The more she looked, the more she hated it. That man did not deserve this, she thought, shaking her head in total disbelief. Her heart was pounding as she stood there, watching him in awe. Death was right next to her, with a smirk across his face. Her pain was his joy; it was as if he was feeding off her agony. The air was heavy with the hum of machinery and the sterile sting of chemicals. Her eyes pooled with tears, ready to fall, as she studied the vision before her. Logan was suspended in a massive cylindrical tank, his body floating lifelessly in some kind of viscous liquid. Her breath caught in her throat, and a wave of anguish swept over her.

Logan was her friend, her guardian many times over, her benefactor, a father figure to her. When she first came to the mansion, she wasn't welcomed with open arms by all the team. As far as they knew, she had been their foe when she was under the protection of Mystique, and as such, she could not be trusted. Everyone kept a trained eye on her, never letting their guard down. He was the first one who approached her, trying to break the invisible barrier she kept around herself. She didn't want to fall for the pretence of love and good intentions. Once was enough, that much she knew. She had believed Mystique; she had believed Magneto too. But Logan understood her wild ways. Most importantly, he knew what it was like to be the oddball that everyone wants to keep at an arm's length. And she, she was all that, but she was barely out of her teens. She needed a little push, he knew. That girl only wanted to belong. So, he wanted to bridge the gap between her and the team. God knows patience was not a virtue of his, but he had been patient with her, and little by little, he gained her trust, her respect, and ultimately, her love and admiration.

The last time she'd seen him, he had been clinging to life by a thread, barely surviving the unimaginable agony of Magneto ripping the adamantium from his skeleton. She shut her eyes as that memory popped in her head, shame and guilt washing over her. Now, seeing him there, imprisoned and vulnerable, was like reopening an old wound. Tubes and wires snaked from his body, connected to the tank and the sinister machines surrounding it. Rogue pressed a gloved hand against the glass, her fingers trembling.

"Logan," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I failed you once, I won't fail you again."

"Don't waste your breath, pretty. I've been there, done that, bought the t-shirt," Death spoke, his voice dripping with disdain. "He can't hear you; he can't feel you; he won't remember much about this process. But once it is complete, he will feel powerful and whole," he concluded.

"Is that how you feel? I much preferred you before this," she said, looking away from Logan for the first time since they had found him, and directing her eyes at him. She was stubbornly hoping she would see some sort of reaction that would indicate it was her Remy in there.

"I don't. Feel, that is. Just the power and the urge to make things right, to make things no more."

She had no idea what the idea of right that Apocalypse had planted in his brain was. Certainly, it didn't align with her values, or Remy's, or any of the X-Men. She wasn't interested in exploring it, either. She stepped back, her movements deliberate, her gaze once again locked on Logan's lifeless form within the tank. Her hands trembled with a mix of fury and desperation as she clenched one into a tight fist. Her other hand instinctively reached up, brushing away the tear that threatened to escape down her cheek. She couldn't let this happen. She wasn't there to help Remy, but there was still time for Logan, and hopefully, even for Madelyne. That was, if she was really in there, if her fate was about to turn out the same as Remy's.

The machinery sounds seemed to grow louder, almost as if it was mocking her resolution. Her heart raced as she assessed the tank. The glass was thick, reinforced to withstand immense pressure, but Rogue had broken through tougher barriers before. She took another step back, her feet were feeling cold against the stone floor, and drew her fist up, bracing herself to strike. Her knuckles gleamed faintly under the dim light as determination filled her whole being, her body tensing like a coiled spring ready to snap.

"Nah, I wouldn't do that if I were you. First, you would end up killing him, and secondly, we wouldn't want to see the masterpiece work brought to life, which would be a shame. War and I will accomplish great things. And after he and Famine are ready, we will be only one horseman down to go," he commented.

Was he telling the truth or just manipulating her? She didn't know and she didn't care. Rogue took a deep breath and tried hard to concentrate on the facts and make up her mind about what her next steps would be. Instead, her mind was all jumbled up and memories of good days inundated her consciousness. Logan right there in front of her didn't help, she couldn't stop thoughts of him flood her mind. She thought of how protective he had been of her and how much she meant to him and vice versa.

A hot summer night, Remy and she were at the rooftop of the mansion, enjoying each other's company and pouring their hearts out, talking and sharing any silly thought that would come to mind. Then, Remy decided to tell her something he had never shared before, something that he was sure that it would make her smile.

"Do you know that the Old Fork Claws did after that basketball game? He gave me such a hard time! You've got no idea, have you?" He asked her, with a chuckle.

"What?" She tilted her head, curious and amused.

He sat up a little straighter, resting his forearms on his knees as his grin widened. "Well, petite, as it turns out old Logan really is the best at what he does and what he does isn't nice, like he says. He wasn't nice to me, like at all," Rogue started giggling, wondering what in the world Logan did to him. "But," he continued, "I can attest to the fact that can be nice too. At least, he is, to you. He's got a flair for playing overprotective papa bear."

