Disclaimer: Marvel and the X-Men belong to their respective creators; the storyline and character alterations, however, are mine.

Beads of sweat formed on her forehead before rolling down and mixing with tears. White strands poked out from black hair and brown eyes struggled to remain open; the trademark glow of life had eventually all but disappeared. Each breath inhaled resulted in painful spasms of uncontrolled coughing and, after several bouts, blood stained a simple, white nightgown. Death loomed over her frail body – soon, she would be His to claim. As if on cue, another respiratory attack added color to the canvas. The seconds passed by without mercy, dragging her with them.

"Rebecca, my darling. How are you now?" He placed a hand on hers and gripped it lightly, as if encouraging her body to fight back. The unnatural coolness nearly forced him to pull it back but it remained in place. She gave a knowing look:

"What is it, darling? Too cold?"

He gave a shaky laugh and shrugged it off. "Just get some rest; you need your sleep." But the words continued to haunt him: too cold. Of course it was. Her body temperature had lowered to an unacceptable level and he was to blame. Still, he wouldn't allow the blame to be placed. Not now, not ever. In some strange, twisted world, the guilt fell on her. Had she never discovered his work, all would have remained perfect. Instead, her damned curiosity crossed every boundary. To hell with her, he thought.

"We both know rehabilitation won't have any effect. But before I go, please, answer one question." She lay still for several seconds before mustering her remaining energy and projecting it into a single word. "Why?"

"Please Rebecca. The matter will only worsen. I –"

"You demented son of a bitch! You're afraid of it worsening?" Another spasm of coughing shook her body and he removed his hand, watching helplessly as his beloved's body convulsed. "No, I want an answer. I demand it. And if I must rise from the grave, so be it." Her tone possessed a steely edge while the words were caustic. He sighed, putting both hands to his face before rubbing his temples. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

"What do you want? Whatever I say won't fit your standards. But still, if you're this determined, it's because I missed him."

She smirked. "Of course you did."

"Are you implying a father's love is false? I truly did miss him, Rebecca!"

"Don't raise your voice—"

"I'll do whatever the hell I want! And who are you to stop me? What did you do for him?"

Her features contorted into those of permanent exasperation. "What could I have done? How do I oppose God's will?"

"There you go with that God's will again. What God, Rebecca? What God? Because as far as I'm concerned, His will is powerless." Anger filled his voice and any compassion he had immediately vanished. He refused to care for her or for her condition; the faster Death claimed her, the better.

"Just watch, you heretic. He'll punish you."

"And I'll be waiting."

"You're impossible!"

"No, I made the impossible possible. I revived Adam. He was ours once again."

"I found his body in a tube! A godforsaken tube! You desecrated his grave and erased him from this Earth. You killed Adam! You're a monster! A bloody monster!"

"If science is a monstrosity, then let me be a monster! LET ME BE A MONSTER!" Rage shook his body and he rose from the chair, hands balled into fists and eyes reflecting an intelligent hatred.

She remained silent for several seconds – the seconds had finally finished. With all the force she could muster, she spat her final words: "To me, you are... utterly… and contemptibly… sinister!"

Then all was still. Her breathing ceased, her chest lay flat, and her eyes became blind voids. The words continued to ring in his ears. Leaning forward, he cupped her chin and placed a soft kiss upon her lips, brushing away stray hairs and gently closing heavy lids.

"Then so be it."