Visions, each vivid and tangible, crowded Rogue's mind. It was the fateful day of Remy LeBeau's death, the real Remy, most of the times. The Genosha gala, all over again! It had happened not only once, but countless times and she was watching it all. Again and again, Cable had returned, trying to alter that night's outcome, to prevent the massacre, to save mutants, to save his own mother. And each time, he failed miserably. He was never on time; it was always too late, no matter how many times he tried. And he exhausted all possibilities, trying to beat all the odds, over and over. The Genosha massacre was destined to happen, regardless of the tiny detais leading up to it that would change here and there. The result stayed the same, though each person's choices on that day left small and not-so-small marks, altering the path slightly each time, but never changing the major picture.

And somehow, in her deep sleep, Rogue could see every version of that night. They flashed one after the other, as though they were jumbled fragments, scenes out of what seemed a movie, a movie being fast-forwarded as she watched it. It was a flood of memories, as people sometimes describe life flashing before them in their final moments. For Rogue, it was as if all these memories invaded her mind all at once. She was used to this in a way; when she absorbed someone with her deadly touch, their memories would flow freely and unchecked into her mind. But this time, she was the central figure in these memories, reliving that day over and over as Cable returned to stop the tragedy.

Each attempt pulled Cable back into the vortex, resetting the day with the same tragic end. He couldn't change the critical elements that led to the massacre, but for Rogue, Remy, and Magneto, that day seemed to unfold with slight variations every time. At first, she saw little scenes, Erik trying to talk her into accepting a leading position by his side, as queen. Most of the times her answer would be 'no' straightaway, other times she would realize her mistake as soon as she stepped into the ballroom and saw Remy LeBeau and his huge smile directed at her. And then, there was that time, the last one, the one that stuck, the one she remembered well, that she only refused his offer after dancing with him in front of of all present, breaking Remy's heart in the process. Why did that one have to be the last one, the last time Cable tried? She had to mourn Remy, feeling hopeless and guilty, sad that she never got to tell him that she picked him in the end. He was the one! She had always picked him, in all versions of that day, but he was the only Remy who hadn't heard from her how he was her one and only, the love of her life.

Invaded by countless images, Rogue tossed and turned in bed, her body curled into itself, still naked and feeling the chill of the room. She hugged herself tightly in her sleep, trying to find warmth, but the visions persisted, never allowing her consciousness to surface. Hours slipped by, she was weak, fasting for hours on end by then. So she remained locked in this restless state of sleep. Death and Apocalypse had not returned yet, no one around to taunt her, use or abuse her. Her mind, however, refused to quiet. Her brain churned endlessly, awash with impacting images flashing before her, each one pulling at her deepest emotions. The dreams held her captive, leaving her soul raw and mind unsettled, caught in memories and shadows that refused to release their grip.

But then, there was one of the gala nights that was played in slow motion, it felt like she was living, or reliving that moment. She watched everything, the vividness of those memories were letting her savor each moment. That night, she had heard Magneto's offer, and that one was the same in each flash she had seen. He offered her the possibility of a future together, leading mutantkind side by side. In that very room where she lay asleep, where she shared her body with Death and Remy at once, she had opened up to the handsome Cajun she loved like she had never loved anyone else before in her life. She shared with him her doubts and the weight of the decision before her. In their honest conversation, Remy helped her see things more clearly, reminding her that she could still serve mutantkind without sacrificing herself in a life built on compromise and love she didn't truly feel.

Not much later after their conversation, they joined the party. As soon as she saw Magneto, she didn't hesitate; she told him her decision straight away. From a distance, Remy watched, but instead of jealousy, he felt a deep sense of pride in her strength and resolve. Seizing the moment, he approached the DJ and requested a song for them both to dance, and he just knew she was going to love it. As soon as she joined him on the dance floor with a sweet smile stamped on her face, he raised his right arm so the DJ would get the cue. Then, the loudspeakers started blasting a song by Erasure that he used to sing to her to tease her. She started giggling so much, because she was quite aware of what was about to come. He was very theatrical during the song intro, making her cheeks blush crimson and everyone around them stop to watch the scene.

