New Orleans
Black king to D6.

Razorfist waited for Ulysses to acknowledge defeat, but the so-called liaison seemed determined to play the game until the bitter end. How long could he postpone? Days? Generations? Drops in the ocean of deep time.

He didn't seem concerned.

"There was a boy once," said Ulysses. "Do you remember?"

"The one Heaven demanded be sacrificed by his father's hand?" Razorfist flippantly replied.

"No. The one your ward killed."

"You've been deceived. Bella Donna has never taken a child's life."

"A child in a man's body then… You remember him, don't you?"

Flaxen hair had fallen onto a cold hospital pillow. The occupant was gone, but the impression of his head remained. A nurse ripped away the pillow case and the hair fell onto her shoes. Outside, the wind carried it to the currents of the Mississippi River.

Ulysses smirked arrogantly and said, "Let's talk about him."

…

Rogue flew to New Orleans with images of Belle bleeding to death in her head. Alone in the operating room. Doctors, covered in blood, pumping chemicals into her; trying to make her heart beat again. And she was alone.

If she could turn back time, Rogue would've taken her to the hospital immediately. Why had Belle been so damn stubborn? What had her newborn baby done to deserve this?

The guilt was overwhelming. Rogue had wanted Remy to herself… But not like this. Never like this.

The staff tried to keep her out of the ICU, and her reaction nearly got her arrested. A little patience might have done a better job, but all she could think of was Belle: dead and alone; Remy: heart-broken and alone; their son: crying and alone.

Finally, Remy found her.

"Anna? What-"

She wrapped her arms around him, where he stood stiffly until she released him. "Ah came as fast as I could."

"I apologize for callin' you like that. Sleep-deprived Remy ain't a smart man. Come on, I'll take you to see her."

"You mean she isn't – she's okay?"

"She just came to. Woke up thinkin' he didn't make it and panicked. I kidnapped my own son from the nursery so she'd calm down. Did you know they have alarms now? Nurses will be glad to see the back of us."

Inside the Spartan room, Belle wasn't dead although she wasn't much better. Pax was fine, too. He was bundled up in a plastic bed beside his mother, staring at her as if she was all that mattered. His little mouth opened and closed sweetly.

Rogue let out a sob. She couldn't help it. "Ah thought you were dead!"

Belle looked over, annoyed, and then turned her attention back to the black-eyed infant she was too weak to hold.

"Sorry I worried you," said Remy. He stroked her back and she nearly collapsed in her arms. But before she could, he moved to Pax and lifted him from his plastic pen. Beaming, he said, "This is what life's all about, ain't it? Whole reason I was put on this planet is right here. Look at 'em."

"I think you're in love, chere," Belle said, and the way he smiled at her left Rogue in no doubt that he was.

The old spiral-cord telephone beside Belle's bed rang. Remy's father, Luc, had arrived and was waiting out front for the code to enter.

"Can't have more than two people in here," Belle said.

Rogue hugged herself. "Ah should go. He's family. Ah should go."

"No, you just got here," said Remy. "Stay for a minute. I'll fetch him, give you some time."

"Ah can come back-"

"What's the matter? You don't like babies?" He joked as he left.

The door closed and Belle said, "Remy likes t' be helpful. Let him."

She didn't know what to say, so she asked: "How ya feelin'?"

"Like a whale sat on me and my insides blew out. You smell like liquor… Don't touch my baby till you wash your hands."

"You smell worse. Wait here, I'll get a bucket."

She laughed, grimaced, and grabbed her stomach. "Merde… that hurt… Why're you here, Rogue? Did you come to gloat?"

"I thought you were dead."

"Couldn't wait for him t' get me in the ground before you swept in?"

She clenched her hands into fists. If she hit Belle, she might never stop. "I'm sorry I upset you by comin'."

In the hallway, she ran into Remy, who couldn't understand why she was leaving in such a hurry after she spent so much time getting there. He sent his father ahead and then wrapped an arm around her.

"Belle said something, didn't she?"

She took him in her arms. God, he felt so good, and she waited for him to settle into her embrace. He didn't.

"You can't take it personal," he said quietly. "Trust me, she's spent the last few days sayin' hateful things to me, too. She's scared, Anna, and jealous - you can't let it get to you."

"Why's she jealous?" She hoped he'd say 'because she knows what you meant to me'.

Instead, it was: "Because you're strong. And beautiful. And you can still have as many babies as you can stand. She's got none of those things right now."

She scoffed. "She's got things I want, too."