"Logan? Protective? Of me?" She asked him incredulously, a small smile played at her lips

He laughed softly, shaking his head as though the memory itself was too good not to share.

"After the game, he cornered me in the locker room."

"Oh, boy, I don't think I will want to hear this, sugar," she teased him.

"He was shirtless, sweaty, all claws and gruff voice. At first, I thought, gee, man, I'm straight."

She couldn't help it and laughed hard at that, only to try and tone it down, she didn't want to wake anybody up at that time of night.

"Then, he said, 'You know Rogue isn't just any girl. Girl is special and she's not to be played with by the likes of you.' I wanted to say I was offended, but I wasn't. I actually agreed with him, you are special, indeed. And he was probably right about me being less than deserving of you."

Then, he continued his tale, undeterred by Rogue's protests as he began to cast himself in a less-than-flattering light. He told her how the Wolverine explained about how she had to keep guys away because of her powers and how that hurt her and that it was not a laughing matter. And he was not supposed to get any ideas or seduce the poor young lady only to go and break her heart.

"But then, I told him something he would never forget," he said. Suddenly, his hint of mischievousness was gone. He was serious and looked contemplative, if anything.

"And what was that, Swamp rat?" She asked curiously, sensing the change in his mood.

"Well, I told him, that you need love too, and you deserve to be desired and loved just like any other girl. Getting that kind of special treatment could only break you even more, it would make you feel like an outcast and as if your powers are some kind of curse or a disease. I told him you were beautiful inside and out, and you deserved to hear that as often as possible. You should have seen him, his eyes went wide in shock when I told him that I was sure that you would hate to be treated differently. As if being a mutant wasn't enough already," he confessed. And right there and then, she was blown away. Remy LeBeau truly understood her like no one else before had ever done before!

Her eyes were watering, lips trembling, her heart so full, as if she was falling in love with him all over again. But Remy tried to lighten up the moment by finishing off his story.

"Then, you know him, he just grunted. Never told me that I was right, pretended as if I hadn't just shown him how real I was about it and started interrogating me like I'm some kinda suspect. 'What are your intentions with Rogue?' he growled. Like we're in some old western, him as the sheriff, me as the outlaw."

At that moment, she threw her arms around him and kissed his hair, feeling his scent coming off his neck, she felt absolutely in love and wished so hard to be able to kiss lips fervently.

"I swear on my cards. He was ready to tear me in three slices if I gave the wrong answer." Remy's expression softened, his playful smirk fading into something sincere. "I had to tell him straight, chére. 'Logan, you got nothing to worry about, homme. I'd never hurt her.'"

Yet, there he was, or his body, for that matter, watching her with malicious eyes, as if he was trying to snap her neck with the mere power of his thoughts. His stare was so heavy, for a moment there, she was afraid to look into his eyes, and hold his gaze, so she avoided him. He had other ideas, though. He wanted to torture her; she was his plaything. He grabbed her by the hips, his lips touching her right ear as he pressed his body against her, his erection finding the perfect spot in between her cheeks, and pressed her against the glass tube.

"You know what would be real fun? If I fucked you senseless in front of your daddy," he teased her, and a cruel laugh escaped his lips. She could not recognize that sound, it was not the hearty laugh that she would often hear coming out of those lips. That beautiful heartfelt laugh that would make her heart sing, that was not it. That, that was pure evil, and she wasn't having any of it.

Rogue was wide-eyed at his boldness and complete disregard for her and Logan together. But he would get it coming at him. She was not powerless, and it seemed she would have to remind him of that. She was not some helpless ragdoll of his. For a moment, she let him have his fun, pressing against her whole body. She kept her palms pressed against the cold surface of the glass, her breathing quickening. Her body tensed as she prepared to act. Ignoring the sensations he was attempting to evoke in her, in a swift and determined motion, she turned around, breaking the spell of his dominance. With a sharp shove to his chest, she forced him to step back, her voice cutting through the silence, commandeering and determined.

"Back off, Death."

Her tone was firm, carrying both anger and heartbreak, a warning and a plea wrapped together.

"You are not the boss of me. I'm not your prisoner, I came here willingly because Apocalypse sought me and told me he could bring me to Remy. I would give my life if I had to for one last moment with Remy, to tell him that I love him and I choose him, always and forever! And if I am still here, it's because I decided to do so."

Death simply stood there, his expression inscrutable, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. But that was not Gambit's usual playful grin. That one was cold, almost mocking, as if her little tantrum only amused him. His glowing red eyes stared right into hers, unreadable, void of any emotion.

"Rogue, you can't have what you already lost. I feel we had this conversation before, but you seem so slow to get this."