"Oh l'amour
Broke my heart
Now I'm aching for you
Mon amour
What's a boy in love
Supposed to do?"

She laughed really hard at the scene. When he first started showing how he felt about her in front of the others, during a certain baseball game, she had expressed her discontent at his approach and his ways and that song had been his reply. It was their inside joke since then.

"Gambit, I would appreciate it if you would stop the flirting in front of everybody, sugar. This is hardly a professional attitude. We are teammates," she started, proceeding to remind him about her powers. Even though, she was quite aware that he gave her the hots and, deep down, she thought his advances were very flattering.

"Oh, chére, you're smart. You know very well why Gambit can't help himself, non?"

"Don't 'chére' me, Remy. I can't touch you. I don't know where you think you're going with that!"

"Mon amour, what's a boy in love supposed to do?" he responded, singing.

While she replayed those memories, the song took a turn, becoming as electric and passionate as he was. Moving to the beat, he made every step look like second nature, his charisma on full display. She watched him, knowing full well that it was all for her. How her heart ached for him! How she loved that man! His movements were playful and carefree, each sway and spin showcasing a blend of Cajun charm and flirtation. His exquisite red irises were shining bright, his focus was entirely on Rogue. He wasn't just dancing for fun; he was performing for her, conveying in every move what words often failed to express and she knew it. Rogue asleep form clutched at her own heart as that dream played out in her head.

And then, bang! Madelyne Pryor looked as if she had been shot at her head, blood dripping from her nose. The Sentinel attack began, his clone never got to join them and Remy again died in Rogue's arms.

Another vision, same night, slightly changed circumstances. Slow romantic music was playing, making couples take the dance floor. Remy led the woman he loved to join in the dance. Rogue threw her arms around him, holding on to his shoulders while he rested one hand on the small of her back and the other on her upper back. Their eyes were locked as they slow danced.

Both were thinking about the advices Kurt had given each of them earlier that day. "You two are soulmates. What's keeping you from marrying the girl?" "You should tell him he's the reason why you are having training sessions with Magneto, so you can control your powers and love him like you've always wanted. He's obviously jealous and that is breaking his heart". He pulled her even closer to him, the hand that touched the small of her back, she felt it trembling slightly. Was he... nervous? No, Remy LeBeau? The flirt and the swagger in one package. He could never, right? Not in a million years! He would never get nervous around her, or so she thought.

His trembling remained placed gently at the small of her back, guiding her with ease as they sway to the soft rhythm of the music. His other hand, warm and steady, just above shoulder height, a comfortable and protective grip that led her through each movement. With a subtle, encouraging smile, he lifted her hand slightly and gave a gentle spin. The beautiful dress she had bought specially for their very first date fluttered lightly as she twirled, her feet moving gracefully, one foot pivoting while the other swept around, toes pointed. Her face lit up as their eyes met again. Much to her surprise, Remy was down on one knee with a small jewelry box on his right hand.

"Anna Marie," he started, saying her name in all but a whisper. It was the secret she had shared to him only. Not one of their teammates knew her real name but him. "Will you marry me, mon coeur?"

For a moment, Rogue could hardly believe what was unfolding before her. Her hands flew to her chest, clutching tightly as if trying to hold her heart in place. Her eyes shimmered, filling with a mix of disbelief and joy, while she struggled to contain herself, her breath caught between laughter and tears. Silence enveloped the room, the music halting as everyone's eyes turned toward them, a collective breath held in suspense.

"Yes! Yes!" she cried, her voice bursting with emotion, and as her answer echoed through the room, it was met with an eruption of cheers and applause. Friends and strangers alike joined in the celebration, voices rising, laughter mixing with claps and whistles as Remy stood to his feet, his eyes never leaving hers. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, their embrace filled with a warmth and certainty they'd both yearned for. They held each other tightly, unspoken promises shared in the stillness as their world seemed to narrow to this single, perfect moment and then… bang! Madelyne Pryor's face again, her blood dripping onto the floor.