His face softened. Leaning towards her, he said softly: "Will you stay with us for a few days? We're exhausted. Tante Mattie's exhausted. And Belle's gonna need caring for… Please. I know she's prickly but she really does like you. Aren't many people I'd ask to do this."

"Ah can't tell you no."

His smile was worth the cost.

…

None of them had reckoned that nursing was such an intimate act. Once home, Belle needed help keeping her stitches clean, nursing Pax, changing her bloody panty-liners, bathing and everything else. Remy tried but he was hopeless, and after four sleepless nights in a row, he couldn't care less about brushing Belle's hair. Rogue did her best to keep her happy.

On the second afternoon, Rogue was reclaiming some much-needed sleep in the guest room when a man shouted 'wake up!' in her ear.

She started. The room was empty and brightly lit. Stumbling, she rushed into Pax's nursery and saw a man standing over his crib. He looked up – red and black eyes – and she rushed towards him.

He raised a hand.

She froze. "You son of a-"

"Please, Rogue. Don't you remember me?"

"Ulysses? Ah remember you alright! You're that damn Inhuman pre-cog who caused so much trouble. Thought you ran off to Oz?"

"It's true, I was recruited to join the Beyonders. But I've returned to save the world. I know you don't want to believe it, but this child will lead to the destruction of your universe. Only his death can prevent it. So we have two options… End it now. Or wait and risk losing everything."

"Get away from him!" She struggled against his telepathic hold but couldn't break free.

"Here, take my hand. Look into my mind and see what I see."

He crossed the room and placed his hand in hers. She gripped his hand for dear life, refusing to let go. He fell to his knees as his essence filled her mind.

"Oh god, no," she whispered.

…

"Checkmate," said Razorfist, claiming the white king.

Ulysses still wasn't concerned. In fact, he looked smugger than ever.

"Congratulations. You've won! I believe I owe your Master an oath of loyalty. Why don't you summon her so I can pay up?"

He called out, but the space once filled by his Master echoed coldly.

"I don't understand…"

"Her name," Ulysses said. "Try calling her by name."

Razorfist closed his eyes and concentrated. The name sat of the proverbial tip of his tongue… It was ancient. Sacred. It was… Candra.

Stolen memories and missing pieces flooded his mind. The immortal, amoral giantess who granted samples of godhood to her chosen few had long been his Master… Or had it been so long? She was dead now, so she was clearly not immortal as advertised. But she'd chosen him to share in her great power… Hadn't she?

Cody Robbins lay in the same bed for fifteen years. Comatose since childhood, he was a boy in a broken man's body. His life wasn't enviable, but it had been his until she stole it. He could've forgiven his family for mercifully ending it, but that's not how he died. He was murdered by a woman he'd never met. Because she wanted to hurt Rogue. Cody – for half his life – had been at the mercy of lethal women. The injustice was unbearable, and he swore to trade anything for vengeance. Candra agreed. Then she took the only thing he had left: his memories. She, too, had used him mercilessly. After her death, his thirst for revenge returned and drove him to New Orleans.

"Simple words weren't enough," said Ulysses. "I had to help you understand… The false memories of Nanna and demons and the Antichrist – all spun by Candra to manipulate you. Now you remember, don't you?"

"Yes… I remember… But it changes nothing."

The silent, invisible ghost slipped from his host and into the LeBeau nursery. Rogue was still there and felt him. Thanks to Ulysses' memories, she knew what the phantom wanted.

"Cody?" Scanning the room, she stood protectively in front of the crib. "Listen! When you died, your soul crossed over. Ah saw you. We went home and you were at peace. What Candra saved – this isn't you – it's only your anger."

The newborn behind her screamed furiously as his body was possessed.

She reached down and caressed his tiny, soft cheek. For most of her life, Rogue had been unable to control her powers, but she was no longer a bumbling novice. She was able to pull Cody's personality into her mind while leaving Pax unharmed.

The boy she'd once loved was gone. What remained was a corpse crawling with fears, frustrations and regrets, and Rogue wouldn't hesitate to destroy it… but she hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Together, they stood on the banks of the Mississippi, where his granddaddy taught them to fish. But the sun was grey. The water turned dark as it rushed past Cody's feet. And just behind them was a mangled, dead oak baring the face of every personality Rogue had ever consumed. He had poisoned her memories.

"Ah'm sorry about what happened to you," she said. "But this baby had nothin' to do with that. You wanna blame someone? Blame me. Better yet, blame Belle – she's the one who did it!"

"I'll do more than that. I'll haunt her every day for the rest of her life in her child's skin."