"No! I refuse! I know my Remy is still in there, in you and that's precisely why I'm not leaving. I won't leave my man behind, not this time, not ever again! It's like you, you are a collection of all the dark side of him, a side each one of us have. But he is still in you."

At the moment, Apocalypse stepped out of the shadows and joined them. The scene he found couldn't be more ridiculous to him. The woman that he had brought for his most esteemed of the new Horsemen, the one he was supposed to have killed at least a day ago, was standing before him, wearing nothing but a black dress shirt. Her hair was wild, the messy curls cascaded down her back, she was bare feet, wearing only a men's shirt. Remy LeBeau's shirt, of course, he noticed. She looked determined, but also tired. Instead of killing her, Death had spent most of his time using and abusing her body, that much he could tell.

"So, Death, tell me why again have you not killed this woman? I thought I had done a good job with you. I thought you knew better than to disobey me," Apocalypse asked. It was clear that he had enough of that waiting game. He allowed him his fun, but his time had run out.

Death remained silent, his cold, unblinking eyes fixed on Rogue. Fury burned within his gaze. He wanted to carry out the orders he'd been given, but something held him back, or someone. His hands wouldn't obey him when he tried to strangle her, not once, but twice. Hand-to-hand combat was useless, and practically foreplay if he was honest with himself. She was as skilled as him, and stronger.

"Do it! Do it now, or I will do it myself."

Hesitantly, Death took a couple of steps in her direction. Rogue, on the other hand, was as sassy as ever, as she stood with her weight shifted to one side, her hip jutting out slightly in a confident pose. One hand rested firmly on her hip, while the other hung loosely at her side. The slight smirk on her lips only added insult to injury. Her piercing gaze was daring anyone to challenge her.

"He can't do it, Apocalypse. He won't do it. I think you need to go back to your drawing board, because your transformation isn't perfect yet, sugar," she said, as her feet soared in the air. "And remember, I'm not your prisoner, I can just up and leave at any time."

"Ah, Rogue, yes, you got that right. You agreed to come with me of your own volition. But it seems you're not holding up your end of the bargain. You swore you'd do anything to see Gambit, even it was just for one last time, even if it were the last thing you ever did. So, it's time to pay up."

When Apocalypse came back to the past and offered her the chance to see Gambit, she agreed with no hesitation, consequences be damned. Rogue had agreed to follow him to her actual time line, driven by a deep sense of guilt and desperation. The weight of her choices and the pain she had caused Gambit were unbearable. She lived with them for months and it was more than she could take. Out of all the misfortunes she faced in her life, losing him was the most impactful one. She needed to make things right, to explain herself, no matter the cost. It was always Remy. She had chosen him, and only him, despite everything. He deserved to know, to hear it from her own lips, even if it was the last thing she ever said. The chance to ease her conscience and give him that truth was worth any price, even striking a deal with someone as dangerous as Apocalypse.

And yes, she was willing to die for him, just as he had died for her, over and over again, if it meant he could be saved. But the reality of their situation was clear: her death would do no one any good. How could she save him if she wasn't alive to fight for him? How could he escape that nightmare if she wasn't there to help him? Her death would only strip away the last remnants of his humanity. No, she had to survive. She had to fight, not just for herself, but to bring him back.

And to do that, she might have to take an unexpected detour. She needed to find Madelyne Pryor, Jean's clone, who turned out to be this amazing lady with a mutation as strong as Jean's own. Cable's mother was probably being transformed into one of the Horsemen herself, but she was still strong enough to make a connection, a mindlink. That much Rogue was sure about, because she was able to make her see some of what she had seen on that fateful night, her visions of all the could-have-beens. That had to mean something! She had to be the key. Rogue would have to save her so that together, the two of them could save Remy and Logan. Rogue would need to go and find her, even if that would mean leaving Remy's body side for a while.

Rogue soared through the air, with effortless grace. As she neared Death, her heart raced with determination. Without hesitation, she closed the distance between them, in a swift motion. She couldn't allow him time to react as her lips met his, tasting him, she gave him a fiery kiss. It was brief, yet full of meaning and purpose. Pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, she offered him a sly, apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, sugar, but I have to go," she said, her voice low and laced with regret. "Can't stay for your killing feast."

Before Death could react, Apocalypse lunged forward, his fury fuelled his speed. He reached out with an outstretched hand, aiming to seize her, to stop her from escaping. But it was too late. Rogue was already pulling away, her body soaring higher with a grace that far outmatched his reach. With a regained determination, she clenched her fists and broke through the walls, leaving the room, and also Remy and Logan, behind. She crossed her heart, hoping she had made the right choice.

Apocalypse's outstretched hand grasped nothing but air. His furious eyes followed her flight, but after a moment, he shrugged her off as the insignificant mutant he regarded her as. She was small fish, not worth his time or effort. It was time to focus. He needed to gather his Horsemen and execute his plan.