Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the pain. Especially not the Billy Joel song at the bottom. I do not own that either, however sad it may be (weeps, theatrically).

Everything swirled around in her mind. The scenery and trees all started meshing together with their different shades of green until all that lay before her eyes was a thick veil of vomit. The vomit was that of her own. A bright neon green with chunks from breakfast. Oatmeal, maybe.

The pain didn't stop after her stomach relieved itself. The chunks embedded themselves into her hair and a great stench of sickness surrounded her. It was normal; how it should've been. There was just so much pain.

Warm hands enveloped her a minute...an hour…. an eternity later? The spinning increased. All she could do was grasp her head and moan softly. Throbbing, screaming, sucking some shred of life from somewhere, anywhere?! She was desperate

Gosh, Ah would even tahke a piece of HIM jus' about nahw. Thought desperate Rogue. Peace enveloped her for that one split moment raving over Gambit, that hated, flirtatious, scoundrel of a cajun. Anger helped the pain; it let her fight back to some extent. Gambit.

Blood-curdling screams were all that followed.

She writhed in his arms, his Chere. His Chere that he could not help.

He had just been following her as was his routine. But, something had seemed off to Gambit. During his usual remarks, she hadn't bantered with him, not even batted an eye. She simply shook her head and walked on. Sneaking around a corner, he managed to glimpse her eyes later. Dead. Her vibrant green orbs were dead, lifeless. A great weariness filled the features of her face before she shoved him off. Even her push wasn't as forceful as Gambit had grown accustomed to; she was strong and vicious when his Chere wanted to be. She didn't need no protecting like any of the other filles. Chere was his equal, but just now, she had looked beaten. As if she had gone one on one with Apocalypse, again. She was withering as she stumbled away from him headed for the front doors of the mansion.

Logan grunted to Rogue as she passed him by. Beer in one hand and leather jacket in the other, Wolvie was not the touchy-feely type (great to provoke though), but he had taken a fatherly connection with Remy's Chere. (Didn't work to well when Remy had the opportunity to steal a moment or maybe a kiss from his Chere, but how Remy did love seeing the rage that would fill Wolvie's face before he would fade off into unconsciousness left with the sweet memory of Rogue's soft lips mumbling some curse or another against his. Ah, Ciel.)

Remy had taken to the shadows, the last thing he needed was some emergency danger-room session from Wolvie to keep him away from his Roguie. It wasn't right; she wasn't right. Just a few grunts exchanged between the two, when Claws turned back sniffing the air and growing tense. His hair did seem to stick up higher when he got worried or sensed that something was wrong. Call the cajun crazy, but it did!

"Kid," growled Logan, turning back to look at Rogue. He waited a while for a response. Usually a quip from Chere would follow, but there was only a tense silence.

Finally, "Fine, Logan...Ahm Fine," uttered Rogue, taking her time so as not to appear out of breath or winded. "Ah jus' need sahm air, maybe ah little bit awf sun." She never turned back. Logan took a swig of his beer, shrugged, and kept walking.

The door handle turned and Remy silently treaded behind his Rogue before the door could click shut.

Next thing Remy knows, Rogue is stumbling, falling. He can't move, stuck solid to his place for what seemed an eternity. He watched her crumple to the ground while she grabbed handfuls of her auburn curls, moaning all the while. Her ankles let out from under her as she swayed, legs twisted as she connected with the ground. She melted onto the dirt; he heard a dull thud and every bone in Remy's body felt bruised; his mind reeled.

He rushed to her side; she had thrown up into her hair. Her white bangs were covered in dust and some green paste, but it didn't matter. Rogue was dying; nothing else mattered now. He enveloped her in his own arms; she was a small child in his arms now, feeble and weak. She was withering away in his arms. A shadow of a smile passed over her face, as Remy brushed the hair, dirt, and vomit away from her face. A last flicker of life

And then, she screamed; she howled.

White, blinding lights. The stench of ammonia to clean away the blood. The bright red blood that sorely contrasted against Chere's porcelain skin. But, now she was turning grey. Stormy and Dr. McCoy were rushing about the room, trying to look calm. They had terrible poker faces. The Professor was calmly sitting by her bedside trying to reach into her mind. Even where I was, I could feel the anxiety pouring off of the Prof's calm composure. He felt chaos raging throughout Rogue's mind, but the anger and loss of direction were what clouded his own mind. You could tell by how his brows furrowed. Didn't need to be an empath to see he was losing it.

I.V.'s were plugged into her arms and oxygen was forced into Chere's lungs, but she couldn't breathe.

The screaming had stopped. Jean and Stormy were trying to keep the kids out of the infirmary. Concern. Curiosity. Worry… Childlike dread, true dread. Knowing that there was a hidden pain and it had to do with Rogue.

They were right. It killed Remy. Worse than any torture that Sinister had put Remy through.

He didn't stay in the shadows. Not even Logan would refuse to acknowledge the Swamp Rat's connection his goth. He...Loved her more and harder than he had ever cared for anything in life. She was his reason to wake up every morning. She was the ange that saved the diable within him.

