Break on through to the other side

Like a single thread pulled too taut, the tension finally snapped.

For one blissful, impossible second, Mystique’s colossal presence fractured. The endless ocean of blue minds and overwhelming will that had drowned Kurt for days suddenly recoiled, overstretched by its own insatiable hunger. In that razor-thin moment of ecstasy rippling through billions of linked souls, Kurt acted on pure, **** instinct.

Anywhere, he thought. Anywhere but here.

Purple light and brimstone exploded around him in a violent bamf. He poured every ounce of will, every scrap of borrowed power coursing through his veins, into the longest, most **** teleport of his life. Space itself seemed to scream and bend. Distance lost all meaning. He fell through an endless violet tunnel of nowhere, dragging three screaming, thrashing presences with him like anchors chained to his soul.

Then gravity changed.

Kurt tumbled across gray dust and slammed hard into the regolith, rolling several times before skidding to a halt. The impact should have killed him. There was no air. No pressure. Only the bone-deep cold of the void and the merciless glare of an unfiltered sun. Yet he breathed. His heart hammered. The serum’s gifts—his mother’s cursed gifts—had saved him.

A shrill ringing filled his skull, the fading echo of a billion voices suddenly severed. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the oppressive velvet weight of her will was gone.

He pushed himself up on shaking arms, white lunar dust clinging to his blue skin. Slowly, he lifted his head.

Earth hung above the jagged lunar horizon like a brilliant blue-and-white jewel, impossibly beautiful and achingly distant. The sight stole what little breath he had left.

“Meine Güte…” he whispered, voice cracking.

He wasn’t on Earth anymore. He was on the Moon.

Kurt staggered to his feet, low gravity making every motion feel dreamlike and unsteady. He stared at the impossible vista, mind reeling. How was he alive? How had he come this far? Some combination of his mother’s stolen powers and sheer, frantic desperation must have protected him from the vacuum. He could still feel the faint thrum of unnatural vitality in his veins.

For one fragile moment, hope flickered. Had she let him go? Was this another cruel game?

No. The oppressive presence in his mind was truly distant—faded, stretched too thin across an entire planet. He was free for now.

Then the screaming started behind him.

“AAAAAARGH!”

Kurt spun around, heart lurching into his throat.

Three figures writhed in the lunar dust mere yards away—Storm, Rogue, and the Phoenix. Their bodies convulsed as if electrocuted, hands clawing at their temples, mouths open in agonized howls. Scarlet hair whipped wildly in the airless environment, somehow still moving as if caught in an invisible storm. Their blue skin glistened under the harsh sunlight.

He hadn’t escaped alone.

Kurt stumbled backward, nearly falling over a small crater rim. He watched in horror as their screams slowly died, their bodies going frighteningly limp. For several terrible heartbeats, they lay motionless.

Then they began to stir.

Yellow eyes snapped open. Three pairs locked onto him at once.

Kurt raised his arms defensively, expecting ****, expecting the crushing return of his mother’s will. Instead, they lunged.

He was tackled to the ground in a tangle of powerful limbs and **** embraces. The impact sent up a slow-motion cloud of gray dust that hung around them like a shroud.

“She’s gone!” Jean cried, voice raw and trembling as she pressed her horned forehead against his. “Kurt—Kurt, she’s gone!”

“Ah’m so sorry, sugar,” Rogue sobbed, clutching him with bone-crushing strength, burying his face into the soft, still-blue swell of her chest. Hot tears soaked through his hair. “It was like Ah was watchin’ myself from outside my own body… Ah did horrible things. Horrible things. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me!”

Storm’s arms wrapped around him from behind, her cheek pressed to the back of his neck. A gentle, localized breeze stirred the dust away from their faces—her power still answering her even here. “A nightmare,” she whispered, voice thick with shame. “I felt every depraved act… every moment of indulgence. And I enjoyed it. Goddess, forgive me.”

They clung to him like drowning women to a lifeline—Rogue refusing to loosen her grip even slightly, Jean pressing frantic kisses to his temple and horns, Storm’s fingers stroking his hair with trembling reverence. All the cruelty, all the mocking hunger that had defined them for days had vanished, replaced by raw, broken remorse.

Kurt’s own eyes stung with tears. He wrapped his arms around as many of them as he could, holding them close in the silent lunar void.

“It’s alright,” he managed, voice hoarse. “You’re free. We’re… we’re free.”

Rogue pulled back just enough to look at him, yellow eyes still wet. “Ah’m so sorry, Kurt. For everythin’ Ah—she—made me do to you.”

Jean shook her head, pressing her brow to his again. “There aren’t enough apologies in the universe for what we did. What I did to Scott… to everyone.” Her voice cracked. “Thank you. Thank you for pulling us out.”

They stayed like that for a long while—four broken souls huddled together on the surface of the Moon, Earth watching silently overhead like a distant, wounded eye.

Eventually, Kurt helped them sit up. One by one, the women focused inward. Their appearances rippled.

Storm closed her eyes. Blue skin lightened back to rich brown. Crimson hair faded to flowing white. The sweeping horns receded. She reopened her eyes—sky blue once more—and hugged herself tightly, as if afraid the blue might return.

Rogue and Jean followed suit. Rogue’s familiar green-and-yellow uniform reasserted itself over her body. Jean’s claws and horns disappeared, though her eyes still carried faint traces of yellow at the edges. They wanted nothing to do with the forms Mystique had **** upon them.

Jean pressed two fingers to her temple, concentrating. After a moment, she exhaled shakily.

“You’re right, Kurt. She overextended. Massively. Millions—billions—of minds linked to her at once. When her attention fractured in that moment of ecstasy, the connection stretched too thin. You were already fighting her so hard… You tore a hole. And you dragged us through it.”

Kurt looked out across the barren landscape, then up at the glowing blue marble of Earth. “So what do we do now? Mother and her… sisters control everything. Krakoa. The Council. Most of the world’s mutants. Soon, the rest of humanity through those medicines.”

Rogue clenched her fists, expression hardening despite the tears still drying on her cheeks. “Can we free the others? Like you freed us?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt admitted quietly. He willed away his own horns and claws, letting his classic red-and-black uniform reappear. The familiar weight of it brought a small measure of comfort. “But we are still X-Men. And we do not leave our family behind.”

Storm rose to her feet, silver hair drifting elegantly in the low gravity. Her eyes burned with renewed purpose. “Then we find a way. No matter how dark it seems. No matter how powerful she has become. We fight. We resist. We save who we can.”

Jean stood beside her, then Rogue. The four of them formed a small, determined circle beneath the Earth’s watchful gaze.

For the first time since the nightmare began, a spark of real hope kindled in Kurt’s chest.

He looked at his friends—his real friends—and managed a small, weary smile.

“They are family… And we do not leave family behind,” he whispered, almost to himself.

The end?