catching the tail end of the conversation. Before he could ask Rachel what she meant by everything being a lie, she'd already answered his unasked question.

"We were what?" Sam looked from Rachel's look of anger to Essex, frowning at the man. "You mean all this time we were being used? That there's no virus out there?" He was having a hard time processing this new information and while he wasn't as quick to express anger as Rachel he was none too happy about Essex's ruse.

Angelo was leaning on Haller, suddenly very tired, but roused the energy to glare at Essex. "Looks like you can't be trusted in this world either, huh?"

"His--" Jim gave Essex a look of blank incomprehension, barely registering another shudder to the complex. All he could think to say was: "But . . . he'll just die here with us."

"Mr Haller. I'm disappointed in you. Surely you've guessed by now." Essex' fingers gentled his son's forehead.

"Dat dis isn't a different dimension." Remy said, taking up the rear. "Not sure what it is, but dere's a reason dat Gambit's still safely locked away."

"I prefer the term astral construct. A psionic world built specifically to house Rachel after her body transitioned into pure psionic energy. A place where the only meaning of time was what I choose to create. With Kwannon's help, certainly."

Having followed Remy in closely, Wanda's eyes narrowed sharply as she tried to put all the new pieces together. "Then none of this has been real," she said slowly, eyes flickering over to an enraged looking Rachel. "Everything has been shaped to suit your needs and -" Wanda took a deep breath. "Do what? Hope to shape Rachel to your own goals?" She was looking pale as she considered the ramifications - she shouldn't be in the astral plane. How powerful was this construct where it could house her, a person whose ability had made it almost impossible for her to be here?"

“You’re sick,” Rachel snapped before he could reply, barely flinching at the sound of exploding concrete coming from behind the walls – Goodness knew those were not real either. “You’re a fucking sick bastard. What’s stopping me from killing you – and your precious Adam – right now? You made me pull these people – these good people here and into this mess – to what end?”

The terminal behind her sparked and started to smoke under the shifting weight of her power.

"Because this is all a dream, ultimately. And I, its Master." He waved his hand, and the sounds of battle outside abruptly stopped, replaced incredulously with the sound of songbirds. No doubt a subtle jibe by Kwannon, as the birds were from one of Betsy's memories, unnoticed by everyone save Haller. "You are all confused, I see. Since this is my son's birthday, I suppose you deserve an explanation."

He leaned back comfortably, the child dosing in his arms. "In 1983, I was struck by a drunk driver just north of Baltimore, where I had accepted a position with USAMRIID for the first time. My wife burned to death and my son, Adam, died of smoke inhalation. Since that day, I swore that I would never trust in anything beyond my abilities - no fate, no God. In saving Elizabeth's life years ago, we made the accidental discovery that a mind could imprint on the universal psychic consciousness, like an impression in wet clay. That day I realized that I could undo what He had done and reclaim my son. First, it required the advances in cloning that I am sure Betsy explained to you all, which Genosha provided the final keys for. However, I was not expecting the savagery with which the Moreaus were prepared to wage war with, including kidnapping Moira's child. Her death which you witnessed was a method to avoid her execution, by pushing her powers to the extent that she transitioned beyond humanity and into a purely psychic being."

Jim bared his teeth. "So you saved her. Right. I'm sure it didn't have anything to do with satisfying your own curiosity. It's just like with Betsy. Because you 'saved' them, they owe you. Fuck what it costs them, they're yours to use forever." The venom was only half for Essex. Awful as this world had been, he had wanted to believe the man was different here. He'd wanted him to be the doctor he remembered from Muir, not the man he'd become. A naive hope they now paid for.

"Kwannon was able to find her consciousness shortly after we left Genosha. Still immensely powerful, but untethered and confused. It was then I realized how to find Adam's true self. For even the most powerful telepath, finding his imprint would have been like trying to locate an individual molecule of water in the midst of an ocean. But what if I could create a resonance for him to follow? Rachel's psionic powers dwarfed all but Xorn. If she was motivated enough, with the right construct focus, she could literally rebuild her physical body using her telekinesis. Ah, but if that focus added a slight change on the pattern so that her new body also contained the pattern of Adam's DNA within her own, her new body would be a hybrid." He smiled. "So, we created a world to teach her the mental discipline and strength necessary to survive the transition and once having done so, give her the absolute need to return. But this time, her psychic imprint would carry the echo of her modified DNA as well."

