All The Saints In Heaven

by Alicia McKenzie

She stood on the balcony, the wind whipping her long hair out behind her like a fiery banner. She wore only a light, gauzy robe, but she didn't feel the cold dampness of the night air. The fire inside her burned hot and bright. It was all the warmth she needed.

Behind her in the lavishly appointed bedroom--nothing but the best for the Black King of the Inner Circle, Madelyne thought sourly--Sebastian was sound asleep, snoring softly. She glanced over her shoulder at him, her lip curling in disgust. Sometimes she wondered what had possessed her, to become involved with the man. His mind was a sewer, and as lovers went, she'd had better. More considerate, at least. She was thankful for her telepathy, which let her control their encounters. Of course, Sebastian then went and sated his frustrated--appetites with the more attractive members of the staff, but what did she care? Let them fend for themselves.

She supposed she'd had some notion of playing him against Selene, Black King against Black Queen. Her position here was precarious of late. Selene no longer trusted her--if she ever had--and Sebastian, though he lusted after her, rather despised her, Madelyne thought coolly. So, what better way to keep them both from her throat than to set them on each other?

Still, she grew so tired of the constant gamesmanship. When Selene had first brought her into the Inner Circle, she had seen it as a golden opportunity, a path to power and control. The last, most especially; above anything else, control was what she wanted, what she needed. What she craved more than anything else on this world. After Tessa's psychic probe all those months ago, Madelyne had full access to the memories of her previous life. She recalled being a pawn all too well.

Never again. Her life, her soul, were her own, this time around. And she would show no mercy to anyone who dared try and use her. Throwing her head back, Madelyne laughed, staring up at the full moon almost defiantly.

"Your laughter is as lovely as you are, my dear."

Madelyne whirled, instinctively raising all her defenses. There, at the other end of the balcony, was a figure in a dark cloak that had most definitely NOT been there before. Within the shadows of the hood, Madelyne saw two spots of glowing crimson where the stranger's eyes should be, and felt her own eyes narrow.

"Tell me," she said calmly, power boiling inside her, demanding to be used. "Is there any particular reason why I should wait to kill you, or should I just get it over with?"

The stranger laughed, a rich, mellifluous sound that nevertheless evoked an almost physical pain in Madelyne, as if claws were ripping into her soul. "My dear girl! Such a temper. Surely you don't greet all your guests with such enthusiasm."

"Only the uninvited ones," she said coldly, and it took a mighty effort to keep her voice calm. Something about this stranger sparked a hatred in her that she'd thought reserved for Sinister and the X-Men. Inside her soul, the flames leaped higher, roaring, and Madelyne was almost overcome by the desire to lash out and turn him into a pile of smoking ashes on the floor of the balcony. "Who are you?"

"No one of importance," the stranger said casually. "Only a traveler, passing in the night. It occurred to me to stop by and make your acquaintance, Madelyne. Perhaps even get to know you--I always did so regret missing that opportunity, the last time around."

She stiffened at the sly malice in his words, but, before she could respond, he reached up and pushed back his hood. "You!" she gasped, her blood turning to ice momentarily. The smiling, ruddy-skinned, horned face staring back at her was familiar. She had seen it before, in her previous life, but never in the flesh. Only in the mind of the demon who had sought to use her--only in N'Astirh's memories.

Belasco bowed gracefully. "Me," the sorcerer said with only the mildest of irony, but Madelyne still expected to see a sneer on his face as he straightened. He gestured at the balcony doors, which closed gently, as if blown by a light breeze. Madelyne heard the lock slide home. "Just to make sure we remain undisturbed," he said smoothly. "Not to cast aspersions on your taste, Madelyne, but really--"

"Shaw serves his purpose," she said coldly, letting some of her hostility creep into her tone as a warning. "Why are you here?" I won't be a demon's puppet again, I won't--

He raised a defensive hand. "Please, Madelyne," he said in a voice that sounded as if it was meant to be soothing. It had the opposite effect on her, though. She very nearly struck him down where he stood. "As I said, it's a courtesy call, my dear. Nothing more, nothing less. I had--heard of your miraculous resurrection, and wished to pay my respects."

"Why do I doubt that?" she asked softly, not lowering her defenses.

"Because you are a suspicious, skeptical woman who believes trust is a weakness," Belasco said, taking a step closer to her. The smile he gave her could quite honestly, without sounding trite, be called demonic. "And you have no idea what attractive qualities those are to someone like me, do you?"

This time, she gave into her instincts, and telekinetically pushed him away. He didn't try to resist, merely watched her with that same thoughtful amusement as she shoved him back to the end of the balcony where he'd appeared. "You'll have to forgive me, Belasco," she hissed. "I find very little attractive about you or any of your kind. Once bitten, twice shy, you might say."

"Don't you mean once burned?" Belasco asked slyly. "Metaphors can be such clever things, especially when they reflect a soul's reality--"

"I meant what I said!" she shouted. Belasco raised a finger to his lips in a hushing gesture, but she didn't care. Actually, maybe she should wake Sebastian herself. He tended to take a very dim view of trespassers. "Leave," she snarled, deciding against it. She would handle this herself, without playing Belasco's game, whatever it was. "I have no interest in 'making your acquaintance', sorcerer, now or ever."