"Professor?" Beast asked, whispering telepathically. No chances. "Professor,... I cannot sa-"

"I know, McCoy," Professor sighed to him, still staring intently at the poor X-men on the table. She was ashen. "There's too many psyches running through her mind...the chaos is too much for her. But it's not even that?"

"No," sighed Beast. "I'm afraid it's not. I ran an analysis of her cellular structure. It's deteriorating rapidly. Her mutant abilities have changed. They are sucking the life out of the very cells that they inhabit in pursuit of life. Her body is killing her."

"The Cure will not work," stated the Professor. "She's too far gone. Maybe, sooner?" Beast walked over to the Professor, placing a firm and fuzzy clawed hand over his shoulder.

"Sooner is not now," stated Beast. They both locked eyes.

Black Spots covered her body. Each a hole within her. Blaring lights and muffled voices filled her eyes and ears. Or was it her nose and fingers? She tried looking down at her body, but couldn't. She knew that there were spots, onyx black and scorching hot and sticky as fresh tar. Scratching couldn't get rid of them. Was she even scratching?

She smelled ammonia and felt starchy sheets against her body.

The spots lept off of her body and turned into all of the psyches. Jean Grey, Bobby, Cyclops, Jubilee, Professor, Logan, Mystique, Magneto, Wanda, Psylocke, Kurt, Phoenix. They all started swarming towards her and running circles around her. Rogue knew she couldn't scream. Oh, how she wanted to.

The closer they got, the more they smiled and the more they sent stabbing pains throughout every inch of her body; she was being enveloped by waves of fire and pain as they all swirled. It had to stop. Stop now. Stop. STOP!

Remy. Peace. Warmth. Remy.

She forced her eyes open. He could stop it; that swamp-rat was so good at distracting her.

She forced her sleepy lids open just a crack, oh how the light hurt. Keep going. She lifted a few finger to realize the warm pressure of a thick, callused hand enveloping her own. It strengthened around her instantaneously. Her bare fingers against his. A small smile burst out against her lips, as she felt warm, cracked lips caress her own. Tears slid down her cheeks, hot tears. But, they were not her own. Everything about him was so warm, maybe now she could sleep. She wasn't cold anymore.

His lips were begging for a response. Remy knew that she had moved. He KNEW he felt some life being drained into her. Take some of his life, he thought desperately, Take all of it! Just, don't leave. He couldn't stop kissing her. The draining effects were wearing off. He should've been unconscious by now; he should've been dead! Him, not her! His hand moved up to the side of her face, craning her neck upwards to support her better. His hand intertwined in her mass of curls. They were ashen too, all of her vibrant color, gone. He breathed into her, one passionate kiss as angry tears slipped from his eyelids. He opened his own demonic eyes to catch his own Chere's losing their last glimmer and closing.

He waited by her bedside for hours. When the Professor and Beast had left, Remy was still there holding on to Rogue's hands. Stormy had tried to get him to go to bed, but Remy had simply sat there; he was empty now. Why anything? Logan turned her away, coming back with a blanket for him.

As Wolvie was turning back, Gambit looked to him. How much pain had he been through? How many had he lost?

He turned back to Rogue. He would not let go, but he couldn't face her now. Remy could not accept his ange being gone. Memories of her poured through him. Yelling at him for peeking in her drawers. Pinning her against the edge of her balcony. Her arms entwining around his middle as they sped through the countryside on his bike. Just sitting with her. Talking to her. Seeing her laugh. Watching Chere's eyes light up as she would smile at Remy's attempts to just be near her sometimes. What he wouldn't give to see that light and that smile again?

She was gone now. The light was never coming back.

"Chere," Remy whispered to her. "Remy knows t'at yo sleepin' now. He's goin' t' sing nahw. Remy knows you us'd t' hav bad dreams and would toss n' turn som' nights. He c'n tell. He knows t'at singin' helped his Chere to sleep, so he's goin' t'."

A quick glance to her face, long enough to better realize just how gone his belle chere really was. Too painful. Too much.

"Bonne nuit, mon ange C'est l'huere de fermer les yeux Et de mettre ces questions de cóté pour un autre jour Je crois savoir ce ques tu me demandais Je crois que tu sais ce que j'essayais de dire.¨ He looked to her after softly singing her favorite lullaby. He found… nothing.

¨Je t'ais promis que je ne te quitterais jamais...¨ he had to breath, keep breathing, for her. Finish. For her. ¨Et tu devrais toujours savoir Que oú que tu puisses aller… Oú qu tu sois… (breath)... Je ne serai...jamais...trés loin. Mon amor. Mon ange. Mon Belle Chere. Jetaime...Jetaime...Jetaime.

Lyrics to Lullaby Berceuse (Bonne Nuit, Mon Ange); Goodnight my Angel

Goodnight, my angel

Time to close your eyes

And save these questions for another day

I think I know what you've been asking me

I think you know what I've been trying to say

I promised I would never leave you

And you should always know

Wherever you will go

No matter where you are

I never will be far away

-Billy Joel