"Not while I'm here."

"Gee willikers, Rogue," he said with mock-sweetness. "I don't wanna hurt you. It's only my fucking life!"

His fury erupted, filling her with burning indignation. Everything he had and was and ever would be had been taken. As long as he lived inside her psyche, he could make her feel his impotent fury as if it were her own. He knew it would devastate her.

Once the torrent faded, she retaliated with her own. He hadn't reckoned she – or anyone – could live with that much pain and not be corrupted by it. But she, too, had agonized over his fate. She resented her own flesh, which had hurt so many and denied her physical contact with the man she loved. She'd been heartbroken and rejected. Cody thought that since she'd lived, she'd never been destroyed… That wasn't true. Her deep sense of injustice burned white-hot, but she used it to fuel her mission: the pain didn't control her.

"The world's full of people like Candra," said Rogue. "Promise you the moon and don't deliver a single city. And people like Belle, who hurt the weak just because they can… I'm in no place to judge. How many people have I hurt? How many promises have I broken?... Most of the time, what we call evil is plain selfishness."

"You're defending a murderer."

"Ah'm defenin' a ghost who came here to kill a newborn! Don't kid yourself into thinking you're a better person. Anger has a place, Cody. Let it go."

Bitterly, he lunged with raised fists. She slammed him into the river and held him there for several violent minutes until his face went slack. Then his body turned to ash and washed away.

…

Baby Pax was the best thing in New Orleans, and after Rogue saved his life, she was graciously elevated to "Tante" status. (Also, Belle offered to eliminate any three people of Rogue's choice, but that was a favor she never intended to call.) She felt lucky – which was a strange reaction to this tawny-haired, black-eyed, frog-like creature.

They were rocking in his nursery when Wade called.

"So we have a baby or what?" he asked.

"Yeah, Ah'm feedin' him now."

"You need to go?"

"No, Ah'm gettin' good at juggling this kid and doing other things."

"Why? I thought babies slept all the time. Like cats. Hey, you know what we need? Not a baby and I'm allergic to cats, so don't get any ideas."

"I'm comin' home tonight. Wanna go out?"

"Dinner and a movie?"

"Actually," she set down the bottle and moved Pax to her shoulder for burping. "I was hoping we could stop some evil-doers. After being cooped up with my ex and his current, I really need to punch someone."

"That's why I – uh, think you're awesome!"

"Wade, I like you, but-"

"Say no more."

"No, listen, I need to say this. I don't love you but I hope we can still see each other. The one I love… He hasn't been mine for ages but I've been clinging to the past. It's finally startin' to sink in that he ain't comin' back. There's a lot I'm gonna have to change or else… or else I'll turn into a bitter hag who destroys innocent lives to avenge my past. I don't know how long it'll take – and it ain't fair to ask you to stick around while I sort out all this shit – but I hope you do."

Pax rubbed his tiny face against her chest.

"No sweat," he said, "To be perfectly honest-"

"Are you ever anything else?"

"-if Bea Arthur was still alive, you wouldn't stand a snowball's chance in hell."

…

Remy decided to take advantage of Rogue's graciousness before Belle drove her away. Sending Razorfist across town, he broke into the Assassin's house. No one had seen Gris-Gris in a couple of days, and Remy feared the worst. If anyone inside the Guild planned a coup, they'd never have a better opportunity. That was partly why he'd asked Rogue to stay. He didn't know why, but he had a hunch Razorfist was involved.

Inside, he found no blood; no evidence of a struggle. Instead, he found a diary.

'Mortals crave companionship and independence, equality and yet superiority, reason without risk. These contradictory desires once bewildered me, but I've discovered the ultimate goal is comfort. What gives them ultimate comfort is logic, even when it is flawed logic. This rings true to me. The longer I have served my Master, the stronger my need for rationality, which I record now to discern any fallacies.

'My craving to be near my ward and her spawn could be interpreted as fondness. Protectiveness, conceivably. And yet, the ultimate goal of their existence is death and the death of their world. Such destruction would guarantee my demise as well. Why should I safeguard such a thing?

'I do not count myself among the condemned souls languishing eternally in my Master's service. On the contrary, I delight in exploiting mankind's malevolent nature.

'How clearly I see the contradictions upon reflection.

'Although I am happy, I am enslaved and will be until my Master is no more. I desire the will to choose more than immediate pleasures from obedience, and I know (perhaps I've always known) that such freedom exists for me only in the abyss of eternity. Mors mihi lucrum.'

…

The End.