Wanda felt ill. Moira and Nathan, and scores of others, had mourned the loss of Rachel - a child - and to know that Essex had been working behind the scenes as the ultimate puppet master made her head spin. She knew the repercussions of this would go far beyond this 'little' event - if, of course, they managed to get out of this in one piece. There was no telling at this point.

And if Essex controlled everything, if this was just some construct, then she doubted they could rely on their powers.

"By transitioning back into the Astral Plane as a psionic construct, Rachel acted as a homing beacon; a point which Adam's consciousness would be drawn to. It would require immense will and a heightened emotional state to broadcast far enough, which the end of the world was perfect to provide. My son's imprint - his soul - followed her like a shaft of light through the darkness, until he was close enough that I could integrate him into the body I'd made. Which, in my true laboratory, I've confirmed and am slowly waking him up. The DNA also disguised Rachel's true nature from Xorn, as our unique history places me outside of his scrutiny. For thirty years, I have mourned the death of my son, and now, I have reversed the will of God and like Lazarus, brought him back from the dead."

Of all the things that made Molly feel like she was way in over her head since she got here, this was the biggest thing. Because this sounded really crazy. Even if it was sad that the man's little boy had died, all the things he did to bring him back seemed really wrong.

If they were in their brains her powers didn't work in her brain if the man and his friend could make everything up...even put not real memories in her brain too. She really didn't like it when people messed with her head. It made her head hurt.

"Are you going to try to kill us now?" she said. Usually when the bad guys told you their plans then that meant they were going to put them in the death trap after that. No witnesses.

"Cause I'd rather go home."

Essex rolled his eyes. "Oh Charles, what a remarkably unnuanced worldview you fight so fiercely to foster," he said, almost amused. "No child, I have no intention of harming you. Despite the apparent danger, you've all been quite safe here. However, this world cannot sustain you all for long. Transforming people into psychic entities and crossing over physically into the Astral Plane are tremendously dangerous and draining activities. Far beyond Kwannon's ability to maintain indefinitely. However, going home is not something in my hands at all, but rather in the one who brought you here. Rachel made a deal with Xorn, which she claims involves a provision to return."

He stood, and Adam disappeared from his arms. "My son and I thank you all for you help. Especially you, Rachel. I should have known that Moira's daughter would somehow one day be the key to bringing my son back. Do give your mother my regards. She more than anyone knows just what sacrifices you can make when it is your child you're trying to save."

"Night's falling..." Remy muttered, looking as darkness started to pool behind them.

"That's not darkness, Mr. LeBeau. It's this world being reclaimed by the astral plane. I should hurry, as it would be tremendously disappointing if this is our last goodbye." The doctor gave them a razor-thin smile before melting away into thin air.

Rachel stepped forward, as if to stop him, then stopped, only to stare blankly at the empty space he had left behind. The inky blackness was creeping in around them as the surrounding fixtures started to dissolve into nothingness.

Inhale. Exhale. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply as tears of anger and hurt slipped from behind shuttered lids. But there was no time for tantrums or pity parties. There were people to save. Real people, for whom she would now, more than ever, gladly give her life up for.

“A life for a life,” she stated, resolve apparent despite shaky breathing. Her life for Adam’s… and the rest of theirs. It was not quite the agreement she had made with Xorn, but her obligations and price to pay still stood. “As is fair, and as I promised. I will send you home.”

Jim exchanged a despairing look with Wanda. What had they done? Rachel, their Rachel, Nate and Moira's, was alive . . . only to be traded for a dead boy. It was so sick he couldn't even find the words to express it. Instead it was Angelo who put his voice to thought.

"Chis - Rachel", Angelo called out to her, voice cracking. "We don't know if this is the only way, we can't trust Essex and it's already not what you thought. Don't make me face your father knowing this happened."

But the teenaged psion ignored him, and a telekinetic force field shimmered into existence around the group of mutants, pulling them closer to each other and keeping her out of their reach. Whatever else anyone might have said was cut off and muted to her.

With her arms raised like a priest giving his blessings at a mass, Rachel offered them a sad smile. “Thank you,” she said. “And I’m sorry.” An impossibly green gaze met each of theirs in turn – just as they had when they had first arrived in this farce of a world – a thousand words in each meeting of eyes. “Tell my parents I love them.”

Energy, life-force and power coalesced and flowed steadily from her hands, faster than the encroaching darkness. Pressure and the glow’s intensity mounted and grew, combating the growing void until all there was – all she was – was blinding light and a whispered echo of a goodbye.

Rachel pushed, and the six of them fell.