t was a typical day; or as typical as one could get when you lived at a mutant school, when they got the call.
Nothing special, just the usual; the Brotherhood was up to no good, and it was up to the X-men to stop them.
This was Rogue's first mission and she was ready to prove herself to her team mates.
The blackbird landed and they all went into action. The first thing Rogue noticed was the scattered adversarial forces, they were trying to separate the team, and it was working.
Cyclops went after Magneto, Wolverine began hunting Sabertooth, Which left Rogue with the shapeshifter.
It didn't take long before the fight was joined, and the true test began. All those hours in the Danger Room, under the harsh tutelage of Wolverine, now it was time for the final exam.
-
They had been fighting on the roof of a building for some time when Mystique made two fatal errors. One, she chose for herself a form which she thought would offer her the most protection, while throwing her opponent off guard.
Logan.
Her second mistake was to push Rogue a bit too far while wearing the face of her beloved teacher and friend.
Rogue struck.
During the fight, they had gotten rather close to the edge of the building; Rogue struck, and down they went.
Below the roof was another building capped with a solid glass skylight encompassing the entire rooftop.
It was this onto which the combatants fell.
It was through this which they plummeted, crashing to the cement.
Rogue got to her feet, but it was then that she noticed her situation.
Somehow during the fall she had been injured.
A solid spear of glass impaled her, sticking out a full half foot through her body in both directions.
Wolverine's eyes surveyed her.
Wolverine's lips twitched up in a smile.
And Wolverine's voice howled in triumphant laughter.
But it was Mystique's body that paid the price.
Mystique, who Rogue grabbed in an iron grip. Mystique, whose body was threaded onto the glass spear protruding from the smaller girl's body as she was pulled into the deadly embrace.
Mystique, who died without another word.
-
Wolverine had dispatched Sabertooth, and was returning to the blackbird when he came across the battleground. Smelled the blood.
He jumped down and immediately went into action. Pulling the corpse away from Rogue he was able to see the full extent of the damage.
Shocked into inaction for the briefest of moments, he snapped out of it and went to work. Logan cut the protruding glass, and pulled the rest from the too-still body.
The world grows dark
And I walk on unafraid.
The bullet runs deep,
The knife twists its blade.
Logan stripped off his gloves and attempted to force his healing mutation into her dying form. The cure had come too late however and her body had gone into shock, rejecting his sacrifice like a cold slap in the face.
But I've got you here beside me,
And with you,
I don't fear the dark.
He tried again and again, refusing to give in to the unavoidable.
The blood runs slow.
No last goodbyes, no final regrets.
Well, maybe one;
But how to let you know,
"Come on kid, hang in there, you're doing great, just a little longer. That's it, we'll get you back and fixed up in no time".
Blood burbled up between her lips as she tried to speak.
"Shh, don't try to talk, you're gonna be fine. Help! Help!...Somebody help us! Somebody! Anybody!...Help...Please..."
The com system forgotten, he screamed and begged to beings he didn't really believe in. Howled at the sky; promised every promise he could think of to anyone he could think to whom to give it.
He'd give up smoking and stop chasing Jean, he'd learn to work as a team, he'd be nice to Scott; he'd trade in his bike for a nice sensible minivan.
Anything.
Anything to not have this happen.
That I've got you here beside me,
And with you,
I don't fear the dark.
He looked up at the dark sky this night, and cursed.
He cursed everything he was.
He cursed his mutation, cursed it for keeping him alive, but not being able to do the same for others. He cursed his enhanced senses most of all.
Cursed that he had to listen to her die, in no way anyone should ever have to experience.
The labored racking of her starving lungs as they worked to give her breath. The sluggish pumping of her heart as it began to stall. The slowing of blood in her veins until it ceased to flow altogether.
Worst of all was the watching.
The final struggles of the body as it convulsed in it's final death thralls, the stillness that came when the chest stopped moving, and the slow dimming of her senses as she left this world.
Sight, the sense relied on the most, but the first to go. In the end she would be left with only her hearing, before that too faded.
Alone in the dark, listening to the sounds in the land of the living, but unable to find her way back.
So, with those last words upon my lips,
And with you here beside me,
I gather myself up;
And, unafraid,
Into the dark I go.
The world grows dark
And I walk on unafraid.
The bullet runs deep,
The knife twists its blade.
But I've got you here beside me,
And with you,
I don't fear the dark.
The blood runs slow.
No last goodbyes, no final regrets.
Well, maybe one;
But how to let you know,
That I've got you here beside me,
And with you,
I don't fear the dark.
So, with those last words upon my lips,
And with you here beside me,
I gather myself up;
And, unafraid,
Into the dark I go.