He clapped a hand to his chest theatrically. "You wound me, my dear--"

"Don't tempt me."

"Madelyne--please. I have no intention of luring you or compelling you. I wish only to understand you, marvelous creature that you are." He gestured out at the lights of the city. "There's so terribly little of interest in this dull reality. Do indulge my fascination, dear lady--"

"Why should I?" she demanded, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

He smiled again, his pointed teeth showing. "Because I'm not leaving until you do."

That tears it-- Madelyne gathered in all the power she could hold, and prepared to lash out at Belasco with all her strength. "Like I said," she muttered through gritted teeth, the fire inside her growing into a inferno of light and power and color, "don't tempt me--"

Belasco made a swift gesture, and Madelyne froze as two images appeared in the space between them, barring her way. Detailed, vivid images, so real that she almost put a hand through them to make sure they weren't real.

Nate, seemingly caught in a light-hearted moment, his wide grin lending a certain roguishness to his handsome features. Madelyne almost reached out, again, at the sudden yearning that filled her at the sight of him.

And Cable. Her son. Taller, older, and so much more grave. What she felt seeing him was something deeper, quieter, and much more painful.

"Ah," Belasco said with a slower smile. "Did I neglect to mention? I anticipated that you would be less than pleased to see me, Madelyne."

"You bastard," she breathed.

"Attack me if you wish," he continued, his voice still almost mild. "But know that if you do, one of these will certainly be forfeit."

She laughed harshly, to cover the distress stirring inside her. "I'd love to see you try anything against Nate, Belasco. I do hope whoever you were planning to send after him is on your expendable list."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're probably right," he admitted with a chuckle, not sounding discomfited in the least. "So much power, the child has--and so little compunction about using it." His eyes narrowed. "But what of the other, Madelyne?"

"I'm worried even less about Nathan," she snapped, hoping desperately that he didn't detect the lie.

"Really." Belasco regarded the images thoughtfully. "Your confidence is perhaps not unwarranted," he admitted. "At least, judging by what little personal experience I've had--" Madelyne stiffened, and that shark's grin returned. "Oh, yes, I've met your darling baby boy, Maddie. Performed a service for me, some time back. He was under duress at the time, of course, but he fulfilled the task I set him most satisfactorily." Belasco gave a laugh of real delight. "S'ym hasn't been the same since." That considering thoughtfulness returned to his expression, but it wasn't directed at her this time. "He's even more fascinating than you are--"

"If you touch my son," Madelyne whispered raggedly, not trusting herself not to scream if she spoke any louder, "I will make you wish you'd never been born."

"Peculiar sentiments from a woman who was preparing to slit the lad's throat herself, the day she died," Belasco said mockingly. "Tell me, Madelyne, do you think he remembers? The demons, the altar, a mother's loving touch turned harsh and indifferent--"

"Shut up!" Madelyne snarled, nearly in tears at the thought. In her mind, she could hear her son crying--the terrified wails of a child faced with horrors that his mind wasn't equipped to deal with. The sound hadn't touched her--the old her, yet it all but ripped her heart out now. "What do you want from me?"

"An answer to a question," Belasco said mildly. "The direction of your soul, Madelyne. Which will you choose?" He gestured at the images.

"You leave both of them alone, you--"

He sighed. "You misunderstand me. I'm not threatening either of them. I just want to know, which one will you choose?" His eyes glowed. "Which path, Madelyne?"

"What are you talking about?" she blazed, turning away from him and staring out angrily at the city. "If you want an answer to a question, ask a question that makes some sense!" She still burned to blow him into next week, but she didn't dare.

"Your path, Madelyne," Belasco said, with an infinite patience in his voice. "What's in your heart? What do you want?"

She was about to tell him exactly where he could shove his questions, but something drew her to the image of Nate. Not unexpected, really; she had always been drawn to him, even before she'd discovered what hand she'd played in her 'rebirth'. She could still remember flying with him over Paris, before she'd had more than a few fragmentary memories of who she was, before she'd met Selene. She remembered the sense of exhilaration, of supremacy. Like we were on top of the world--

There wasn't anything physical in her feelings for him. No, that would be on the perverse side, considering that he was, after all, her son in a rather distant and convoluted way. And she didn't think she was that far gone yet, despite the depravities she sometimes permitted Sebastian to draw her into. The attraction, the fascination Nate held for her was something deeper, a hunger of the soul. To have power like his, to be able to reshape the world as you desired--

There was more, too, of course. Nate was so lost in this world, a stranger to everything here. Isolated, cut off--alone. An outsider, just like her. And to survive--to thrive, outsiders had to stick together. She felt a strange loyalty to him. They were two of a kind, and not just because he had essentially recreated her. They had both been mistreated and used, both lost everything they loved.

But above anything else, there was the power. The fire in him that matched her own. He was so unafraid to use it, just as Belasco had said. His actions, his emotions--they were all so elemental. He lived an intoxicating sort of freedom, and Madelyne yearned for the same.