Rogue's visions kept returning to this cycle, to endless nights and countless proposals from Remy, all leading to tragedy. Some of the times it was just them dancing and having fun when it all happened. One time, only once did Rogue contemplate Magneto's offer and that had to be the last time, the time that stuck, the time his clone took his place, the time Cable gave up trying to fix it, the time she could remember living. All other times Remy shared his clone's fate, each time he died, and Rogue broke down into desperation. And each scene ended with Madelyne's pain. Madelyne! This could only be her doing! But how could that be, when Madelyne was dead?

That realization made Rogue finally snap out of the trance and wake up. She sat up in bed, panting, and looking around, trying to make sense of her current whereabouts. Then, it all came back to her, she was naked, she had been lying on that ash-covered bed, feeling all alone and cold. Death! He had used her and abused her, her body bore signs of his actions, she had bruises on her stomach, and wrists, bitemarks on her breasts, a disturbing testament to their time together. Her emotions were a tangled mess. The night hadn't been pretty, but if she was honest with herself, she enjoyed having him inside of her, especially the times when Remy made his escape and resurfaced, taking the driver's seat of his own consciousness. She hugged herself and rocked her body as she relived the past 24 hours, as if trapped into a psychotic break.

'Madelyne,' she thought, urging herself to get out of that mess and take action. 'She must be here somewhere, Apocalypse must have done to her whatever he did to Remy. But maybe, maybe she wasn't too far gone. She must have mind-linked with me as I slept. Gotta rescue her,' she decided.

She rose from the bed, steeling herself, her body sore and mind sharper now, each step fueled by her resolve. Together, Madelyne and she could have a far better chance of bringing Remy back to himself. She crossed the cold, dim room with purpose, her fingers brushing her bruised skin, her lips set in a firm line. She reached the door, her hand grasping the handle, only to come face-to-face with Death, who had just entered, blocking her way.

"Oh, hello, my pretty little whore. Where do you think you're going in such a hurry?" He asked her, his accent was gone, each word filled with disdain. "I thought you said you were never given up on Remy LeBeau. It looks as if you had other places to go," he insinuated.

She looked at him square in the eyes, straightening up her body and lifting her chin with fake confidence that masked the rapid beat of her heart. Without hesitation, a lie slipped effortlessly from her lips, smooth and steady.

"I was actually looking for you."

"You don't look too thrilled to see me… chére," he knew just how to break her. Calling her 'chére' was twisting the metaphorical knife even deeper into her fresh wounds. But she was determined, two could play that game.

She held his gaze, hoping he wouldn't see the flicker of doubt behind her fierce stare. She kept her expression cold, refusing to let her emotions betray her. Thanking all that is holy in that universe for the fact that his enhanced powerset didn't include telepathy, she kept her façade in place. Inside her mind, though, she was eager to go look for Madelyne. She had to be in the building, down there, somewhere.

With renewed courage, she reached out, her fingers trembling slightly before steadying against the cold, stark surface of his pale face. Her touch softened as she let her hand linger, gently tracing the sharp lines of his cheekbone, her thumb brushing across his skin in a gesture as tender as it was manipulative. For a moment, she felt a strange connection, something that lay beneath his harsh exterior, and she allowed herself to channel that feeling into her touch.

Her eyes softened, and though her resolve never wavered, her caress carried a blend of understanding and quiet strength, as if daring him to reveal any hint of vulnerability. It was working as he got visibly shaken by the mere touch of her skin. But as she was starting to figure out, he would let his guard down for a fraction of a second, only to respond with aggressiveness and violence. He pushed her against the wall with exaggerated force, his grip firm on both her shoulders as his gaze drifted over her tempting naked body, taking in every detail. Her breath got caught in her throat at the suddenness of his movement.

"You're poison, Rogue! Fucking poison that runs in my veins," he confessed. "I can't kill you like Apocalypse told me to. Believe me, I had every chance to do so while you were asleep after I used you and your body over and over again yesterday."

