The War Knight took a step forward. He stumbled, and the black mist in his eyes receded in great swathes.
"Father." War's voice was low. "Those things I said before... I didn't mean them."
Famine came up behind him and forced a word through his dry throat. "Sorry."
Pestilence said nothing. He walked up to Apocalypse, seized his wrist, and hauled him to his feet.
The Death Knight moved last. She approached one step at a time and stopped before Apocalypse. Her dark eyes were clear again.
She looked at his face, scarred and worn by time. After a moment's silence, she spoke softly, her voice catching almost imperceptibly.
"Father, you're here."
It was not the scornful What good is it for you to come now? or You're too late. It was a daughter's greeting.
Apocalypse's throat worked. He lowered his head, and blue tears slipped down his cheeks onto the scorched earth with the faintest sound.
"I'm late."
He repeated what he had said before, but the grief and self-reproach were gone from his voice. In their place was a resolve forged through suffering.
"But now that I'm here, I won't leave any of you behind."
Genesis stepped forward, passing through the Mutants who were gradually breaking free of Oblivion's control, until she reached Apocalypse.
She raised a hand and gently touched the armor over his chest. A deep gash left by the Twilight Sword was slowly healing there.
It was so deep that even without Oblivion's influence, Apocalypse's healing ability would need time to mend it completely.
"Does it hurt?" Genesis asked, watching him.
Apocalypse looked down at where her fingers rested and shook his head.
"This little wound is nothing. It doesn't hurt."
Warm tears filled Genesis's eyes. She leaned forward, rested her forehead against his chest,