Disclaimer: The X-Men and all related characters are property of Marvel Comics. Not mine.
Setting: The following takes place after Gambit's departure - somewhere between the "Blood of Apocalypse" and the "Supernovas" arcs (between issues #187 and #188 of X-Men (2nd Series)).
Author's Note: A change in a hero's costume is usually a significant symbol of other, deeper changes. This is something that was scarcely commented on in the comics and I wanted to explore further.
Green
Morning. It was barely morning. There were two beds in the room. One was neatly made, the other was empty but recently slept in. Dawn had since passed and faint beams of light squeezed past the edges of the tightly drawn curtains. The only other illumination in the room was the angry red glow of the now-quiet alarm clock. It was 5:20.
She had forty minutes. Every morning at six o'clock there was a training session in the danger room. Scott likely expected her to be there. Scott likely expected her to be there yesterday as well… yesterday, the day before that, and the day before that. However, no one came for her when she did not show. They all left her alone.
Rogue stood before her open closet door, still clad in her pajamas and lost in thought. She wondered, was it four days ago? She remembered retreating to her room that night, angry. She had not left since. She had eaten. Someone must have brought her food. She could not remember who. She was tired. She just slept. Time flies when you do nothing.
It was four days ago. Four days ago, Remy looked into her eyes and told her that he wanted to kill her. She was the love of his life as he was hers. She was the love of a life that Remy no longer considered his own to live. He was different now. That meant she must be too.
This morning her alarm went off at 5:00. Her alarm probably went off on all of the previous days too. She just ignored it. This morning, however, she got up. This was just next morning in her life. Back to work.
Rogue continued to stare into her closet. Her uniform stared back. The trench coat and boots were remnants from the X-Men's experiment with black leather. Even though she was away during that time, she liked the black leather. Remy wore a trench coat too, she remembered. A moment later, she forgot where that thought came from. She scarcely noticed the coat now. Instead, she stared at her costume – spandex in bright green and yellow.
Yellow. This morning, she hated yellow. Yellow was a bright color, a happy color, a color of sunshine and cowards.
5:45. Fifteen minutes left. How long have ah been standin' here? Rogue reached out to pull her uniform from its hanger. Her hand hung in the air for a moment and she pulled it back. Rogue was not feeling bright, happy, or ready for the sunshine. She still preferred the darkness afforded by the curtains, but she had also finished hiding. She stared at the yellow for a moment longer but could not bring herself to touch it. With a determined look, she reached deeper into the closet until she found something else.
Green.
Green had long been her favorite color. She did not know why. Green was the color of the springtime and newness. She was different. She could be a new Rogue. Yet, this green was familiar and comfortable. It harkened back to a time before she was compromised by such fantasies as romance and love. This morning, she still liked green.
( X )
This morning she wore a white-trimmed green tunic with leggings to match. Made from the same green fabric with the same white trim, practical boots and necessary gloves covered her hands and feet. Save for her ever-present gloves, however, most of these details were lost beneath a billowing cloak with a hood deep enough to shadow her face. Ah should be proud, she thought, ah can still fit into the clothes I wore when ah was seventeen.
Rogue strode towards the lower level of the Xavier Institute with a purpose. She was a member of the X-Men. She had a training session. She had work to do. It was 6:05. As one would expect, very few of the students were up and about at this hour. A few stumbled through the halls in an early morning daze. They left her alone. She never bonded with the student body as deeply as some of her compatriots had. That, coupled with a customary resurgence of rumors about her mental state, likely left many of the students thinking it was easier or safer to give the untouchable Rogue a wide berth.
Green. Green came from a day when she thought being untouchable gave her power, not a curse. Perhaps her actions in those days were less than admirable, but she could not deny it. Back then, being untouchable gave her power and strength. Rogue missed power and strength.
Rogue turned the corner and approached the Danger Room's entrance. Several of the X-Men waited outside. As she approached the group, she pushed the hood of her green cloak off of her head, revealing the white streaks in her otherwise normal, long brown hair. Upon seeing her entrance, the leader of the group began to address her, "Rogue! You're where ha-…"
She cut him off with a simple greeting.
"Scott."
Rogue continued walking through the group to enter the danger room. She could feel their eyes on her. She did not need Emma's telepathy to know what questions were on their minds. Was Rogue all right? Why did she come back this morning? Why was she wearing her Brotherhood uniform?
A red-haired woman with dark blue skin stood slightly apart from the rest of the X-Men. As Rogue moved past her, she could feel those golden eyes looking her over with even more scrutiny than the rest.
Rogue greeted her tersely as she walked by without a pause, "Mystique."
Mystique folded her arms and gave Rogue a thorough once over with her eyes. Finally her face settled into an approving smirk as Rogue continued past her into the Danger Room, her green cloak fluttering behind her.
Rogue pretended not to notice. She continued past Mystique into the Danger Room, her green cloak fluttering behind her. Mystique's opinion did not count. This was her own choice. No more yellow. She wanted just green.