"Yes--" Belasco murmured, studying her face intently. "It tempts you, doesn't it? The power. The control--"

"Yes--" she murmured without thinking. "Of course."

"Then your choice would seem obvious, wouldn't it?" he asked, his voice strange all of a sudden, tight and over-controlled.

Madelyne shook herself out of her reverie and gave him a hard look. "Shut up," she snarled. "I don't let anyone push me into making decisions anymore." But he hadn't been trying to push, had he? she thought, disturbed. He'd sounded almost disappointed.

Some unreadable expression flashed across his face. "So you do see another option?" he asked. "Some other path you might follow?"

"I am going to hurt you if you don't stop being so cryptic, Belasco!" she snapped.

"You must learn to control that temper, Madelyne," he said almost warningly. She stiffened as he took a step forward, but he didn't approach her. Instead, he leaned forward and blew on the image of Nate, which vanished like smoke in the wind. The image of Cable remained. "Maybe I need to remove any distractions," Belasco said calmly. "Does that help? Do you see it now?"

"See what, you fool?" she demanded irritably, the last of her patience falling away. What the hell did he want? she thought, frustrated. It was as if he was trying to tell her something, but didn't want to come out and say it. He gestured tiredly at the Cable-image, and Madelyne, muttering curses under her breath, took a step closer to it, studying it carefully.

There was nothing special about the image. No clues, to tell her what Belasco wanted her to see. Nathan appeared much the same as he had the last time she'd seen him, when she'd pulled him onto the astral plane--

You like it? The quiet? Madelyne heard her own voice ask tentatively. And for a moment she was in the memory, standing beside Nathan in her astral plane reflection of Alaska. Snow fell softly around them, a stillness in the air that you never found anywhere but at winter's heart.

I have never truly known it, Nathan said softly, and knelt down in the snow. She watched the tension that had been so evident in his posture since she'd pulled him onto the astral plane drain away. His defenses were lowered, for one precious moment--and yet she didn't take advantage of it, didn't enter his mind and try to force him to see things her way, to shift his allegiance to her.

She'd done nothing, Madelyne thought in belated amazement, coming back to herself. She'd stood there beside him, silent, respecting the fragility of the peace he'd somehow found. They'd watched the snow fall, and she'd stared through it at the image of the house where Nathan had been born, the house where she and Scott had been happy, so briefly--

Scott. As always, the thought of him fed the flames within, and the delicate spell the memory had woven was scorched in an instant. Scott, Alex--two Summers men who had claimed to love her, and then betrayed her. Betrayal was in the genes, it seemed, Madelyne thought bitterly.

The fire. It was everything, all the promise of power and freedom that Nate had given her, however accidentally. It was all she was, all she had ever been. One lost shard of the Dark Phoenix, finding new life, a second chance. And if that didn't mean that she was fated to burn--

But there was the snow, too. That fleeting moment of peace. The house, just a short walk away, light dancing beckoningly in its window. Her son at her side--

Illusion, Madelyn thought restlessly, a slow, bitter pain growing inside her. All illusion--and her own, which meant she should know better!

But there had been something more, hadn't there? a quiet voice asked, almost pleadingly. Something in Nathan's eyes beside rejection. Even as he'd turned away from her, to leave through the 'doorway' Jean had opened, he'd promised her that the cabin would be their neutral ground. Left the door open a crack, so to speak. He hadn't shut her out entirely. He'd hurt her, but at the same time he'd given her hope.

And unlike Scott or Alex, he'd never done anything to deserve her anger. If anything, he should be angry with her. After what she had done, or almost done--why did she deserve a second chance? Bleakly, Madelyne stared at the image of her son. He wasn't like her, or Nate. Not anymore, at least. She'd seen into his mind, his memories, and she knew the fire had filled him once, burned as brightly within him as it did within her and Nate. But his self-immolation was over and done with. All that was left were ashes.

Ashes beneath which something was stirring. Something new and beautiful, trying to push through into the light. But it never would, if she dragged him back into the fire. She could give him that, at least--could set him free.

Which path, Madelyne?

Locking away the memory of that moment in the snow, she stepped forward, narrowing her eyes, and concentrated. The image of Nathan shattered into a thousand pieces and vanished. "You have your answer, Belasco," she said coldly, turning to him. "Now leave."

She turned and threw open the balcony doors, walking back into the life she'd chosen. The doors shut behind her at a telekinetic push. She glanced once at the bed, feeling repulsed at the thought, and retreated to a chair on the other side of the room.

The fire inside her was still there, flickering fitfully with anger and doubt and resentment. But inside her, down deep where the flames couldn't reach, there was a place where snow fell.

And out on the balcony, the shape of Belasco blurred. Standing where the demon sorcerer had been a moment before was a tall woman in a white robe, her dark hair pulled back away from her high-cheekboned, exotically beautiful face. There was no trace in her expression of the disgust she felt at donning that particular shape, only a faint regret that the deception had been neccessary.

"Getting there, Madelyne," Roma whispered, feeling a small, growing hope for the lost soul beyond those doors. "Getting there."

fin

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