Her eyes went wide as he now held her in place against the wall with his forearm only, his free hand traveled south of her body and he slipped a finger inside her, just because he could, making a moan escape her lips before she could stop it. He closed his eyes as he savored the sweet honey sound of her moaning. It went on and on as he slipped his finger in and out of her in a frantic rhythm.

"You know what the antidote to snake venom is, sugar? They say it often comes from the snake itself," she said, then proceeded to break free from his grip with a sudden burst of strength, twisting out of his hold.

In one swift movement, she countered, pressing her weight against him and shoving him off balance. He stumbled, falling hard to the ground as she stood over him, her stance steady and eyes blazing with determination. She bent down, leaning over him, her eyes never leaving his as she settled atop him. Slowly, she lowered herself, her lips meeting his in a kiss filled with both defiance and unexpected tenderness. Her hands slid along his arms, pinning him in place, as though asserting her own power in this moment. The kiss deepened, and for a moment, she forgot that was Death. This was Remy, her Remy, her man and she could feel him, all of him! The taste of him, his mouth, his lips and that tongue of his circling her own. His breath mingled with hers, and they found a rhythm together, the kiss growing bolder as they tested each other, pushing boundaries yet savoring the connection. It wasn't long before his hands were exploring her body boldly, her pink nipples, her sex, and she allowed all of it.

"Do you wanna get cured, honey? So, let's get you some of that antidote," she teased him. And even though that was not what she meant, he had other ideas. He was going to taste her.

With a swift, practiced movement, he slipped his arms free from her grip, loosening her hold just enough to pivot his weight. In one fluid motion, he braced his hands against the ground and shifted his hips, using his strength and leverage to roll them over. Now above her, he pinned her wrists, his eyes flashing with a mix of challenge and triumph as he took control. Never letting go of her wrists, carrying them with him as he bent down, his lips went down on her, the sensation was divine and her tumescent nipples wouldn't let her hide the effect he had on her. It was too much, too intense, he would slip his tongue inside of her and he kept at that tantalizing dance, lips and tongue, driving her absolutely crazy. She was crying out his name in abandon as one orgasm erupted after another.

"Now that isn't polite, is it? You were just crying out another man's name when I was the one who put in all the work," he said, pulling her by the hair, and then whispering in her ear. "It's not Remy, it's Death!"

And with that, he slapped her across the face, pulled down his pants and pushed his cock inside of her. No tenderness, no love, just sex. And again, he spent hours using her body for his own satisfaction, Remy did not reach the surface this time, not once. Maybe he did have a point when he said that using her would be the cure to the poison that his need for her was.

After his appetite was finally quenched, he gave her some food he had brought with him. Chocolate and other treats that had been stocked in the tower in one of the over two hundreds of goodie bags that were never handed to Genosha's elite guests at the end of the party. She thought it was odd, that he was kind of taking care of her, in a way. He watched her eat with an empty stare; it was a chilling sight.

"Come," he said, the very second she finished her improvised meal. "I want you to see who we brought to join the horseman taskforce."

She looked at herself with disgust, her body was exposed, covered in bruises and ashes. She didn't want anyone to see her like that. It was humiliating enough as it was, having his eyes for witness only. Still, she stood up at his command, ready to follow him.

"No, you are my toy. Mine only, until I am finally able to kill you, that's how it is going to be. I don't want anyone else seeing what belongs to me only, my favorite object, my mistress."

He went into the room's closet area and found Remy LeBeau's small suitcase he had brought with him for what he thought was going to be a short trip to Genosha. Death opened it up and got a black dress shirt and tossed it at her. He had probably was in doubt whether he would go to the gala with a white one or a black one.

"Put it on. Quickly! And then, follow me."

He dragged her out of the room, the click clacks of his boots echoing with every step he took in those empty halls, machines could be heard in the distance. Her feet stumbled against the smooth floor, resistance in her every step, but his grip never wavered.

They rounded a corner, and then she saw him, an unmistakable human form. The air shifted, thick with an oppressive energy. There, inside a massive glass tube, stood Wolverine, suspended in thick liquid, his body lifeless, or so it seemed. His face was eerily calm, almost serene, a stark contrast to his usual grumpy self in any given day.

"Meet War."